Summary: jongin goes to the wrong wedding hall and is too mortified to move. chanyeol adopts him as his +1
A/N: prompt #4 here. but this is chankaiprompts's fault even if it isn't chankaiprompts's fault. part ii of my pagan sacrifice.
this is possibly the worst day in jongin's life. maybe that time in high school when jongin's pants ripped while he was performing on stage comes close, but jongin is no longer in high school, so he can’t use his youthful naivety to explain away a lot of things anymore.
he can't even explain how he ended up here, glumly blinking at his glass of white wine in the midst of a celebrating hall.
jongin hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding in the first place but his mom had an emergency at work and sent him in her stead, saying that the groom’s mother was a very good friend of hers. it made no sense to jongin then and it makes no sense to him now, especially since 15 minutes into the ceremony, jongin looks around the room and properly registers that he recognises no one.
literally, actually, no one.
he thought it was strange when he didn’t recognise the usher or the parents greeting him at the door, or even the bride and groom, but he chalked it up as bad memory. only now does he remember that the wedding invitation was for a groom with the surname kwon, and the wedding banners that hung all over the room clearly state the happy union of the lee and park family.
jongin battles his inner panic as the blushing bride leans on her tip toes for her first symbolic kiss as a married woman, and his little gasp as the realisation sinks in is drowned by the deafening cheering of well wishers around him.
but okay. he just has to keep calm and keep eating his lunch. the food is good, the salmon seared almost perfectly so. the ceremony is almost over and if he lies low, keeps inconspicuous for long enough, he can just slip out of the room unnoticed.
just then, a man slides into the previously unoccupied seat next to him. his eyes are fixed on the happy couple who are now bowing their thanks and stepping down from the stage to start making their rounds around the hall.
jongin wants to tell him there’s a kimchi stain on the cufflinks of his fitted suit. instead, he whispers, just to make sure, “hey, is this hall three?”
the man glances at him and jongin is momentarily attacked by images of sakura petals and manhwa ink blot flourishes. “no, this is hall four.”
the manhwa flourishes intensifies because now jongin is subject to the full visual of mr kimchi stain with his coifed hair, doe eyes and the softest looking mouth and now is really not a good time for jongin’s secret obsession with his sister’s manhwas to bite him in the ass. mr kimchi stain even sounds like the manhwa protagonists jongin may or may not have fantasized about when he was in high school.
“oh.” jongin sinks lower into his seat in mortification, half from the realisation that he’s staring at this stranger, and that he’s in the wrong hall. he’s in the wrong hall.
luckily mr kimchi stain doesn’t notice jongin’s internal turmoil and just sighs fondly at the couple now making their way through the crowd. “look at them.”
"she's pretty," jongin says mildly, trying to keep his comments as vague as possible so no one will realise he shouldn't be here. he starts mentally calculating the distance between the nearest exit and his seat, but there’s a scary looking lady standing by the door and she looks like the kind that would aggressively usher any leavers to their next destination with too many questions.
mr kimchi stain chuckles, "yeah, hyung will have his work cut out for him trying to fight all of yoora noona's admirers off."
"hah," jongin offers, because he's a brilliant conversationalist. he scoots his chair closer to the table and busies himself with spooning pudding into his mouth, hoping that this beauti- uh, gor- this strange man will take the cue and leave him alone.
"what's your name?"
jongin chokes on the pudding but manages to recover soon enough after a short coughing fit. mr kimchi stain hands him his glass of water and jongin accepts it quickly, "uh? jo- kim jongin."
"hey ya, kim jongin, i'm chanyeol. are you alone here today?" chanyeol’s smile shows too many teeth and who even uses hey ya, but he’s so so attractive and jongin feels all clammy again.
"um," jongin says and lets the slowly ticking silence answer for him.
to his credit, chanyeol is incredibly gracious and takes it all in stride. "it's my sister up there and it's the family's duty to make sure all the guests are well taken of."
jongin finally note the uncanny resemblance between the bride, yoora, and chanyeol. no wonder yoora is so pretty. of course, because jongin is jongin, it takes him a second too late to realise that he’s said it out loud.
chanyeol’s grin widens. “we do have good genes.”
okay, now is really the time to leave before he manages to say something that would embarrass him more.
