kaisooficrec

The next day dawns with a light but steady drizzle, and when they meet Lu Han at the bus stop, the older man is holding two rain ponchos, with one already covering his entire body, backpack and all. He grins and holds them out invitingly.

They go to the Xixi Wetlands, a sprawling park that's 70% covered by water. It's quiet on a rainy weekday in May, with very few other tourists walking around its paths or climbing the lookout towers. They buy drinks and explore the souvenir shops and little art galleries, they take pictures of the wet, misty vistas and get told off for walking into temples that are apparently not actually open. They trek along paths under trees that drip water on their heads and film egrets in the water and see everything they can that doesn't require extra entrance fees. It's not all that exciting, but it's peaceful and pretty, and even though Kyungsoo mostly just trails along behind Jongin and Lu Han as they talk and laugh together, he enjoys it.

Afterwards, though, they go to the Yintai mall, because the rain has picked up and they're getting miserable walking around in soaked shoes, and they watch a Chinese movie subbed in English, and that's harder. It's harder because Jongin and Lu Han look so happy, whispering to each other through the film, chuckling under their breath and slapping each other's knees when they make a particularly good joke, and no one ever has that much fun watching movies with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo just makes scathing remarks and picks apart plot holes, snorts at cheesy dialogue, and sometimes cries when someone dies or falls terminally ill. He keeps those to himself this time, though, knowing no one will appreciate it. He doesn't want to ruin the experience for everyone else.

For dinner, Lu Han invites them to his grandmother's home, where they're served a multitude of delicious dishes, braised pork and baked chicken and steamed vegetables and some kind of cucumber thing, and Jongin charms Lu Han's grandmother in five minutes flat with his sweet smile and broken Mandarin. Of course she's charmed. Who wouldn't be?

Kyungsoo sits there in silence, occasionally nodding at Jongin's quick translations or smiling when Lu Han's grandmother asks him a question through Jongin, answering quickly so that they can get back to more interesting conversation. He won't burden them with his boring existence.

"Lu Han is going back to Beijing tomorrow," Jongin tells him later in the evening, just as they're slipping on their shoes to leave the Lu residence. "So he won't be able to show us around anymore."

"Oh," Kyungsoo says, blinking in surprise. He'd sort of just...started to accept Lu Han as a permanent fixture. "Uh, that's too bad."

"Yeah," Jongin says, pouting slightly. "He gave me a lot of tips and things for other stuff to do in Hangzhou, but it's still sad."

"Mhmm," Kyungsoo says distractedly, feeling torn. On the one hand, watching Lu Han and Jongin enjoy themselves while Kyungsoo tags along lamely and feels bad about himself has gotten a bit old, but on the other hand, now Kyungsoo will have to replace Lu Han. And he really can't do that.

Lu Han sends them off a minute later, all smiles and warm hands as he clasps first Jongin's, and then Kyungsoo's, chattering in a mixture of Mandarin and Korean.

"He says he'll miss us, and it was nice meeting us," Jongin translates, laughing slightly. "And he says we can message him anytime or call him if we're in trouble. And to call him if we're ever in Beijing. And something about his boyfriend."

"It was nice meeting you too, thank you" Kyungsoo says, and Jongin translates for him, and Lu Han beams in response.

"What a good day," Jongin sighs later on, crawling into his bed as he flicks through the pictures he took on his phone.

"Yeah," Kyungsoo mutters, rubbing sore feet and wishing he shared the sentiment.

Jongin never sighed about how great his days were when it was just the two of them.

They go to the longjing tea plantations the following day, and it's just as bad as Kyungsoo imagined, travelling alone with Jongin again. They're silent for almost the entire trip to the plantations, reading and sharing Jongin's iPod, and Kyungsoo wracks his brain for something worth saying and comes up blank. It's torture.

Jongin makes a few attempts at conversation when they get off the bus and start exploring the small village and the lovely pagodas around the plantations, but by then The Asshole has taken up permanent residence, and Kyungsoo answers in one- or two-word sentences, hating himself for all of it.

They reach the tea fields a while later, and Jongin falls silent, looking around with a childish glee at the rows upon rows of terraced tea plants. They climb stone stairs past a row of houses to reach a path that winds through the fields, and Kyungsoo focuses on taking pictures for the blog, trying to think about the beauty of the plantation, the charming tranquility and the vibrant colours against post-rain fog that will come out great in photos. But mostly he just thinks about the fact that Jongin positively lights up when they come across a friendly mutt, falling to his knees to run his fingers through its fur, much happier to spend time with a dog than he is to talk to Kyungsoo.

