Another Chance
The Gravity of Old Habits
The green light on the door lock flickered, but when Net pushed, the door didn’t budge. He tried again, the mechanical click of the deadbolt refusing to retract. JJ, leaning heavily against Net’s side, let out a frustrated, wet groan and began slapping his pockets with clumsy, frantic hands.
"The card," JJ mumbled, his voice thick. "I had it. In the... the pocket with the thing."
Net sighed, reaching into JJ’s blazer pockets himself. He found a crumpled receipt, a stray guitar pick, and a mint, but no plastic keycard. He checked the other side. Nothing. "JJ, did you leave it at the bar? Or in the bathroom?"
"I don't know! Maybe it ran away. Like everyone else," JJ snapped, his eyes flashing with a sudden, drunken bitterness. He tried to pull away from Net, his legs buckling immediately. He slid down the doorframe until he was sitting on the plush hotel carpet, his head buried in his knees. "Go away. I’ll sleep here. The carpet is expensive. It’s probably softer than your heart anyway."
Net looked down at him, a mixture of exasperation and a deep, aching fondness swirling in his chest. "Don't be dramatic. You’re not sleeping in the hallway of a five-star hotel. People are going to be heading back to their rooms for the next hour. You want a scandal? '#JJRadchaponPassedOutInHallway'?"
"I don't care," JJ muffled into his knees. "Go to your room, Net. Go back to your perfect life. Leave me here."
"My room is right there," Net pointed to the door directly across the hall. "Come on. You can stay on the sofa until morning. I’ll call the front desk for a replacement key when you’re less... horizontal."
JJ looked up, his face flushed, his hair a messy halo. "I would rather sleep in the elevator. I would rather share a bed with a cactus. I am not going into your room."
"JJ—"
"No! You don't get to be the hero," JJ shouted, though it sounded more like a sob. "You don't get to disappear for years and then come back and act like you’re my safety net. I don't want your room. I don't want your help. I don't want *you*."
Net’s jaw tightened. He was tired. He was tired of the industry games, tired of the fake beef, and most of all, he was tired of the distance between them that felt like a physical weight. He didn't negotiate. He didn't argue. He simply stepped forward, hooked one arm under JJ’s knees and the other behind his back, and hoisted him up.
"Hey! Put me down! You bastard, put me down!" JJ yelped, his fists drumming weak, uncoordinated beats against Net’s chest.
Net ignored him, his face a mask of grim determination. He swiped his own keycard across the hall, kicked his door open, and marched inside. He didn't stop until he reached the oversized grey sofa in the living area. He dropped JJ onto the cushions, not roughly, but with enough force to startle the breath out of him.
JJ immediately tried to scramble up, his eyes wide and wild. "You can't just kidnap people! I’m calling my manager. I’m calling the police. I’m calling—"
"You’re going to sit there, drink the water I’m about to give you, and shut up," Net said, looming over him. The air in the room felt suddenly charged, the silence of the suite amplifying the sound of their heavy breathing.
"Make me," JJ challenged, his lip curling in that defensive snarl Net knew so well. "You think you can just order me around because you’re back? You think I’m still that kid who followed you everywhere? I hate you, Net. I hate every second I have to breathe the same air as—"
"If you don't stop talking," Net interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low velvet, "I’m going to kiss you just to make it quiet in here."
The silence that followed was instantaneous and deafening. JJ froze, his mouth half-open, the insult he’d been preparing dying on his tongue. He stared up at Net, his pupils blown wide, his chest heaving. The bravado vanished, replaced by a raw, terrified vulnerability that made Net’s heart skip a beat.
Net didn't move. He stayed leaned over, his hands braced on the back of the sofa on either side of JJ’s head. For a moment, the pretense of the "beef" evaporated. There was no hatred here—only the suffocating gravity of two people who had never learned how to stop orbiting each other.
"Water," Net whispered, the word sounding more like a prayer than a command.
He straightened up and walked toward the kitchenette, his own hands shaking slightly. He returned a minute later with a glass of water and a pair of soft cotton joggers and a t-shirt.
JJ was still sitting exactly where Net had left him, looking small against the expensive upholstery. The fight had drained out of him, leaving behind the messy, endearing drunk who used to fall asleep on Net’s shoulder during late-night study sessions.
"Drink," Net said, handing him the glass.
JJ took it without a word, his fingers brushing Net’s. He drank the whole thing in one go, then set the glass on the coffee table with a quiet *clink*.
"You need to get out of those clothes," Net said, tossing the fresh laundry onto JJ’s lap. "You smell like a distillery, and that blazer looks uncomfortable."
JJ looked down at the clothes, then back at Net. "I can't... the buttons." He fumbled with the top button of his dress shirt, his fingers moving like lead. He gave a frustrated whine, a sound so tiny and helpless that Net felt his resolve crumble.
"Here," Net said softly. He knelt between JJ’s knees, his movements practiced and gentle.
As Net’s fingers worked the first button, JJ’s hands came up to rest tentatively on Net’s shoulders. It was a familiar rhythm—a muscle memory from a lifetime ago. Net moved to the second button, his knuckles grazing the warm skin of JJ’s collarbone. He felt JJ shiver.
