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“So? Are you ready for today’s match?”
Jisung glanced up at his best friend, his cheeks stuffed full of food as he stared at the bright, teasing grin on Felix’s face. He swallowed hurriedly, cheeks flushing red. He shrugged, picking through the food still left on his plate. “I don’t know.”
Felix’s smile faltered as he slid into the seat beside him, his expression becoming concerned as he took in Jisung’s lack of enthusiasm. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you always, like, the most hype for the matches?”
Again, Jisung shrugged.
Felix narrowed his eyes at Jisung, then pointed at him with his fork. “Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend, Han Jisung? It’s been a total of five minutes, and you haven’t yelled once.”
Jisung sighed, still not responding.
Felix’s gaze softened, and he put his arm around his shoulders for a semblance of comfort.
“Seriously, what’s up?” he asked.
Jisung hit his head against the table, the dull thunk echoing his frustrations. “Stupid Lee Minho,” he mumbled into the wood.
Felix let out a hum of acknowledgment, but the sound was more amused than sympathizing. If Jisung hadn’t been too busy feeling bad for himself, he would’ve shot a glare at his best friend.
It was true. The source of all his problems: Lee Minho. Slytherin. Head boy. Captain of the Quidditch team. Seeker . It was all a little too perfect, even for Jisung.
Jisung had been head over heels for Lee Minho since second year. Ever since he used the tarantallegra jinx on a fifth year that had been bullying Yang Jeongin. The older boy had been forced to dance for fifteen minutes before a teacher stepped in, and Jisung was sure that the teachers had been aware of the incident for at least five of them. Nevertheless, both Minho and the bully ended up in detention, but Minho had checked on Jeongin before he left. “He wasn’t even that good,” Minho had whispered to Jisung and Jeongin, his tone quiet like they were all in on a secret. Then, he’d thrown a wink over his shoulder and walked away.
To say Jisung was in love was an understatement.
It was three years later, and, though Lee Minho probably knew Jisung’s name–only because the boy knew everyone –and smiled at him sometimes in the hallways, Jisung had made no real progress.
Felix patted his back sympathetically, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I forgot which match this was,” he said, his tone light like this was a morning conversation about which bread to use for toast, not the very possible end of Jisung’s life as he knew it. “Slytherin versus Gryffindor, right?”
Jisung groaned. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Shaking his head, Felix passed him his own cup of water. “Don’t think about it too much, Jisung. This game is going to be epic . It’s Slytherin and Gryffindor, any commentator would be through the roof to have that kind of ammo for banter. Have fun with it!”
“How can I when he will be on the field? Just flying around and looking perfect ?” Jisung protested.
Jisung had seen Minho fly many times, but he never got tired of it. The older boy flew with a grace that no one else possessed, easily weaving through other players and leaving them in the dust before they even realized he went by. It was rare for Minho to lose a game, he was a natural. And if Jisung had to talk about it, in front of the whole school, he was sure he was going to slip up and say something self-incriminating. He pouted down at his breakfast.
The hand on his back slid over his shoulder, giving him a quick squeeze. “I have to go meet up with Seungminnie, he wants to watch the game together.”
Jisung shot him a panicked look. “Wait! What do I do about–about you know who ?” he hissed, looking around at the various students surrounding them.
Felix rolled his eyes, shaking his arm free. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jisung. Just, try catching his attention? I don’t know, I really have to go!” And with that, he was running out of the dining hall, and Jisung watched him go bitterly, the word traitor lingering in his mouth.
Scowling at the place where his best friend disappeared, he decided to clean up the rest of his breakfast. He grumbled as he did so, something about useless friends and cute seekers .
“Hey, Jisungie!”
Startled, Jisung dropped his goblet, then winced as it crashed to the floor. Juice splashed over his feet, and he felt his cheeks go bright red as he made eye contact with none other than Lee Minho himself. He clasped his hands behind him sheepishly, wondering if there was any way Minho hadn’t just seen that. Based on the amusement flickering in his eyes, Jisung guessed the answer to that question was no . “H-Hey Minho!” Jisung responded. “What’s up?”
Minho tilted his head, his smile making his eyes shine prettily. Jisung was breathless. “I’m about to go get changed,” Minho told him. “Hey, you’re the commentator today, right?”
