Chapter Text
The island air always feels so heavy at night, the humidity of the day lingering and sticking to Jaemin’s skin.
After spending his days on an already humid dance floor, surrounded by tourists with sweaty bodies and full of one too many drinks, the walk is at least peaceful. The weather is set to cool soon, but not by much, so Jaemin savors the decent evening as the stars dance above him.
People come to the resort he works at specifically because it’s so far away from any cities, on the far side of the island and feeling as quaint as colonization could feel. Jaemin hates that he works for them at all, but his mother didn’t bestow upon him many gifts beyond knowing how to keep step.
It’s another unfortunate truth of his side of the island. There aren’t many jobs, and when they become available, it’s either at the expense of your mental well being or your moral obligation to your home.
At least Jaemin only has to work 8 hours a day.
The other gift his mother bestowed upon him was a little house that he can afford to keep up with, and he can already taste the salty goodness of onion chips as he rounds the last corner before climbing the little hill that his house sits upon.
Sometimes Jaemin likes to wonder what his life would be like if he left the island, or went to one of the others that has more people. It’d probably be too expensive, but beyond that, the moral obligation to his home runs deep, and though his mother wasn’t parent of the year, it’s hard to think about being away from where she raised him.
It doesn’t matter much now, and Jaemin isn’t sure why he’s even thinking about it. He’s already home, the beginnings of a gravel path that leads up to his house coming into view. Jaemin is just about to exhale in relief for the end of his journey when the quiet nighttime air is disturbed just enough for his body to react, and Jaemin stops dead in his tracks.
Jaemin hears it before he sees it really, the wet and unnatural sound shuffling through the leaves. It brings a shiver down his spine, because if this is some huge ass snake or scorned animal, he’s probably a little fucked.
Jaemin steels himself regardless, grabbing the nearest and longest stick he can find before taking a step closer to the brush. His reservations are bested by the mere fact that this could also be an animal that needs help, and he thinks of his sweet lovebird at home. Dubu was found with some feathers ripped off and a chipped beak, but Jaemin saw some life in her, and now she’s his best friend. Besides Renjun, of course.
Stop getting distracted.
Jaemin shakes off his own wandering thoughts, taking another step towards the greenery, then another. He isn’t afraid to admit that he jumps when it rustles again, but it’s too late to back out now. The end of his stick is already touching the leaves, and his other hand pulls out his phone to use the light of the screen to see a little bit more, knowing better than to completely turn the flashlight on.
At first, there’s nothing. Nothing but the sound of Jaemin’s heart beating in his ears. Within that silence, a grunting noise, then more of the squelching slime that makes Jaemin queasy. What the fuck could it be?
Only one way to find out.
Intaking a deep breath, Jaemin parts the leaves as best as he can, the island overgrowth getting tangled and stuck with each pull. Whatever is hiding in there doesn’t stop moving as Jaemin prods, and his light catches on a reflective fluid gathered within a… footprint. A human footprint.
Any viable explanation leaves Jaemin about as fast as it came to him, flying out into the night like dandelion seeds caught in the wind. Jaemin supposes it could be someone drunk out of their mind, or something else entirely, he just isn’t sure what that something else would even be.
Fear and altruism battle within Jaemin’s conscience for about 6 seconds, before he decides that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself without figuring out what the hell has disrupted his evening. That sounds a bit selfish, but Jaemin has his priorities set on a very straight, easy to understand line.
So he pokes the wall of shrubbery, parting it with his stick until he’s able to see through. Movement catches Jaemin’s eye immediately, that same shimmery liquid practically glowing in the dim light of his phone. It makes a lump grow in his throat, especially when the bumps of a spine come into view.
“Hello?” Jaemin calls out quietly, almost positive that this is a person. If not a person, then a very large, very naked… thing. “Are you okay?”
The continuous sounds of liquid dripping off of the creature’s body as he turns towards Jaemin’s voice makes his stomach churn, like he’s been released from some slime pod and he can’t get clean. He’s covered in it, Jaemin notices, running the light of his screen up and down the crouched mess of limbs.
This is roswellian, and unsettling in so many ways that can’t even be put into words, but Jaemin keeps from grimacing. He has to, when a curious head topped in silver hair finally turns to reveal a pair of wide eyes, and Jaemin gasps before he can stop himself.
Definitely a man.
“Are you okay?” Jaemin asks again, but the man doesn’t answer, tilting his head as if Jaemin is the one that’s strange to look at. “Do you need me to call someone? Are you hurt?”
More of the wet slime drips to the floor as Jaemin watches the man turn to face Jaemin better, his legs stretching as he slowly leaves whatever crouched hiding place he was in before. Jaemin realizes then that he’s quite tall, probably the same height as him, and his body is corded with veins and muscles like little vines beneath his skin. He’s a bit dirty, what with having been in the dirt, but he looks otherwise taken care of.
Jaemin hates that he has to think it, but a lot of different scenarios with very bad connotations come to the very forefront of his mind. The man won’t speak, he’s breathing like he’s terrified but trying not to show it, and Jaemin hopes to God he hasn’t just accidentally stumbled upon some sort of trafficking set up.
The only saving grace is that he looks well fed, and his hair is freshly cut. Whatever happened, Jaemin knows he can’t leave him alone out here, and his annoying protective instincts take hold of him.
“Do you need a place to go?” Jaemin offers despite his better judgement, because if this is a trafficking set up, it’s a one way ticket to a cell.
That doesn’t really make sense though, because this is an island with low foot traffic, and it’s very obvious when someone that is always there suddenly disappears. They’d be very novice human traffickers to steal someone that clearly has a job and a schedule, so Jaemin pushes thoughts of trafficking aside and focuses on the matter at hand.
“I can take you to my house? My… home? House?” Jaemin tacks it on in Korean for good measure, only for the strangers eyes to remain blank. “Okay, uhm, I’m Jaemin. I want to help you, but… you’ll need to get out of the bushes.”
This, of all things, seems to click in the man’s brain. He looks around himself, as if only then realizing that he’s stuck in shrubbery. Jaemin tries to keep his eyes from looking down to everything hanging out, but he admits that he catches a glimpse or two, sue him.
“Okay, that’s it, just come on out.”
Jaemin takes a few steps back, gently coaxing him out with a small wave of his hand. The man looks at Jaemin, then down at his own feet, before taking a small step forward. He’s a bit uneven on his feet, but he figures it out, following Jaemin all the way out onto the road that’s as dark as Jaemin left it.
He realizes only then that his flashlight is still on and pointing right at the man’s junk, so Jaemin quickly clicks it off, putting his phone into his pocket and deciding if this is a super terrible idea, or only a mildly terrible one.
“Okay, great,” Jaemin says with an awkward exhale, letting his hands drop to his side with a soft thud. “I guess now you just… follow me home?” he asks while pointing to the gravel road that leads up to his house, grateful that they’re at least far away enough from everything to avoid prying eyes. “Lets go.”
Jaemin knows that if his mother were here, she’d probably scold him for being too nice, or too trusting. She raised him to hate cops and never input your email into anything and always pay for bills with cash whenever possible. She tried to heal his childhood colds with burning sage and aloe vera gel, which obviously didn’t kill him, but her priorities were skewed.
And she’s also not here, so yes, Jaemin is walking backwards, uphill towards his house while waving a strange man that has silver slop dripping from his skin towards him with each step. Jaemin pointedly ignores his nakedness, and the fact that he’s either going to have to hose the man off outside or let him shuffle in on a towel. He’ll then need some clothes, and a place to sleep, and they’ll probably need to work on the communication thing.
