prompt: Imagine your OTP accidentally and unofficially moving in together. They’re just over so much that things start to migrate over and like years later they realize this. Extra points if they aren’t dating at first.
jongin met chanyeol when he was a sophomore in university. the latter was a year ahead of him, but for some ungodly reason they were stuck in calculus together. it was a bullshit class, neither of them needed it for their respective majors, and jongin thinks that may have been where it all started.
even if he isn’t entirely sure what it is.
chanyeol was almost the complete opposite of jongin. where jongin was quiet and reserved, taking his time to get to know people before he opened up about himself, chanyeol was obnoxious and in your face. within two weeks of knowing the boy it seemed that jongin had learned his entire life story: where he grew up, what his parents were like, the things he went through, how high school was. all of it. it was a never-ending litany of words and phrases that wrapped themselves around jongin’s head and squeezed until he couldn’t help but pay attention.
really, the boy was annoying. if jongin wasn’t as shy as he was, he’s almost certain he would’ve grabbed chanyeol by his shoulders and shook him until he shut up, but he wasn’t. instead, he resigned himself to his fate and did what he did best. he listened.
and if, perchance, he became an active participant in these one-sided conversations, well, no one had to know.
moving from being a sophomore to a junior wasn’t as exciting as jongin has hoped. he figured maybe something would change, whether it be a physical or mental change, he wasn’t sure, but he was completely unprepared for the sudden anticlimactic end to his summer.
chanyeol was a senior, now. the two had grown close over the course of the year, though jongin’s not entirely sure how that happened. it was gradual, he thinks. one minute he was imagining strangling the boy just to get him to shut up for a split second, the next he was nudging chanyeol in the sides with his elbows while the two played video games, laughing obnoxiously and trying his damnedest not to let the older boy win. he doesn’t like to think about it, but those few times where he lets himself, he figures that it isn’t so bad. despite their glaringly obvious differences, they fit. chanyeol fills up the awkward silences that jongin seems to wrap around himself like a protective shield. jongin listens to all of his problems and helps, as best he can. even if it’s just an awkward pat on the shoulder and a stilted, “i’m sorry, man.”
it works, so he doesn’t question it.
one change that has happened was that jongin finally, finally moved out of the cramped dorms. his first two years there were hell, and when he looks back on it, all he can remember is spending a brief amount of time in there. he was always at sehun’s dorm, or crashing at junmyeon’s place. dorms were loud, and messy, and the lack of privacy made jongin even more uncomfortable than he already was.
he’d been saving up since freshman year, ever since he took that paid internship at junmyeon’s office. he hadn’t planned on taking it originally, muttering about how it was wrong that he was using his brother’s connections to get a job, but junmyeon had reassured him that the only reason jongin was hired was because of his skills. it worked out in the end, though. he was hired, and in no time he was moving up in the ranks, getting raises and slowly becoming more and more like his brother. it was nice, though. jongin didn’t hate it.
now, though, it all paid off. all the extra shifts and staying up late to work on his assignments. even that week where he hadn’t slept more than six hours was paying off. he had his own place. it wasn’t big, or swanky, not like junmyeon’s. but it was his. he could throw clothes around, leave dishes in the sink, take ridiculously long showers. hell, he could walk around naked if he really wanted to.
chanyeol was the one to help him move in, even going so far as to join jongin on his brief trips to ikea. he had an opinion about everything, and normally jongin would be annoyed by it, but with chanyeol it somehow felt right.
the first night there, jongin has set up his xbox and tv and chanyeol came over. he walked in with a box of pizza and a twelve pack of beer, nudging past jongin in the entryway and making himself right at home. he claimed it a housewarming gift, cracked open a can of beer and tossed one at jongin before collapsing down on the futon couch, making a grab for a controller and waving jongin in. that was how the night was spent; the two of them dueling it out in soul calibur ii well into the early morning.
jongin collapsed into bed around 5am, sufficiently drunk and satisfied, and came to the realization that this was something he could get used to.
chanyeol spends more time at jongin’s than at his own apartment. jongin doesn’t mind, though, because while he loves his privacy and enjoys living alone, it’s still lonely. they don’t do much when chanyeol’s over. sometimes they play games, spending hours on the xbox until one of them gets frustrated with the other and they take it out on them in the physical world. sometimes they binge on tv shows or movies, the only sound in the apartment being the ones from the tv and the occasional jokes and snide remarks they like to crack. occasionally, they study together with their textbooks spread out across the living room floor, papers strewn everywhere. it only ever lasts a few hours before chanyeol groans that pathetic sounding groan of his and sprawls out on the floor, kicking his limbs out and flailing around like an overgrown child.
jongin likes those nights the best, he thinks. those are the nights that they sit in comfortable silence, shoulders pressed together as they sit on the floor, backs pressed against the couch. they don’t talk, not at first, but it’s nice. chanyeol looks good all the time, something jongin had noticed right away when they first met, but there’s something about those nights that has jongin looking at him more, eyes studying his features, watching the subtle shifts and changes in his expressions while he reads over a passage for his philosophy class.
