Chapter Text
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They’ve been working on this song for going on seven hours now, and Jisung has never felt so alive.
Chan drops back into his seat, wheeling closer to Jisung and placing a hot paper cup before him.
“No sugar, right?”
“I owe you my life,” Jisung says.
He takes a greedy sip – coffee, his fourth since they got started – and sighs. He can feel the heat of it spread through his body, the caffeine giving him an instant kick, but the warm feeling that brews in his chest has nothing to do with the drink. From the corner of his eye, Jisung sees the way Chan makes himself comfy in his chair. He tugs on the sleeves of his hoodie, then adjusts the neck so that the hood sits just right. Once he’s settled in, taking a sip of his own drink, he looks over at Jisung and grins like the sun.
Jisung wants another seven hours. Fuck it, more than that. He could do this forever and never feel sick of it.
“Alright,” Chan says. “Let’s do this. We’re happy with the beats, right?”
Jisung nods. This was a decision they made before their coffee break – that there were only so many times they could play the track on repeat, searching for a problem that wasn’t there. Chan had volunteered to collect their drinks so he could stretch his legs and clear his head a little, getting ready to move on to the next section. Jisung should’ve known he’d question it again. He was too much of a perfectionist not to.
“We are,” Jisung says. We. They make a good team. “It’s sounding really solid, hyung. I don’t think there’s anything left to change.”
“Sick,” Chan says. “We’ll move on then.”
He claps his hands together and scoots his chair closer to the desk before them. As Chan pulls up the track and hits go, Jisung sets his coffee to the side and grabs his lyric guide. They’ve got a master of the lyrics recorded, but with all the changes they’ve made to the base, Jisung knows the lyrics will need adjusting. He can hear some of the changes they’ll need to make in his head already, but not in a way that’s quite tangible. That’s why these sessions with Chan work so well. Sometimes, Jisung feels like Chan can reach right inside his head and pluck out exactly the sound Jisung was thinking. Even in the times when Jisung can’t pick what’s missing, he and Chan always figure it out. It’s like throwing shit at a wall just to see what sticks, like a painter who can’t settle on exactly the right colour and says, ‘fuck it’ and tries them all. They’re good at it too. Really good at it. Chan can always find the shit that Jisung can’t quite nail down. And Chan says the same about him. When they get it right – and they always do – the feeling sings through Jisung’s veins.
He and Chan bob their heads along until the track finishes. When the room falls silent again, Chan says, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It’s good shit.” It spills out of him, stream of consciousness style, the way it always does when Chan is excited. “I reckon we can get this tonight. What time is it? When do you have to be home?”
Jisung grins at Chan, almost rocking in his seat, energised.
“Whenever,” he says. “I got nowhere to be.”
That might be embarrassing to admit to anyone else but with Chan, Jisung doesn’t hesitate. He knows they’re the same in this as well. Chan will stay in the studio all night if he lets himself, and Jisung is more than happy to keep him company. The music is what matters. The making of it.
“You can escape soon,” Chan laughs. “I won’t keep you all night, I promise.”
He’s clearly joking – his bright eyes and his huge smile make that apparent – so Jisung laughs along with him. It’s probably too much to say, ‘you could, you know?’, or ‘I want you to’, or ‘please, keep me hyung, keep me as long as you want,’ so Jisung tamps that urge down.
“It’s cool,” Jisung says. “It’s fun. It sounds so good.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Chan’s eyes sparkle. “It’s gonna be so sick when it’s done.”
Jisung wants to kiss him. He tamps that urge down too.
He and Chan have only been working together for two months. They met by chance, during Jisung’s composition class. Chan’s a third year, but he’d aced the same composition class in his first year, so Jisung’s professor had asked if he’d come back and help the younger students for some extra credit. For the first few weeks, he’d existed in Jisung’s periphery, just a hot guy who floated between different groups and offered his feedback where he could. A part of Jisung had resisted working with him – he hadn’t wanted to learn from another student. After all, this guy was only a few years older than him. What could he know that Jisung couldn’t figure out on his own? It was only when Jisung got stuck on a song about halfway through the term, when he was reaching his fourth hour in the university recording booth, right on the cusp of tearing his hair out – that he’d given in. Chan had tapped lightly on the door, shown Jisung that warm, kind smile of his, and said, “You need a second pair of ears?”
They’d fixed the track that night. Chan had done his thing – picked Jisung’s vision straight from his head and found a way to make it real – and when they were done, Jisung didn’t just leave with an A on his submission. No, he left with a tightness in his chest that still hadn’t abated. It’d been a long time since Jisung had a crush like this. The excitement of it felt like a surge of electricity through his bones. When he saw Chan’s dimples, or the flex of his arms, a part of Jisung felt desperate to confess – but he held it back. This was too important. Their work was so good, their dynamic was so comfortable, that Jisung was terrified to ruin it.
Still, with every glimpse of that lovely smile, a part of his resistance crumbled.
Fuelled by caffeine and Chan’s enthusiasm, Jisung gets back into the swing of it. They play the track again and again, both of them singing where they need to, and playing around with different sounds. Jisung’s voice breaks and it makes Chan cackle. Chan improvises a brand-new rap verse, and it takes Jisung’s breath away, and he rushes to write it all down. It makes Chan’s ears go pink. Jisung feels so, so at ease.
They take another break.
“Oh hey,” Chan says, “I was gonna ask, on the study break, do you have any plans?”
Jisung’s breath catches, but he fights hard to hide it. He hasn’t given a lot of thought to their upcoming break. It’s two weeks in the middle of the semester, mostly a chance to give their professors time to catch up on marking. The students are supposed to use it to get ahead on their final assignments and prep for their exams. Jisung usually spends it in his dorm, catching up on the shows he’s missed and watching shitty documentaries on YouTube.
As normally as he can, he says, “Nah, no plans. Why?”
“Me and a few mates are gonna go to the beach,” Chan says. “My aunt’s got a house just by the water, but she’s going to Europe with her family. She’s happy for us to use it, as long as we don’t trash the place, you know?”
Jisung’s heart thunders. Us. That sounds very much like an invitation, but like, Jisung doesn’t want to assume. But by the same token, that’s what’s happening right? Why else would Chan be telling him?
“Anyway, I thought you might want to come with? If you’re free?”
“I’m free.” Jisung maybe says it too quickly. He feels his cheeks go hot, but whatever, it’s out now. “I mean, uh. Yeah, that sounds fun, hyung.”
“Really?” And there’s that grin again. Jisung tries not to read into how pleased Chan sounds. “Ah, I was worried it would be too late notice.”
“No,” Jisung says. Study break is in three weeks, which would be more than enough time for Jisung to cancel his plans if he had any. His schedule being wide open only makes it easier. “No, not at all. I’m in. Do you…” He’s never done this before, gone on a trip with new friends without needing to ask permission from his parents. Being a grown up is so weird. “…Do you need me to pay you or anything?”
Chan laughs. “Of course not, bro. It’s just my aunt’s house, not like I’m paying either. We’ll just pay for our own shit when we’re there.”
“Cool.” Jisung tries not to feel like a loser for asking. “That works.”
“I’m so glad you’re free,” Chan says. “My friend, who’s gonna be there, I’ve really wanted to introduce you two. I told him about you. He produces too, he’s amazing. You’re going to like him.”
Jisung still feels a little bowled over by this whole conversation, but the sound of meeting another producer – one who Chan calls amazing – sparks even more excitement in him. I’ve told him about you. The thought makes him almost dizzy. He wonders what words Chan might have used, if maybe, maybe, he called Jisung amazing too. His pulse races.
“Yeah, sick.” Jisung didn’t really use that word before meeting Chan, but he’s picked it up now. He likes the way it sounds, especially with Chan’s accent. He’s picked up a lot of fun English words from Chan since meeting him. “I’d love to meet him. What’s his name?”
“Changbin,” Chan says, and Jisung recognises the name. Chan’s talked about him before. “There’ll be like six or seven of us all up, I think. I’m still waiting to see who’s free. I don’t think you’ll know anyone though. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” Jisung says.
To be totally honest, the thought makes Jisung’s skin crawl. He’s not exactly a social butterfly, and the thought of being trapped at somewhere brand new with a bunch of strangers would ordinarily send him running for the hills. But this is Chan asking. Sure, they’ve hung out a bit away from the recording booths, but this is more than just grabbing a coffee. Chan wants him to come on a trip with him. It’s a boys trip, not exactly romantic, but the invitation has to mean that Chan at least likes him a little right? His delusional side prods further than that. This is Chan taking the chance to hang out with Jisung properly, and alright, his friends will be there too, but maybe this is Chan taking a first step to something else. Maybe he’s testing the waters.
Besides, even if he doesn’t know anyone else, Chan will be there, so Jisung can always talk to him, right?
“Awesome,” Chan says. He claps Jisung on his shoulder, squeezing the same spot tightly before releasing him. “Ah, I’m so excited. It’s gonna be so fun.”
Jisung grins right back at him. The place where Chan touched him tingles, and for a selfish moment, Jisung lets himself bask in it. He’s been on his best behaviour, never quite ready to step over the line he’s drawn in the sand between them, no matter how badly he wants to. His feelings for Chan have always felt too big for him, too grand to hope for, but suddenly they don’t feel as insurmountable. Chan likes him, he likes Jisung’s company. He wouldn’t have invited Jisung if he didn’t.
As they return their focus to the song, Jisung feels the tight flutter in his chest and bites his lip. Maybe what he wants isn’t as far out of reach as he’d thought.
.
The next few weeks drag, the way they always do when you’re looking forward to something. Jisung sees Chan frequently, in class and out of. Jisung doesn’t know exactly what to pack, so Chan sends him his list along with a simple ‘:)’ smiley which Jisung would make fun of from anyone else. Jisung spends the weeks daydreaming, wondering about all the possible things that might happen on the trip, only to scold himself later. If he lets his imagination run away, he knows he’ll only be disappointed by whatever reality brings. Still. It’s hard to bring himself fully out of the clouds. He’s so excited.
Once Chan gets the final confirmation from all his friends, he confirms there will be six of them at the house together. They’re splitting between two cars to get there. Chan’s producer friend, Changbin, lives a fair distance from campus so he and another of Chan’s friends will drive there from his place. Jisung, by virtue of knowing no one but Chan, has scored a seat in Chan’s car. They agree that Chan will collect Jisung from the dorms first, then two more friends, who share an apartment close to campus.
The absolute last thing Jisung wants to do it start the trip by delaying everyone, so he’s ready on the curb with his things fifteen minutes before Chan’s due to pick him up. He shifts his weight from foot to foot while he waits, trying very hard not to overthink. It’s a challenge. Just have fun, he tells himself over and over again. It doesn’t matter what happens. Don’t get your hopes up. Just enjoy the trip and the company. If it’s awful, Jisung can just leave. He doesn’t have a car, sure, but he can always figure it out if it needs. And hey, Chan’s cool so his friends must be too, right? Jisung’s just gotta go with the flow.
When Chan does arrive – two minutes before the time they’d set – it’s a relief to get away from his thoughts. He pulls the car up by the curb and leans over from the driver’s seat, window down.
“Hey! You need a hand with your things?”
“I got it,” Jisung says. He stows his things in the trunk and comes round to the passenger side of the car. It’s only when he takes the handle that he hesitates. Is it too much to assume he’s riding up front?
Chan laughs at him, kindly of course.
“Hop in,” he says. “Minho and Hyunjin can take the back.”
Relieved, Jisung jumps in the car. As he buckles himself in, Chan reaches over and grabs Jisung’s knee, shaking it.
“Are you excited?” His smile is blinding. “I’m so keen to get out away for a week, it’s gonna be so good.”
He drops Jisung’s knee immediately, returning his hands to the wheel as he pulls back onto the road. Jisung’s mind gets left at the curb, just for a little, while he processes that.
“Yeah, definitely,” he says, perhaps a beat too late. “We deserve a break, I can’t wait.”
“Wait til you see the house, it’s so nice,” Chan says.
And then he’s off, explaining all the coolest parts of his aunt’s home, and recalling all his favourite memories from visits there when he was younger. He doesn’t follow a map to get to his friends’ place, apparently comfortable navigating there from memory alone. He barely seems to think about the route, he’s so caught up in his stories. He talks the entire way there, leaving room for Jisung to make the appropriate reactive noises and ask a few questions on the way. It’s nice, and the ease of it all soothes the worst of Jisung’s nerves.
Of course, they ratchet right back up again when Chan slows the car, pulling over and stopping at the sight of two of the best-looking men Jisung has ever seen.
“They’re your friends?” Jisung asks, a little weakly.
He can see that they’ve both caught sight of the car, waving a greeting as they approach, but they’re speaking with each other too. The taller of the pair – elegant, lithe, with a face that looks practically carved from marble – says something that makes the other – shorter but only just, with sharp features and a feline grin – shove him. The taller one cackles as he falls, catching himself at the last minute and dancing out of the other’s reach.
“That’s them,” Chan says fondly. “I should tell you now, they’re both menaces, but they’re cool. You’ll like them.”
Jisung hopes desperately that he’s right.
In the last few seconds before the car stops, Jisung does everything he can to brace himself. He’s got this. Chan will be right here with them. And Chan likes these guys. Surely, he’s a good judge of character.
Like he’d done at the dorms, Chan stops the car and rolls down the window. He yells out a hello and then points at the back.
