unlearning · @exoneratecl
22nd Jun 2014 from TwitLonger
iii. naked {kai/luhan}
Jongin knows he has a problem, has known it since high school and its abominable open showers in the locker room, yet he doesn't want help. There is a name for it – he has looked it up on the Internet – but he refuses to give it a name that is printed in medical journals and psychology articles. He doesn’t think it’s a disease because it doesn’t hinder him from functioning in daily life. He has his own workarounds.
The problem, as he calls it, got worse when he entered college, but at least he no longer has to endure the boy's locker room and has the privilege to change and shower in private, back at his dorm. Other people, normal people wouldn't think of it as a privilege, but to him a place where nobody can see him naked is a sanctuary. He goes to great lengths to make sure he's alone, door locked when he needs to strip any article of clothing. He never sleeps without a shirt on, and has adapted to sleep without a blanket or comforter in order to disperse his body heat with clothes on.
In college, everyone's lives are so disorganized in their own way that nobody really takes notice of Jongin's habits, and he slips into an undefined comfort zone where his eyes are the only ones scrutinizing his unclothed body. But he's human, very much so, and humans forget. Especially when they are intoxicated.
Jongin has never fared well with alcohol, but the finals are over and it's summer and he's finally done with the most dreadful semester in his college career so he should be allowed to have a sip of that fruit punch. A sip turns into two and a gulp and then before he knows it the whole cup is empty and he needs to lie down. The room is spinning and his throat feels like it's on fire (that drink must be spiked, he thinks stupidly) and he reaches blindly for a concrete surface, a poor attempt to steady himself. His hand grasps something soft and definitely not the wall he was aiming for. Peering through leaden eyelids Jongin recognizes a familiar face - Luhan, a senior he has seen around the humanities building and sometimes the law library where he works. They've never spoken save for the pleasantries exchanged over the counter when Jongin checked out Luhan's books, but Jongin remembers him, still. Luhan has quite an unforgettable face, Jongin thinks, his mind sloshing around a pool of muddy water. Luhan says something to him that he fails to make out - the music is too loud and his head is throbbing. Jongin squints at Luhan, too weak to resist when Luhan grabs his boneless arm and drapes it over his shoulders. Belatedly Jongin recognizes the kind gesture and tries to decline because he's fine, but he can't even tell if he's walking on his own two feet or being dragged across the floor and into an unlocked room in the back.
Jongin opens his mouth to vocalize begrudged gratitude when Luhan drops him on the bed but all that comes up is puke that smells vaguely like Mexican food. He lurches forward, bends over the edge of the bed just in time to avoid dirtying the sheets, remains of his dinner splash across the floor, dripping down his shirt.
Chest heaving violently, Jongin hazily decides he will never drink again before slumping back onto the bed, and that’s when he's caught under his arms and hauled off into the bathroom. Jongin has little time to register what's happening before his soiled shirt is dragged up and over his head and he thinks no no no when cool air skirts across his exposed back. Panic jolts him sober and he claws frantically for his shirt while trying to cover himself. Luhan balls up the shirt and tosses it away, asking what's wrong and this time, Jongin hears him loud and clear as he tries to breathe, in and out. Then he's screaming at Luhan telling him to get out, tears streaking down his face as he shakes uncontrollably and he can't. Fucking. Breathe. The ivory tiles on the floor are dizzying and Jongin fights for air the only way he knows how, eyes darting around for a towel, anything to cover his body. Strings of incoherent mumbles fall from his ashen lips, a sheen of cold sweat coats every inch of his exposed skin and he feels so, so small and dirty. He thinks he's teetering over the edge of sanity when Luhan throws his arms around Jongin from behind. Jongin thrashes, tries to break free because he needs to cover himself – he must or he might die – but Luhan is stronger than he looks. Luhan murmurs into Jongin's ears it's okay, no one's gonna hurt you over, and over again until Jongin finally stills, going limp in Luhan's arms. The anxiety has worn him out and he's out of strength to push Luhan away. He's not sure if it's a good thing, Luhan keeping his hold on him as he slowly brings Jongin down with him until their heels hit the floor, but at least he can breathe now, shallow but steady. He loses track of how long they sit on the bathroom tiles, his back against Luhan's chest. Strangely, he's okay, even though he's naked before someone else. Luhan's quiet now but his arms remain around Jongin, warm and dependable and possibly something Jongin could get used to. The thought scares Jongin but he's more afraid to move now that Luhan's warmth feels like a layer of clothing, shielding him from invisible gazes that make his skin crawl. When he closes his eyes and learns Luhan's scent in silence, Jongin, for once, forgets. He forgets gazes that used to assess him judgmentally, looks that made him feel ashamed. He forgets and drifts to sleep, heartbeat slowed to a rhythm set by Luhan's skin against his.