Jisung blinked at him dumbly, his mind racing. “I–uh–um,” he stuttered. He was thrown off guard by the kind look in Minho’s eyes, like he was actually interested. Most people groaned when they realized Jisung was the commentator because he was so hyperactive and tended to speak too fast. In Jisung’s opinion, that’s what made him good at what he did.
Jisung took so much time responding, that the smile on Minho’s face was beginning to fall, replaced with a more uncertain look. Jisung didn’t like that at all, and he hurried to mend the awkward silence. “Yes! Yes, that’s me! I’m–yeah. Commentating. Lots of my voice. Love it,” he said, the words coming out of his mouth in one big flurry. He subtly cringed.
Minho’s smile only widened. “Great!” he responded excitedly. “I love listening to your comments, they always make me laugh!” Minho didn’t seem to notice when Jisung froze, going stock still, which Jisung was thankful for. Minho let out a short giggle, then said, “I should probably get going. I’ll see you around?”
Jisung nodded unconsciously, mouth hanging open as Minho scurried off, but not before waving his wand and cleaning up the mess Jisung had made when he dropped his goblet. Even the bottoms of his Hufflepuff robes were dry.
Heart pounding in his ears, Jisung recalled Felix’s seemingly useless advice. Try catching his attention . Jisung’s mouth quirked up at the corners, an idea already forming in his head. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a great idea, but then again, when was it ever when it came to
Jisung?
***
“The bludgers are up!” Jisung announced, already used to the words he repeated at the beginning of every match. “There goes the golden snitch!” he said, feeling the whole crowd hold its breath as the golden snitch was released. As usual, the tiny, shining ball was a tease, circling the seekers’ heads. He watched it dance around Minho’s head first, then flutter near Hyunjin’s ears before dashing away, far out of sight.
He swallowed his excitement as continued his narration. “Remember the snitch is worth 150 points! The seeker that catches the snitch will win the game.”
There was a long pause as the quaffle writhed in the case, itching for the game to start. Jisung didn’t dare to blink as Madam Kim approached it. She stared down at both teams, making stern eye contact with each player, before she let the quaffle go. It shot into the air, quickly followed by the two teams. “The quaffle is released and the game begins!” Jisung shouted enthusiastically. He winced as his voice rang out over the pitch, a little too loud, but he brushed it off rather quickly, wanting to get to commentating as soon as possible.
He watched closely, barely able to make out the figures fluttering over the pitch. “Gryffindor has the quaffle,” he recounted into the microphone, narrowing his eyes at the streak of red across the pitch. “Park Jihyo makes a shot, and…! It’s blocked by Slytherin’s keeper, Park Seonghwa. Good try, Jihyo, but I guess this game won’t exactly be a walk in the park .” Jisung laughed at his own joke. The stands groaned loudly.
“The quaffle is passed to Huang Renjun! He’s making his way down the pitch, going fast, and–oh, hard hit, Renjun. That’s going to hurt in the morning. Gryffindor’s beater, Kim Hongjoong, passes the quaffle to Mark Lee and he… scores! Better luck next time, Seonghwa.”
Jisung almost forgot about his plan, easily getting lost in the flow of narrating the plays and the fun banter that came with it. That is, until he caught sight of Minho across the pitch, flying higher than his teammates. His focus was trained on something, and Jisung went quiet for long enough to see the flash of gold that Minho must’ve been tracking. “Slytherin’s seeker is on the move,” he said into his microphone, and, before he could chicken out, he added, “And can I just say he is looking fine today? Lee Minho, seeker of our hearts.”
Minho almost fell off his broom. He regained his balance rather easily, shooting a quick, confused glance at Jisung, before he seemed to find his focus. It was surprisingly easier like this, Jisung realized. When he wasn’t face to face with the beautiful boy, and he was free to tease and flirt with him. Even with the entire school listening carefully. Maybe it was just the confidence that Jisung gains upon sitting in the commentator’s spot, the power rush that he loved when he got to speak into the microphone.
Grinning to himself, Jisung leaned forward in his chair. “Gryffindor scores again!” he announced, watching Jihyo high-five Hongjoong. “That makes the score 50 to 10, in favor of Gryffindor.” He folded his hands under his chin, his eyes refusing to leave Minho’s figure, even though he technically should’ve been watching the whole team. Minho’s face had set in a determined expression, his jaw tight as he circled the pitch. Jisung took a deep breath. “Minho is back at it. Sorry for the distraction earlier, babe, you’re just too cute when you’re flustered. Almost as cute as when you’re focused.”