"i wasn't even invited," jongin confesses. "i'm in the wrong hall and sorry- sorry i should go and-" jongin pushes his chair back and stands up frantically to leave, but chanyeol catches his arm lightly, long fingers wrapping easily around jongin's wrist.
chanyeol pouts, and oh, it really shouldn’t look so cute on a grown man. "you're my guest now. are you going to turn down my invitation?"
jongin has always been weak to pretty smiles.
an hour later, jongin has held more babies than he has in his entire life. all the middle age ladies flutter around him and he might have misunderstood the thick busan accent, but he’s pretty sure one of chanyeol’s relatives asked him to marry her youngest daughter.
chanyeol preens at his side and keeps a possessive hand on his elbow, guiding him from guest to guest like jongin was his plus one in the first place.
“handsome boy,” chanyeol’s uncle clucks approvingly. “are you single?” from the strong busan accent, jongin has a feeling he’s the husband of the same woman who tried to marry her daughter to jongin.
“I hope he is,” chanyeol chirps, fingers tap, tapping against jongin’s elbow, and jongin gets so flustered he lets himself be tugged away to meet the infamous daughter.
somehow, jongin ends up squished between chanyeol and a whooping yoora, on their way to the afterparty.
"special friend of the bride," chanyeol says to the bartender, tugging on jongin's wrist. jongin is starting to get used to the pressure around his wrist, like a really warm bracelet. "remember his face, because free drinks to this one all night."
"special friend of yours, chanyeol?" a lady coos to their left, looking three shots too far gone to be appropriate for a wedding. she had been introduced to him earlier as a cousin of some sort, maybe on the groom's side? but jongin isn't too fussed with names and she obviously doesn't remember him either.
"no no no no-" jongins stutters immediately, backing away from chanyeol.
too bad chanyeol's having none of that. he seems to have no sense of personal space with a few drinks in him and in one swoop, he whirls jongin around and cups jongin's cheeks with both his large hands, laughing when jongin lets out a hiccup of surprise.
"not yet," he winks at jongin and it takes another beat before jongin shakes his head and escapes from the grip, chanyeol’s touch burning against his flushed ears. it’s hard not to notice how easily chanyeol manhandles him and even harder to ignore the way adrenaline soars in his head, pulsing louder with each soft brush of chanyeol’s fingers against his bare skin.
“where’s my baby brother?” yoora roars from the dance floor. she flings one of her sparkly heels to the far end of the room and her new husband scurries off to pick it up. somehow jongin thinks this is a good indicator of the rest of their married life.
“baby brother duties,” chanyeol smiles apologetically. “mind if I slip away a bit?”
jongin's hand darts out before he can stop himself, grabbing onto the coat tails of chanyeol's suit.
“um, i know no one else,” jongin says lamely, acutely aware of how close they’re standing now that the crowd is pushing them in.
“we introduced you to plenty of people tonight,” chanyeol laughs, but he laces their hands together, not caring that they’ve met each other only hours before. “hold on tight and you won’t get lost, puppy.”
jongin has only had one drink tonight but he’s never felt more lightheaded.
the music is still ringing in jongin’s ears when they wait at the taxi stand.
“want me to walk you home?” chanyeol asks. “i’m a good date.”
“no,” jongin says, and his voice comes out louder than he expected, so he tries again, “no thanks, i’m good.”
chanyeol flags down a taxi. “well, i guess this is it.” he stands with his hands tucked in his pockets and jongin strangely itches to lace their hands together again but there’s no excuse of being swept away by a crowd now that it’s just the two of them.
“i had fun,” jongin says and he wants to say so much more, dangerous things like don’t go and when can i see you again. things he shouldn’t be telling a half stranger who adopts lost guests and charms them with too many sweet words. he has many things to say, but his voice is still stuck in his throat as he climbs into the taxi, chanyeol helping him hold the door open.
“hey jongin,” chanyeol calls, eyes bright and smile brighter in the dark. “check your pockets.” and he shuts the door, waving as the taxi pulls away.
jongin’s hand trembles in his haste to flip his pockets inside out. his search unearths a crumpled napkin and he squints at it with the help of the flashing streetlights.
call me anytime you need a plus one.
but there’s nothing else, no contact details, so jongin flips it over and almost drops the napkin.
above a line of scrawled numbers,
call me even if you don’t need a plus one.
this might just be the best day of jongin's life.
imagine Dad's /dinkleberg/, but with ang.