“You good with your bags? The back might need some Tetris-ing to get everything to fit.”
His friends don’t blink an eye, rounding the car and opening the trunk. They squabble as they organise everything, but it doesn’t take them long to make it all work. When they’re done, they slide into the back seats.
“Well, hello,” the taller one says, when he spies Jisung. He tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, and Jisung thinks that move alone would be more than enough to fell half of the modelling industry. “Who’ve we got here?”
“This is Jisung,” Chan says easily. “He’s in the composition class I’m helping out with, remember? I told you about him.”
Jisung’s belly swoops. Immediately, he is conjuring up all the things Chan might have said about him. How would Chan describe him to his friends? How can Jisung find out? There must be a way.
“Ah,” the shorter one leans forward, bracing his elbows on the back of Jisung’s seat. Jisung can’t see him properly without twisting all the way around, but even a glimpse is intimidating enough. The man has eyes like a cat and a smirk that makes him look like he’s hunting. “I remember. The prodigal producer, right?”
Warmth floods through Jisung’s body. He can’t help the pleased smile that breaks out onto his lips, as he glances over at Chan, needing to know if he really said that. He can’t believe that Chan would –
“Oh yeah!” the taller one says. “You’re the little grumpy one who wouldn’t let Chan help right?”
The nice warm feeling is suddenly replaced with a hot flush. Jisung ducks his head, face burning and struggles to come up with something to say. Yes, unfortunately, he is that one. He’s not super fond of ‘grumpy’ or ‘little.’ Shit, what if Chan was really offended back then?
“Hyunjin-ah.” The one sitting behind Jisung smacks his friend not-too-gently on the arm. “Don’t be so mean. Look at him. He’s tiny.”
Jisung frowns, blinking. He’s not sure he likes that any more than he likes ‘grumpy’.
“Both of you leave him alone,” Chan says, as he pulls back onto the road. “You’ve only just met him. He doesn’t know you’re not assholes yet.”
Hyunjin barks a laugh and drops back into his seat, buckling himself in. “Minho-hyung is definitely an asshole.”
The one behind Jisung – Minho, apparently – nods decisively. “Mm, correct.”
Then he winks at Jisung, and Jisung feels the shock of it all the way down to his bones. Whatever face he shows, it makes Minho grin at him dangerously. Hyunjin watches this, still grinning himself, then tugs on Minho’s arm.
“C’mon, do your seatbelt up,” he says. “You’re stressing me out.”
“Aw,” Minho says, even as he settles back into place. “You worried about me, Hyunjinnie?”
Hyunjin scoffs, but his cheeks go a little pink.
“Wait, hang on,” Chan says. Jisung feels about five seconds behind this conversation, so the pause is very welcome. “I need confirmation that everyone has a seatbelt on.”
Minho’s clicks in right as Chan finishes speaking.
“All locked in, hyung.” He catches Jisung’s eye in the rear-view mirror. “Hyung is very serious about road safety, Jisung-ah.”
Jisung tugs on his belt, showing all the car how it’s strapped neatly across his chest. Then he frowns. He twists in his seat and shoots Minho a look. He’s still pretty intimidating to look at head on, but Jisung feels a little more in tune with the vibe of the car now. Chan is grinning, totally at ease. Hyunjin and Minho are a lot, but it’s playful. Jisung can work with that.
“Hang on,” he says, sounding a little petulant. “How do you know I’m younger than you?”
Minho gives him a sweet look, somehow both soft and condescending. It’s an answer in and of itself, and Jisung flushes again.
“You’re first year, right?” Hyunjin chimes in. “Me too. When’s your birthday though? Minho-hyung’s only a year behind Channie-hyung.”
“September,” Jisung says.
“Ha!” Hyunjin says gleefully, clapping his hands together. “Mine’s in March.”
“Yeah,” Chan says, shooting Jisung an apologetic look. “I’m pretty sure Hyunjin’s older than you. You’re born in two thousand, right?”
Jisung nods and accepts defeat.
Minho taps him on the shoulder and says, “Don’t worry. I won’t let him bully you.”
Hyunjin squawks indignantly. The sound of scuffling comes from the back and Jisung twists around again to see Hyunjin and Minho engaged in something of a wrestling match. Minho has Hyunjin pinned almost immediately.
Chan goes on as if the chaos is simply not happening. “Don’t worry, though, you’re not gonna be the youngest there.”
This puts a pause to the squabble behind them. Still trapped in Minho’s grasp, Hyunjin pauses and peers at Chan. “Ooh, is Lix-ie coming?”
Chan’s smile fades, just a little.
“Oh, no. No, he can’t make it, he’s got family stuff or something.” He seems bummed by the news and Jisung feels a rush of sympathy sing through him. He wants to reach out, maybe touch Chan’s arm or his elbow, in the hopes it might make him feel better. He doesn’t, of course. Not with two veritable strangers sitting two feet from them, both equipped with sharp, shrewd eyes. It’s okay, though, because Chan recovers quickly. He perks back up, as if setting the last few seconds to the side, and says, “But Yen-ah is!” He clarifies, for Jisung, “Jeongin. He’s an oh-one baby.”
As silly as it feels, Jisung relaxes a little. It’s always odd navigating being the baby of the group. He would have figured out how to manage it if he’d needed to, but it’s nice to take that off his list of worries. It’s far easier that this Jeongin has that role, given that he already knows most of the group.
“Cute,” Jisung says.
“He is so cute, you won’t even believe,” Hyunjin says. He’s still wrapped up in Minho’s arms, his squirming hands the only thing that stops Minho from keeping him in a proper chokehold. Jisung can see the way his fingertips dig into the meat of Minho’s bicep, fighting to keep him away. Minho seems barely bothered, holding him in place with ease. “Get off me, you freak.”
Minho hums thoughtfully. He glances, just briefly, almost gently, at Jisung. Then he taps on Hyunjin’s nose. “Ask nicely.”
Jisung looks quickly back to the front.
“Please, Minho-hyung.” Hyunjin says. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never tease you again.”
“You’ll never bully me again,” Minho corrects him.
Hyunjin tsks. Minho releases him anyway.
“You two better chill out,” Chan says, although he’s just finished laughing at their antics. “We’re gonna be in this car for like six hours, and I want us to all still be friends when we get there.”
“I’m chill,” Minho says. “I’m the chill-est.”
Hyunjin snorts, then flinches when Minho looks at him.
Watching it all, Jisung can’t hold in a little laugh of his own. He’s quiet about it, of course, but even then it proves to be a mistake. The soft noise snags Minho’s attention immediately. He catches Jisung’s eye in the mirror, which makes Jisung startle.
Minho is completely unapologetic with his stare. He holds Jisung’s gaze for a moment. The weight of it feels so heavy that Jisung feels caught, trapped just like Hyunjin had been, even though there’d been no contact between them at all.
Minho keeps him there for a moment longer. Then he quirks a brow and offers Jisung a sharp grin.
Jisung swallows and glances away. When he looks back, only a few moments later, not quite able to help himself – Minho is needling at Hyunjin again. This guy is kinda weird, Jisung realises. He doesn’t really mind though. Not with the way that it makes Chan giggle. The air in the car feels a little easier around him. He doesn’t feel quite as reluctant to relax.
He sinks into his seat a little, letting out a slow breath as the worst of his tension gentles.
“Are you still prepping for your showcase, Hyunjin-ah?” Chan asks. “How’s it coming?”
For a little while, they chat easily about Hyunjin’s upcoming performance. Jisung contents himself listening, taking it all in while Chan asks all the right questions. Where there are gaps that Jisung might not understand, Chan is careful to fill in the blanks. Hyunjin and Minho are both dance majors, Jisung learns. They work together too; at a dance studio near their apartment, which is how they’d met. Minho is a senior instructor, and Hyunjin a junior, which Minho brings up as soon as their jobs are mentioned. Hyunjin rolls his eyes.
About an hour in, Jisung feels his eyelids growing heavy. He tries hard to keep up with conversation, but catches himself drifting, missing parts only to tune back in, lost. When his head jolts one too many times, Chan laughs at him.
“Sleep, don’t worry about it,” Chan says, patting Jisung’s knee again. “We’ll wake you up if we stop for food.”
Jisung hums, needing no further convincing. He tucks himself into his hood and rests his head gently against the window. It takes nothing more for him to drift off.
.
The journey to Chan’s aunts house is long but smooth. Jisung only sleeps for a couple of hours. True to his word, Chan shakes him awake a few minutes before they stop for drive-through, giving Jisung enough time to switch on before he needs to order. As a group they demolish their burgers and fries and McFlurry’s. Chan drives a little longer, then swaps with Minho. Jisung takes Hyunjin’s seat, moving to the back so that Hyunjin can take control of the car speakers. He and Minho play an assortment of songs, singing along to each one, while Chan nods off in the back. Hyunjin and Minho include Jisung in conversation every now and again, but they don’t force him to chat. He appreciates it. After so many hours together, Jisung feels far more at ease than he had at the start of their trip, but that doesn’t make enduring small talk any less exhausting. Minho and Hyunjin seem very happy chatting inanely between themselves, while Jisung alternates between flicking through his phone and trying to nap a little more. Later, Chan wakes up and takes over driving again. There is another reshuffle. Hyunjin keeps the front seat, and control of the music, while Minho joins Jisung in the backseat. When he climbs in, he shoots Jisung a gentle smile, before he makes himself more comfortable. He sleeps too, while Jisung scrolls through TikTok, and Chan and Hyunjin chat.
It's mid-afternoon when Chan finally says, “Alright, time to rally team. It’s just around the corner.”
Beside Jisung, Minho is still sleeping. He’s tucked himself up by the door, his arms folded across his front and his hood pulled deep over his head. Jisung watches him warily, not quite brave enough to try waking him. He looks softer when he’s sleeping, but Jisung’s not gonna let that fool him.
“Just shove him,” Hyunjin says, as Chan pulls the car to a stop.
Jisung looks at him, wide eyed, and shakes his head.
It makes Hyunjin scoff. “Don’t be scared of Minho-hyung. He’s a big softie, really. Like a little kitten.”
“Ya, Hwang Hyunjin.” Jisung and Hyunjin both jump about a mile in their seats when Minho suddenly speaks. Minho stirs as if he hadn’t been sleeping at all, shaking his hood off, and pointing a stern finger at Hyunjin. “Who are you talking about?”
Hyunjin, for all his confidence moments again, shakes his head quickly. “No one, hyung. Sorry. Sorry!”
He leaps from the car, making a quick escape.
Minho rolls his head, turning towards Jisung. His expression is still playful, but it’s inviting, like he wants Jisung to be in on the joke with him.
“Didn’t mean to spook you,” he says.
Even though Jisung’s pulse is still a little faster than normal, he shakes his head. It’s nice to see them messing with each other, honestly. It all feels so comfortable. They’re not putting on an act for his sake. They’re not keeping to their best behaviour. It makes him feel like less of an outsider.
“All good,” Jisung says. “It was funny.”
Minho smiles, pleased. Before either of them can say anything further, though, Chan opens the door on Jisung’s side. He has Jisung’s bag in one hand, and what must be his own in the other. He’s been pretty chill during the drive, but now that they’re here he seems even more relaxed.
“C’mon,” he says to them both. “The others beat us here. I think they’re around the back.”
By the time Jisung and Minho are out of the car, Hyunjin is already off. He wheels a small suitcase beside him as he heads for the far side of the house, singing out loudly.
“We’re heeeere!”
Jisung frowns, surprised to see how easily Hyunjin knows his way around. Chan is a little ahead of him now, so he turns to Minho. “You guys have been here before?”
“Mhmm,” Minho says. “Chan was house-sitting for a bit a few months ago. We came for the weekend.”
“Oh, cool.”
Anxiety sweeps over Jisung at the discovery, but he does his best to set it to the side. He already knew he was the new kid. The others having been here before makes no difference to that.
“Don’t worry.” Minho bumps his shoulder gently against Jisung’s, and when Jisung glances up at him, he gives him an easy smile. “Everyone’s nice. You’ll have fun.”
Jisung thinks about everything he’s learnt so far, he thinks about ‘Minho-hyung is definitely an asshole,’ and lifts a brow.
“Everyone, huh? Even you?”
That makes Minho smirk, almost as if he knows exactly what Jisung’s thinking. “Guess you’ll have to find out, huh?”
When Jisung and Minho round the side of the house, they’re met with the sight of Hyunjin and Chan wrapped up in tight hugs. The two strangers embracing them must be Changbin and Jeongin. Jisung wonders which is which. Chan is hugging a guy with fluffy curls, thick arms, and black-frame glasses. This guy returns the hug enthusiastically, rocking Chan slightly as he pats his back. By contrast, the kid that Hyunjin is hugging already seems ready to escape his hold. He’s laughing though, trying to wriggle free, while Hyunjin whinges.
“Yen-aaah. Why won’t you let me love you?”
That’s Jeongin, then. That makes Changbin the guy in the glasses.
Sure enough, just a few moments later, Chan pulls out of the hug and waves Jisung over.
“Hey, Jisung. This is Changbin, the guy I was telling you about.” He doesn’t let go of Changbin, instead patting him on the shoulder as he makes room for Jisung to approach. To Changbin, he says, “This is Jisung. Wait ‘til you hear the stuff he comes up with, it goes so hard. And he raps, too! He’s incredible.”