He continues up the path, cresting a hill and spotting a little pagoda just a short way away. Glancing back at Jongin briefly, he decides to leave the younger man with his new friend and goes to sit down on the log bench in the shade, idly taking pictures of his surroundings without much enthusiasm and generally letting all the shitty feelings fester. He feels stupid and childish and pathetic, but he doesn't know what else to do. It's been a while since it's gotten this bad for him. Since college, the last time he had tried and failed to make new friends because he was completely incompetent, because he was boring and couldn't talk to people and was all-around just an uncomfortable person.

Jongin joins him ten minutes later, cocking his head to the side and sitting down beside him rather than across from him, like a normal person would have. "Hey," he says quietly. "What's up?"

Kyungsoo's throat closes up, and he doesn't look at Jongin. "Nothing."

"You sure?" Jongin shifts beside him. "You've been quiet today."

"I'm always quiet," Kyungsoo says, swallowing hard.

"More quiet than usual. Is something wrong?" Jongin says it softly, carefully, like he's scared of upsetting the balance of things.

"No," Kyungsoo says, and the following silence hangs between them. Kyungsoo's words form a knot in his throat, and he wants so badly to say them, because like this he just looks like he's being an asshole for no reason, but saying anything will make him look stupid, and it’s all stupid, he’s stupid. "No one likes me," he croaks.

Jongin looks at him, Kyungsoo can see his head turn out of the corner of his eye, and Kyungsoo bites his tongue hard, eyes hot and prickly, because now he looks stupid and childish, whining like a crybaby, and that's not what he meant to say, but now it's too late and he can't take it back.

"What?" Jongin says.

"Nothing."

It's quiet for a moment, and then Jongin says, very quietly, "I like you."

Kyungsoo scoffs, looking up at the roof of the pagoda so he doesn't start crying, god, he's a disaster.

"I like you, Kyungsoo," Jongin says again, a little louder this time. "You're funny."

Kyungsoo snorts. "No I'm not. I'm boring, and I have a bad personality." He wants so badly to shut up. Why can't he just shut up? It's like all these words have been building up for years and now that he's let some of them out, he can't stop the rest from following.

"You're not very talkative," Jongin concedes, "and you have a dry sense of humour, and you might come off as intimidating sometimes. But people still like you. Sehun likes you, and Baekhyun likes you."

"Only as much as they have to," Kyungsoo mutters.

"Sehun talks about you all the time," Jongin insists. "He thinks you're great. I always...had a hard time reconciling the way he talks about you with the version of you I saw in person."

Kyungsoo snorts again, shaking his head. "See? I suck in real life."

"I don't think so. Baekhyun adores you, too. A little too much, sometimes."

"He only says stuff like that to be funny. He's not serious, he doesn't mean it." Kyungsoo hates how hoarse and unsteady his voice sounds.

"I don't think so, Kyungsoo," Jongin says, and god, Kyungsoo hates himself so much. He doesn't even usually doubt that his friends genuinely like him. Now he sounds like the whiniest piece of shit ever.

"I only have one friend," he says anyway, because his head hurts and his chest hurts and he thinks maybe saying everything will make it hurt less. "And he's my boss. Plus Sehun, a family friend who's obligated to like me, and my boss's husband. I'm not doing that well for myself. No one else can stand me." Shut up, shut up, shut up.

"I like you."

No you don't.

"No one's ever asked me on a second date," Kyungsoo says, grinding the toe of his shoe into the packed dirt under his foot.

Jongin is quiet, and then he says, "Have you ever asked someone out on a second date? Or even on a first date?"

"God, no." Kyungsoo has to repress a shudder at the thought. Too much potential for embarrassment, for regret.

"Why not?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I just...can’t. No one would want to, anyway.”

It’s quiet for a few long, excruciating moments, the wind blowing through the tea fields, and then Jongin says, “I like you.”

Kyungsoo doesn't say anything, letting humiliation and regret crash down on him in waves, making him sick with it. He's never felt so stupid in his life.

“Sometimes," Jongin says softly, hesitantly, "people just like you, and you just have to accept it and let them. You can’t stop someone from liking you. And you can’t tell them that they don’t.” He pauses. “It’s the same thing with crushes. Sometimes they can’t even help it themselves.”