Maybe he’s mute, or deaf, and maybe Jaemin can give him some paper to write on to explain what’s going on. Something not-so-deep inside of Jaemin is screaming at him to realize that this is like E.T. but from a porno, but then he has to tell himself that it’s not nice to sexualize a confused and lost stranger.
Unless he’s trying to traffic Jaemin.
ENOUGH!
For some reason, the man follows Jaemin all the way to his front door, and Jaemin realizes quite quickly that he’s just going to have to deal with the slime. As soon as the front door opens, the stranger waltzes inside as if he’s lived there his entire life, not a care in the world and curiosity immediately peaked.
It’s at least fascinating to watch, if nothing else, and once Jaemin shuts them inside their own little bubble, he sees that perhaps he’s underestimated this stranger.
His nose is tipping into the air, as if he’s smelling whatever’s in the room. Jaemin hopes it doesn’t stink in here (he knows it doesn’t, he’s very adamant about cleanliness), but the man is dragging his slime wherever he goes while sticking his nose into every area of the house. It’s like a dog that’s been brought to a new place, but Jaemin feels kind of bad for making that comparison, so he tables it for now.
“You can clean up in my bathroom, and then when you’re dressed we can talk about what to do next?” It’s a question and a statement, because Jaemin desperately wants this man to understand him. He wants to help, or to keep him safe if there is any danger about.
It’s probably stupid and abhorrently unsafe, but Jaemin is who he is, and he’ll help just about anything that needs saving.
After a beat, the man finally turns to look at him, junk out at all, and eyes Jaemin for a moment in further curiosity. He doesn’t look so scared anymore, just confused, like he’s never seen a roof or a couch before. Jaemin hates to think about what that means, but the stranger doesn’t give him a chance, stealing all of Jaemin’s thoughts with a singular nod of his head.
It’s just a nod, a little dip of his chin to show that he’s listening, but it fills Jaemin with so much relief that he kind of wants to yell, or jump up and down. He refrains from doing either, not wanting to scare the poor guy, but Jaemin does smile, and he hopes that this isn’t as terrible as it probably could be.
🛸
“Jaeeeeemmmiiinnnn. Jae. Min. Jaaeeeee-miiiiiiiiiin.”
It’s been a good ten minutes of Jaemin trying to get Jeno to say anything other than just that—Jeno. He said it while Jaemin showed him where the towels were in the bathroom, when Jaemin made a quip about how he wished he knew what to call the man he’s letting use his skincare.
He’d grumbled a word that sounded like Jeno, so Jaemin rolled with it, and now he’s trying to see if Jeno can say literally anything else. He’s at least clean, and Jaemin’s clothes fit him well enough, wet, silver hair flopping in his eyes cutely.
“Alright, well, never mind,” Jaemin mutters while falling back into his arm chair, watching as Jeno mimics the action on the couch.
Jeno’s been repeating a lot of his actions, as if he’s trying to learn why exactly Jaemin acts the way he does. It’s… alien, for lack of a better word, or at least, Jeno is treating all of this as alien.
The thought has crossed Jaemin’s mind once or twice—or ten—because what else explains a random, beautiful man covered in slime just appearing in the forest on a lonely island? It’s extraterrestrial in the barest sense, but Jaemin hasn’t lost himself to the delusion quite yet, only because he knows he’ll believe it way too easily and forgo any other explanations.
Jaemin even made the decision to discuss it with Dubu, making sure his bird was clean and well fed for the evening before unfairly sticking her back in her enclosure while Jeno showered. He can’t risk the alien-not-alien man freaking on his baby, so he ignores the little squawks of annoyance from Dubu in the other room, silently promising to free her once it’s safe.
“Are you hungry?” Jaemin asks rather than think himself into a hole, realizing that he has yet to feed himself either. “I can make some spam and egg, or I’ve got cereal, or watermelon.”
Of all things, Jeno seems to understand this perfectly, his entire body coming to attention with the promise of food. This makes Jaemin feel a little bit better, because at least not all of his words are being lost to the void. He can work with this, so Jaemin sits back up like the dutiful citizen he is, making an eating gesture with his hand. He’d try sign language, but that was kind of a bust the first few times he attempted it.
Jeno seems to understand though, his head nodding eagerly as he stands from the couch, all of a sudden like an excited puppy that wants treats— or a starved man that needs food, Jaemin.
The self-scolding has not subsided in the hour that Jaemin has been home with Jeno, but that’s always been a flaw of his. His brain goes a million miles a minute, even if on the outside he appears rather calm. Information comes in all at once, gets jumbled a few hundred times over, and then falls out of his mouth like word vomit.
At least with Jeno, the word vomit has been at a minimum, not that it would matter much anways. It’s not like Jeno can tell him to shut up.
Jaemin stands and leads Jeno into the kitchen with a wave of his hand, deciding to give Jeno choices by just showing him what he has. Since not many words can be exchanged between them, it’ll have to be a game of show and tell.
First, Jaemin grabs the watermelon and eggs from the fridge, setting both onto the counter. Then he takes a can of spam from his pantry and tosses it right next to the procured melon. Last, Jaemin grabs a box of cereal from above his fridge, opting for the strawberry Honey Bunches of Oats, because if the man is hungry then he deserves the best.
“Okay, so, this is what I’ve got,” Jaemin says while gesturing to the pile, his own stomach calling to the can of spam. It’s been a long day, and frying up some slabs of salty goodness with some eggs sounds oh-so-lovely before crawling into bed.
Jaemin has a feeling that his night will not go so smoothly, so he tries not to get his hopes up.
Nonetheless, Jeno approaches the offered food, picking up each container and inspecting them with a sniff. He likes to sniff things, Jaemin has noticed, as if its his way of communicating with the world around him. For all his lack of words, Jeno is very communicative in his own ways, going so far as to lick the cardboard egg container, only to pull back with a grimace.
“No, silly, here,” Jaemin says with a playful shake of his head, gently taking the egg carton from Jeno with the intention to open it.
Their fingers brush when Jaemin grabs it, and though it should mean absolutely nothing, Jaemin pulls back with a gasp when that simple touch makes Jeno’s skin ripple with color. It’s just a fraction of a moment, and it’s over in his next blink, but Jaemin can swear on his dead mother that for a split second, Jeno was… pink.
“Okay, that was weird,” Jaemin mutters under his breath, seemingly just as confused as Jeno who is now looking down at his hands like he didn’t know he could do that either. There’s no way Jeno isn’t an alien at this point, but what is Jaemin supposed to do about that? He’s a dance instructor on a tiny island in the middle of the freaking ocean. “Anyways.”
Considering all of that, Jaemin ignores the very concerning revelation, opening the carton of eggs like he originally had intended to. After growing up with a deranged mother, Jaemin has mastered the art of deflection, and this is going to be one of those times he uses his gifts.
“These are eggs. You know, eggs?” Jaemin takes one out, holding it in between his thumb and forefinger for Jeno to see. “There’s a, uhm… uncooked baby chicken in here, but it tastes good, and it’s high in protein which would be helpful for your muscles.”
It’s nearly impossible not to outwardly cringe at his own words, but Jaemin opts to keep it inside, realizing that he’s word vomiting already despite his previous praise for not doing so. Jeno doesn’t appear to mind though, just as Jaemin had also suspected, and he takes the egg from Jaemin’s hand without a second thought.
“I’ll have to cook it, but if that’s what you want I can grab a pan and—”
Crunch.
Before Jaemin can even finish his sentence, Jeno shoves the entire egg into his mouth, crushing it with his teeth and chewing as if it’s a fucking potato chip. Jaemin is so in shock that he can’t even bring himself to try and stop Jeno, and even if he could, within seconds, Jeno is swallowing with a hum of approval, and the egg is gone.