Jisung flushes and tries not to feel too proud of himself. It’s hard. The glowing praise makes him feel warm all the way down to his core.
Changbin looks impressed, giving Jisung a friendly smile. “Yeah? Very cool, dude, I can’t wait to hear it.”
“You rap too?” Jisung asks.
He finds very quickly that Changbin is incredibly easy to talk to. It might be because they’re talking about music, which has always been the safest of Jisung’s spaces, but they fall into conversation easily. Chan chimes in here and there, and as Jisung learns more about Changbin’s style, he feels more and more excited at the thought of hearing his stuff.
“I brought my laptop with me,” Changbin says, “I’ll show you some tracks I’ve got.”
“Hell yeah,” Jisung says.
“I’ve got some stuff I did with Jisung with me too,” Chan says. He tilts his head back, grinning up at the sky. “Ahh, this is gonna be sick, I just know it.”
Chan’s enthusiasm is infectious. Jisung catches himself grinning along with him, entirely unable to help himself. Nearby, Hyunjin and Minho chat easily with Jeongin. Minho ruffles at his hair, making Jeongin laugh and duck away, while Hyunjin pushes into his space from the other side. It all feels effortless and light, and a part of Jisung scolds him for feeling so nervous to meet them. When Chan introduces him to Jeongin, he is as friendly as the others have been. He smiles when he waves hello, his eyes crinkling at the sides and dimples appearing in his cheeks. Jisung realises Hyunjin was right. He’s adorable.
“Alright,” Chan says, when introductions are done. “Where’s your stuff, is it inside?”
Changbin nods. “Yeah, we found the key your aunt left. Didn’t know who was sleeping where though, so it’s all just in the front room.”
“Oh yeah,” Chan says. He turns to Jisung and quickly explains the layout. There’s a master bedroom and three guest rooms – they used to be Chan’s cousins rooms, but since they moved to Seoul for university, his aunt had converted them. “My aunt has it up on Airbnb, so it’s set up pretty well.”
“The real question is who’s sharing,” Hyunjin says.
“I shared last time,” Changbin says straight away.
“We should do rock-paper-scissors for it,” Jeongin suggests.
Jisung glances at Chan. “I don’t mind sharing?”
“You sure?” Chan asks. “Okay, then Jisung and I can share, that’s easy.”
Jisung works very hard to keep his reaction from his face. Stay cool, stay cool. His pulse thunders, though. Sharing a room doesn’t really mean much, they’ll just be sleeping near each other – but quickly his brain conjures up late night conversations and easy, sleepy time spent together.
But then Changbin says, “But Hyung you shared last time. We said this time you’d get a room to yourself.”
Chan says, “Nah, it’s cool.”
Then Minho says, “I’m happy to share.”
Jisung’s glee unspools.
“Really?” Chan asks.
Minho nods. “Yeah, of course.”
Chan looks at Jisung again. His eyes are bright and cautious, like he doesn’t want to get his hopes up just yet. He says, “Would that be cool?”
No, Jisung wants to say. No, go back, let’s go with the first plan. But he can’t say that. How could he? The five of them look at him with welcoming, open faces. They’ve all been so friendly, and Chan has worked so hard to make sure he’s comfortable. How can Jisung take all of that and throw a tantrum over where he’s sleeping. Besides, how would it look if he pushes too hard to stay with Chan?
“Yeah, sure,” Jisung says. “That’s fine with me.”
It’s the right choice. Chan’s face brightens even more – which Jisung fights very hard not to take personally – and he looks to the group. “Perfect! We’re all sorted then. Let’s put our shit inside, then we can finally relax!”
As the others start to move around him, Jisung takes a moment to catch up. Things turned around so quickly it’s like he blinked and almost missed it. Disappointment wells in him but he tries not to let it show. It’s fine. It’s just a room for sleeping in. It’s not like anything would have happened anyway. He’s gotta get his head out of the clouds.
Someone nudges his shoulder gently.
While they others have started to carry their stuff towards the house, Minho is still standing close to Jisung. He tilts his head a little.
“You sure that’s okay?” Minho checks.
Jisung shakes himself (internally, of course). Outwardly, he offers Minho a smile.
“Yeah, Minho-ssi,” he says. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“Don’t apologise.” Minho adjusts his hold on his bag, shifting it where the strap hangs over his shoulder. “And we’re friends now. You should call me hyung.”
Jisung ducks his head and nods. “Alright, hyung.”
Minho gives him another easy smile, then motions for Jisung to follow him towards the house. Jisung takes a moment, just one more, to straighten out his thoughts before he moves.
See, he tells himself. It’s not all bad. At the very least, he’s made a new friend out of all this.
Energised by the thought, Jisung shakes away the worst of his disappointment. He wanted to spend time with Chan, sure, but it’s not like that opportunity has gone. Jisung has him for the whole week. It’s all fine. This week’s going to be fun.
.
Chapter 2
Notes:
ahhh thank you so much to everyone who read the first chapter and liked it!! i haven't posted a wip in a long time and i forgot how nice it is to get feedback as you go. i'll reply to ur comments when i get home from work this arv x.
this chap took me in lots of fun ways i wasn't expecting, but i'm super pleased with the way it turned out. i hope you guys are too :) enjoy!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
Despite Chan’s optimism, they realise quickly that it’s not quite the time for relaxing. Rumbling stomachs make it clear that, once their things have been placed away, sourcing food for dinner is the real priority.
“I’m happy to run to the shops,” Changbin volunteers. He makes his eyes big, looking startlingly sweet for a man with arms so big. “Hyunjin-ah, come with me?”
Hyunjin whines, “Why me?”
Changbin gives him a coy look. “It’ll go faster if I can see your pretty face.”
Hyunjin keeps making a fuss, but Jisung doesn’t miss the blush that stains his high cheekbones. They take some time to quickly run through a shopping list, everyone volunteering what they’d like to eat and, more importantly, what they’re capable of cooking. Jisung thinks that Chan and Changbin’s suggestions are potentially too ambitious, but Minho just shrugs and nods. Once they’ve settled on the ingredients they need, Changbin grabs his keys and Hyunjin follows along happily. Jisung hears them flirting all the way out the front door.
“Alright,” Chan claps his hands together. “That’s food. I can do drinks, what’s everything thinking?”
“I can come,” Jisung chimes.
Chan agrees easily. Minho and Jeongin say that they’ll drink whatever Chan is drinking, so Jisung and Chan leave next. The liquor store is only a few blocks away, so it doesn’t take long for them to get there and get what they need. Jisung mostly carries the basket, while Chan leads him up and down the aisles, scanning their options. They end up with a good mix of alcohol, at least according to Chan. Jisung’s not a big drinker, and he knows Chan isn’t either, but they’re on holiday so he figures Chan is being a little more flexible for the occasion. It’s a good break, a nice reset in Chan’s company where Jisung can settle his thoughts a little, even if it’s only brief. It’s nice to get a glimpse of the neighbourhood, too. They’re startlingly close to the beach. Chan tells Jisung that there’s a hidden path leading down from his aunt’s place that only takes about ten minutes to walk. The weather is looking pretty good all week, but it’s set to be especially nice tomorrow, so Chan thinks it’ll be a good beach day.
“There’s a few hiking trails nearby too,” Chan says.
“Sounds fun,” Jisung says. He’s never been much of a hiker, but he won’t let that stop him. They’re only here for a week after all, and if Chan wants to go on a walk, then Jisung wants to go with him. “Are they super difficult?”
“Nah,” Chan says. “There’s a few that are pretty hard, but most are pretty easy. We’ll keep it simple.”
“Awesome,” Jisung says.
Changbin and Hyunjin beat them back, so by the time Chan and Jisung are carting in their haul, the rest of the group are already in the kitchen putting the food away. Jisung blinks at the sight of Minho in an apron, already cutting up vegetables on the kitchen island.
Chan lets out a bark of a laugh when he sees him.
“Where’d you find that?”
Minho looks down at himself, as if only now assessing the pink, frilled apron he has on. “Who says I found it? Maybe I brought it with me.”
Behind him, half in the fridge, Jeongin snorts. “It was on the back of the pantry door, hyung.”
Minho shoots him a look, betrayed.
“Suits you,” Jisung says, feeling brave.
Minho grins and waggles his eyebrows. He shakes his hips a little, right in Jisung’s direction. “You think so?”
Jisung feels his cheeks heat up and chooses to help Hyunjin with one of the shopping bags over replying. When Jeongin is finished by the fridge, Chan and Changbin take over, filling the remaining space with as many drinks as they can. Jisung helps Hyunjin fill the pantry with the snacks they’ve bought. Then Minho begins to direct them around the kitchen. Chan is ordered to go make sure the barbeque outside is clean enough to use. Before Jisung can follow after him, Minho points him in the direction of a cutting board and asks if he can help with the vegetables. Hyunjin takes charge preparing soup, while Changbin moves between them all, swiftly delivering everyone a drink. Jeongin starts cleaning as they go, so that there’ll be less to do once they’re finished.
All in all, they work as a surprisingly efficient machine. In just under an hour, they are all outside. There is an iron table in the yard, overlooking the pool and the view of the ocean. It’s warm enough to feel comfortable, even though the breeze from the sea has a slight chill to it. The heat from the meat cooking between them is more than enough to balance it out, and after he finishes his first drink, Jisung feels comfortable relaxing a little bit.
He keeps mostly quiet while they eat, letting the others drive conversation while he takes it all in. It’s nice seeing how the others interact with each other. He feels like he has a real handle on Minho and Hyunjin now, after spending the entire day with them. They remind him of a pair of cats, always keeping a watchful eye for the next opportunity to fuck with each other. He’s still getting a read on Changbin and Jeongin, but as the night goes on, the picture becomes a little clearer. Jeongin has clearly grown used to being the baby of the group, but he gives as good as he gets when it comes to the teasing. He has a wicked sense of humour and is completely unafraid to rib the others, which he does with a wide, shameless grin, as if he knows he’ll get away with it. And he does. Even when they are loudly scolding him, the other boys look at him with impossible fondness.
Changbin is loud. He’s funny and he’s bold and he seems filled with energy, which he uses to keep the groups momentum up. Whenever there is a lull in conversation, he seems ready to fill the space with a story or a joke. Jisung can see immediately how that might translate into making music. He can only imagine how his energy could be channelled into a rap verse. Jisung holds off on asking all the questions that jump into his mind – it feels a little early to accost Changbin like that – but he files them all away for later. He doesn’t feel too daunted by the thought of approaching Changbin to pick at his brain, but he wants to let things settle a bit more before he does. Above everything else, Changbin seems kind and friendly and open. Oh, and his laugh is just wonderful.
Once most of the food has gone, Chan claps his hands together, grabbing everyone’s attention.
“Okay, beach tomorrow,” he says. “Who’s in?”
Around the table, there is an assortment of interested noises. Jisung nods along happily. He’s certainly not going to turn down a day of nice weather and good company, especially if that company includes Chan in the water. Jisung’s heard all the stories from Chan about his time in Australia, all the swimming events he did, and all the time he spent in the ocean growing up. The thought of being part of one of Chan’s stories, rather than just hearing about it afterwards makes Jisung feel warm.
They set a rough wake up time for the following morning, and when that’s done, Chan reaches up to the sky and stretches.
While Jisung works very hard not to stare – his brain on a constant stream of arms, arms, arms – Chan says,
“Not to be that guy but I think I might head to bed.”
There is a chorus of groans in response, which Chan clearly expected, because he laughs and immediately begins to defend himself. “We’ve been driving all day, I’m tired. I’m not saying you guys have to sleep too, I just know I’ll pass out soon and I’d rather not sleep here.”
Changbin, who’s just poured himself another drink, pouts. “We’re on holiday, hyung. It’s not even ten yet. Who are you?”
Chan laughs, but Hyunjin ultimately comes to his defence. He reaches for the soju and refills his glass. To Changbin, he says, “I’ll stay up with you, hyung, don’t worry.”
Changbin settles back in his seat, looking pleased.
“Not me,” Minho says, getting to his feet. He begins to gather up some plates which spurs Jisung quickly to action. He doesn’t want anyone thinking of him as a burden on this trip, so he’s certainly not going to let them clean up after him. “I’ve been thinking about bed since we got here.”
“I’ll probably go too,” Jisung says. Given that they’re sharing, the last thing Jisung wants is to let Minho go off to sleep, only to wake him up later. It’s easier if he goes now too. Plus, after a long day of socialising, he needs a bit of a break.
Chan catches Jisung’s eye. “You’re sure you’re okay sharing?”
Jisung nods. He can only imagine how awkward everything would become if he made a fuss now. It’s nice of Chan to check though. Just knowing that Chan is thinking about him kicks his heart up a notch.
“Yeah, hyung,” he says. “Don’t worry about me.”
“What does he have to worry about?” Minho asks, looking playful. “I’m nice, aren’t I?”
“No,” Hyunjin and Jeongin say.
Chan laughs as Minho rounds on the others, but he makes sure Jisung is paying attention when he says, “Don’t let him mess with you, alright? He’s harmless.”
“Ya!” Minho turns on Chan now. “Harmless?”
Chan beams up at him. “Yup. And so cute, look at you.”
He reaches for Minho’s cheek, looking ready to pinch it between his fingers. Minho ducks out of the way, aghast, but Jisung doesn’t miss the way his ears turn a little pink as he darts away. Again, the picture of them all becomes a little bit clearer. So far, Minho has been the hardest to make sense of, but little moments like this make him easier to understand. Jisung thinks at his core, Minho might be very soft.
