Operation Get Jaemin to Love His Wings was a go.
Status: stalled. Until midnight. Or, at least until Jaemin's parents called it a night. Because, based on the countless back-and-forth texts they all used to have on New Year's, Jaemin would always complain about his parents falling asleep before the clock even struck midnight.
11:43 p.m.:
"Alright, kids. Make sure to keep the partying on the down-low. Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year," they all chorused.
They all waited in expectant silence as Jaemin's parents shuffled down the hall to their bedroom. As they gently shut the door behind themselves.
"Alright," Donghyuck said, muting the New Year special stages they had been watching. "Mission: start!" He was instantly shushed by his friends and repeated in a hushed tone, "Mission: start!"
"Okay, I'm starting first," Renjun said, sliding off the couch and crawling on the floor until he sat directly in front of Jaemin. "Jaemin," he started, voice soft and tender. "Jaemin, you are the sweetest person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I think it's truly tragic that you never thought to confide your feelings to us. Us. Your closest friends." Renjun wriggled forward, placed a steady palm atop Jaemin's knee. "If you ever, ever feel the need to do something so extreme that it destroys your body, talk to us." His hand squeezed around Jaemin's knee. "Please. We want to be there for you whenever you're in trouble."
Jaemin felt his joints curl with rapid-growing mortification, a fierce flush sweating above his brow, spreading down to his back.
"Alright, my turn," Donghyuck said, shoving Renjun out of the way as he knelt between Jaemin's knees. "Jaemin, I know that you said you accepted my apology, but I want you to know that I promise you something like that will never, ever happen again. No matter the situation, no matter the topic, I will wait until you are ready to deal with it." He winked and nudged Jaemin's knee with his shoulder. "I'll wait until you open up your heart to me."
Renjun groaned and dragged Donghyuck away, smothering him against the carpet floor as he draped his weight across his entire back. "It's your turn, Jeno," he said as he held Donghyuck steady.
Jaemin, on the verge of crawling out of his own skin with the amount of blood rushing through his body—from the amount of adrenaline pounding against his skull, stiffly turned toward Jeno. He was adamant about staying on the couch, positioned beside Jaemin with close comfort, thighs melding against one another.
Jeno met his gaze, a wry grin stiff upon his lips. "Remember when you told me about the precautions of damaging your wings with binders?" he started, slow and gradual.
Jaemin waited a moment for him to continue before realizing he was seeking out a verbal confirmation—before understanding that Jeno wanted his full participation in their little confession time.
Sweat drenched his back. "Yeah," he croaked. "I remember."
Jeno's grin softened, dampened. A slight downward quirk. "Did you follow your own advice, Jaemin?"
Jaemin, rigid with shame, jerkily shook his head. "No," he muttered.
Jeno's eyes turned sad. Wide and imploring. Molten and dark with love, concern, worry, sorrow—emotions so deep and rich Jaemin had to avert his gaze. "Why?"
Single-worded questions were hard for Jaemin. Because was he actually supposed to be honest? Did the person just want to hear an easy-fix answer that'll make them feel better about themselves?
Jaemin's eyes flitted back to Jeno's, and he knew what his answer should be.
"Because I hated them," he admitted. A weight lifted from his chest as his thoughts filtered through the air. "I hated my wings," he continued, livid. "I wanted to rip them out so many times. I wanted to tear out my own flesh and bone. I wanted that. I wanted them gone. Never to be dealt with again. Never to be seen. Never to be felt."
Jaemin's heaving breaths filled in the lack of reactions. Fireworks burst in the background. Cheers trickled in from the streets below, from the life surrounding them.
New Year's Day had begun.