When Jeno reaches for another, Jaemin’s senses finally return to him, his hand snapping out to grab Jeno’s wrist. A dying noise leaves Jaemin’s throat in delayed horror, catching up to him now that Jeno’s skin is rippling with that soft pink color all over again. He’s like a cuttlefish, or a mood ring, and Jaemin can’t do anything but stare at him in pure wonder.
Yes, the man just shoved an entire egg in his mouth, but he’s changing colors right before Jaemin’s eyes, and Jeno looks at the way it paints his own skin in confusion once more.
“Does that not… happen often?” Jaemin asks while slowly trying to remove his hand from Jeno’s wrist, only for the color to stop the moment that he’s gone.
To Jaemin’s further surprise, Jeno is the one that reaches for his hand again, strong fingers curving around his wrist so hard that something pops. Jeno tugs Jaemin closer, sniffing him the way he has everything else, and Jaemin winces at the pain emanating into his hand.
“Jeno, that hurts,” Jaemin says weakly, not wanting to scare the man that’s now so close that Jaemin can smell his breath. He smells like egg and remnants of Jaemin’s toothpaste, and he can’t help but wonder if Jeno ate that too.
Jeno does let go though, the soft pink on his skin dying to a dark and stormy blue. It doesn’t completely change his color, just shifts it, like a trick of the light. Except nothing is touching him, so Jaemin wonders if only the pink is new.
“It’s okay,” Jaemin amends when he realizes that Jeno looks as sad as his coloring, his eyebrows turned down in disgust as he looks at his own hand. A flash of rage crosses his semblance, clear as day, but it’s directed entirely at himself, and Jaemin isn’t quite sure what to do about it with their lack of words. “Jeno.”
Jeno looks up when called, already used to the name that Jaemin all but guessed. He’s looking at Jaemin with an apology, and his stormy blue ripples fade when Jaemin gives him a soft smile.
“You’re okay. You’re just a bit strong, that’s all.” A gentle hand reaches out to smooth over Jeno’s shoulder, the fabric of Jaemin’s shirt familiar beneath his own fingertips. “We—humans—are kind of fragile. Easy to break.”
Jeno doesn’t look so convinced, but he nods nonetheless, showing Jaemin once again that he understands him. Or at least, Jaemin hopes he does. Jeno’s been very receptive to whatever Jaemin does, and he can only blindly trust that his words are actually getting through.
For all Jaemin knows, Jeno is only nodding his head because that’s all he knows how to do, but he seems pretty aware—aware enough to reach out and pet Jaemin’s shoulder in a mimic of his soothing action.
“Okay, glad we got that covered,” Jaemin murmurs under his breath, clearing his throat while grabbing the carton of eggs from the counter.
His cheeks feel warm from the touch, as if he’s shy, which is embarrassing to think about at all. Jeno is a complete stranger, even if he is adorable, and Jaemin is almost 89.7% sure that he’s not of this earth.
“Just sit at the counter while I make us some dinner, okay?” Jaemin asks while gesturing to the stools on the other side of his little island, only for Jeno to tilt his head in confusion. “You can sit, it’s okay. Just relax.”
Jeno shakes his head no, taking another step closer to Jaemin as if to further prove that he has no intentions of leaving Jaemin’s side. On any other normal day, Jaemin wouldn’t mind having company in the kitchen, but his cheeks are still warm from the small display of affection, so he turns his back to Jeno without another word.
It will probably be an incredibly long night, but for now, Jaemin can at least do something for the both of them.
🛸
“Jaemin, are you fucking crazy?” Renjun whisper-yells while peeking over Jaemin’s shoulder, unable to take his eyes off of the man that Jaemin has become accustomed to for the last few days.
Jaemin turns just enough to watch him too, but he sees that Jeno is occupied with admiring the cactus that he’s poked his finger on 3 times already. He’s careful this time, but he can’t seem to figure out why it hurts him.
“I just need you to watch him until I get home tonight. He doesn’t speak but his body changes color depending on his mood,” Jaemin explains as if it were normal, like he’s somehow the expert on this… situation. “And he likes food. Just keep feeding him and he’ll be fine.”
When Jaemin looks to Renjun once more, he’s both surprised and not so much by the incredulity he finds there, Renjun’s cheeks flaming red with his own anger. “You keep saying he like he’s a person. Where the fuck did he come from, Jaemin? How do you even know his name?”
Well, technically, he thinks Jeno’s name is Zeno, but Jeno sits better on the tongue. Maybe J’s and Z’s are the same for him, and who is Jaemin to judge?
Either way, it doesn’t matter, because he answers to Jeno and that’s what Jaemin is calling him. He doesn’t seem to have any grievances with the name, but the moment he does, Jaemin will stop. It’s really that easy in his eyes, even if it’s not in Renjun’s, and he doesn’t understand why the simplicity is lost on—
“Jaemin?”
Jaemin looks up at the sound of his name, but he realizes that the deep, almost analytical tone that it was spoken in did not come from Renjun. Still, he makes eye contact with his friend, before they’re both spinning around to see Jeno in the middle of the living room, watching them right back.
“Jaemin.”
He says it again, almost as if making sure it’s right, and Jaemin takes several seconds to process what’s happening before nodding his head.
“Yes, yes that’s right. I,” he points to his chest, “am Jaemin.” Jaemin points to Renjun. “This is Renjun. Renjun. Jaemin.”
Jeno watches each movement of Jaemin’s hand, even following the slight bob of his head, and it almost makes Jaemin emotional. A breakthrough so early, who would’ve thought?
“Jaemin.” Jeno nods with the name this time, that tinge of warm pinks and purples swirling on the surface of his skin. “Jeno. Jaemin. Renjun.”
When Jeno says Renjun’s name, his skin returns to normal, if not tinted a bit green, and then he’s settling back against the counter as if he were any other person.
“Great, it talks,” Renjun croaks from beside Jaemin, earning him a smack with the back of Jaemin’s hand. “Ow!”
“Don’t call him an it, his name is Jeno, and I promise you’ll be fine,” Jaemin says while stuffing his phone into his back pocket, quite sure that Renjun has nothing to worry about. Jeno has given Jaemin no reason to believe that he wants to run away, or even that he’s hiding from something. He just seems so… lost, and Jaemin can understand that, to an extent.
Sure, maybe it’s the fact that he’s got the most adorable little face in the entire world, and a body that looks like it could polish rocks. Jaemin is a little too trustworthy for a pretty face, sue him.
“Why can’t Yunjin watch him? She’s just as crazy as you.” As Renjun speaks, he’s already dragging Jaemin away from (what he thinks) is out of earshot. Jeno can hear almost anything though, as Jaemin has had the misfortune of learning when an ambulance drove by a mile away and he plugged his ears like it was in his brain, only to then break Jaemin’s potted plant on the window and one of his dining chairs. Jaemin didn’t get mad at him for it, because just like with every other instance, when Jaemin says no, Jeno stops.
Jeno also perks up each time that Dubu makes a noise from her enclosure, and he watched Jaemin let her fly around for a few hours the night before, cringing each time one of her squawks reached an uncomfortable pitch. It seems that Jeno’s senses are heightened somehow, or maybe he’s just sensitive to new sounds, which wouldn’t be unreasonable.
And Jaemin is distracted again, he can’t help it, he’s never been able to. Still, he tries to recall the question that was asked to him, and huffs in further annoyance when he does.