To Chan, Jisung says again, “I’ll be fine, hyung.”
“I’ll take care of him,” Minho shouts over his shoulder, as he carries a load of plates inside.
Chan looks satisfied with this and nods. With all of them working, it takes no time at all to ferry their dishes inside. Again, Minho takes the helm as they clean, directing everyone to different jobs. They make quick work of it. Soon, Hyunjin and Changbin are outside once more, while the rest of them head off to bed.
Minho trails behind Jisung as they make their way to the room. It’s a bit of a squeeze getting their things up the narrow staircase, but Jisung manages it without falling over, so he considers it a sum win.
“It’s the one on your left,” Minho says when he’s finished wrangling his own bags. As Jisung opens the door and makes his way inside, Minho nods at both the beds – one nestled underneath the window, the other tucked up against the far wall – and asks, “Do you have a preference?”
“I don’t mind,” Jisung says.
“Take the window,” Minho says.
That’s simple enough. Jisung does as he’s told, glancing out the window only to see his own reflection. If he peers closely enough, he can glimpse the water in the dark, but he’ll have to wait til morning to see the proper view. He dumps his bags on the end of the bed, and looks to the head, assessing the outlet situation.
“There’s one behind the bedside table,” Minho says, as he moves towards the other bed, apparently reading Jisung’s mind. “We just have to pull it forward a little. I have a power bank you can use too if you like.”
“Oh, cool.” It’s an offer he doesn’t have to make, and it makes Jisung flush a little, appreciative. “Thank you.”
Minho shrugs easily. “The bathroom’s just down the hall, near Chan’s room.” While he speaks, he rummages through his bag, searching. “The other rooms are down that end too, I can show you if you need. I’m just gonna go change.”
“Okay,” Jisung says. Minho makes for the door, his pyjamas in hand, when Jisung, for some reason, keeps going. “You can change here if you need. Uh,” – his brain catches up, his cheeks flash hot, and his words stumble. “Like, of course you don’t have to, if you don’t want.” Shit, what the fuck is he saying? “I just meant like, don’t feel like you have to go because of me, if you don’t want to. It’s fine with me. God. I sound so creepy. Sorry. I just – sorry.”
He cuts himself off, mortified. Of course, it was only a matter of time until he fucked this up. He’s tired, and he meant it well, but like. Who even says shit like that?
Minho watches the whole thing with that dangerous little smile of his. Even as Jisung flounders, he quirks a brow. He plucks at the bottom of his shirt, lifting it just a little, offering Jisung a glimpse of toned stomach and tan skin.
“You wanna watch, Jisung-ah?”
“No!” Jisung can feel the heat of his face, the panic in his eyes. He fights desperately to look at anywhere but at the sliver of stomach Minho has exposed. “No! Oh, my god. I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean—”
Minho drops his shirt with a chuckle and waves an easy hand in Jisung’s direction. “I’m fucking with you.”
“—No, but I’m really sorry—”
“I know, I know,” Minho talks right over him. He reaches out and takes a hold of Jisung’s hands, which have been up in the air, almost defensively. He settles them, holding them still as he says, “It’s fine. I’m just being a dick.”
“Are you sure?” Jisung checks quickly. “Because I really didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I don't even know why I said anything, I just—”
“It’s fine,” Minho says again. He releases Jisung’s hand, but only so he can tap Jisung on the nose. “You’re gonna need a thicker skin than that, Jisung-ah. How can I make fun of you if you’re going to be so cute about it?”
It’s only when Minho flashes a smile and ducks out of Jisung’s space, that Jisung realises how close they’d been standing moments before. The tip of his nose tingles where Minho touched it. Jisung blinks a couple of times.
He frowns. “That was mean.”
“Maybe I’m a mean person,” Minho says. Then he takes his shirt off.
Jisung spins around, putting his back to Minho without even thinking about it. It’s all he can do not to clap his hands over his eyes but thank God he manages it. Given the last few seconds, he can only imagine what Minho might do with ammunition like that. He preoccupies himself first with closing the window blinds, then with his bag, moving things around haphazardly, looking for nothing. Behind him, he can hear the sounds of fabric on skin as Minho changes.
Feeling very hot under his collar, Jisung grumbles, “I should have listened to Hyunjin.”
Minho laughs, loud. “Never say that again.”
Jisung changes too, resolutely avoiding Minho’s eye while he does. The whole time he berates himself for saying anything at all. Who says shit like that? Who sees someone ready to change and says, no wait, you should do that in front of me? It’s insane. Honestly, it’s almost surprising he made it this far without fucking up. It was only a matter of time. He’s such a—
“Jisung,” Minho says. “Look at this.”
When Jisung looks over, Minho has his phone pointed at him. On the screen, a tiny ragdoll kitten is meowing at the camera. It sounds like a squeaky toy.
“Oh, my god,” Jisung says.
“Isn’t he so cute? Wait. Look at this one.”
Minho turns the phone around quickly, fiddles for a moment, then presents Jisung with another video. This time, there is a cardboard box meowing. As Jisung watches, the box lid opens and maybe fifteen kittens are suddenly climbing over one another, looking up at the camera, all big eyes, and pink noses.
“Holy shit,” Jisung says.
“Right? Hang on, there’s more.” Minho shuffles over a little, making room on the end of his bed for Jisung to sit down. Once Jisung does, Minho tilts his phone so that Jisung can see as he scrolls through an almost endless list of cat videos. He seems to be searching for something specific. “This one, watch this one.”
Together, they watch a string of cats as they run down a corridor and attempt to leap over a barrier of toilet paper rolls. Then Minho just keeps scrolling. He talks while they mine his phone for more videos, telling Jisung about his own cats – three, Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, who all live at Minho’s family home with his parents. Eventually, Jisung gets his own phone out of his pocket and shows Minho some videos he’s got saved, as well as pictures of Bbama that he took last time he visited home. Jisung finds himself growing tired, so he leans his back against the wall behind them. Minho throws him a pillow and then grabs a second so that he can make himself comfortable.
“Are you a dog person then?” Minho asks, after flipping through all the photos of Bbama that Jisung can find.
“Why do I have to choose?” Jisung asks. “I don’t believe in limiting myself.”
Minho laughs. “Okay, but if you had to.”
“Both,” Jisung says.
Minho lets out an aggrieved sigh. “You can’t be both, it’s one or the other.”
“Both,” Jisung says again. He feels very strongly about this. “I can’t choose, it’s impossible.”
Minho considers him for a moment, eyes narrowed. Jisung has no idea what he’s looking for, only that he’s looking for something. After a beat, Minho smirks.
“I think you’re secretly a cat person,” he says. “You’re just too afraid to say it.”
Jisung scoffs. “Why would I be scared to say it.”
“Cause your dog is super cute, and you don’t wanna be disloyal,” Minho says. “It’s okay, Jisung-ie, you can tell me. This is a safe space.”
“It doesn’t feel safe,” Jisung says. He sticks to his guns. “I’m neither. Both. I can’t choose.”
Minho lets out another sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fence-sitter.”
Jisung shrugs. “That’s fine with me.”
“Hmm,” Minho says.
They watch a few more videos before Jisung notices the way Minho’s eyes are drooping. As if coming back to himself, Jisung realises he’s sitting on Minho’s bed, and that Minho said he was tired – oh, shit – almost an hour ago, and yet instead of resting, he’s stayed up keeping Jisung entertained with cats.
“Shit,” Jisung says. “Sorry, I should let you sleep.”
“It’s cool,” Minho says, even as he scrubs at his eyes. “I love cats.”
Jisung snorts. “I can see that.”
Still, he gets up, switches off the lights, and moves for his own bed. It’s pretty dark in the room, but not completely black. There’s light from the digital clock on the bedside table, and more coming in from outside, creeping around the edges of the blinds. Enough that Jisung makes it back to his bed without knocking anything over or hurting himself. Another win.
It’s not like he’s forgotten his embarrassment from earlier – to the contrary, he knows the memory will stick with him for a long time – but he doesn’t feel the heat of it quite as badly anymore. Minho can’t have been too offended by the whole thing, given that he’s stayed awake and in Jisung’s company for an hour longer than he needed to. He doesn’t seem bothered at all by it now, climbing into his own bed and tucking himself in.
Minho punches his pillow a couple of times before he rests his head properly. He settles on his stomach, with his arms curled around his pillow, tucked under his chin. He looks over at Jisung, his eyelids droopy.
Jisung’s stomach does a funny thing.
“I’m gonna get up early, work out a little. I’ll try not to wake you,” Minho says.
“All good,” Jisung says. “It’s okay if you do, I can go back to sleep pretty easy.”
Minho smiles, just a bit, like he’s already on the edge of drifting to sleep. He hums an affirmative and lets his eyes shut all the way, rubbing his cheek against his pillow.
Jisung watches for a moment too long. Then he says, “Crazy you’re gonna work out on your holiday, though.”
With his eyes still closed, Minho smiles again. “S’just yoga. You know what they say, body’s a temple and all that.”
“Insanity,” Jisung says.
He’s not sure why he’s still talking. His own eyes feel heavy, the bed sheets feel crisp and clean, and his blanket feels soft and warm. He’s drifting away himself.
“Sleep well,” Minho hums.
Jisung does.
.
Despite his warnings, Minho doesn’t wake Jisung in the morning. Instead, when Jisung rouses from his sleep, it’s to find an empty bed across the room from him and gentle sounds of life coming from the rest of the house. He glances at his phone to check the time. It’s still pretty early, earlier than they’d agreed to wake up and get breakfast started, so he wastes a little time scrolling through his phone. The sun streams in around the edges of the blinds, and of course the light eventually moves to land directly on his pillow. He counts that as a sign to get up, so he changes into some beach clothes and ventures out, downstairs.
In the daylight, the view from the house is just as beautiful as Jisung thought it might be. The window in the kitchen overlooks the ocean, and the roofs of the houses between Chan’s aunt’s house and the water. The weather is as brilliant as Chan had promised, blue skies and a warm morning breeze. Jisung had been looking forward to their beach trip as it is but how nice the day has turned out drives his excitement up even further.
He moves through the house to see if he can find an even better view, and finds –
Well.
Okay.
It’s definitely a view.
In the garden, between the pool and the table where they’d eaten last night, Minho is lying in the grass. Or, okay. Maybe lying isn’t the best word. There is a yoga mat laid out, and Minho is on top of it. His head is on the ground, but his back is arched, and he holds one long leg stretched out, toes pointing up towards the sky. He’s got shorts and a loose t-shirt on, which has dropped to hang near his armpits, given he’s upside down.
For a moment, all Jisung can see is arms, thighs, abdominals, bellybutton, ass –
A throat is cleared behind him.
Jisung spins around to find Jeongin, rubbing at his eyes and looking between Jisung and the sight outside.
“What the hell is he doing?” Jeongin asks.
When Jisung goes to speak, he finds that his throat is a little dry. He clears it. “Uh. Yoga. I think.”
Jeongin’s face scrunches up. “Yoga?”
Jisung’s not really sure what else to tell him. He glances at Minho again – mistake! Minho has brought his leg back down, so now his ass is the part of him that’s pointing up at the sky, and fuck, those legs are – Christ, Jisung, look away!
“Um. Yep. That’s what it looks like.”
Jeongin’s eyes narrow as he processes this. Slowly, Jisung watches as he wakes up a bit more, his face becoming a little clearer. He stands where he is for a moment longer, analysing, before he nods to himself.
“Hilarious,” he says, inexplicably.
Then he just moves on. Ignoring Minho outside, Jeongin comes into the kitchen and starts rummaging through the pantry. Jisung, not entirely sure what to do with himself, jumps out of his way. He tries not to look out the window again, but it’s difficult, given that it’s the focal point of the whole kitchen. Minho does another stretch.
Jisung coughs.
Hyunjin appears. His hair is sticking in all sorts of directions and there’s a line on his cheek, where Jisung guesses his face was mushed into his pillow.
“Coffee,” he almost groans, joining Jeongin in the kitchen, wrapping him up in a back-hug. “My kingdom for some coffee.”
“That’s what I’m looking for,” Jeongin says, vaguely fighting Hyunjin’s embrace, but mostly allowing it to happen. “I’ll find it faster if you get off me.”
“Can’t,” Hyunjin grumbles, resting his head on Jeongin’s shoulder. “You’re too comfy.”
Jeongin huffs but continues rummaging through the cupboards. Hyunjin moves when he does, hanging off him like a limpet. He is so at ease that Jisung can see the exact moment Hyunjin spies Minho in the garden. He goes still, stiffening like a meercat might and straightening up to get a better look, as if he can’t believe his eyes.
He pulls an extraordinary face.
“What the fuck?” he says. “Is hyung doing yoga?”
All three of them watch as Minho changes positions again. He is onto the next leg, extending it out slowly behind him and then raising it upwards. In the morning sun, his skin seems almost golden.
“Apparently,” Jeongin says.
“Why?” Hyunjin says, looking mystified. “We’re on holiday.”
He says it as if the mere thought of exercising on holiday is an egregious affront to nature. As far as Jisung is concerned, it is, but he’s not one to tell other people how to live their lives. When Hyunjin turns that bewildered look in his direction, all Jisung can do is shrug.