Kyungsoo wants to scream, he wants to tell Jongin that he’s not usually such a depressed, whiny child, he wants to go back in time so that this conversation never would have happened. But he can’t, so he just says, “Sure,” and finally stands to leave, like he should have a long time ago, before he said so many dumb things.

Behind him, Jongin stands with a sigh, and Kyungsoo closes his eyes for a second to curse himself out. Then they start walking.

Jongin doesn’t mention Kyungsoo’s outburst at all, not for the rest of the day, not in the evening back at their homestay, not the following morning when they try to decide what to do that day. He updates Kyungsoo cheerfully on what his fans are saying about his Instagram photos, and he asks Kyungsoo what his favourite food so far has been, and he talks for a long time about all the traffic rules he would enforce in China if he was somehow put in charge of that so that people would feel less like they were going to die every time they stepped into the street, but he doesn’t mention Kyungsoo’s Emo Moment even once. He doesn’t even mention the tea plantation at all, other than to say that it was really beautiful.

Kyungsoo speaks when he’s expected to, dutifully listing off the dishes he’s liked best so far on their trip and reminding Jongin of motorists’ tendency to turn right even when the signal tells them not to. He’s gotten over the majority of yesterday’s angst, but he’s still feeling a little raw and tender, like he might crack if someone looks at him the wrong way, and that makes him feel pathetic and stupid, but he gets by. Jongin’s bright chatter helps. It distracts Kyungsoo from thinking about himself.

It reminds him of the way Baekhyun will pick up his phone late in the evening and tell Kyungsoo all about his day when Kyungsoo calls to ask a simple question, like he can tell that Kyungsoo just needs to feel wanted for five seconds before he goes crazy, living alone and barely seeing anyone sometimes for days on end. Kyungsoo feels bad about saying Baekhyun only likes him as much as he has to, yesterday. Baekhyun was always there for him in high school, through Kyungsoo’s Most Emo phase, and he’d saved Kyungsoo from a life of wasting away post-college.

He should call Baekhyun soon, and thank him for being a pretty solid best friend via loving insults and promises of dumb souvenirs.

They rent bikes again and make their way to the 1000-year-old bridge on the canal north of their homestay, taking pictures and filming the many tourists who take generic selfies nearby. Jongin goes off on a spiel about how China really knows how to mix the gorgeous and the ugly, capturing the elegant beauty of the bridge next to the old barges that float under it and the rickety buildings that stand next to the temple-style ones on the shore. They walk around for a while, watching a middle-aged woman singing under a tree, and then they take their bikes down to the nearby Taiwan street to eat lunch and then mango bing.

It's in the bing place that Jongin steadies Kyungsoo with a long look across the table and says, "I got lost in some caves on vacation when I was little."

"What?" Kyungsoo asks, completely lost.

Jongin looks vaguely embarrassed, like he had started that conversation in his head and not realized it. "When I was a kid, my family went on vacation to some mountains, and we went spelunking. Nothing dangerous or anything. But I got lost somehow, my sisters were supposed to be watching me and they didn't. I was wandering around down there for like twenty minutes, absolutely terrified. You know, the kind of terrified where you throw up and feel like you're going to pass out. It was really bad."

Kyungsoo stares at him in silence, confused and vaguely alarmed.

"Anyway, I was fine, obviously, but that's when the claustrophobia started. I'd been super, you know, irrationally scared that the caves would collapse in on me, and after that I felt like that in any enclosed space, especially if I didn't feel like I could get out whenever I wanted to. So like. Planes. Small, locked rooms. Elevators. I've made progress with some of those. I'm getting pretty good at buses. I like to be the one driving in cars, though. And I take the stairs if I can. And sometimes I still have nightmares."

Kyungsoo nods slowly, still not entirely sure why Jongin is telling him this.

Jongin moves mango pieces around their bowl with his spoon. "I felt, like, really broken back then, though. I was in that awkward stage of life anyway, grades 5 and 6, and I just felt so stupid, all the time. I had night terrors for a long time, and I had panic attacks on the bus sometimes, and I thought no one would like me because I was messed up." His face goes red, and he starts shredding a napkin.

Oh. Oh. Jongin is...sharing something private. He's putting himself in an uncomfortable situation. For Kyungsoo's sake.

"I don't usually tell people about it," Jongin confesses, shrugging awkwardly. "Like, not even that I'm claustrophobic, if I can help it. Sometimes I just keep it in until I literally start hyperventilating, because I don't want them to find out. It's embarrassing. Some kids made fun of me back in elementary school, and I still get scared they're going to do it as adults."