“Yunjin isn’t back until next week, otherwise I would have asked her,” Jaemin all but whines, looking at his watch to see that he has precisely 10 minutes before he needs to leave. “Look, he’s not violent, and he hasn’t tried to leave or do anything out of the ordinary since being here. I think he’s just confused, and you can lock yourself in my bedroom if it makes you feel better.”
Renjun’s features twist with a look, as if Jaemin is being ridiculous for even suggesting such a thing. “Then what’s the point of even watching him? Just leave him here.”
That option has already gone under evaluation, and Jaemin just felt wrong about leaving him totally alone. If he is an alien, imagine the only earth native you know abandoning you without an explanation? Or if he’s some escaped experiment from a remote facility that doesn’t remember anything that happened to him, that’s doubly not cool.
“You know what? Forget I asked. I’ll just leave the confused, obviously lost, possibly hurt man all by himself with nobody to support him while I figure out what’s going on.” Jaemin holds his hands up in surrender, knowing that he’s playing dirty but past the point of caring. “Let’s just hope he’s not actually in trouble, because then if he walks out and wanders the street his blood will be on my hands. I was hoping you cared about m—”
“Oh my God, fine. Just shut up,” Renjun whines with a dramatic hand over his eyes, his palm swiping down his face like a divorced man. “You’re so annoying.”
Jaemin holds back the grin that wants to spread on his features, opting instead to wrap his arms around Renjun in a suffocating hug.
“Thank you, I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Jaemin says with another squeeze, earning him a groan of annoyance in response.
“You always do,” Renjun replies begrudgingly, forcing himself out of Jaemin’s arms like a barnacle from the side of a boat. “Now get to work so you can buy me dinner.”
Jaemin scurries away with one last quick peck to Renjun’s cheek, snickering to himself at the dramatic squeal that escapes him as he rushes towards the door. “You’re the best! Have a good day, Jeno! I promise I’ll be back soon, okay?”
The goodbye is sent out as Jaemin is already halfway out the door, his eyes only barely able to catch the way Jeno’s skin is shifting with more greens and blues. He looks unsure, but he nods in understanding, copying Jaemin’s wave that is the last thing he offers before shutting the front door behind him.
Everything will be fine, Jaemin reassures himself as he makes his way down the gravel driveway, hoping beyond all hope that it really is.
🛸
Jaemin doesn’t know why he thought he could focus on an 8-count when he can barely remember to swallow his own saliva.
The only upside to his weekday dance classes is that they’re primarily occupied by rich 50 year olds that are past the point of tipsy, so Jaemin has been able to get away with showing a few simple salsa moves and calling it a day. There’s only one more class to let in before he can go home and see Jeno, and the sun has begun to set on the horizon, burning orange filtering in through the floor to ceiling windows all around him.
People are already starting to filter in while his previous class finishes leaving, and Jaemin checks his phone for probably the 87th time. Renjun has been giving him quarterly updates every hour, going so far as to send pictures of the pile of stuff that Jeno has broken.
When Jaemin first left, Jeno panicked after getting about five minutes away from the house. He crushed the TV remote and tried to follow him out three times, until finally Renjun was able to hammer in that he will be back. Jaemin only met Jeno three days ago, but he’s attached to the guy, finding that his inability to speak makes their conversations that much more interesting. Jaemin has been able to teach Jeno the sign for eat, and water, and yes or no.
It seems like Jeno has things he wants to say, he just isn’t quite sure how, and that frustrates him at inopportune times. Inopportune because Jeno also has a temper, which Jaemin admits was a bit evil to not warn Renjun of. Jaemin had a strict talk with Jeno about being nice when people come into his home, and he nodded like he understood, so he pretty much banked this entire situation on Jeno’s inability to tell him no.
Jaemin has never been around someone who agrees with him so easily, because his best friends are a libra that can’t agree with anything and an aries that thinks everyone is wrong. Jeno just… listens, and learns, and Jaemin likes that about him—he still wishes he could talk though.
Jaemin:
“everything good?”
It’s about ten minutes until Renjun’s next update is due, but Jaemin won’t be able to check his phone until after partnering everyone up, so he decides to check anyway. Renjun reads the text almost immediately, his typing bubbles appearing and disappearing over and over again for nearly three minutes straight. Jaemin is about to double text to ask if something is wrong, but then a picture of Renjun’s face covered in cake from his birthday party shows up on the screen, and Jaemin answers his phone faster than he can bring it to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Uh, hi, Jaemin. So…”
“What happened?”
Jaemin looks behind himself while huddling to the far end of the room, seeing five more people enter the dance studio as his cheeks heat up from anxiety. He knows that voice on Renjun, still able to see his face when he told Jaemin that he accidentally broke his favorite Pizza Hut promotional Care Bear’s cup, and the time he was in charge of getting concert tickets for Paramore and he ended up falling asleep before they went on sale.
Renjun is pretty bad at hiding how he’s feeling, but Jaemin needs him to be a little more honest in the next five seconds or he’s going to certifiably freak out.
“Renjun?”
“I don’t know what happened. I went back into your room after making us dinner and when I came out to check on him he was just… gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean gone?”
“I don’t know! I swear I was only gone for a few minutes while I ate. I didn’t hear him go out the front door. He was just—not there!”
The heat on Jaemin’s face becomes uncomfortable, one quick glance in the wall of mirrors right in front of him enough to confirm how flushed he is. Of all the things that Renjun could have said, this is probably the worst, and Jaemin doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to say in return.
“Okay, I’ll be home in fifteen minutes. Just go outside and try to call for him, okay? He can’t have gone far.”
“Okay, just please hurry.”
Jaemin hangs up the phone, spinning around to see that his class is quite small for the end of the day, only about 9 people in total and 3 of them past the point of elderly. It’s not exactly easy to just bail in the resort, but Jaemin knows his way around every impossible social interaction, and he’s willing to endure some humiliation for the sake of Jeno’s safety.
“Class, if you’ll excuse me I must run to the facilities,” he says while already crossing the distance of the dance studio, practically speed-walking in his khaki shorts out into the hallway.
Nobody bats an eye as he goes, because the class doesn’t start for five minutes and they probably assume it’ll be a quick man-piss and he’ll be right back. Jaemin has zero intentions of returning today though.
The lobby is just at the end of the hall, and Jaemin thanks whatever Gods remain for the sight of his manager behind the desk. Kyle is hardly ever around, always hiding in his office to avoid situations exactly like this.
“Kyle!” Jaemin calls as he approaches the front desk, putting on his best nervous smile while clinging to the cold marble. “Hey, I need you to cover my last class.”
Kyle looks up from his broken Samsung phone, the edges of the case all dirty and falling off. His hair is greasy and there’s a gleam of sweat on his forehead that never seems to go away. Jaemin hates Kyle, but their lack of relationship makes this so much easier.
“What? I’m not doing that. You’re the dance instructor,” Kyle says as his eyebrows go up into his hairline—his very greasy, very ginger hairline. “If you can’t find coverage, that’s your fault.”
It takes every bone in Jaemin’s body not to roll his eyes at the rule he obviously knows, because he’s been working at this stupid resort since he was 17. This isn’t a deal breaker though, not in the slightest.
“I’m literally about to shit my pants, so you can either go in there and teach those guests the resort luau dance, or I can tell Kaleo that you ate his poké bowl that was in the break room fridge with his name clearly labeled on the top.” Jaemin raises his eyebrows nearly into his hairline to prove his severity, and the mere mention of the gentle giant already has Kyle grimacing in annoyance.
“Ugh, fine,” Kyle says begrudgingly, locking his sad excuse for a phone before setting it down behind the counter. “But you owe me the last hour of your paycheck.”