“He said he was gonna work out this morning,” Jisung offers.
Hyunjin frowns, not satisfied with that at all, but side-tracked, when Jeongin lets out a shout. He emerges from one of the cupboards with a jar of instant coffee in his hand and holds it high in the air, victorious.
“Oh, my god, thank god,” Hyunjin says. He releases Jeongin and hurries to another cupboard. “I need caffeine to process all this.” He motions to Minho out the window, almost offended by the sight. As he pulls out some mugs, he glances at Jisung. “You’re having some too, right?”
“Yes please,” Jisung says. “Do you need any help?”
"No, no,” Hyunjin says easily. “You’re a guest, have a seat.”
He motions towards the kitchen island, where there are a few tall stools tucked on one side. They are, of course, designed to look out the kitchen window and appreciate the view. Jisung thinks that when Chan’s aunt was designing the place, she probably had a different view in mind. Outside, Minho is back on two feet, elongating his spine as he stretches his arms up over his head. Jisung didn’t really notice yesterday, not properly, but Minho must work out. Arms like those don’t happen accidentally.
Hyunjin and Jeongin whip up three cups of coffee incredibly quickly. They slide one mug across the island to Jisung, and while Jeongin comes around to sit next to Jisung, Hyunjin remains where he is. He leans his hip against the island bench and considers Minho outside, taking a long sip of coffee.
Then he says, “This is bullshit, he never wants to do yoga at home.”
Jeongin hums while he finishes his first sip, then shrugs. “I think your place might be missing a key motivator.”
Hyunjin and Jeongin share a quick look, that Jisung only catches the tail end of. He can’t decode it, but he doesn’t try very hard. These guys have known each other a long time, it stands to reason there will be things that Jisung can’t piece together on his own.
“I’m confused,” he says. “Minho doesn’t work out at home?”
“Oh, he does,” Hyunjin says. “It’s just kinda like pulling teeth. Channie-hyung can sometimes talk him into going to the gym, but it doesn’t happen very often. Minho-hyung does his own thing, usually.”
That doesn’t surprise Jisung in the least. Everything he knows of Minho, even in the short time they’ve shared together, screams that Minho’s the sort of guy to do what he wants, when he wants. Outside, Minho turns on the mat, looking out to the ocean, his back to the window. He spreads his legs wide, bending one knee and leaning with it, placing one hand on the ground to balance himself while he reaches high with the other. The hem of his shirt floats a couple of inches above the waist of his pants. There are two sweet little divots right at the small of his back.
Jisung takes another sip of his drink.
“God,” Hyunjin grumbles. “Of course, he can just pick it back up like it’s nothing. I don’t think we’ve been to a class in six months.”
“It’s not like he’s out of shape, hyung,” Jeongin says. “You guys dance for like eight hours every day.”
Hyunjin lets out an aggrieved sigh. “Yeah, but I can’t do it like Minho-hyung does.”
Jeongin shoots Jisung a look that says, very sternly, that Hyunjin is full of shit. Jisung can only imagine. Hyunjin is lithe and tall and elegant, even when he’s a little clumsy. He has no trouble at all believing that Hyunjin would be just as talented as Minho is, if he were doing yoga outside with him. Whatever yoga instructor is lucky enough to have them both in a class, even if it doesn’t happen very often, must be very, very grateful.
For a little while, they just sit quietly in the kitchen, watching Minho stretch. He must know they’re there. It’s not like the glass only goes one way, and the sun is shining right on them. Even with an audience, Minho seems completely at ease. He swaps sides once more, sinking into the lunge, and reaching skywards with his other hand. All of it seems completely effortless.
If Jisung tried that, he’d fall flat on his face, no question. He’s not even sure he’s capable of bending that way.
All three of them startle when the front door suddenly opens.
Changbin strides inside, breathing heavily, beads of sweat on his neck, dark patches on his shirt. Behind him, Chan is in a similar state, fighting hard to catch his breath.
“Morning!” Chan says.
“Where’s coffee?” Changbin asks.
Hyunjin gets a mug out for both of them, while Chan and Changbin come up to the island. Chan uses the edge of his shirt to wipe over his face, giving Jisung a mouth-watering glimpse of abs before the hem of the tee comes back down. His skin is flushed, and Jisung can see sweat clinging to his collarbones. He feels a little dizzy.
“We went for a run,” Chan explains. “Sorry, we didn’t wake you, but I know you don’t like running.”
Jisung might need to re-evaluate that stance. For Chan, at least. Cause wow.
“Is Minho still out the back?” Changbin asks. He comes around the island so he can see out the window, then grins widely when he catches sight of him. Minho’s bent forward now, so the vision is almost one-hundred percent ass. In this position, his tee has fallen forward again. “Ya! Minho-hyung! Put some clothes on!”
Changbin’s voice is easily loud enough to carry outside. The others barely bat an eye at the volume, clearly used to it. Jisung can’t help but laugh. Minho straightens, stepping out of his stance and turning around to look in the window for the first time since Jisung saw him. There is a light sheen to his face that suggests the poses hadn’t been as effortless as Jisung had originally thought. In the sun, his hair had a reddish tint. Strands fall across his eyes and when he grins, he looks almost wicked.
“Do you wanna fuck me, Seo Changbin?” Minho calls back.
Jisung feels a little overstimulated.
“In your dreams!” Changbin shouts back without pausing.
“Oh, in all of them.” Minho leaves the mat where it is and wanders inside, giving Changbin a devilish look when he reaches them. “Just waiting for the day you finally give me a chance.”
“Alright,” Hyunjin says, edging into Changbin’s space. He braces his hands on Changbin’s shoulders, not bothered at all by his sweat, and says to Minho, “I think this counts as sexual harassment.”
“Not if he wants it, Hyunjin-ie,” Minho says. “Why, are you jealous?”
Hyunjin glares at him.
“Ah, ah,” Changbin says, leaning into Hyunjin’s grasp, looking at Minho bashfully. As much as he’s playing it all off, his ears have gone quite red, and it seems like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “Please, there’s enough of me to go around.”
Jisung’s not one hundred percent on what their dynamic is, exactly. Changbin’s been flirting with Hyunjin since the second they arrived, but Jisung thinks Chan would have told him if they were together. They’re sleeping in separate rooms, and they arrived separately. Still, the way Hyunjin holds him is almost possessive, so Jisung thinks there must be something there. Minho seems more than comfortable fucking with them both, and Chan and Jeongin laugh easily, like they’ve seen this a thousand times before. It’s enough for Jisung to get his bearings. He laughs along with them.
“Did you enjoy your yoga this morning, hyung?” Hyunjin asks. There is something pointed in his voice, but it goes over Jisung’s head once more. He doesn’t mind. “You got what you needed?”
Minho shrugs and busies himself with the cup of coffee that Chan now slides his way.
“I did,” he says. “It was very restorative. Felt good.”
“Mhm,” Hyunjin says. He glances quickly at Jisung, then back. “I bet.”
Minho turns to the rest of them and smiles brightly. “Beach today, right? When are we leaving?”
Hyunjin snorts. The rest of them allow him to change the subject gracefully, even if they’re all clearly entertained by his antics. Jisung is just happy to be a part of it, honestly.
“Let’s do brekkie first,” Chan says. Brekkie, Jisung thinks. What a cutie. “Then we should hustle down there. A day as nice as this, it’s gonna be busy I think.”
Minho slides into the empty stool at Jisung’s side. His presence feels a little bigger than it had last night, for some reason. It’s like Jisung is just a little more aware of him than he had been. He can’t quite get rid of the picture in his head, of Minho’s long legs and toned calves.
Minho smiles at Chan. “Cool. Sounds fun.”
Jisung agrees.
.
Notes:
poor jisung, i'd be overwhelmed too. beach next chap! and more bonding time for the gang. i think i'll have it ready for you guys next week :)
thank you so much to those of u who commented and kudosed and read! i can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chap and where you think we might be going on this journey. if you have a moment to share ur thoughts with me, it'd mean the world xx
Chapter 3
Notes:
yay, chapter three!!
ngl, i totally thought the beach would only be one chapter, but then minsung started minsunging and that word count just kept going up, so i'm splitting it into two. (my plan for this chapter was just 'minsung chemistry off the charts' so i should have known this would happen)
you might have noticed, might not have noticed, that i've done a little housekeeping. new username and a new synopsis all at once. i'm still not 100% happy with the synop so you may spy that changing again if i feel so inspired. if you're already reading along it shouldn't be a prob tho!
my biggest thank you ever to those of u who've been reading so far and to those who've kudosed and commented. it really does light a fire under my ass, and it's making me so keen to get new chapters out to you. i really appreciate you guys taking the time <3
sorry, monster note today apparently. i'll let ya get to it. i hope you enjoy the new chap!! xoxoxox
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
When Jisung asks Chan what he should bring with him to the beach, Chan shrugs.
“Just a towel, honestly.” Chan has already shown them the linen closet, where Chan’s aunt keeps the spare towels. She’s happy for them to take them down as long as they’re washed before the trip ends. “Maybe your phone if you want? It’s so close, we can just come back here for lunch if we need.”
Changbin appears at his shoulder. “Can we play cricket again, hyung?”
Chan’s eyes brighten. “Oh! Yeah, for sure! I think the set is around here somewhere.”
When Chan rushes off to search for the cricket set, Changbin explains. “It’s for beach cricket. Hyung taught us how to play last time we were here. Him and Felix used to play all the time back home.”
The name snags Jisung’s attention. “Felix?” He can vaguely remember Hyunjin mentioning him on the drive here. “He’s Australian too?”
“Yup.” Changbin is still finishing his breakfast, so he pauses to take a quick mouthful. He chews, looking thoughtful, motioning at Jisung that he’s got more to say. When he’s finished, he says, “He and Chan go way back; they were neighbours growing up.”
Chan returns with a see-through bag over his shoulder. Inside, Jisung can see a bright yellow cricket bat and several long yellow stumps. Jisung has seen a cricket game or two before, but it’s always seemed pretty boring to watch. He’s not entirely convinced it’ll be any more interesting adding sand to the mix, but he’s not against finding out. It’ll be fun to see Chan play at least.
“We weren’t neighbours,” Chan says. “We just lived on the same street.”
Changbin rolls his eyes. “Same thing.”
“He was supposed to come with us this week, right?” Jisung asks.
“Yeah.” Chan swings the cricket set off his shoulder, leaning it up against the table. The smile he shoots Jisung is a little tight around the edges, like he’s trying but he can’t quite sell it. “I asked, but his sister has a graduation dinner on Thursday night that he can’t miss. Just bad timing, I guess.”
“He’ll come to the next one, hyung, it’s all good.” Changbin pats Chan’s shoulder as he gets to his feet. He starts collecting his plates to take them to the kitchen. As he begins to wash up, he says, “What time are we leaving?”
Chan glances at the clock on the microwave. “Ah, ten minutes, maybe?”
“Do you think I can fit in another coffee?”
“I have complete faith in you,” Minho says, appearing on the stairs. He’s changed into his beach things – a worn t-shirt and red shorts – and he has one of the spare towels hanging over his shoulders. He joins Changbin in the kitchen. “Make me one.”
“Say please,” Changbin says.
Minho just smiles sweetly at him, waiting.
After a moment’s standoff, Changbin heaves a loud sigh and reaches for a second mug.
Incredibly smug with his victory, Minho flashes a smile at Jisung. Jisung smiles back easily and lets the warm feeling that floods him settle his nerves. He’d spent so much time worrying that he’d be the odd one out or that Chan’s friends would be annoyed that he’d been invited along, it’s reassuring every time Minho invites him to join in on the joke.
“Aren’t we leaving?” Jeongin asks as he and Hyunjin come downstairs.
“Ten minutes, ten minutes!” Changbin says.
Changbin whips the coffees up in no time. Jeongin comes around the sit beside Chan, waiting, but Hyunjin creeps into the kitchen and makes no secret of shoving Minho out of his way. Minho puts up a fight, but only briefly. Once he has his coffee in his hand, he joins the rest of them at the table and takes a seat beside Jisung. Minho drinks at a much more leisurely pace than Changbin does, looking around the room and practically daring someone to say something.
Jisung can’t help himself. He rests his elbow on the table and props his chin up with his hand.
“Aren’t you supposed to wait half an hour to swim after eating or drinking?”
Minho smiles, his eyes alight. “You worried about me, Jisung-ah?”
Should have known better, Jisung thinks. He feels his cheeks heat up and he tries to hold Minho’s eye, but quickly fails, letting his gaze dart away.
Chan rescues him. “Actually, that’s a myth. Like, having any food before exercising isn’t the best idea, but as long as we take it easy in the water, we’ll be fine.”
Jeongin snorts. “Like any of you are gonna ‘take it easy’.”
“That’s cause we can take it easy at home,” Hyunjin says. “We’re on holiday, we should make the most of it. Minho-hyung, hurry up, I want to go.”
Minho takes a very long, very slow sip.
Hyunjin glares at him.
Despite how much fun he’s clearly having, when it does reach the ten-minute-mark, Minho is as ready to go as the rest of them. They put their mugs on the bench, promising to clean them later, then hustle for the door. Chan does a final check that everyone has a towel. As they head out the back, Minho pauses.
On a hook on the wall, there is a large, wide-brimmed sunhat.
“Hyung,” he says, snagging Chan’s attention. “You’ve forgotten your hat.”