“ Han Jisung ,” a professor behind him hissed, warningly, at the same time Minho shot him an incredulous look. Even from where he was sitting, Jisung could see the flush on Minho’s cheeks.
Jisung grinned back at him, then said, into the mic, “Sorry, professor. Just calling it like it is. Oh! Slytherin has the quaffle again! Renjun is speeding down the field! And–wow! Hongjoong aimed a bludger at him, but it was blocked by Slytherin’s own beater, Lee Donghyuck! Good job, Hyuckie!” Jisung cheered. “And Renjun scores! Ten points for Slytherin, though Gryffindor’s keeper doesn’t seem too happy about it. Sorry, Chan!”
Movement flashed in the corner of Jisung’s eye, and he turned to watch as Hyunjin began to race from one side of the pitch to the other. Eager, he leaned forward, trying to catch sight of the snitch. “Hyunjin is racing towards something, and–oh, I think he lost it. That snitch really likes to play games–it’s almost as fickle as Hyunjin himself.”
“Thanks, man!” Hyunjin yelled out sarcastically as he flew by.
Jisung shot him a thumbs up, eyes drifting back to the game. “Another ten points for Slytherin! And, what’s this? Does anyone see our handsome seeker? It seems Minho has flown out of sight. He has great flying skills, everybody, but I’ve heard that’s not all he’s good at,” Jisung said, giggling clearly into the microphone so that it echoed over the stadium. He let his comment hang in the air just long enough to sound like an innuendo before he added, “Like transfiguration! Though I think he’d be particularly good at charms… if you know what I mean.”
“ Detention, Han ,” the same professor behind him snapped, her voice exhausted. “See if I ever let you commentate again,” she added, muttering the words like a curse.
Jisung pouted. “Everyone, it seems I might be getting fired,” he announced. The crowd went quiet, shifting uncomfortably, and Jisung giggled, yet again. “I might as well make it count, right!”
The stands cheered. The professor behind him swore. Minho, having appeared near his stand, blushed even deeper.
“Mark Lee with the quaffle, but he’s wide open! Huang Renjun sidles up, and it’s too easy for him to… slither in. Get it?” A couple laughs reverberated through the crowd, and Jisung accepted that as a win. “Anyways, ten points to Slytherin. With that, the two teams are tied, and the tension between the two teams is through the roof. Seriously, guys, you could cut this shit with a knife.”
“ Jisung! ”
“Oops!” Jisung amended. It wasn’t completely out of character for him to accidentally swear whilst commentating, but he figured the ice he was walking was already a little too thin. At any second, he was certain that Professor Park was going to pull him out of there by his ear. “I really didn’t mean it that time, professor!”
Behind him, he heard a long-suffering sigh, and he smirked to himself. It was common knowledge that most of the teachers at this school were semi-whipped for him. It was also common knowledge that that was mostly due to Yang Jeongin being his cousin, but Jisung took what he could get. Admittedly, it was hard to resist Jeongin’s charms, and, by extension, Jisung’s, since the two of them were nearly inseparable, despite Jeongin being in a different house.
Deciding to tone it down a little, Jisung went back to his normal commentating, to the obvious relief of the professors behind him. “Gryffindor is back in the lead by ten points, thanks to Jihyo. The crowd is growing a little restless, as it’s beginning to look like this game is going to go on longer than we expected. Where are our handso– amazing seekers?”
His question was answered a minute later, when they both appeared from the clouds above them, zooming towards one object with outstretched hands. For the first time, Jisung went silent, waiting with baited breath as they both reached for the golden snitch.
Jisung scrambled for the microphone, beginning to ramble as he narrated as quickly as possible. “Lee Minho and Hwang Hyunjin are neck in neck, both of them fighting to grab hold of the snitch like it’s the last dessert at the grand feast. What I wouldn’t give to be that snitch? Oh, right–Hyunjin tries to shove Minho, but he doesn’t move–wow, that chest is like a brick wall, isn’t it?” Jisung commented unintentionally. “Sorry,” he said hurriedly, shaking himself out of it. “Minho is pulling ahead of Hyunjin, and they’re both hurtling towards the ground at terrifying speeds. Merlin, I can’t look.”
