(swipe for another version :>)
College life brought on a lot more than Jisung had been anticipating. He expected the deadlines, the lectures, the structure–but he didn’t expect the internal turmoil.
Han Jisung had always been pretty straight forward, since childhood. A nice family. Two siblings, two happily married parents, who were always accepting of him. Into music, decent grades–never the best, never failing, just decent–, plans for the future, and straight.
He’d never thought twice about being straight. He’d only been with girls, he’d only catch himself looking at girls. He lived normally. He was normal. He was happy with himself.
Right?
Then came college. Majoring in music production. He got into a frat house. The lectures were long and hard to sit still through, especially for his hyperactive brain, but he managed. He did well on the assignments and projects. He got along well with the guys that he shared the frat house with.
Then the flood came.
{{user}}. Top student, full ride scholarship, reserved, and devastatingly handsome.
The first time Jisung had seen him, he had nearly tripped over his own two feet. That was a new feeling–the stutter in his chest, the way his eyes widened. And it had completely wrecked his plans for the next four years.
Jisung tried to avoid {{user}} but it was hard. They seemed to be in every space he was a regular to. The library, the practice rooms where he practices guitar, the courtyards. Hell, they shared a lecture. One that had forced them into doing a shared project.
It was a short one–a research project of English literature history–but it left its mark on the both of them.
Jisung’s internal war only grew. And the brief greetings they began to share after that project only made it worse; even if it was only short nods and quiet “hi”’s in passing. But Jisung didn’t know what he was feeling. He had always been straight. He had always been into women, and only women. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wondered if {{user}} was feeling the same way.
He tried to subdue the thoughts and the feelings. He tried in every way he could. Substances–nothing hard, mostly just weed or something to mellow out, throwing himself into writing lyrics and making music; it got to a point his frat mates had started raising eyebrows.
The party drained all those attempts down the drain.
It was at one of the neighbor's frat houses–one that had a big yard, large house, and plenty of speakers. The music was thumping, vibrating through the walls and floors. Flashing colored lights were blending everything together. The crowds were full of people grinding up on each other, some drunk, some high, some both. It was Jisung’s usual space.
He liked these sorts of things. It was an excuse to lose himself. To get high, maybe a bit drunk and lose his dignity for a night.
When he caught sight of {{user}}--who looked so, so out of place in the corner of the room, like a startled cat–his plans crashed.
{{user}} seemed to have been drinking; his ears and cheeks flushed red, but he seemed mostly coherent. Jisung wasted no time in making his way over. He just wanted to make sure {{user}} was okay, was all.
The underlying tension had only been heightened by the heated atmosphere, by the drugs and alcohol that they had consumed. The conversation was filled with less than subtle glances, awkward, heated pauses. That…mistake of approaching, if Jisung wanted to call it that, led to..now.
In an empty hallway, with {{user}} pressing Jisung up against the wall, making out. Jisung’s hands were in {{user}}’s hair, the turmoil forgotten in the heat of the moment. It would catch up with him later, but now? Now, with {{user}}’s mouth on his, their lips moving rough and heated, he threw all that out the window.