That is a non-issue, seeing as Jaemin barely even makes 18 bucks an hour as it is. Take some tax and Kyle is getting 12 dollars max.
“I’ll venmo you, thanks,” Jaemin says with an attempt at a grimace, peeling away from the counter to speed-walk towards the opposite hallway. Kyle doesn’t say another word, but Jaemin doesn’t expect him to, rushing towards the employee break room to make his grand escape.
To Jaemin’s surprise, there’s nobody else in there, so he crosses the stuffy room to the emergency exit that has long since been cleared of any alarms. Pushing it open lets in the smell of faded cigarette smoke and the sounds of evening bugs, but it's a cool night, and Jaemin tries not to panic as his sneakers finally meet concrete.
🛸
There have been few moments in Jaemin’s life where he’s truly ran for anything.
He’s not much of a jogger, and when the gym calls for him, he’ll do hours of strength training over a 30 minute run any day. In fact, Jaemin isn’t even sure where the stamina comes from for him to sprint all the way home from the resort, making it there in exactly 15 minutes as promised.
Jaemin doesn’t bother greeting Renjun when he sees him at the bottom of his driveway, instead choosing to grab him by the front of his shirt and drag him to the front door with him. Renjun doesn’t protest either, flailing behind Jaemin like the dutiful best friend as they both barrel into the house.
The broken dining chair is still tucked into the corner of the kitchen, and there are a few other little things that are scattered on the floor in pieces. Its nothing important, nothing that Jaemin would get mad over it being broken, but Jeno is nowhere to be seen, and Jaemin’s head spirals like a chocolate shaving.
“Did he get angry?” Jaemin asks with muted horror, realizing that he’s probably in way over his head, and that he’s inevitably put Renjun in danger. “Is that why everything’s broken?”
Renjun scans the room they’re in, probably taking the same sights as Jaemin. His features twist as he looks, before invariably shaking his head no.
“He’s just clumsy, he didn’t get angry at all,” Renjun finally replies, looking as confused as Jaemin feels. “I don’t understand why he would want to leave. He just kept saying your name and I kept telling him that you’d be back. He seemed fine, Jaem. I can’t—”
A solid thunk makes the wooden floors jostle beneath them, Renjun yelping and clinging to Jaemin’s arm as they turn to the window on the opposite end of the living room. Something black and dirty sits in a crumpled heap on the floor—a trash bag, Jaemin notices—as if someone had just thrown it in.
Silence lingers after the fact, and Jaemin’s two seconds from running out of the house to yell at whoever is using his house as a dumpster, when a mop of silver hair appears over the edge of the windowsill.
Renjun gasps in surprise, but Jaemin knows that shaggy head, his heart stuttering in relief when Jeno’s hands curl around the old wood. One second he’s not there, and the next he’s gracefully tossing himself through the window, legs coming over in the small space and landing on the floor like a creature.
Jeno doesn’t seem to care to pretend that he doesn’t know there are others around, his ears twitching with awareness as a nervous smile grows on his features.
“Jaemin,” he says, slowly rising from his crouched state with a gesture towards the pack of garbage. Jeno looks from Jaemin to his offering of sorts, teeth nervously nibbling at his chapped bottom lip. He looks like he wants to say something, and Jaemin wishes he could.
“Jeno, you’re okay.” It's a question and a statement, Jaemin exhaling a sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto while detaching from Renjun just enough to join at Jeno’s side. “What is this? Where’d you go?”
Despite Jaemin knowing that Jeno won’t answer, he’s just happy to see Jeno, his hand reaching out to hesitantly squeeze Jeno’s shoulder that’s covered by his own t-shirt.
The touch causes Jeno’s skin to begin swirling with that pretty pink color again, and Jaemin wonders if that’s his own special color—a greeting just for him.
“He went out to get trash?” Renjun asks, dumbfounded, clearly feeling like the scorned babysitter. “I thought the government kidnapped you, man!”
A sound that Jaemin has never heard from Jeno before buzzes past his lips, a laugh making his features light up in just about the cutest fucking smile that Jaemin has ever seen. He’s… human like this, and Jaemin nearly falls over when those lips part to do something else entirely.
“It’s not trash, Renjun. They’re gifts, for breaking Jaemin’s stuff.”
Jaemin pulls his hand back in shock, the color on Jeno’s skin fading out in pastel swirls until he’s back to normal. With a single step back, Jaemin turns to meet Renjun’s gaze, finding that his best friend is just as speechless as he is.
“You can talk!” Renjun yelps without any tact whatsoever, making Jaemin look back at Jeno to see how he’s feeling about all this.
Jeno looks fine though, his smile still playfully curving up his lips.
“Yes,” he says, though his cheeks bloom with a red color that is unmistakably a blush. “I’m sorry. I think when I fell I just… forgot how.”
“Forgot?” Renjun blurts once more, the sound of his awkward steps making Jaemin’s hairs raise on the back of his neck. This really isn’t something to yell at Jeno for, because as far as Jaemin is concerned, this just made all of their lives easier. “That’s convenient.”
“Renjun.”
Jaemin's head snaps in Renjun’s direction, a look of reprimand and annoyance very clear on his features. He knows it’s not Renjun’s fault, and yes, it’s frustrating, but they don’t even know what happened to Jeno, and to fall so hard that he lost his ability to speak is concerning in itself.
“It’s okay,” Jeno says with his own hand on Jaemin’s shoulder, clearly mimicking the action as if it is now normal between them. “I can explain everything, but first I’d like to show you what I found.”
Jaemin doesn’t answer Jeno right away, quite frankly confused and in the midst of a silent conversation with Renjun. Renjun’s eyes blow wide as if to say don’t yell at me and Jaemin returns his own look of be nice!
Renjun concedes with a roll of his eyes after a few moments, stomping over to the couch like a kid. He plops down into the cushions, scooting over just enough to make room for Jaemin at his side.
Jeno uses this time to lug the half-filled garbage bag across the hardwood, the dusty outside letting Jaemin know that it’s most definitely been used. He tries not to think too much about how much he’s going to have to disinfect later, rather focusing on looking up at Jeno with a smile.
“You know you didn’t have to replace anything you broke, Jeno. Nothing in here is exactly valuable,” Jaemin prefaces even as he watches Jeno tear open the tied garbage bag, shreds of the plastic coming away as if Jeno were ripping paper.
“You also didn’t need to run away, I could have helped,” Renjun grumbles next to him, making Jaemin bump his knee lightheartedly.
Jaemin doesn’t want to make him feel too bad, because he had tasked Renjun with taking care of Jeno, but this is a situation where they all have to take the blows as they come. It happened, it’s over, they’re dealing with right now.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” Jeno says with a shrug, reaching into the bag and pulling out a… flip flop?
Yeah, a flip flop, and then an empty terracotta pot, and a handful of crumpled hibiscus flowers that Jeno obviously plucked from a bush. It’s all just trash, stuff he grabbed from the side of the road and decided was a nice offering.
Jaemin thinks it’s endearing, even if the smell is pretty severe.
“I’m sorry if it’s not the same stuff, but it looked sheesna so I grabbed it,” Jeno says while pulling the remaining things from the trash bag, tossing them into the pile before messily crumpling up the old plastic.
“Looked what?” Renjun asks before Jaemin has the chance to, the little slip in language making Jeno that much more alien.
“Sheesna,” Jeno says again, crouching down to his pile of things while smiling over at his observers on the couch. “Fun? Is that a good translation?”
The realization that Jeno truly, wholeheartedly can speak English as a second language makes Jaemin feel like he’s just meeting Jeno for the first time. He doesn’t have a hint of an accent, but the word spoken in whatever his original language is was so thick with a swallowed weight that it’s amazing that he doesn’t.