"They wouldn't," Kyungsoo says, feeling simultaneously enraged on Jongin's behalf and warm on his own.

Jongin shrugs. "All my close friends know, though. And they're all cool with it." He looks down, then glances up at Kyungsoo through his lashes. "Right?"

Kyungsoo knows, logically, that Jongin is only saying this for his benefit. He knows Jongin is only referring to Kyungsoo as a close friend because yesterday Kyungsoo had a minor meltdown and now Jongin feels bad for him. But still, Jongin has shared something with him, he's sacrificed his pride for him, and Kyungsoo's heart stutters in his chest.

"Of course," he says, voice a little unsteady.

Jongin smiles at him, sweet and soft. "Thank you," he says, and Kyungsoo wants to say thank YOU, but he keeps his mouth shut, eats their melting shaved ice, and tries not to let it show, how deep he's in.

Suzhou, their fourth destination in China, is a gorgeous water town, small in comparison to the others they’ve visited thus far, with its main attraction being its canals and bridges, nicknamed “the Venice of the East.” Kyungsoo and Jongin arrive around noon and stash their huge luggage backpacks and bulky equipment at the station, then hit up a tourist information center and head for Pingjiang Road, otherwise known as the “Old Street.” They grab lunch there, and then they walk around, breathing in the sweet scent of the flowers blooming on the trees that line the canals, taking pictures of charming bridges, and visiting any and every tourist trap shop that looks interesting. It’s lovely, and it’s relaxing, even if the sun is beating down on them relentlessly.

In the afternoon, Jongin produces his video camera, which Kyungsoo appreciates, because he always feels more free to joke around and look a little silly when he has the excuse of trying to be entertaining. Not that he does it much, anyway, but at least he can feel more comfortable just being himself.

Jongin seems to notice, because he keeps the camera on him a lot. “Kyungsoo, tell the people how lost we got earlier today,” he says, grinning at him over the camera.

“So lost,” Kyungsoo says, face straight, and Jongin begins to snicker in anticipation of what he’s going to say. “We stepped out of the train station and we were already lost. And taxi drivers kept haranguing us, even though we were clearly lost, trying to figure out Chinese maps. Which suck, by the way. Who the hell is in charge of Chinese maps? It has to be one person, because not everyone can be so bad at mapmaking.”

“I thought maybe the taxi drivers wanted to help us poor souls,” Jongin says, walking backwards along the path as he keeps the camera on Kyungsoo.

“Jongin is way too optimistic about people just trying to be nice to him. He thinks every person trying to sell him stuff is just trying to do it for his own good.”

“I do not!” Jongin protests.

“He does,” Kyungsoo insists. “If I didn’t rein him in, he’d be broke by now, and swimming in useless crap.”

“They’re just so persistent,” Jongin argues. “And I don’t have the heart to be forceful with them.”

“I do,” Kyungsoo says, snorting.

“It’s true,” Jongin tells the camera. “Kyungsoo is hilarious with streetside salesmen. He gets all stormy and angry-eyebrows and he just says no, all firm and dark, and they all scurry away.”

“Someone has to be the bad cop,” Kyungsoo says, rolling his eyes.

“Kyungsoo’s always muttering under his breath about the people around us, too. Like, loud enough that everyone can hear, but mumbly enough that only someone with really good English could understand. It’s like a sarcastic running commentary to life.” Jongin grins.

Kyungsoo goes pink. “I didn’t know you heard that.”

“Of course I hear it. I just pretend not to, so you won’t stop.” Jongin laughs, and Kyungsoo feels his stomach flip. “Anyway, Mr. Do, what are your comments on Suzhou so far?”

Kyungsoo’s stomach flips again at how easily and fondly he says Mr. Do, like it’s a pet name. “It’s very romantic,” he says, looking around. “It smells like flowers and all the buildings and things are really quaint. It’s nice. Good for a date.”

“Is that why you took me here?” Jongin asks, sticking his tongue out teasingly.

Kyungsoo flushes. “No,” he says, probably too quickly, too loudly.

“Kyungsoo took me to the Venice of Chinaaaaaa,” Jongin singsongs. “Kyungsoo is fliiiiirting with me.”

“I’m not flirting with anyone,” Kyungsoo protests, skin clammy with how embarrassed and flustered he is. “This is a popular tourist attraction.”

