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1 week later-

Jumin didn't want to go to the club. It meant contact with V and a painful hangover and random people hitting (and grinding) on him. He'd rather stay home and antisocially work through his mountain of paperwork. His father liked to pile it on in the autumn as they approached the holidays, preparing for his employees to take off for vacation.

Jumin also had an essay to write, but V had insisted that Jumin had come clubbing in celebration of Rika and his anniversary. Jumin didn't care how many months they had been together, but he'd bought V a present anyways, a set of ramen bowls with a cartoonish cat face etched into the pottery. He secretly wanted to keep them for himself as an excuse to come up with a ramen product suitable for cats so that he could eat with Elly, but he eventually decided against it.

V liked nightclubs. Jumin had no idea why, he thought they were awful. Who would want to be in a cesspool if sweat, smoke, and beer? Jumin certainly didn't, but the whole group was going and he knew that if he didn't join them, he'd be harped on about it for who-knows-how-long.

So here he was, in front of his mirror, trying to decide what to wear. His normal suit was not an option, what if someone threw up on him? Jumin only had two 'casual' outfits: a cashmere sweater with jeans, and a polo with khaki shorts. The latter was out of the picture because it was too cold out, and the sweater was out for the same reason as the suit. Cashmere was expensive and he didn't want to drive to the dry cleaners. Jumin would've gone out to buy another sweater, but he was tight on time and V was supposed to pick him up in 15 minutes.

As a last resort, Jumin pulled on his jeans, rubbed a bar of solid cologne on his wrists, and left the room in his white button-up, walking down the few flights of stairs to V's floor.

V answered his door almost immediately, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He grinned as best he could, holding open the door, "Hey, man," he tried to say. He was wearing a white bathrobe tied loosely at the waist and he quite literally looked like a porcelain statue, his hair slicked back, pale skin crystalline.

"Hey..." Jumin tried casually, "This is a weird question, do you have a shirt I can borrow?". V paused then nodded enthusiastically, leading the way into his dorm room which was identical to Jumin's except a lot cleaner.

It was obvious which side of the room belonged to V. His bedside table, adorned with tiny pots of aloe plants and cacti, held an old fashioned alarm clock and a photo of Rika and V together. Jumin didn't want to look at it but V's smile was so bright it hurt.

Jihyun was opening his closet and he mumbled, "Pick anything you want," past his toothbrush. Jumin nodded in appreciation as V walked back to the bathroom.

Sliding through V's closet, Jumin realized that V had a lot of button-up shirts like himself, but more casual. But V also had lots of t-shirts and cardigans and sweaters, so many pastels and colors other than Jumin's preferred grey.

Jumin settled on a baby blue long-sleeved shirt and checked to make sure V was inside the bathroom, busy, before hastily unbuttoning his shirt. He didn't want V to see him shirtless. Jumin slipped off his dress shirt, then started pulling on V's shirt. The fabric was thin and stretchy, foreign to Jumin who hardly ever wore 'regular' shirts.

Little did Jumin know, V glanced back at his best friend over his shoulder and saw Jumin's flat stomach and broad chest. He tipped his head- Jumin was usually very concealed, he wore lots of layers and didn't like to show skin, so V didn't remember the last time he'd seen his best friend like this. Turning away quietly, V pretended like he hadn't seen.

Jumin closed his eyes as he brought the shirt over his head. He was wrapped in the warm, sawdust-smell of V, like the feel of warm sand between your toes. Jumin looked at himself in the floor-length mirror propped up against the wall and shrugged. He looked okay. The shirt was a little tight because his shoulders were wider than V's, but it fit anyways.

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