Never before has the single set of stairs to Jaejoong’s apartment seemed so fucking long.

 

Every step makes his muscles ache; after spending 20 minutes dragging Jaejoong through the building doors, Changmin had finally given up and ended up carrying him on his back. It’s not much easier, but it is a whole lot more painful.

 

He’s still got 25 steps to go.

 

As he staggers up to the top and walks a few steps more to Jaejoong’s front door, he remembers he doesn't have a key.

 

“Damn it,” he groans. The longer Changmin stands there the more his back hurts, and he's got very few options left. He resigns himself to knocking and prays that Yunho hasn’t gone to sleep yet.

 

He knocks for what seems like ages, growing more and more irritable (because now his hand hurts, too) before realizing that Yunho has his own apartment. He'd visited it himself, sat on Yunho's couch and talked with him.

That means: they’re not living together.

 

It’s a weird thought and Changmin pushes it out of his mind. Right now, the only thing he’s going to think about is how to open the damn door so he can dump Jaejoong inside, go home, and (thank god) catch some sleep.

 

He thinks some more, and then- oh. Duh. How could he forget that Jaejoong, of all people, would definitely have a key? If he had a free hand he would slap himself on the forehead.

 

Changmin sets Jaejoong down with a thump on the floor, contemplating how to best go about this. It figures that Jaejoong would be wearing clothes with pockets all over them, he thinks sourly. He’s not looking forward to groping Jaejoong.

 

A sigh and he blows a piece of hair out of his eyes.

 

“I’m only doing this because you won’t remember,” he tells Jaejoong’s prone body, and leans over. A quick search of his jacket reveals nothing, and Changmin turns instead to his pants. The key’s in his left pocket; Changmin fishes it out and opens the door. He slips his arms around Jaejoong and tries to lift him up.

 

It’s an undeniably awkward position but he manages, and enters the apartment.

 

He doesn’t notice the slight flutter of Jaejoong’s eyelids, the subtle twitch in his hand.

*

Once inside, Changmin carefully sets Jaejoong down on the nearest couch.

 

He doesn’t leave right away, though. He sits down next to Jaejoong, studying his face. In the darkness and dim lights Jaejoong looks even more haggard, moonlight highlighting every shadow on his face.

 

A part of him will always remember (and love) Jaejoong, he knows that. But he also knows that he can’t keep dwelling on it; he’s got to move on. Changmin brushes a strand of hair away from Jaejoong’s forehead, and he gets the stupidest feeling that he’s about to cry.

 

Now would be a good time to leave, he decides, and stands.

 

A hand shoots out and grabs his wrist, surprisingly gentle. Changmin looks down to see Jaejoong’s eyes open and his gaze settle on Changmin. 

 

"Changmin," Jaejoong says slowly. His voice is hazy with sleep and drink. Where have you been? "Don’t leave," he says weakly.

 

Oh, hell. Changmin backs up, but the fingers on his arm tighten and hold fast.

 

"Let go," he says softly, tiredly. When Jaejoong doesn’t respond, he tries to pull his hand free.

 

Jaejoong’s leaning slightly over the couch and his balance is already unsteady; the force of the pull causes Jaejoong to tumble off the couch, knocking Changmin down as well.

 

It’s like fate is working against him or something, because Jaejoong’s now on top of him and he’s effectively trapped.

 

“Please.” Jaejoong’s face hovers next to Changmin’s neck and he can feel the warmth of Jaejoong's breath. “Stay.”

 

Changmin inhales sharply. “I can't,” he breathes, protesting, but it’s weak. Despite everything telling him to run away as fast as he can, Changmin wants this. He craves warmth and comfort, a fleeting moment of bliss.

 

How many times has he been in this exact same position, pinned by Jaejoong, pinning Jaejoong, as they joked around with each other? More times than he can count, but there’s never been a time quite like this.

 

He’s drunk, Changmin reasons with himself. They both are. And when you’re drunk you’re allowed to do stupid things. Things you might regret.

 

Like leaning up and kissing Jaejoong on the mouth.

 

Jaejoong’s mouth tastes like alcohol, with the slightest undercurrent of something sweet. The kiss is fast and bruising, teeth and tongues, harsh breaths. Their bodies press up against each other; Jaejoong’s hand is tangled in Changmin’s jacket and Changmin arches upward, impatient with desire.

 

“Bed,” Jaejoong breathes in his ear, and Changmin is only too eager to comply.

 

Jaejoong pulls him up, and they move into Jaejoong’s room, his bed (Changmin vaguely remembers shopping for those very sheets). Changmin lets Jaejoong straddle him, moving slowly and carefully as he plants a soft kiss on Changmin’s collarbone and unbuttons his jacket. Jaejoong backs away for a moment to peel off his own clothes, scattering them haphazardly on the ground.

 

Changmin sits up slightly to discard his own shirt, but Jaejoong pushes him gently down and then there’s a hand on the front of his jeans and Changmin gasps, thrusting involuntarily into the touch. His pants are quickly pulled off and then they’re both naked— oh god— skin touching skin and it’s almost unbearable.

 

“Please,” Changmin pants, not sure he can take much more of this, achingly hard and desperate for something he should not be wanting. “Jaejoong—” He shivers when lips brush his shoulder, closes his eyes briefly and sinks into the touch.

 

“Relax,” Jaejoong murmurs, fingers ghosting over skin.

 

Changmin stifles a moan when Jaejoong finally enters him, slow and sure and smooth. He clutches desperately at the sheets, at Jaejoong’s shoulders, as Jaejoong begins to move inside him, going slowly at first but speeding up as Changmin adjusts.

 

It’s rough and raw and at first Changmin can only think of the pain but then it’s sheer pleasure, a burning sensation in his lower body that feels so good it hurts. Changmin cries out when he comes; Jaejoong thrusts a few more times before coming as well, slumping over Changmin’s body.

 

He hears Jaejoong whisper something as he lays his head on Changmin’s chest. He’d like to believe it was his name, or maybe I love you, but Changmin’s not that good at deceiving himself.

*

Jaejoong falls asleep soon after. All Changmin hears is his heart beating, the steady thumpthumpthump as he catches his breath. He places a hand on Jaejoong’s chest, feels the same pulse of life there (it’s like their hearts are beating as one) and he drifts into sleep.