“Kyungsoo wanted to take me somewhere romaaaaantiiiiiiic,” Jongin continues, smiling stupidly wide. “He’s no good at flirting but he’s tryyyiiinggggg.”

“I’m not flirting with you, Jongin!” Kyungsoo insists, face so hot he might combust.

Jongin looks at him over the camera and grins, quiet, and then says, “Can’t blame a guy for dreaming.”

Kyungsoo freezes, torn between horror at Jongin possibly knowing about Kyungsoo’s thing for him, and anger at Jongin for making such a mean joke. But then Jongin trips over the uneven walkway—seriously, Chinese sidewalks are the worst—and he yelps, eyes going wide, before he sits down hard on his ass, clutching tightly to his camera as he falls. He stares up at Kyungsoo, face slack with shock.

Kyungsoo starts giggling. He can’t help himself. Maybe it’s the sudden roller coaster of emotions he was just on, embarrassed and then horrified and angry and then startled and concerned, but he just starts giggling and can’t stop, looking at Jongin who doesn’t move an inch.

“I thought I was gonna die,” Jongin says, looking stunned.

Kyungsoo starts laughing harder, trying to hide it behind his hand.

Jongin lifts his camera, which is presumably still filming, and solemnly says, “I almost died, and Kyungsoo is finally revealing his cute side. So maybe I really did die after all.”

Kyungsoo flings his hands out, face red, to try to block his face from the screen, but he’s still giggling helplessly and he can’t stop. It feels...kind of good. He’s usually only like this with close friends and family, and the fact that it’s coming out around Jongin is as pleasant of a surprise as it is embarrassing. He hasn’t laughed like this for weeks.

“Help me up,” Jongin says with a grin, apparently deciding to let Kyungsoo live in peace.

Biting his lip, Kyungsoo steps forward to take Jongin’s raised hand, hauling him bodily upright. Carefully holding his camera in his other hand, Jongin stumbles to his feet, and then an extra step forward, right into Kyungsoo’s breathing space.

They both freeze there, hands still clasped between them, and Kyungsoo doesn’t breathe, eyes locked on Jongin’s just inches in front of him. Jongin stares right back and licks his lips, and a shiver runs down Kyungsoo’s spine.

And then Kyungsoo steps away like he’s been shocked, averting his eyes and fumbling for his camera around his neck. “I, uh, I wanted to take a picture of. That.” He moves away, lifts his camera to snap a photo of...something. He’s not even sure what he’s looking at. His breath is coming too fast.

What the hell just happened?

Jongin is silent for a long moment, just standing there, and then he says, “Did you want to go check out the gardens?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s do that. They’re supposed to be really pretty.” Kyungsoo feels himself trembling slightly, like he’s right on the verge of panic.

“Yeah,” Jongin agrees. “I think I saw a sign for it back this way.”

“Okay,” Kyungsoo says, and he starts walking briskly back the way they came. He doesn’t look at Jongin. He doesn’t dare.

What if he knows?

The rest of their day in Suzhou is uneventful, if slightly tense. They explore some gardens, which are meticulously manicured and very lovely, and then they try to find some pagodas, and they get very lost on the way, and by the time they do find them, they're starving and very tired. They get supper, stir-fried green beans and spicy chicken, and then they go back to the train station to collect their luggage and lug it to their hostel. They both have top bunks in an all-male room of six, sharing with two standoffish Chinese students, one young Malaysian man, and one Japanese man who carries around a ukulele but never plays it. The room is just big enough not to feel unbearably cramped, and, to their chagrin, is not air-conditioned.

"Holy balls, it's hot," Jongin says, trying to stuff his backpack under the Japanese man's bed. "You can barely breathe in here. How am I going to sleep?"

"At least the blankets are thin," Kyungsoo says, lifting the corner of the sorry excuse for a comforter folded at the end of the mattress.

"I don't think I'll be wearing a blanket at all," Jongin says, clambering up onto his bunk. "Or clothes, to be honest."

Kyungsoo swallows thickly and hopes he's joking.

He's not, of course, because Kyungsoo's life is never easy. Jongin returns from his evening shower with his sweats on but his chest bare, rubbing his damp hair with a complimentary towel even as water droplets glisten on his skin. Kyungsoo chokes a little and keeps his eyes on his laptop screen, where he's uploading today's photos and typing up his entry for Day 13. Like a very cruel kind of magnet, though, Jongin's bare torso keeps drawing his gaze against its will; smooth, gorgeous skin, flat stomach with hints of lean muscle, broad shoulders, a trail of dark hair leading into the waistband of his boxers. It's terrible.