on those nights, jongin doesn’t get much done. he doesn’t regret it, though.
jongin’s doing laundry, like he does every saturday morning, when he finds a hoodie that doesn’t belong to him. he stares at it quietly, fingers curled loosely around the warm fabric. it’s familiar, one he’s seen hundreds of times, but the fact that it’s made it’s way into his hamper and into the load of laundry without him even realizing stuns him a little.
he shrugs his shoulders, rolling them in a physically attempt to shake the feeling off. it’s not weird that chanyeol’s hoodie is in with his laundry. he’s washed tons of sehun’s clothes over the years. it’s totally normally. he’s overthinking it.
but, still, there’s this tiny little feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him that it’s something else entirely. jongin’s felt that feeling before, feels it every time chanyeol stumbles up to him during lunch, pushing the huge ugly frames of his glasses up his nose and apologizing profusely about being late. he feels it when they’re settled on the edge of the couch together, shouting obscenities at each other, at the tv, elbowing each other and knocking controllers out of hands. feels it when chanyeol comes over unannounced, even though jongin was expecting him.
he’s not sure what the feeling is. it’s not bad, not really, but he doesn’t understand, so he just squashes it down like he does with the clothes, pushing them into his dresser and fumbling around with it until it all fits.
he leaves the hoodie out on his bed, certain chanyeol will come by tonight and he can return it then.
chanyeol’s drunk. well, they both are, but chanyeol is worse than he is. there was a party, a friend of a friend of a friend was hosting it. jongin hadn’t wanted to go, was perfectly alright with spending his evening catching up on the new season of breaking bad, but chanyeol as adamant about him showing up. so he did, once again proving to himself that he couldn’t say no to the boy even if he wanted to.
it wasn’t a bad party, not really, but jongin was never a party person so it wasn’t like he had anything to compare it to. the drinks were good, though, and it seemed everywhere he turned had a new face pushing a new concoction into his hands, insisting that it was the “best shit ever” and was “guaranteed to get you shit faced.” they weren’t lies, not completely.
jongin doesn’t know how they got back to his place. he barely remembers leaving the party, and he sure as hell doesn’t remember the cab ride back. he does, however, remember the feeling of chanyeol draping himself across jongin’s shoulders, leaning his head against jongin’s own and muttering about “best party ever” and “best friends” and other nonsense jongin can’t be bothered to care about. they do arrive, though, and nearly run into the couch when jongin half drags, half stumbles them into the small space. he’s pushing at chanyeol, trying to dislodge the other’s limbs from his body so he can get him to sleep, but chanyeol wont let go. he falls to the couch in a huff, head spinning and breath knocked out of him, but then he’s got his arms wrapped around jongin’s waist and is pulling him down on top of him. they struggle for a bit, too many limbs in too small of a space for it to be comfortable, but then chanyeol’s curling his fingers around the back of jongin’s neck and pulling him down, warm mouth slotting against his own and jongin’s brain short-circuits.
they kiss for what seems like forever, sloppy and too eager, alcohol muddling their brains and slowing their actions. it’s not romantic, not in the slightest, but jongin still feels warm and fuzzy. he thinks it might be the alcohol doing that, too, but then chanyeol’s licking into his mouth, tasting like raspberry vodka and jongin can hear what he’s saying without him having to speak. stop thinking already.
so he does.
jongin thinks it should be awkward after that night. it never went past kissing, that much he remembers. he woke up wedged between chanyeol in the couch, clothes still on though a bit disheveled. there were no mysterious stains nor uncomfortable dryness in his shorts so he figured it was a win-win. chanyeol was smashed, there’s no way he’d remember it, right?
he’d hoped that was the case. he didn’t want to ruin whatever their relationship was. he’d grown attached in the short time they’ve been friends. chanyeol was a constant, around more than sehun was at this point, and jongin didn’t want to lose him.
chanyeol doesn’t show any indication that he remembers the night before. jongin doesn’t bring it up. things are fine, normal, comfortable, and he eases back into things, feeling stupid for getting so worked up over it.
when he finds chanyeol’s shirts mixed in with his own in the washer, he ignores the way his chest tightens and sets about folding the freshly washed clothes, setting them aside for their owner.
he doesn’t realize he’s given chanyeol his own drawer, slowly filling up as the days progress.
it’s mid-terms, and chanyeol hasn’t left jongin’s apartment once. he spends every night there, spread out on the couch while they revise and study, cramming as much information into their brains as they can. the bathroom is slowly filling up with shampoos and razors and beauty products that don’t belong to him. there’s a toothbrush sitting next to his in the cabinet, bright purple and a little girly compared to his simple orange one. some mornings, when he’s not panicking about being late to class and missing the test entirely, he stands in front of the cabinet and stares at them, as if the toothbrushes hold answers to all the questions jongin has in his head but is too afraid to ask.