“Sure, fun works. Maybe cool? It can mean temperature but also, you know, interesting or fun,” Jaemin explains for Renjun, because he knows his friend is probably still overwhelmed with everything.
Jaemin doesn’t blame him, it is a lot to take in, but Jaemin feels a bit desensitized to Jeno-shaped surprises.
And Jeno takes the comment in stride, nodding his head before rummaging around for things to gather in his arm. He’s still crouched like an animal, but he looks as human as ever, the only feature that would give him away being his bright silver hair.
“I got this pot for Jaemin to put new plants in, and for Renjun, the slab of rubber for killing the bugs he doesn’t like,” Jeno explains before rising to approach the couch, extending the terracotta pot and the flip flop to their respective owners.
Jaemin takes his gift with a smile, but Renjun shakes his head no, trying to remain appreciative through the obvious disgust. “Thanks, but I’m allergic to rubber,” Renjun says with a lighthearted huff—a poor attempt at a laugh. “Maybe I could have the flowers instead?”
Jeno’s eyebrows point down, a grumpy expression that Jaemin knows well blooming on his features. He glances behind himself, looking at the pile of crushed hibiscus before turning back to meet their questioning stares. The look on Jeno’s face is full of confusion, almost as if he’s not sure what it is he feels about that, before inevitably shaking his head no.
“I got those for Jaemin too. They’re pretty, like he is.”
Renjun’s head whips over to look at Jaemin faster than Jaemin can even finish processing Jeno’s words, Jaemin not even attempting to hide his shock as he returns Renjun’s look of accusation.
Why did he say that?
I know as much as you, dude!
It’s another silent conversation, and Jaemin has to avoid the urge to strangle Renjun when he unceremoniously smacks Jaemin’s arm.
Except, he doesn’t have to, because the moment Renjun’s hand makes contact with Jaemin’s skin, Jeno is there, holding Renjun’s arm hard enough to dimple the skin.
“Jeno—”
“Nobody touches Jaemin,” Jeno says with a harsh bite to his words, his skin rippling with angry waves of black and gray. Jaemin has only seen this color one other time, when the siren went by and put Jeno in complete hysterics. The look on his face is menacing, reeking of destruction and the need to barrel through whatever is in front of him. Jaemin doesn’t mind his things being broken, but he doesn’t like that look being directed towards his friend, so he makes a split second decision to stand, moving abruptly to place himself between the two of them.
Renjun yelps as he yanks his arm back, huddling further into the couch as if Jeno is going to jump on him like a dog. To be fair, he kind of does look a little feral, but now that Jaemin is in front of him, hand on his shoulder, Jeno appears to not notice anything but him.
“Jeno, you can’t hurt Renjun,” Jaemin says, serious. He isn’t afraid of Jeno, but he’s kind of embarrassed that he hasn’t been a bit more careful with the repercussions of things unknown. “Ever. Okay? You can’t hurt anyone I care about.”
As Jeno always does when Jaemin touches him, his skin whispers with shades of pink, slowly pulsing with little bits of blue like rain dropping onto water. Jaemin knows enough to decide what that means, and he’s at least grateful for the fact that Jeno understands.
“I’m sorry,” Jeno says to Jaemin first, then turns his head to look at Renjun. “I’m sorry, Renjun. I don’t know why…”
“Because you’re not human!” Renjun shouts as he cradles his arm against his chest, which Jaemin thinks is a bit overkill.
It wasn't nice for Jeno to grab him, sure, but he looks like a kicked puppy now, face buried behind silver hair and his own shame. Jeno doesn’t know what he’s doing, Jaemin at least believes that much, but he does listen to everything that Jaemin tells him, and that counts for a lot.
“Okay, let’s just… calm down,” Jaemin says after another beat of silence, hand reaching out to comfort Jeno with a squeeze of his shoulder once more. “Jeno, Renjun won’t hit me anymore, and Renjun, Jeno promises not to touch you without consent, right?”
“Right,” Jeno says with a nod, all too quick to agree with Jaemin. “Wait, what’s con…sent?” He asks once the word actually registers, brow furrowing in confusion. “I don’t have a translation for that.”
Ooh boy.
Jaemin sighs, looking over at Renjun to see if they are once more on the same page. The remnants of annoyance and anger linger on Renjun’s face, but he looks equally as horrified as Jaemin feels, their situation leaving E.T. realms by the second.
It would be fun if Jeno were just some wacky guy that fell from the sky who wants to go home to his planet, but Jeno walks and talks like any other person, and he has never once expressed a desire to be anywhere else. Some may call it a leap to assume the worst, but Jaemin’s life has never been made better, or particularly easy, by being hopeful.
“Consent means giving someone permission to do something to you. You don’t have consent to touch people, that’s just a rule that people have,” Jaemin explains, pointedly removing his hand from Jeno’s shoulder. “And I didn’t have consent to touch you, so I’m removing my hand, see? I should’ve asked first.”
Confusion still paints Jeno’s features, but he nods nonetheless, probably not wanting to disappoint Jaemin by not understanding it. Jaemin thinks he does understand though, at least with the way he looks at Jaemin’s hand that was once comforting him as if it's his own detached limb. Jeno’s lips part to speak again, expression so transparent that it feels almost intrusive just to watch him think.
“I don’t care if you touch me,” Jeno grumbles, the gears still turning loudly in his head. “I give you the consent to do it.”
Renjun snorts a laugh despite himself, making Jaemin wince in his own endearment. It appears the alien has a bit of a crush, but Jaemin can handle that, the self-appointed expert of letting people down easily.
But things won’t even come to that, which Jaemin decides right then in that moment, if only to spare him the burning gaze that’s searing holes into his skin from Renjun at his side.
“Right, well, thanks for letting me know. Now I… know… that…”
Renjun cringes at his awkward phrasing before Jaemin even gets the chance, and Jaemin knows if they hadn’t just had a huge issue with Jeno getting mad by Renjun hitting him, then Renjun would have absolutely hit him again. Jaemin kind of wants to smack himself upside the head too.
“So, are you going to tell us what happened to you, or are we just supposed to pretend you were having to use sign language to ask for water a few hours ago?” Renjun butts in once the silence between them becomes unbearable, always the first one to avoid discomfort at any cost. “I feel like we’re grossly underreacting to the fact that you can just talk now.”
“I will tell Jaemin in my own time,” Jeno says with a nod, hovering by Jaemin’s side as if he’s magnetized to him.
“Wait, not me?” Renjun asks, a bit offended, his arms crossing over his chest with a frown.
“I don’t know you.”
Jaemin snorts a laugh at that, but he knows Jeno means it in a literal way. For all intents and purposes, Jeno only knows Jaemin, and whatever it takes to get an explanation is good enough for him.
Renjun seems to agree, because after a brief pause, he exhales while untangling his limbs, turning to the pile of stuff to pretend to look through it. His cheeks are still flushed from adrenaline, but he looks defeated in the nicest sense of the word. Perhaps desensitization happens fast for everyone.
“Yeah, fair enough.”
🛸
Jaemin has never claimed to be a particularly tactful person, for all that he is a go-getter.
Taking Jeno out to see what there is of his little town sounds like a completely normal thing to do with a visitor, so Jaemin doesn’t think twice about the possible repercussions that Jeno being not-of-this-earth could bring about.
It’s still not something they’ve discussed in detail, but Jaemin knows what he knows. There really is no other explanation—unless Jeno is some escaped experiment from Russia that somehow ended up in Hawaii with no hint of a Russian accent at all. Both ideas seem equally as ridiculous, and quite frankly, Jaemin does not get paid enough to dispute either possibility.