Jongin hauls himself onto his bunk again, and Kyungsoo tracks the stretch and flex of his muscles helplessly. Jongin doesn't seem to notice anything, nor is he shy at all about how he looks—not that he has any reason to be, at all. Kyungsoo isn't usually ashamed of his own physique, even if he tends to stay covered up if he can. He's not chubby or unattractive. But he's soft at the edges, definitely; he has the body of someone who sits around on their computer all day and only eats reasonably well, and he has some ridiculous tanlines going on, and if he didn't feel self-conscious before, he certainly does now.

Screw the heat. Kyungsoo is keeping all his clothes on.

"Listen," Jongin says suddenly, and Kyungsoo smiles despite himself. This is how all of Jongin's many rants have started thus far on their trip. "We have been to like twelve parks and/or gardens so far in China. They need to get their shit together about letting people on the grass."

Kyungsoo snorts quietly, relaxing slightly. This is familiar territory. Today was...weird, but Jongin's monologues on things China needs to fix (the internet, the sidewalks, the traffic laws, the public bathrooms) are comforting in their normality.

"I mean it. They have all these beautiful, big, grassy areas, and no one can walk on them. Why? Why?! Grass is made for walking on."

"I don't think that's true," Kyungsoo puts in gently, turning back to his laptop so he'll stop staring.

"It is! What else is it for, if not for walking on and sitting on and playing badminton on?" Jongin demands theatrically. The Chinese boy in the bunk opposite him levels him with a tiny glare for being loud, and Jongin ignores him.

"I don't think plants are for anything, Jongin," Kyungsoo says. "They just exist."

Jongin shakes a finger at him. "No, grass is for walking on. They keep it all nicely trimmed and irrigated, just to look at? No, sir. That should not be allowed. It's too tempting for dogs and excitable humans. All that lovely grass and no opportunities to feel it between your toes? Unacceptable."

"I think they're scared that if they let everyone on it, it would die," Kyungsoo says with a shrug. "China has so many people. The grass would suffer."

"Then don't have it there, looking so pretty and unattainable! It's not fair." Jongin sighs and flops on his back. "Maybe they should spend less time and resources on beautiful grass and more of it on their sewage systems."

Kyungsoo laughs, because it's such an old topic at this point that it's ridiculous. Jongin has a lot to say about China's sewage.

Jongin's head lifts immediately to look at him, and he grins. "I made you laugh."

The smile disappears from Kyungsoo's face, and he blanches. "What?"

"Nothing," Jongin says, looking at him smugly. "You're just slowly falling for my charms."

Kyungsoo opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He wants to protest, wants to say that he laughs plenty with his friends, he's just getting friendly with Jongin, but he knows that any protests will just make it more obvious, what he really feels. He wants to hide. He wants to die.

"Laugh more," Jongin says, smiling at him. "I'll do anything. What's the secret? Righteous anger?"

Kyungsoo chews on his lip, heart rabbiting nervously. Jongin is looking at him too much, smiling at him too much. "I laugh when the situation warrants it," he says, hoping it comes off as snarky rather than straight-up rude.

Jongin chuckles, which is good, except that it's not, because he's still looking at Kyungsoo. Ignore him, The Asshole says, practically yelling in Kyungsoo's metaphorical inner ear. Shut him down. But Kyungsoo hates how sad Jongin always looks when he does that. He doesn't want to do it again, even if he has to bite his tongue hard enough to taste blood to stop himself.

"You laughed when I fell on my ass," Jongin says, finally flopping back down on his pillow to stare up at the ceiling, taking his eyes off Kyungsoo. "Is that what gets you? Seeing me in pain?"

"You weren't hurt," Kyungsoo says, scrambling for something neutral to say.

"I could have been, though," Jongin says, and Kyungsoo can hear the grin in his voice. He still thinks Kyungsoo is playing along. Maybe he is. "You just don't want me to know your secrets."

"I don't have any secrets," Kyungsoo says, even though he knows Jongin is talking about what will get him to laugh.

"Kyungsoo," Jongin says, suddenly quite serious. He sits up slightly, looks at him again. "You're all secrets."

Kyungsoo swallows hard and can't think of anything to say.

"But I'll figure you out," Jongin says at last, his voice light again as he lets his head fall. "Eventually."