"Net," JJ whispered, his voice no longer sharp. It was soft, whiny, and dangerously close to a confession. "Why did you go?"
Net stopped, his fingers resting against the third button. He looked up, finding JJ watching him with an expression of pure, unadulterated longing. The alcohol had stripped away the armor, leaving the wound wide open.
"I thought I had to," Net said, his voice cracking. "I thought if I didn't, I’d ruin everything for you. My family... they wouldn't have let us be, JJ. I was trying to protect you."
"You broke me to protect me," JJ breathed, a single tear escaping and rolling down his cheek. "That’s not how it works."
Net reached up, his thumb catching the tear. The touch lingered. The proximity was no longer forced; it was inevitable. The air between them was thick with the scent of Net’s expensive soap and the lingering heat of the whiskey, but beneath it was the magnetic pull of years of repressed desire.
"I’m sorry," Net whispered. "I’ve spent every day since I came back trying to find a way to say it."
JJ leaned forward, his forehead resting against Net’s. "I hate that I don't hate you."
Net didn't wait for another word. He tilted his head and captured JJ’s lips with his own. It wasn't the joke he’d threatened earlier; it was a collision. It was desperate and messy, tasting of salt and regret and a hunger that had been starving for years.
JJ let out a broken sound, his hands sliding from Net’s shoulders to bury themselves in Net’s hair, pulling him closer, as if trying to merge their bodies. Net groaned into the kiss, his hands moving to JJ’s waist, hauling him off the sofa and onto his lap as he sat back on his heels on the floor.
"Bedroom," JJ gasped against Net’s mouth, his legs wrapping around Net’s waist.
Net didn't need to be told twice. He stood up, carrying JJ’s weight easily, and stumbled back toward the bedroom. They hit the mattress in a tangle of limbs, the discarded dress shirt finally tossed aside.
The transition from the living room to the bed was a blur of frantic hands and shedding layers. When Net finally pushed JJ’s slacks down, he was met with the sight of JJ flushed and trembling, his skin pale against the dark sheets.
"Net, please," JJ begged, his voice a ragged edge.
Net stripped quickly, his eyes never leaving JJ’s. He crawled back over him, pinning JJ’s wrists above his head. He wanted to see every flicker of emotion on JJ’s face. He wanted to reclaim every inch of the territory he had abandoned.
"You’re mine," Net murmured, his voice possessive and raw. "You were always mine."
"Then don't leave," JJ replied, his hips arching up to meet Net’s. "Don't you dare leave again."
Net lowered himself, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of JJ’s neck, marking him with a ferocity that drew a sharp cry from JJ’s throat. He used his knee to urge JJ’s legs wider, settling himself in the heat between them.
When Net finally entered him, it was with a slow, deliberate thrust that forced a long, shuddering gasp from JJ’s lungs. They both froze for a second, the sheer sensation of being one again overwhelming their senses. Net waited, his forehead pressed against JJ’s, watching as JJ’s eyes fluttered and his grip on Net’s forearms tightened until his knuckles were white.
"You okay?" Net rasped.
JJ responded by hooking his heels into the small of Net’s back and pulling him deeper. "Don't stop. Net, don't stop."
Net began to move, a steady, rhythmic grind that had JJ tossing his head back, his throat bared. The sounds JJ made were no longer protests; they were high, sweet whimpers of undone pride. Net watched him, his own heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Every slide of skin against skin felt like a bridge being rebuilt, every moan a brick laid back into place.
The pace quickened, the friction turning into a fever. Net’s movements became more urgent, his fingers lacing through JJ’s as he drove into him with a desperate need to be known, to be forgiven. JJ was a live wire beneath him, sparking and shaking, his voice calling Net’s name over and over like a mantra.
"Net... Net, I’m... I can't—" JJ’s voice broke as he reached his limit, his body stiffening, his eyes blowing wide as he shattered.
The sight of JJ undone, completely vulnerable and draped in the aftermath of their shared heat, was what finally broke Net’s control. He buried his face in the crook of JJ’s neck, a low, guttural growl escaping him as he followed JJ into the white light of exhaustion, his body trembling with the force of a release that felt more like an exorcism than an end.
Afterward, the room was silent, save for the sound of their syncing breaths. Net collapsed onto his side, pulling JJ into his chest, his arms wrapping around him in a protective cocoon. JJ didn't fight it. He tucked his head under Net’s chin, his fingers tracing the fading marks on Net’s shoulders.
"We’re going to have to talk tomorrow," JJ murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.
"I know," Net whispered, kissing the top of JJ’s head. "But tonight, just stay."
JJ sighed, a long, contented sound that vibrated against Net’s chest. "I’m too tired to go anywhere else."
As they drifted off, the "Net-JJ War" felt like a distant memory, a story told by people who didn't know the ending. In the quiet of the hotel suite, there was no beef, no cameras, and no distance—only two boys who had finally found their way back to the only place they had ever truly belonged.