Chan rolls his eyes. “It’s my aunts.”
“Are you sure?” Minho asks. “It’s so you.”
He plucks the hat from the wall and drops it on Chan’s head. The soft brim droops adorably over Chan’s face, leaving only the downturned dip of his frown visible. Chan lets them all laugh at him for a moment before he plucks it off his head. He hands it back to Minho.
“I think it’ll suit you actually.”
Minho doesn’t hesitate. He puts the hat on and strikes a pose, jutting out his lower lip and pouting. His mouth is absurdly pink.
“Of course, it does.” Minho brings a finger up to his lips and makes another pose, like he’s shooting for a magazine cover or something. It’s absurd; if Jisung tried it he’d look like an idiot, but somehow Minho pulls it off. “What do you think?”
Hyunjin scoffs and walks into the yard. Jeongin and Changbin and Chan just laugh as they follow after him.
Without really meaning to, Jisung says, “Looks good, hyung.”
Minho’s gaze snags on him.
There is a beat.
Jisung clears his throat and hurries out the door.
“Wait, Hyung, can I actually wear this?” Minho checks, before he shuts the door.
Chan laughs again. “Sure. Just don’t lose it.”
Minho puts on his sunglasses and tilts his head back, so that he can see all of them from under the wide brim. He looks incredibly pleased with himself, and he walks with a little hop in his step as he catches up.
Chan’s path down to the beach is even shorter than he’d let on. It’s quite steep – the walk back up is going to be a nightmare – but it’s worth it given that they reach the water in just a matter of minutes. The beach itself seems quite private. There are a few other people scattered around, but this little inlet seems separate from the main beach they’d driven past on the way in. There’s plenty of room for them to fit in among the other beachgoers.
Following Chan’s lead, they stop at a random free patch of sand and dump all their things. Jisung lays his towel out like the rest of them, then hesitates a second over what to do with his phone. He probably could have left it at the house, but he wants to take some photos.
“Just put the towel over it,” Chan says, catching him pause. “People around here are pretty chill. No one’s gonna take it.”
Chan potentially has too much faith in strangers.
Jisung pauses for maybe a fraction of a second, but apparently that’s enough for Minho to read him.
Minho holds out an open hand. “Here, I’ll put it in my bag.”
He’s the only one of them who’d brought a bag with him. It’s just a small tote that he’s had tucked over his shoulder, but from the shape of it, Jisung thinks Minho might have brought a book down with him. Hmm. Maybe Jisung should have thought of that.
“Thanks,” Jisung says, handing it over.
Minho tucks the phone in and offers Jisung a sunny smile. Underneath his sunglasses and hat, the overall effect is incredibly hilarious.
“Are you laughing at me?” Minho asks, when Jisung snickers.
He kinda has a handle on Minho now. His game is making other people feel unsettled, but he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just playing, and now that Jisung gets that, he feels more than equipped to give the same back.
“Yeah,” he says. “Can you blame me?”
The corner of Minho’s mouth twitches. “Hmm.”
“C’mon, I wanna go,” Chan says.
Jisung turns around just in time to see Chan whip his shirt off. All thoughts of Minho vanish.
He’s been preparing for this. It’s par for the course with a beach trip – of course Chan isn’t gonna be covered up like he is in the studio – but Jisung absolutely refuses to be a creep about it. He keeps his eyes on Chan’s shoulders and above and doesn’t let himself hesitate with his own shirt. Crush or no crush, he’s here for a fun day with his friends. The last, last, last thing he’s gonna do is give Chan any reason to feel uncomfortable.
After that, it's a mad dash down to the water. Changbin and Hyunjin hassle each other the whole way, Hyunjin cackling loudly as they race, Changbin calling out compliments as he follows. Chan and Jeongin make it first, Jisung only just behind. The water’s cold, but the kind of cold Jisung was expecting, so he pushes through. It’s harder when the water reaches his thighs, but none of the others hesitate so Jisung steels himself and presses on.
As soon as the water is deep enough, Chan flops his whole body under. He emerges shaking his head and lets out a happy noise as he wipes the water from his face.
“Oh, man,” he says. “I’ve missed this so much.”
He dunks his head under again.
Jisung takes it a little slower. Chan seems impervious to the cold, but Jisung can’t ignore it quite as easily. He gets in as far as his chest, breathing hard.
There is a loud shriek behind him; Hyunjin, also trying to brave the cold.
“It’s not that bad, Jin-ah,” Changbin says. “Just get it over and done with, you won’t feel it at all in a couple of minutes.”
“It’s freezing,” Hyunjin says.
“You’ll be fine, come on,” Changbin says gently.
Chan resurfaces once more. “Just get your head wet, you won’t even notice after that.”
“I absolutely will,” Hyunjin says.
Jeongin has gone with Chan’s method. Jisung didn’t see when he went under, but his hair and face is wet and he’s in up to his neck, acclimating to the temperature. He floats over near where Hyunjin is still making a fuss, and without any ceremony, dunks Hyunjin’s head under.
Chan laughs, the sound high and thrilled and pretty. Changbin looks shocked for a beat, before he too, starts giggling. The chorus of it is just lovely. When Hyunjin emerges, thrashing about wildly, Jeongin is already out of his reach. His hair droops across his face and, if they’d thought he was loud before, he puts them all to shame.
“Yang Jeongin!” He shrieks. “I’ll kill you.”
Jeongin grins at him from the deeper water. “I was just helping, hyung.”
Hyunjin wipes his hair from his face, succeeding in getting it out of his eyes, but failing in every other way. His hair sticks out in every direction. He shoots Jeongin a furious, betrayed look.
“Stop hanging out with Minho-hyung,” he says. “He’s a bad influence.”
Jeongin shrugs. “It’s all me, hyung.”
“Ah, ah, Hyunjin-ah,” Changbin comes up to Hyunjin and reaches out gently. He helps to settle Hyunjin’s hair, moving strands back to their correct place. Hyunjin, who’d been scrubbing at his eyes again, goes nice and still. “There you go. See, doesn’t it feel warmer now?”
Hyunjin pouts. His cheeks are pink, but he makes no attempt to put space between himself and Changbin. He looks up at him with wide eyes and his expression is so –
Jisung looks away, feeling a little like he’s interrupting something. As he looks in every direction but theirs, he notices that Minho hasn’t joined them. He peers back towards the beach.
“Is Minho-hyung not coming?”
Chan shakes his head. “Nah, he can’t swim.”
“Oh,” Jisung says.
He can see Minho sitting with their things on the sand. He’s too far away for Jisung to make out any details, but he seems quite content where he is. He’s lying on one of the towels, and Jisung thinks he might have his hands behind his head, but honestly the giant hat makes it impossible to tell.
Jeongin floats close to him. “Don’t worry about him too much,” he says. “He’ll do his own thing. He always does.”
“Right,” Jisung says, still watching Minho. He catches himself a beat later and jerks his gaze away, looking over to Jeongin. “Right, yeah. Of course.”
.
Jisung’s not sure if it’s an Australian thing, or just a Chan thing, but they stay in the water for ages. Chan’s having the time of his life. Where Jisung is happy to just float in the water and chat, Chan seems filled with energy. It’s like the water has given him new life or something. He tries to catch every wave, attempting to time it perfectly so that the wave will carry him closer to shore. He manages it on maybe half of his attempts, but he doesn’t let that stop him. When he misses a wave, he tries for the next one. When the wave does pick him up, he lets it carry him away, then turns around and heads straight back to give it another shot.
Once Chan has done it a few times, Changbin decides it doesn’t look too hard and joins in. Hyunjin does too. Hilariously. Hyunjin picks it up quickly. Changbin has a harder time, which makes Hyunjin laugh, which makes Changbin grin and try again. Jisung still doesn’t get what their deal is. They’re both clearly obsessed with each other, so why aren’t they together? Either way, Jisung’s not sure how much more of it he can stomach. He makes a note to ask Chan about it when they get a moment alone. Maybe with context it’ll make a little more sense.
Jeongin catches the next wave he tries for, and Chan lets out a whoop for him.
Jisung’s tried a couple of times too. He’s missed all of his attempts save for one. He could keep going, but he can feel himself getting pretty tired. He likes swimming, but he likes sitting on the sand just as much. With an ache in his muscles, all he really wants to do is lie down.
“Try this one, Jisung!” Chan calls out.
Jisung looks out where Chan is pointing and sees the looming hump of water headed for them. “I got this, hyung,” he says. “I might go in after though.”
A part of him maybe, potentially, possibly, wants Chan to tell him to stay. They’re having fun, all together, but it would be nice if Chan wanted his company specifically.
He tries not to feel too disappointed when Chan just nods. “Yeah, of course! I’m sure Minho’ll love the company.”
Slightly bummed, Jisung nods and preps for the wave. Against all odds, this one is the easiest. Maybe he’s just practiced enough, but Jisung only has to swim for a couple of second before the wave sweeps him up in its grasp and carries him forward. He hears Chan shouting praise after him as he swims, which returns some of his good mood.
At the end of the day, Chan’s here to have a good time with his friends. Jisung can’t forget that. It’s just nice to be a part of it.
The sun is pretty hot, but the wind is still cool when Jisung steps out of the water. He rushes over to where Minho is lying – and yeah, he does have his hands tucked under his head. Minho’s moved the hat so that it covers his face completely, but he stirs when Jisung arrives.
“You’re dripping on me,” Minho says. He doesn’t move the hat.
“Sorry, hyung.” Jisung grabs his towel and then takes a few steps back, so that he doesn’t wet Minho any further. He shakes the sand off the towel and then wraps it around his shoulders. Then he drops down where he stands. He doesn’t mind sitting in the sand. It’s not like he can’t wash it off again later.
Minho shifts and lifts the edge of the hat, peering out at him.
“Jisung-ah,” he says. “You’re back already?”
Jisung nods. “Yeah. Just needed a break. Chan-hyung’s got too much energy for me.”
“For everyone, I think,” Minho says.
“Okay if I join you? I can be quiet.”
Minho frowns at him. “Why would you be quiet?”
“So you can sleep, or whatever.” Jisung looks down at his knees, a little embarrassed at making the offer. “I don’t want to like, interrupt you, or—”
Minho sits up abruptly. The hat falls into his lap. The sunglasses he was wearing are tucked into the neck of his t-shirt, but Minho plucks them up and puts them on again. Then he shifts so that he’s facing Jisung.
“I can sleep whenever,” he says. “I wanna talk to you.”
Jisung frowns. “Me?”
“Yeah,” Minho says. “Come on, tell me. I already know everything about the others, they’re boring.”
He rolls on his towel until he is stretched out on his side, his head propped up by one arm. Jisung can’t help but notice the way his t-shirt sleeve stretches around his bicep. Damn. He was so good about not ogling Chan, he forgot that he’s surrounded by a group of insanely good-looking men. While Jisung looks, Minho waits patiently. A little smile plays at his lips.
Jisung swallows. “What if I’m boring too?”
Minho tilts his head. “Are you?”
It catches Jisung off guard, although maybe it shouldn’t. He’s not really a pity-party kind of guy. Sure, there are places where he questions himself and his anxiety often gets the better of him, but he knows where his skills and talents lie.
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Mhm,” Minho smiles. “I didn’t think so.”
A soft silence settles between them. Well, not silence, of course. The sounds of the beach are wrapped around them – people enjoying themselves in the water, the crash of the waves, the gentle hiss of sand blown through the wind – but between them, things are comfortable.
Then Minho reaches out and rock’s Jisung’s knee with his hand.
“Go on then, Jisung-ie. Tell me. Chan says you’re practically a genius. I wanna hear about your music.”
It really is like saying the magic word.
To start with, hearing that Chan has been complimenting him makes Jisung feel so pleased it goes a little fuzzy. On top of that, Minho is asking about music, which is Jisung’s absolute favourite thing to talk about. And so it spills out of him. He tells Minho about his classes, and the tracks that he’s working on with Chan, and the message he’s trying to convey with the lyrics.
“It sounds a little experimental, for sure, but that’s the best part of it. Does that make sense? It’s like, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what music actually is, you know? If you really break it down, it’s all just sounds, right? It’s just sounds that you like listening to. But that always gets me thinking about where we draw the line? It’s not like I want to make music that’s just a bunch of noise, but it’s – I don’t want to feel trapped in all these rules that someone came up with a hundred years ago. There’s so much out there that people don’t even think about. I love playing with that sort of stuff. It’s kind of like a game. I always want to see what I can sneak in there, what I can get away with.”
Throughout it all, Minho lies in the sand and listens attentively. His gaze is almost heavy on Jisung, so unflinching that Jisung finds himself not quite able to sit still beneath it. If they were talking about anything else, Jisung would probably falter, but it’s music. This is Jisung’s wheelhouse, and Minho seems more than willing to listen to him go on about it. With a captive audience, Jisung can’t help but let himself be carried away. He might look a little insane, leaning in close, speaking so emphatically, waving his arms around while he does – but Minho doesn’t seem to mind. He just nods along, offering little ‘mhhm’s’ where there is space for them.
“Chan-hyung really gets it, too.” Jisung glances out towards the water again. It’s easy to spot Chan and the others. The details are difficult to make out, but Chan has either Jeongin or Hyunjin up on his shoulders, wrestling the other two and fighting desperately to keep his feet. It makes Jisung’s chest feel tight, fondness brewing in his every pore. Even from here, he can see how much Chan is laughing. “He thinks about it the same way I do; I think that’s why we make such a good team. It’s like he can tell what the music needs right when I get stuck, it’s crazy.”