Kyungsoo makes a vague noise, and tries to decide how terrified he should be of that.

Kyungsoo doesn't sleep well that night, from a combination of the sticky heat making him sweat even without any covers on and the nerves tightening like a knot in his stomach. He wakes up with a headache and a foggy, tired brain, and even Jongin looks slightly less chipper and bright-eyed than usual.

They have a bus to another, smaller water town, Tongli, in the afternoon, and are expected to check out of the hostel by 10am, which leaves them towing around their heavy bags all day, and it weighs on Kyungsoo almost immediately. He’s tired, his head hurts, and after an hour his back and shoulders hurt, too, and then his feet, every step sending pain lancing through his soles and spine. It’s slow torture.

They go check out some temples and more gardens, and Jongin starts muttering about grass you can’t walk on again, but both of them are pretty quiet. It’s not a bad quiet, though, it’s not overly awkward or moody. They just don’t talk a lot, and Kyungsoo takes pictures and grimaces periodically at how much pain he’s in.

Eventually, they figure out the bus route to the train station, although when they climb in, every seat is taken. Kyungsoo groans, shifting on his feet and clinging to an overhead bar to steady himself as the bus lurches forward. Jongin stumbles into him, murmurs an apology, and stands close beside him as other commuters shuffle around them. Kyungsoo glances at Jongin, worried the bus is too packed for him and that it’ll trigger his anxiety, but Jongin just flashes him a reassuring smile and shrugs. He looks a tiny bit sick, but if he says he’s okay, Kyungsoo will let it go.

Two stops in, a seat near them frees up, and Jongin practically manhandles him into it. “Sit,” he murmurs, smiling shyly. “Your feet hurt.”

Kyungsoo opens his mouth, then shuts it quickly. His feet do hurt. A lot. “Thanks.”

Jongin shrugs again and moves to brace himself against the bars on either side of Kyungsoo’s seat, caging him in protectively. When the bus lurches again, someone bumps into Jongin, but they don’t get close enough to Kyungsoo to make contact.

Kyungsoo’s heart thumps in his chest, and he tries desperately not to let it show. It’s just hard, when Jongin makes himself so goddamn likable, all sweet and thoughtful and effortlessly attractive. It drives Kyungsoo crazy. And his poor heart even crazier.

They make it to the station, miraculously on their first try, and Jongin figures out how to get them to Tongli from there. Kyungsoo keeps himself occupied by thinking about how much he likes Jongin’s voice when he speaks Mandarin.

Tongli is very much like Suzhou, crisscrossed with canals and bridges, but is considerably smaller and less crowded. It’s gorgeous, and quiet, and Kyungsoo likes it, despite how tired and sore he is. They splurge on a short boat trip through the canals in a gondola that Jongin repeatedly calls romantic, and they see an archway and the Pearl Pagoda, and then they find the Retreat and Reflection Garden to, well, retreat and reflect. Mostly they just sit by the canals and take pictures and rest their feet and backs, and that’s okay too.

Jongin spends a few minutes stretching out his shoulders and back, showing off just how flexible he is while Kyungsoo tries not to stare, and then the younger man leans into Kyungsoo’s side with a tired sigh. “So sleepy,” he murmurs, yawning. “Want a nap.”

“So you decided to nap on me?” Kyungsoo asks, grateful when his voice doesn’t break.

“Yeah. Convenient. Reasonably soft.” Jongin makes a contented sound.

Kyungsoo prays that Jongin isn’t close enough to hear his pounding heart. He spends the next ten minutes trying to come up with excuses for if he does hear it, or ways to escape the position without seeming like a dick.

And then, without warning, Jongin pops up and says, “Let’s film something.”

Kyungsoo stares at him. “Film what?”

“I don’t know. Let’s do something exciting.”

“What do you mean?” Kyungsoo asks warily.

Jongin lifts his camera and turns it on. “Today’s been kind of boring. We need to make the most of it, you know? Let’s just do something a little crazy. Keep things interesting.” He grins, like he had never been sleepy at all.

“What kind of thing are you suggesting?” Kyungsoo asks. “I’m not agreeing to anything before I know what you’re planning.”

Jongin sticks out his tongue a little in thought. “A challenge.”

“If it’s embarrassing I won’t do it,” Kyungsoo warns.

“It won’t be,” Jongin promises. “It’ll be...a race.”

Kyungsoo makes a face. “My feet hurt.”

“Not races for us,” Jongin says, like it’s obvious. “Boat races. On the canal. Stick boats.” He grins.