Renjun has told him, on numerous occasions, that he’s being far too blasé for his liking, but Jaemin hasn’t given much thought to his life before this, so why start now?
“So, how’s the drink?” Jaemin asks while taking a sip from his own cup, his reusable tumbler clattering with the ice from his americano. “I figured sweet stuff was the way to go.”
Jeno takes another sip from his drink, a simple hibiscus lemonade in a glass cup from the cafe. There was a lengthy discussion about holding it gently before allowing Jeno to drink from it, and he seems to be taking that very seriously as he cups the glass between his slim fingers.
“It’s very good. I’ve never had something with this kind of flavor before,” Jeno says while swiping his tongue around in his mouth, as if to somehow drag out the taste. “There’s a fruit on a very green planet, much like this, and it’s crushed into a sweet paste that children eat to fall asleep. I always imagined it would taste something like this.”
Jaemin hums around the coffee he’s swallowing, unsure how talking to Jeno can feel casual despite only learning that he could talk a mere few days before. The air around them is easy, like old friends that have an unspoken rule between them to enjoy each other's company despite not knowing much about the other person. Jaemin fills in gaps of earth where need be, and describes his life when Jeno asks, but they came here specifically to talk, and it feels… good.
“You never got to taste it?” Jaemin asks, genuinely curious about the life that Jeno led before finding himself here. He said he’d tell Jaemin everything in time, and Jaemin is really in no hurry to know, even if Renjun texts him every hour, on the hour, asking if Jeno has said anything new.
It’s not Jaemin’s place to pry, and Jeno smiles his warm smile that tells him he’s happy to explain.
“I only ever saw the planet through the glass of my pod. I was let out in the arena to fight, and then put back in,” Jeno says with a shrug, bringing the glass to his lips with the care of a child holding their mothers favorite cup. “There are so many smells that are not just blood and sulfur. It’s nice.”
And now Jaemin is floundering for that semblance of peace, his ears ringing with how hard he tries to register what the fuck Jeno has just said. Surely he doesn’t mean it so literally. Surely…
“You were a fighter?”
The question sounds all wrong, because Jaemin knows it’s probably far more complex, and far worse than just being a fighter. What Jeno has just described sounds like servitude, like slavery, and Jaemin feels his coffee churn unpleasantly in his stomach when Jeno shrugs once more.
“Not really. I’m an experiment,” Jeno explains easily, and Jaemin kind of wants to grab him and throttle him with how normal the words sound coming out of his mouth. “My… owner? My creator? He spliced my DNA from other non-human experiments, and he used me in arena fights to make money every now and then. There were no other human experiments so I was worth a lot. Experiment ZNO-423.”
ZNO… Zeno. That’s what Jeno was trying to tell him that night, that’s the grumbled mess that has turned into Jeno’s name. Jaemin is glad he didn’t stick with Zeno, because now it just feels like grit in his teeth.
Each word has been a punch to Jaemin’s already raw and bruised cheeks, his skin heating up with the warmth of the sun and his own internal shame. He doesn’t know what to say about any of this, nor does he know if it’s even his place to tell Jeno that his entire life has been a disgusting display of inhumanity. This feels like the most poorly written film that Jaemin has ever seen, because this shouldn’t be a conversation that is had with so little grace.
“When you found me in the bushes, I thought that I had woken up in one of those special arenas where they make the fighters survive for a few days.” Jeno gingerly pushes his cup to the side, leaving behind mostly ice and some crushed flowers. Jaemin follows the movement for only a second, unable to remove himself from the sincerity of Jeno’s features. “I was relieved when I saw you instead. You didn’t smell like sulfur or metal, and your heart…”
Jeno trails off, his throat bobbing as he swallows around his thoughts. His eyes trail over Jaemin’s face, making him hyper aware of the way he’s nibbling on his fingernail out of nervousness. Jeno’s already warm features soften further, and his eyes curve with a smile that Jaemin can almost feel against his skin.
“Your heart beats differently than mine—different from any experiment or creature from any planet. I know now that it is just the way human hearts sound, but that night it gave me hope.”
Jeno’s smile widens, his hands naturally traveling across the small cafe table as if they mean to touch Jaemin. He stops just before their fingers brush, palms frozen against the glass, and Jaemin only realizes then that he’s gawking like an idiot.
“Sorry, I know we can’t touch out here,” Jeno says sheepishly, retracting his hands as a pink blush colors his cheeks. He doesn’t even need to be touched to change color, but Jaemin finds his traitorous mind falling down that rabbit hole all too easily.
“Jeno,” Jaemin says with a sigh, setting his drink off to the side as well. He needs to give this his full attention, because a lot of information has just been thrown his way, and Jaemin still isn’t entirely sure of what he’s even supposed to say. “I’m happy that you’re here now, but should I be worried that someone’s going to come and take you away? If you… belonged to someone, won’t they want you back?”
That’s Jaemin’s first concern, amongst the many years of therapy that Jeno is going to need one day, Jaemin is mostly concerned about the situation they are in right now. Should they be holed up somewhere safe, is it okay for Jeno to be out right now? Jaemin believes him, everything he says, because he has no reason not to, but with that unbridled trust comes fear of the fact that he’s in way over his head.
“They can’t have me back,” Jeno says with a certainty to his voice that feels finite, like it really is the be all and end all. “You found me. I’m yours now.”
Yeah, Jaemin doesn’t think it works that way—he doesn’t want it to work that way.
“You’re your own person, Jeno. Here on earth, we try not to own people, you know?” Jaemin leans closer so that he can quiet his voice, even though he knows Jeno can hear him just fine from anywhere. “It’s extremely illegal to own people here, actually. People belong to themselves unless they get, like, married or something.”
Jeno’s sweet face twists once more, clearly not understanding everything that Jaemin is saying. His fingers lace together on the table, as if to keep himself from fidgeting, and Jaemin really wishes they could touch, if only to reassure him.
“But… I was made to belong to someone,” Jeno grumbles, almost to himself, as if the concept of anything else feels wrong. “I don’t have any other purpose.”
That statement alone fills Jaemin with anger of his own, the feeling boiling up inside of him like a pot about to spill over. This isn’t right, and it’s not fair that Jeno still won’t have an easy time on earth even if he is free, because he’ll need things to prove that he exists if he wants a normal life, and Jaemin does not have the kind of connections to make that happen easily.
For all intents and purposes, Jeno is an illegal alien, and Jaemin worries for him in a million other human ways.
“But marriage,” Jeno says again, looking up at Jaemin through his lashes with that same pink dusting his cheeks. “My translation says it’s human mating. This is a law?”
Jaemin clears his throat, coughing around nothing as he tries to deal with the swell of emotion that mingles with his upset. Jeno also does not have any tact it seems. What a pair they make.
“Uh, yes?” Jaemin asks more than tells, feeling insecure in his own skin as Jeno stares at him like he holds all the answers. “But you have to prove that you’re from here to marry someone, it’s kind of a process, and can cost a lot of money, but—”
Jaemin stops himself, realizing a beat too late that explaining this is useless to Jeno. He can’t get married, and even if he could, Jaemin sure as hell isn’t gonna let him get married Vegas style to some stranger for an intergalactic visa.
“But it’s a law that your people have,” Jeno says by his own way of showing that he’s paying attention, only picking out the part that matters to him. “Space law is very strict. The intergalactic council won’t interfere with a human law if it applies to me now. Maybe I could—”
“No!” Jaemin says abruptly, reaching over to grab Jeno’s wrist and stop him from saying something so ridiculous, watching in delayed horror as his skin ripples with pink.