Minho follows Jisung’s gaze over to their friends. “Yeah, Hyung is pretty good at that.”
Jisung nods.
“You’re gonna try working with Changbin too, right?” Minho asks.
Jisung ducks his head. “Oh man, if he’s down, I’m down. Chan says he’s amazing.”
“Eh,” Minho says. “He’s alright.”
Jisung rolls his eyes at that. He can already tell that Minho is just fucking with him. His grin has that playful touch to it again, like he’s put the bait out and he’s just waiting for Jisung to bite. Jisung doesn’t want to play right into his hands, so he says,
“Yeah, that’s what Changbin said about your dancing.”
Minho gasps but looks delighted. He shifts again — the first time since Jisung started talking — rolling onto his stomach and kicking his feet in the air. Jisung notices, then pointedly stops noticing, the way his shorts pull across his ass. Jesus.
“Changbin-ah said he likes my dancing?” Minho asks, eyes wide.
Jisung laughs. “Not sure that’s what I’d take away from that.”
“Why not?” Minho asks. He pouts very dramatically. “Were you lying to me, Jisung-ah?”
Minho is maybe better at this game than Jisung is. He grins at Jisung impishly, and Jisung feels distinctly like a mouse, being battered around by a cat that’s not quite finished having fun with him.
“Nah.” Jisung huffs as he admits defeat, and chuckles. “He said you’re amazing.”
Minho rests his chin on the backs of his hands. “I am.”
It’s so cool. His easy confidence, his casual air, it’s all so impossibly cool that Jisung can’t help himself.
“See, I love that, you know?” Again, the words seem to trip over his lips in their haste to get out. “When you have something that’s your thing, and you know that you’re good at it? It’s the best feeling ever.”
He’s never been that interested by dancing, but suddenly, all he wants to see is Minho perform. It’ll be amazing, he already knows. He’s been told so, and Minho’s easy self-assuredness is more than enough to back that up.
“That’s how it is with music, for me. I might not be the best, but I could be.” It sounds insane of him to say. Jisung’s said it to Chan before, and that had earned him one of Chan’s high-up laughs, the one that comes out when Chan is kinda in disbelief and thrilled about it. Jisung knows that it’s arrogant to say, but he gets the feeling that Minho doesn’t care. He doesn’t seem like the sort of person who thinks about it that way. He’s nodding along with Jisung’s words, with that heavy gaze of his, all of his attention on Jisung. It spurs Jisung on. “It’s just, I know I could be. If I work for it, if I put the effort in, I could really… I don’t know. I just, I don’t want to set limits on myself, right? I just wanna work until I make it happen.”
“You sound just like Chan-hyung,” Minho says.
“Yeah?” Jisung feels almost breathless at the compliment. “That’s – God, if I could be anything like him, that’d be, like, the dream.”
Minho groans, pretending that he’s annoyed but completely unable to hide the fondness on his face. He tries hard though. “Ugh, don’t tell him that. He’ll be so earnest about it, I’ll throw up.”
Jisung reaches out and shoves lightly at Minho’s shoulder. Minho lets himself rock with the movement.
“You’re not fooling anyone,” Jisung says. “You love him as much as the rest of us.”
Minho rolls his eyes. He looks away from Jisung for what feels like the first time in ages. The tips of his ears are pink.
“Ew,” Minho says.
Jisung just laughs at him.
“He’s just so talented,” Jisung says, returning to Chan. He glances out at the water again. Whoever was on Chan’s shoulders is not there any longer. Jisung can hear Chan’s laugh from here. “I can’t even explain it. Whenever I get stuck, it’s like he can just, I don’t know, reach into my head, and find the answer. Did I say that already? I don’t know. Sorry if I did. It’s just. It’s so sick. I love working with him. I – you know how Hyunjin said I didn’t want his help to start with?”
Minho hums and nods.
“I can’t believe I did that. That was so dumb of me.” Remembering how stubborn he’d been makes Jisung feel a mixture of embarrassed and annoyed with himself. “We could have been working together for months but I just let my pride get in the way. I’m not gonna do that again.”
“You’re only human,” Minho says easily. “You’re not the first person in the world to want to do something by yourself.”
“I don’t know,” Jisung says. “Just feels like I got in my own way.”
Minho shrugs. “You probably did. Does it matter? You learnt from it; you won’t do it again. Or you might. Who cares? What else is there?”
Jisung hums and finds there’s nothing he can argue with about that. Although a part of him wants to cling onto his annoyance – and he’s got anxiety, so it’s not like he’s gonna ever properly forget about it – when Minho puts it like that, he feels a little less cross with himself.
“You’re right,” Jisung admits.
“I know,” Minho says sweetly.
“But yeah,” Jisung says, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. “It’d be so cool if Changbin wants to show me his stuff. I realised how much I’ve still got to learn, you know, and working with other people means you can basically soak up everything they know and do your own shit at the same time. Chan says Changbin’s a rapper too, so I think he’ll like my stuff?”
As confident as Jisung feels about music, it’s always a little nerve wracking showing it to new people. He can’t imagine how he’d feel if Changbin said his stuff was bad, or even not his style.
“You could show me,” Minho suggests.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, of course.” Minho sits up a little straighter – as much as he can lying on his belly with his feet in the air. “I’ll tell you if it’s shit.”
Jisung laughs. “It’s not.”
Minho grins at him. It’s the same way he’s been smiling this whole conversation, but it strikes Jisung a little differently all of a sudden. He remembers, somewhat belatedly, that he’s known Minho barely a day. Usually, it takes a few weeks for Jisung to feel comfortable enough to unload like this. He isn’t the worst at speaking to new people, but it definitely doesn’t come naturally to him. He barely even noticed when he got comfortable in Minho’s presence. It just – happened.
“I’ll show you then,” Jisung says. “I brought some stuff with me. I don’t know what you listen to but if you like Chan’s stuff then I think you’ll like mine.”
“Mhm,” Minho says. “I think so too.”
They ease back into a comfortable pause. Jisung back to the water. Chan is mucking around with the waves again, Jeongin right beside him. A little further over, Hyunjin and Changbin seem content just floating in the water. Jisung watches them chat for a little while, sees the way that Hyunjin throws his head back and laughs, and remembers the mental note he’d made earlier. He still kinda wants to ask Chan about them, but hey, while Minho is here…
“What’s the deal with Hyunjin and Changbin?”
Minho’s brows go up. “Oh damn. Asking the big questions already, huh?”
Jisung flushes a little. He’s aware that this is none of his business, that he’s being nosy, and on top of that, that he’s being pretty shameless about it.
“Am I allowed to know? Sorry. I just – there’s obviously something there, and I can’t figure it out, so I thought I’d ask.”
Minho sighs. He follows Jisung’s gaze out to Hyunjin and Changbin and watches them for a moment. Then he lies his head to the side, resting his cheek against the back of his stacked palms.
“That’s fair. Their thing, it’s – complicated. I don’t think they even know, honestly.”
“Right,” Jisung says slowly. Then, because he really can’t help himself, he says, “But, uh. What do we know?”
He’s walking a fine line, probably. At any point, Minho could clam up and tell him to fuck off. It really isn’t any of Jisung’s business. He just wants to know. The chemistry is there between them, even Jisung can tell – and people always call him oblivious when it comes to stuff like this.
Minho doesn’t seem to mind.
“So Changbin’s been flirting with Hyunjin since forever. And Hyunjin---” Minho pauses here, mulling over his words. “Well, everyone flirts with him, obviously, and it annoys him sometimes, but not with Changbin. He likes him.”
That all seems pretty straightforward to Jisung.
“What’s the problem, then?”
“Changbin is,” Minho says simply – so simply that it throws Jisung off for a moment. He really doesn’t pull his punches, does he? Even though Jisung doesn’t really know him yet, he feels a little sympathy for the guy. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like he’s into Hyunjin, but then as soon as it gets too real, he backs way off. He plays it off like a joke, you know?”
“Ah,” Jisung says.
“He’s not mean about it. I think he’s just – he’s going through his own shit. I don’t think he knows it’s fucking with Hyunjin. I told Jin-ah to just be honest about it and tell Changbin that it’s messing him up, but he won’t. Says he’s fine with things the way they are.”
Jisung thinks of the way Hyunjin had reached for Changbin earlier, whenever Minho got a little too playful. That doesn’t scream ‘cool with the status-quo’, and it’s clear from Minho’s expression that he knows that. The mischievous air that’s lingered around Minho since Jisung met him has eased now that they’re speaking about something a little more serious. Minho’s expression is thoughtful as he considers his friends in the water.
“You and Hyunjin are pretty close, huh?” Jisung says.
“He’s my natural enemy, yeah,” Minho says.
Jisung sighs. “Be serious.”
He knows Minho’s capable of it now, and he’s not letting it slip through his fingers. He wants to see if he can make Minho’s ears turn red again.
“I—” Minho scowls. “Ugh. He’s okay, I guess.”
“Wow,” Jisung says. “You love him.”
“Shut up.”
Minho turns his face away from Jisung pointedly. Jisung gets the impression it’s a gentle tantrum, but it serves Jisung’s purpose more than it does Minho’s. It’s not just his ears that have gone red. It’s the back of his neck too.
“It’s cool,” Jisung says, reaching over so he can pat Minho consolingly on the shoulder. “I’m pretty sure he loves you too.”
Minho’s eyes are narrowed when he swings his head back around. “You’ve known us for like a day.”
It’d be enough to throw Jisung completely off from someone else. Even from Hyunjin or Jeongin, Jisung thinks he’d panic if they said the same to him.
Weirdly, with Minho, Jisung doesn’t feel worried at all. He says, “Hyunjin’s pretty easy to read.”
“Hah.” Minho deflates, slumping back down on the ground. “Yeah. Fair.”
Jisung tries not to feel too pleased with himself. For a minute, he takes in the stretch of Minho’s shoulders, pulling the fabric of his tee tight across his back. Then he catches himself and jerks his thoughts, and his gaze, elsewhere.
“So.” He clears his throat and looks out to their friends again. “Hyunjin’s into Changbin, but doesn’t know if Changbin’s into him?”
Minho hums. “Sort of. It’s more like – Hyunjin knows Changbin’s into him. He just. People have fucked him around before. He needs to know if Binnie means it, you know?”
Jisung frowns. “You think Changbin would fuck him around?”
That hasn’t been his impression at all, but he’s willing to admit there’s a lot he doesn’t know about these guys just yet. Even if things have been weirdly effortless with Minho, Jisung hasn’t got nearly as good a read on the others.
“Not on purpose,” Minho says eventually.
“Ah,” Jisung says. He gets it.
Minho sighs. He readjusts where he’s lying, freeing an arm so that he can reach forward. He starts dragging his finger through the sand, drawing lines that lead to nowhere, and mean nothing.
“Yeah. Like I said. It’s complicated.”
“Yeah,” Jisung says. It makes more sense to him now. “Shit like that always is, I guess.”
Minho keeps digging through the sand. He seems completely aimless about it, watching absently as he makes his nonsense designs. Briefly, he glances up at Jisung.
“I don’t know,” he says. “Sometimes it’s pretty easy, don’t you think?”
And there’s that heavy gaze again.
A spider, stuck in a web; Jisung feels his throat go a little dry. He’s heard it can be easy. People talk about relationships like that – the ones that feel like you’re dating your best friend, the ones that have already kinda started before you have the chance to think about it. He’s heard stories of people who fall in love without noticing.
His crush on Chan feels easy like that. It hadn’t taken much. Chan had appeared in Jisung’s life like he was made for him, the perfect partner, the perfect mentor, all rolled up into one. All Chan needed to do was shoot Jisung a smile one day, and it had hit Jisung like a truck. He was perfect.
He can only imagine what it would feel like to find out Chan felt the same.
“Yeah,” Jisung says after a too-long-pause. “I think I get that.”
Minho watches him for another, drawn out moment. He smiles, a small little thing; private, as if it’s just for him. For a moment, it feels like just the two of them, tucked away in their little corner of the world.
Then Minho leaps abruptly up. It startles the life out of Jisung, who swings back and out of his way, while Minho brushes sand off his hands.
“Do you wanna make a castle?” Minho asks.
God, it’s so easy. Easier than whatever that had been, anyway.
Jisung gets up too, towel still wrapped over his shoulders. He grabs his tee, feeling dry enough to pull it on again. The hem will get a little wet, but that’s not the end of the world. He’s got a castle to build. He can’t sweat the little stuff.
“Hell yeah.”
.
Notes:
boy howdy, these boys are just so much fun to write!!
i feel like i'm getting the hang of things now, but if you think anyone is wildly ooc please let me know (nicely!!!) so i can try fix.
i hope to have the next chap ready for you around the same time next week. i'm trying to get a few chapters ahead so i can keep posting when i go on holidays in sept. any manifesting you can send my way would be v, v, welcome.
like i said up top, nothing gets me more motivated than seeing ur comments and kudos come through. if you could take a moment to leave ur thoughts, it'd mean the world x
Chapter 4
Notes:
thank u so much to those who read and enjoyed and kudosed and commented on the last chap. please know u made me very, very happy during a kinda shitty week <3
struggled a bit with this chapter, but i'm pretty happy with the way it turned out. i'm loving the slice-of-life vibe and I hope u guys are too - but look out, good things never last forever 👀👀
hope u enjoy x
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
By the time the others come out of the water, Minho and Jisung have the solid bones of a castle developing. They started with the perimeter – mapping out a moat and a spot for Jisung to build little houses from the sand (‘It’s the village, hyung, every castle has a village, right?’) – and the rest formed soon after. Minho focuses on the main structure, piling all the sand from the moat in one spot as tall as he could.