Jisung flinched as both Hyunjin and Minho pulled their broomsticks up, narrowly missing the hard ground of the quidditch pitch, Minho pulling up only a millisecond after Hyunjin. However, it was enough to set him off balance, and his broomstick wobbled as he flew back up. For a horrifying moment, Jisung thought he was going to fall.
Minho grinned widely as he regained his balance, making it look effortless. He raised his hand, and something glittered in his fist. Jisung jumped up from his chair, cheering with the rest of the crowd as he almost screamed into the microphone, “Lee Minho caught the snitch, receiving 150 points! Slytherin wins!”
The stands went wild, clapping and screaming. Even the Gryffindor side, though a little dejected, was clapping. Jisung couldn’t stop smiling, staring at Minho, who was making triumphant circles around the pitch. He caught Jisung’s eye, then raised the snitch just a little higher with a wink. Jisung flushed dark red, then leaned into the mic one last time, holding Minho’s gaze. “Okay, did anyone else think that was hot?”
“ Jisung– ”
***
“So did you get fired?” Jeongin asked him conversationally, lifting a mug of butterbeer to his lips.
It was a tradition for him and Jeongin to meet at the quidditch field after games, when everyone else had returned to the castle to party together. Jeongin usually supplied the drinks, and Jisung supplied his presence, which he thought was a fair exchange. They were sitting together in the grass, the air around them strangely calm after the chaos of the night.
Jisung flashed him a wounded look. “You have no faith in me,” he whined.
Jeongin raised his eyebrow at him. “How many days of detention are you serving?”
Jisung turned his face away, mumbling something about stupid Ravenclaws.
Jeongin laughed sharply, giving him a shit-eating grin. “You don’t need to be a Ravenclaw to figure out how screwed you were,” he said. “It was written all over Professor Park’s face–who knew that man’s eyebrows could get even closer together. So, how many days?”
Jisung groaned. “More like how many weeks.”
Jeongin laughed, a wicked gleam in his eyes. There was no sympathy in the way he slapped Jisung on the back, gaze flashing behind him briefly. “Good luck,” he said nonchalantly, and Jisung assumed he meant with the detentions, until his cousin stood up suddenly, grabbing Jisung’s mug of butterbeer and beginning to walk away.
“Hey!” Jisung shouted after him, spinning around to catch him before he could get too far, but he was immediately cut off when he recognized a second figure approaching him from across the pitch. He knuckle-bumped Jeongin as he passed him, and Jisung had never felt more betrayed in his life. It really was your own family.
Panicked, Jisung’s head whipped around for somewhere to hide, but by the time he decided he should just curl up into a ball and die , it was too late. Minho was in front of him, staring down at him with his eyebrows raised.
Be cool , Jisung thought to himself. “Hey, funny seeing you here,” he laughed nervously.
Minho tilted his head, pressing his hands to his hips. “Really?” he asked, drawing the word out. He seemed to be waiting for something, but Jisung was too focused on looking anywhere but at him, eyes dashing around the quidditch pitch. Minho leaned down, until he was in Jisung’s face, and, if he wanted, Jisung could’ve counted his eyelashes. Jisung gulped. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“I, uh–congratulations?” he tried. “On your win?”
Minho shook his head slowly. “Try again, Jisungie.”
Jisung blinked, his heart pounding in his chest. “Um, sorry?”
Minho raised an eyebrow teasingly. “Really now? Are you sorry?”
Jisung’s panic grew, to the point where he shot up from where he was sitting, waving his hands in front of his face. “Well, not really. But, in my defense, Felix said I should try to gain your attention if I liked you, and I tend to, you know, freeze up, whenever you’re around, so…”
“So you decided to flirt with me in front of the entire school,” Minho finished for him, picking his words carefully. The corner of his lip was tilted up in amusement, his eyes gleaming.
Jisung went blank, unsure how to respond to that. “I–yes?”
Minho hummed. “You know, for anyone else that might’ve been a little embarrassing.”
Jisung flushed dark red with shame. “I’m really sorry!” he assured. “I don’t know what came over me! It’s just you talked to me this morning and I was just trying to think of how to get you to notice me, and I like you so much –”
Minho was laughing. “Jisung, I said for anyone else,” he repeated pointedly. “I thought it was kind of cute.”