the single drawer that jongin put chanyeol’s clothes has grown, now encompassing the entire dresser and parts of his closet. he’s not sure how all the clothes fit, not even separate from jongin’s own, but they do. more and more keep turning up, until there’s a pile of dirty clothes on the floor of the closet. when jongin sifts through them, he finds not a single article of clothing belongs to him.
it doesn’t bother him, though. because while he’s running out of space for his own clothes, chanyeol’s work just fine. he’s lost count of how many times he’s pulled one of the older boy’s hoodies over his head, or slipped into a pair of basketball shorts he could’ve sworn were his own, only to find they were two sizes too big and he had to tie them as tight as possible so they wouldn’t slide down his hips.
he wants to ask chanyeol why it’s happening, almost has on several occasions, but he thinks chanyeol might take it the wrong way, might think that jongin doesn’t want him around. it’s not true, not even remotely, but the fear is there, that even though they’ve known each other going on two years now that chanyeol might not understand him the way jongin thinks he does.
so jongin doesn’t ask. instead, he just moves things around, picking up whatever shirt is cleanest and pulling it over his head.
he starts to notice that chanyeol’s clothes smell more like jongin than they do like chanyeol, and the warmth that spreads through his chest at the thought can’t be stomped out, no matter how hard he tries.
it takes two weeks of fooling around for jongin to pluck up the courage and ask chanyeol what this all means. he knows they’re friends, have been for sometime, but jongin knows what friendship is like, and he doesn’t remember making out with the occasional dry humping being apart of the deal. when he does finally voice his question, chanyeol looks at him for a moment, eyes taking in jongin’s nervous expression, the way he’s got his lip trapped between his teeth, before he smiles wide and laughs. jongin thinks he should be angry, upset that chanyeol just laughed in his face, but then chanyeol is leaning forward, big hands cupping jongin’s face between them and he’s leaning forward, lips a hare’s breath away from jongin’s own. his eyes never leave jongin’s and the closeness, the intimacy of it has jongin’s heart racing, threatening to beat out of his chest. chanyeol’s whispering, lips brushing against jongin’s, but jongin can’t hear him, can’t understand what he’s saying when all he hears is his blood rushing in his ears. he thinks he might get it, though, when he sees the softness in chanyeol’s eyes. he pushes forward, crushing their lips together in a searing kiss, and chanyeol laughs against him, arms wrapping around jongin’s waist and pulling him closer, until there’s nothing between them but the thin material of their clothes.
chanyeol sleeps in jongin’s bed that night, his entire body wrapped up around jongin’s own. it should be stifling, he knows. chanyeol’s like a space heater, but he can’t wipe the grin off his face as he snuggles deeper into the bed, pressing his forehead against the skin where chanyeol’s neck and shoulders meet. he kisses the spot there once, right where an angry red mark sits, and the swell of pride jongin feels when he eyes the spot, knowing that he had made it, has him grinning so wide his jaw hurts.
it takes three and a half months of them officially dating for jongin to notice “his” apartment has become “their” apartment.
the realization should feel like a kick in the gut. his space is occupied, he’s sharing it with another living being. it should’ve been a conscious decision, something the two of them decided on and talked about, something serious that should be discussed. instead it was a gradual thing, slow and careful. jongin thinks maybe this was chanyeol’s plan all along. maybe he decided to infiltrate jongin’s life from the beginning, find the cracks and crevices in jongin’s existence and carefully filling them up with himself. he thinks it was a well-executed plan, because jongin hadn’t even noticed it was happening, hadn’t been aware of it at all.
chanyeol sprawls out on the couch like he owns it, and jongin figures that maybe he does, now. maybe he owns everything in the small apartment. at least half of it is his at this point, small pieces of furniture jongin doesn’t remember buying and dvds stacking up against the wall that he knows for certain he would never buy. even part of jongin belongs to chanyeol now, and that should scare him, but it doesn’t.
he feels safe, oddly. comfortable. he knows that, had it been anyone else, he would’ve flipped out. panicked and run away like a scared child. but he didn’t, and he’s not sure why.
he doesn’t dwell on it long, though, because chanyeol’s walking through his front door--their front door--and sweeping jongin up into his big arms, kissing him all over with a stupid grin on his face. jongin struggles, swatting lightly at chanyeol’s shoulders to get him to put him down, but chanyeol pulls him into a deep kiss that pulls the breath right out of him.
i’m home, the kiss says, and jongin feels dizzy. he pulls chanyeol back in when he breaks off, wrapping his own arms around chanyeol’s neck and practically hauling him down with the force of it.
jongin kisses him hard, pulling chanyeol’s bottom lip between his own. he smiles when they break away, panting from lack of oxygen, and there’s a question in chanyeol’s eyes. jongin just grins wider, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth before whispering, “welcome home” against his skin.
chanyeol lights up, diving back in for more, and jongin chuckles when chanyeol hauls him up, long legs carefully leading them towards their bedroom.
it feels nice calling it “theirs” instead of “his”, but it feels even nicer when chanyeol pushes him down onto the bed, not wasting a moment before covering jongin’s body with his own.