Kyungsoo taps his fingertips against the bench they’re sitting on. “We throw our boats in at the same time and see whose ends up at a fixed point first?”

“Yes!” Jongin beams. “Best out of three races.”

“What does the winner get?” Kyungsoo asks.

“Nothing. But the loser has to do something.”

Kyungsoo hums, thinking that over. Jongin is staring at him too intently, too intensely, and it’s making him nervous, so he looks away. “What do I have to do if I lose?”

Jongin only hesitates for a second before he blurts, “Kiss me.”

Kyungsoo freezes up. “What?” he croaks. He looks at Jongin, and finds the younger man’s face red.

“You, uh. It’s something you don’t want to do, right?” Jongin says, clearly embarrassed by his own words.

Kyungsoo scoffs and looks away again, at the canals flowing in front of them. “If you lose, you have to jump in the canal.”

“Okay,” Jongin says immediately, and Kyungsoo is almost as shocked by his quick agreement than he was by his own punishment for Kyungsoo. “Alright. Pick your sticks.”

Kyungsoo does so with fumbling hands, heart beating a little too quick. He finds three dry reeds and ties them together with long strands of grass, and then he stands next to Jongin on a bridge and drops his makeshift boat into the water.

They rush to a spot where a tree stands next to the canal and weight with bated breath as their little boats float towards them, agonizingly slow. Kyungsoo’s wins by a hand’s-breadth.

“WOO,” Kyungsoo shouts, much more loudly than he would usually speak in public. Jongin cusses quietly beside him.

“Okay, round 2,” Jongin says quickly, handing the camera to Kyungsoo and rushing to find more sticks for his next boat.

Kyungsoo diligently builds his own second boat as well, determined to win again and throw Jongin into the canal (or, more likely, let him off easy but hold it over him for the rest of the trip). He constructs his boat carefully and throws it into the water with a silent prayer.

Jongin wins round 2 by mere inches. Kyungsoo is the one cussing this time, kicking at a tuft of grass childishly while Jongin laughs with joy. But now the tension is high, and Kyungsoo wraps a single reed in grass, thinking maybe it’ll be more streamlined or something. He has to win this one.

“One, two, three...drop,” Jongin says, letting go of his boat.

Kyungsoo drops his reed at the same time, but somehow, it gets caught in a burst of wind, and it flutters close to the edge of the canal. “No!” he says, hoping to scare it back into the center of the stream.

His boat runs into a tree root and doesn’t budge, and Kyungsoo stares at it in horror.

“I won,” Jongin says, sounding like he can’t believe it himself.

“I lost on default,” Kyungsoo says. “Is that fair?”

“There were no rules against it,” Jongin says. “I won.”

Kyungsoo turns to face him, and his heart pounds fearfully. “So.” His eyes get stuck on Jongin’s mouth, and he can’t make them move.

Jongin’s face is as red as Kyungsoo’s feels. “Um. You, uh, you don’t really have to— I was just—”

Before he can finish, Kyungsoo lurches forwards, aiming for his cheek. Fair is fair, he thinks, except Jongin was just giving him an out, and Kyungsoo didn’t take it.

Jongin, who jerks around in surprise at Kyungsoo’s sudden movement, and whose eyes are very wide when Kyungsoo’s mouth presses right against his.

To his credit, Kyungsoo springs away like Jongin’s lips burned him, rather than shocking him with their soft, plush warmth. He flounders, red-hot with humiliation. “I, uh—”

Jongin stares at him with huge, round eyes. “I’m. I didn’t get that on film.” His camera is half-raised by his side.

“Oh.” Kyungsoo swallows thickly, regret heavy in his stomach.

“But you don’t have to do it again,” Jongin says quickly. “So.”

“Okay,” Kyungsoo says, turning away. “But never call me a sore loser.”

“I. Okay.” Jongin hurries to catch up to him when he starts walking briskly. “So. Yeah.”

“Let’s get dinner,” Kyungsoo says, refusing to talk about this anymore. It’s not like he isn’t going to be thinking about it for the next forever.

“Sure. Alright.”

Kyungsoo thinks about it all evening, and all night. The attractive blush on Jongin’s cheeks. The feeling of his lips against Kyungsoo’s. The fact that he told Kyungsoo to kiss him in the first place. The fact that Kyungsoo did it.

He regrets it so much he might puke.

But at least now he knows what it feels like.

(It feels very nice.)

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