“I–you did?!” Jisung squeaked, curling in on himself.
Minho’s eyebrow raised even further. He straightened up once again, pulling back out of Jisung’s space. Jisung didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed, if he missed the subtle heat of Minho’s proximity. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Did you mean what you said?” he asked Jisung, looking, for the first time, unsure.
Jisung looked away sheepishly. “Which thing that I said?” he said. “Because if it’s the snitch comment, no I would never want Hwang Hyunjin chasing after me.” Jisung visibly shuddered, for emphasis.
Minho gave him a serious look. “Not that, Jisung. What you just said–about liking me.” There was a curious glimmer in his gaze, mixed with something else that Jisung couldn’t read. He took a careful step closer, tilting his head down just the slightest bit to force Jisung to meet his eyes. “Did you mean that?”
Jisung’s breath hitched, adrenaline running through him. He suddenly felt lightheaded, his heart fluttering in his chest faster than the snitch could fly. Maybe his heart was a snitch, and Minho was his seeker, reaching for it. “Yes,” Jisung breathed, looking down. “I’ve liked you for a long time, Minho. I’m sorry it took me this long to do anything about it.”
Minho’s lips split into a wide grin, gleaming brighter than the sun and more magical than any spell Jisung knew. He shook his head. “It’s okay, Jisung. I’m happy now. I would’ve waited, however long it took.”
Jisung’s eyes shot up again. “Wait! You–does that mean you like me?”
Minho laughed, and it was so lighthearted and beautiful that Jisung forgot how to breathe. He nodded giddily.
Jisung blinked up at him in disbelief. What world was he living in, that Lee Minho liked him back. “Am I dreaming? Is this a spell?” Jisung said, entirely serious. He gasped, suddenly lunging forward to grab Minho’s cheeks, making to inspect his face closely. “ Are you under the influence of a love potion?! ” he said, worried.
Laughing harder, Minho pulled Jisung’s hands away from his face, but he didn’t let them go, simply used them to pull Jisung closer, the latter stumbling into his chest until he was gazing up at him from wide eyes. Minho’s smile widened. “This is real, Jisung,” he said, soft, before swooping down to press a light, innocent kiss to his lips.
“Oh,” Jisung said, stunned.
Minho giggled. “Oh,” he echoed, teasingly. It sounded distinctly like a promise. His gaze turned curious, staring down at Jisung’s blissfully confused face. “Hey, Jisungie, where did you come up with all of those cute pick up lines?”
Jisung’s face scrunched up. Was that really what Minho wanted to talk about right now? Didn’t they have better things to do? Like kiss more? He huffed. “I just… thought of them. It wasn’t hard.”
Minho hummed, thinking. “Hey, Jisungie?”
Jisung sighed, staring not-so-subtly at Minho’s lips. “Yeah?”
Minho grinned. “If you were a quidditch player, you’d be a keeper.”
Jisung let out a small noise of confusion, pouting. “Actually, I think I’d make a better chaser?” he said. He only realized the implication of Minho’s pick up line when the older groaned in defeat. “Oh!” Jisung gasped.
“You’re an idiot,” Minho grumbled, tightening his hold on his waist.
“I’m your idiot, now,” Jisung bit back playfully, flushed.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Hey, Minho? Since you’re, like, my boyfriend now? Do you think you could help me get my job back?” Jisung asked, biting his lip.
Minho snorted. “I don’t know if I should. Han Jisung, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re kind of a menace.”
Jisung jut out his lip and widened his eyes, pouting. “Please?”
Sighing, Minho kissed the pout away swiftly, once again leaving Jisung dazed. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
***
2 months later…
“Lee Minho catches the snitch! 150 points to Slytherin, and they win the game!” Jisung shouted into his microphone excitedly, jumping up from his chair. He watched at Minho circled the pitch, hair blowing as he flew, his hand holding the snitch in the air. With a sense of deja vu, Jisung made eye contact, but this time, he blew him a kiss, and, to the crowd’s disgust, Minho caught it. “Hey, everyone! That’s my boyfriend, Lee Minho! Look how cute he is! Yeah, that’s mine!”
“ Han Jisung! ”
“Oops, sorry!” Jisung giggled, not feeling even a little apologetic as Minho grinned at him.