His hand is retracted just as quickly, and Jaemin winces at himself for being so careless. Jeno is the one at stake here, but he’s fumbling his own words, treating this like some awkward first date rather than the discussion of humanity that it should be. Academics have never been Jaemin’s thing, but this matters in ways much bigger than him.
“No, Jeno. You don’t need to get married to be kept safe, okay? You should find a… mate… when you’re ready. There’s plenty of fish in the sea,” Jaemin says with a forced smile, wiping his sweaty palms on his shorts.
“I don’t want a fish. I want you.”
It takes a long, deep breath through Jaemin’s nose to not choke on his own spit all over again, his eyes narrowing as he tries to decide how to respond to that. All he can muster up in the moment is a nod, and Jeno stares at him with so much certainty that Jaemin wonders if they should just get metaphorically married.
Jaemin is pretty quick to mentally smack himself upside the head for that though, and he clears his throat once more to rid the air of his reservations.
“It’s just an expression, Jen. Anyways,” Jaemin deflects while swiping his drink once more, taking a sip to clear the nerves that are currently constricting his throat. Maybe Renjun was right to be wary of Jeno’s crush, because this feels like a recipe for disaster. “When you say you fell, what does that mean exactly?”
Redirection seems like the best course of action, because Jaemin is the one that derailed them in the first place. Jeno doesn’t even think to argue, which is probably unfair, but Jaemin will take grace where he can get it.
“Well, that’s another reason why I think I was unsure whether or not to speak for so long,” Jeno says while wringing his hands, silver hair falling messily into his eyes. “I… forgot so much. I remember that my owner was trying to sell me, because I didn’t want to fight anymore. He said I was growing a human conscience and he didn’t like that, but while I’m in my transport pod I’m completely in stasis.”
Jeno looks down at the table as he speaks, clearly enraptured in the memory of the last moments he was aware of the world around him. If he really, truly forgot, then Jaemin can’t imagine how scary this must have been for him, and he’s doubly glad for his decision to bring Jeno in that night.
“I remember being put into my pod, and then I felt a sharp pain in my whole body. I woke up in a valley by your house and crawled my way into the bush you found me in,” Jeno murmurs as if he's embarrassed by the fact, his typically relaxed shoulders turning in on themselves. “Like I said, I thought I was in a fighting arena, that my creator had left me to die, but you saved me, Jaemin.”
Jeno lifts his head then, cheeks tight with uncertainty but eyes glittering with hope. Jaemin doesn’t know what to do with the intensity of the look, his insides squirming from too much all at once. It was nothing at the time, just Jaemin trying to be a good person, but Jeno has clearly suffered in ways that transcends either of their understanding, and Jaemin wishes he could take it all away.
“So you think your owner dropped you out of his… spaceship?”
Jaemin has no idea what the technical term would be, chewing on his lip in anticipation for Jeno to continue on his own. He’s really answering all of Jaemin’s burning questions that he’s been holding onto for days, and sharing things that will probably keep Jaemin up at night.
“On purpose?”
Jeno huffs through his nose, hands coming up to comb through his already messy hair in a gesture that is so very human. “I don’t know,” he says honestly, sinking back into his chair as the fight leaves him. “I can’t imagine he’d waste me like that. I’m worth a lot, even if I’m not a killer, and if he didn’t drop me on purpose then he’ll probably be back.”
Christ.
The fact that Jeno talks about himself like he’s some sort of cargo makes Jaemin’s skin itch, and he’s really going to have to work on his positive self-talk if that’s how Jeno compliments himself. Jaemin knows it’s just normal for him, but it’s extremely upsetting, and Jaemin won’t let Jeno feel like that if he has any say in the matter.
“Okay, well, like you said,” Jaemin starts with as reassuring of a smile as he can give, the emotion feeling unnatural given everything that's just happened. “You’re with me now. I don’t own you, but I am your friend, and here on earth, that means a lot. We’ll take care of each other, okay?”
Jeno visibly perks up at this, becoming almost cartoonish with how wide his smile spreads on his features. Little blips of pink and hints of an iridescent shimmer that Jaemin has definitely never seen before begin to puddle on Jeno’s skin, and he tries to keep his panic to a minimum about that.
“Jeno, you’re changing colors,” Jaemin says through gritted teeth, tensing up with the intention to stand at any second if Jeno can’t shut it off. “You okay?”
That same panic pinches Jeno’s features, and he looks down at his own hands that swirl with multiple shades of purple and pink and yellow. It looks almost… confused, like Jeno doesn’t even know what he’s feeling, let alone why it’s showing up now. Jaemin looks around them, quickly scanning the few lingering old ladies at the other end of the cafe tables, and the tourists that sit in the park across the street. Nobody is looking at them, not yet at least, and Jaemin decides that enough is enough.
“Okay, lets go,” Jaemin says while standing from the table, grabbing his cup and wincing when Jeno stands just a little too abruptly. His hip bumps the table, causing his glass to tip over and roll right off the edge.
The sound of it shattering startles Jeno, a small whimper escaping him as his colors begin to shift to the ones that Jaemin recognizes. Reds and blues and grays overtake the sweet pinks, and Jeno clings to Jaemin’s side as they escape the cafe together. People are definitely looking now, but Jaemin just keeps walking, arm wrapped around Jeno’s shoulder to keep him as hidden as he can in broad daylight.
“It’s okay, Jeno. You’re alright, see?” Jaemin reassures him despite the way his voice shakes, tucking Jeno against the treeline as they find themselves back on the sidewalk once more. It’s a quick walk back to his house, and as long as they stay beneath the drooping palm trees, Jeno's color isn’t all that noticeable. “It’s not your fault. You don’t need to get upset.”
Except Jeno is already upset, his hands balled into fists at his sides with obvious restraint. Jaemin wonders if he’s stupid for not being scared, but Jeno has proven himself to be harmless to him, even if by default that seems impossible. Words like killer and experiment are scary when Jaemin rolls them around in his head, but they’re just words, and the way Jeno melds into his side with overheated skin and panting breaths is all too real.
“I’ve got you, Jeno,” Jaemin says with another squeeze to Jeno’s shoulder, their steps awkward and rushed against the uneven concrete. “Just focus on me. Let me see the pink color maybe? It’s my favorite color you know.”
Jeno finally looks up at him then, eyes big and scared. Jeno is scared of himself, and Jaemin’s heart breaks for him all over again.
“But you said I shouldn’t change color outside—”
“I’d rather you be pink than upset with yourself,” Jaemin explains all too easily, because it’s true. Jaemin can handle the changing skin, but he won’t be able to pull Jeno back from an unhappy rampage should things ever come to that. “You’ll get better at controlling it,” he adds, a bit breathless from their fast pace and the fact that Jeno is slowly shifting back to pink, the angry colors receding like waves. “You’re already doing well.”
This, above all, seems to finally soothe Jeno, his shoulders relaxing as he lets himself melt into Jaemin’s side. It’s probably going to be awkward to walk home like that, but Jaemin is prepared to carry Jeno on his back if need be, because it’s not safe out here for any number of reasons. Jeno did well for their first outing, and he’ll do better next time, and the next time, but there’s no point in rushing it.
In fact, if there is someone out there with the hopes of taking Jeno away, then Jaemin has even less of a reason to let him out and about. It’s crazy to think about, even more insane to accept, but Jaemin has no intentions of letting Jeno go.
Jaemin looks up at the bits of sky he can see through the overgrown foliage, the clear blue feeling daunting now that he knows too many truths about it, and he holds Jeno closer with that same reverence.