“Whoa,” Chan says as he jogs over to them. He’s dripping wet and glowing happy and Jisung works very hard not to stare. “This looks awesome, guys.”
“Thanks,” Jisung says.
“Of course it does,” Minho says.
“We were thinking about running back to the house to grab some food.” Chan vanishes briefly under his towel, scrubbing at his face as he dries himself. When he emerges, his hair is all fluffy and curled. Jisung’s heart skips a beat. “Do you guys want anything?”
“Ooh, sandcastle!” Changbin says, dropping down beside Minho. “I wanna help. Can I help?”
He looks to Minho, but Minho only nods towards Jisung. “He’s the mastermind. Ask him.”
Jisung startles.
Changbin asks, “Can I help, please, please?”
“Of course, man,” Jisung says.
Changbin dives straight into helping with the moat.
“Food would be good, hyung.” Jisung looks back up to Chan and smiles. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“Nah, all good. Wouldn’t want to distract the mastermind at work.” The disappointment Jisung feels at that is softened slightly by the wink Chan sends his way. Thankfully, while Jisung works hard to hide how flustered he suddenly feels, Chan turns to Minho somewhat bashfully. “But Minho, I was thinking maybe we could throw together a salad or something?”
Minho pauses in his turret construction. He peers up at Chan suspiciously. “We?”
Chan grins. “Could you please make us a salad?”
Minho lets out a very aggrieved sigh, rolling his eyes just like Hyunjin does. He makes a big show of it, but Chan doesn’t back down. He comes around their castle, stopping behind Minho and taking hold of his shoulders. He digs his fingers into the muscles there, rocking Minho a little as he massages him.
“Please, Minho-yah,” he needles, making his voice all high and sweet. It only makes Minho scowl, but Chan doesn’t falter. “Please, pretty please.”
Minho’s shoulders slump in defeat. He dusts his hands off which is hilarious given that the rest of him is still covered in sand. He gives Jisung a stern look.
“I expect this to be finished when I get back.”
Jisung shoots him a sweet look. He bats his eyelashes and makes his eyes as round as they can go. “I couldn’t possibly do it as well as you could, hyung.”
Minho blinks for a second. Just – stands there, watching Jisung – blinking. Then he abruptly turns around and heads back towards the path to the house.
Changbin cackles. He laughs so hard his body moves with it, falling backwards into the sand. Chan laughs too. In fact, he laughs the entire way back up the beach, chasing to catch up to Minho.
“What’d we miss?” Jeongin asks. He and Hyunjin are covered in slightly less sand than the rest of them. They must have stayed in the water a little longer, trying to wash the worst of it off.
Changbin pushes himself upright again, and ruffles Jisung’s hair. “Ah, just Minho. Little Jisung-ah is giving him a run for his money.”
Jisung ducks his head, a little bit to get away from Changbin’s sandy hands, but mostly because he’s pleased with himself. “Ah, he’s not so hard to figure out. He’s cool.”
“Minho-hyung?” Hyunjin echoes, incredulously.
Jeongin shoves him. “You can’t be mean when he’s not here to fight back.”
Hyunjin frowns. “Who says?”
Changbin waves him over. “Hyunjin-ah. Come here and help me with this.”
Jeongin and Hyunjin settle in around the castle. They all have design suggestions of their own. Changbin wants to make gargoyles. Jisung doesn’t think they’re at the décor stage just yet. Hyunjin wants to make a second moat around the first one, and Jeongin wants to figure out how to make a functional bridge across it. It takes Jisung a little while to settle into the new rhythm of it, but he gets there. It’s different to the ease he’s found with Minho, but it’s still comfortable. It just requires a tiny bit more work.
Conversation flows easily with all four of them there, and it takes no time at all for Changbin to bring up music.
“We can’t forget to look at tracks while we’re here,” Changbin says. “I really want to hear your stuff.”
“Yeah man, of course,” Jisung says. His heartbeat kicks up a little, adrenalin rushing through him at the thought of sharing his stuff, of getting to work with one of Chan’s friends. It feels like another step forward, another branch that could tuck him in with this group of people. Chan’s said he thinks they’ll make a great team, the three of them. Jisung wants that to be true so badly. He doesn’t want to let Chan down.
“Let’s do it tonight,” Changbin says. “That way we’ve got all week to work together.”
“Sounds good,” Jisung says.
“Chan said you’re more of a rapper, right?” Changbin asks.
Jisung shrugs. “Yeah, probably. If I had to choose, but I do vocals too.”
He used to be pretty shy about his singing voice, but over the past few years Jisung’s found more confidence in it. His rapping is good – the rhythm of it comes naturally to him, the flow almost telling him how it should be done, how the words fit together in place. He has to work harder when he’s singing, which pushes him out of his comfort zone a little. When he was younger it was fine for him to stick in his safe places, but he doesn’t want to do that anymore. He wants to push himself, like he said to Minho. He wants to know how good he can be.
“Oh, really?” Changbin says, looking impressed. “That’s cool, I didn’t know you were a singer. Jeongin sings too, did you know?”
“I didn’t,” Jisung says, “but that’s awesome. Are you studying music?”
“Not sure yet,” Jeongin says. He’s taken over Minho’s position and is happily sculpting towers out of sand. “I want to, but I also kinda want to do something with fashion. I might do a double degree, but my family’s not super keen on me doing either, so I’m still figuring it out.”
A little late, Jisung recalls that Jeongin is a year younger than him. Chan said that Jeongin was taking a year off after school to work and save before heading to university. Enrolment doesn’t close for a while yet.
“You’ve got a couple of months to decide, right?” Jisung says.
“Yeah,” Jeongin says. “I’m not too stressed. I’ll figure it out.”
He seems like he means it. Jisung thinks back to when he was enrolling, panicking about whether or not he’d get in, or if he’d get to uni and find that everyone was miles ahead of him. He knows now that he shouldn’t have worried so much, but it’s easy to say that in hindsight. It’s not like he can travel back in time and logic himself out of feeling anxious.
“Yen-ah’s got a great voice,” Hyunjin says. He reaches over and ruffles Jeongin’s hair with a sandy hand. Jeongin is too slow to escape the first assault, but he lets out a shout and rolls out of reach before Hyunjin can really cover him. When he shakes his head, sand rains down around him.
“We should do karaoke tonight,” Changbin says. “I’m pretty sure Chan said his aunt’s got a machine around somewhere.”
“Oh, yes!” Hyunjin says. “I’m in.”
“Yeah,” Jisung says. “That sounds fun.”
They chat about music, and the songs they want to try, and their favourite artists, and their favourite songs. It occupies them until Chan and Minho get back, bringing bags of food with them. Minho has a Tupperware container of salad, and Chan has a loaf of bread and a container full of chicken. The sandcastle is abandoned while they all eat. Chan tells them more of his stories from back home – he and his friends used to do this sort of thing in Sydney, he tells them. They’d go to the beach for the day and for lunch, all they needed was to duck to the nearest grocery store and buy a cooked chicken.
“Of course, none of my friends there can cook like Minho does,” Chan says.
Minho rolls his eyes. He gestures at the salad he’s made and says, “This doesn’t even count as cooking.”
“It counts to me, Minho-yah,” Chan says with big round eyes.
Minho scowls.
When they’ve finished eating and packing everything back into the bags, everyone’s energy seems to plummet. In a good way, though. The guys who’d spent so long in the water seem to almost pass out now that their bellies are full. One by one they shift from sitting on their towels to lying on them. Conversation peters off and in no time at all, everyone except for Minho and Jisung are asleep on the sand.
“Are they wearing sunscreen?” Jisung checks.
Minho shrugs. “Hope so.”
“Should we wake them up?”
Minho answers by chucking the sunscreen bottle at Changbin. It thumps into his stomach, and he wheezes awake. He turns a sleepy glare on Minho.
“Sun safety is important, Changbin-ah,” Minho says.
Grumbling, Changbin opens the sunscreen bottle and reapplies. Once he’s finished, he passes the bottle on to Hyunjin. He’s far gentler about it. He rocks Hyunjin’s shoulder, stirring him, and says, “Hyun-ah, you’re gonna get burnt.”
It’s all very soft. Jisung tries not to watch.
“You brought a book with you right?” he asks Minho.
Minho hums a yes.
“Smart,” Jisung says. “I should have done that.”
“You want your phone back?” Minho offers.
“Oh yeah!” Jisung kinda forgot he brought it with him. “Now’s probably a good time to take some photos.” He looks around the beach. It’s busier, now that it’s a bit later in the day, but it’s still nothing crazy. He can definitely get some good shots while the sun is high and the water is sparkling.
“You’re going now?” Minho asks. “I’ll come with you.”
They leave the rest of the guys to their nap. When Jisung checks his phone, he finds a few notifications but nothing important. His mum has texted. A package he ordered last week has been delivered to the post office. His professor has sent out a timeline of their assessment due dates for the second half of semester. He dismisses all of them and focuses on the photos instead. It’s not often that he gets to completely unlink himself from his real life. Being away like this feels like a lovely little breather from it all.
He gets some shots of the curve of the sand against the water. Minho wanders around with him, taking photos of him own.
“It’s so nice out here,” Jisung says idly.
“Yeah,” Minho says. “You want me to take one with you in it?”
“If you don’t mind that’d be awesome.”
So, Minho takes Jisung’s phone and backs up a few steps. He points the phone at Jisung and then shouts out instructions, telling Jisung when to smile and when to pretend he doesn’t know the camera is there. He makes Jisung look out towards the horizon and wander into the shallows where the water crawls over his feet with each crashing wave. After a while, they swap places and Jisung does the same for Minho. It strikes him again, as Jisung is taking photos, how handsome Minho is. His face is all clean lines and sharp edges. It’s the sort of face Jisung used to wish he had, before he grew a little more comfortable with his reflection in the mirror.
When he returns Minho’s phone to him, they are both standing in ankle deep water.
“You’re alright out here?” Jisung checks.
Minho shoots him a dry look, then glances pointedly down at the shallow water. “I don’t think I’m really at risk of drowning here.”
Jisung flushes. “I know that, sorry, I just meant—”
Before Jisung can get too carried away, Minho pats the top of his head. “I know what you meant. I’m all good, Jisung-ah. Do you want to take a selfie?”
Jisung startles. “Huh?”
Minho is already stepping into his space, swinging an arm over Jisung’s shoulders. He turns them both, so that the view of the ocean is behind them and brings up his phone. On the screen, Jisung can see he looks a little windswept. It might be the warmth and weight of Minho, suddenly very close. Minho doesn’t give him any extra time to process things. He snaps a photo of Jisung’s wide eyes, deer in the headlights expression frozen in place.
“Ah,” Jisung cries. “No, do over, delete that, I look awful.”
Minho peers down at the photo. “You look cute.”
It does nothing at all to help with Jisung’s expression. He shoves at Minho lightly, pouting, and says, “C’mon, let’s take another.”
Minho obliges. They end up taking a few selfies, some nice ones, some silly ones. Minho doesn’t let Jisung delete any of them. He airdrops all of them to Jisung’s phone, and as Jisung scrolls through them all, he lets himself sink into the nice, soft feeling that pools in his stomach. He always feels a little proud of himself when he makes a new friend, but with Minho it’s happened so quickly. It makes him feel nice – reminds him that there’s parts of him that people see and like, at least enough to keep hanging around.
Jisung slips his phone back into his pocket. “So, do you not like the water or something?”
Minho shrugs. “Nah. Just didn’t learn when I was a kid, don’t really feel the need to learn now.”
“Fair,” Jisung says.
They wander along the shoreline. Jisung loves the feeling of his toes sinking through the wet sand, and of the cool water rushing over his feet. Minho doesn’t seem to mind it either. He kicks his feet a little as they go, spraying up water before them.
“I do better in pools,” Minho says. “With many floatation devices.”
“Me too,” Jisung says. “Besides, the ocean is freaky as hell.”
Minho frowns, amused. He makes the mistake of saying, “I mean, it’s just water.”
Incredulously, Jisung says, “Just water?”
And then he’s off. It’s not Jisung’s fault he’s been on a bit of a deep sea kick the last few months. He found one documentary on YouTube and then he just fell down a rabbit hole. He knows about all sorts of fucked up fish now. The ones that have butts for mouths and teeth three times the size of their brains and see-through bodies. And what is he supposed to do with all those cool facts, but dump them on the first unsuspecting victim who asks?
Minho seems vaguely disgusted while Jisung talks, but he listens as attentively as he had earlier. His nose scrunches all the way up when Jisung gets to the Greenland shark, and the little parasite that’s entire life cycle is to fuse with the shark’s eyes and make them blind.
“I’m guess I’m not going to Greenland anytime soon,” Minho says.
“Or Scotland. You know, people think that the Loch Ness monster might be a Greenland shark. They can live for like four-hundred years.”
“That sounds fake.”
“It’s not!” Jisung pulls his phone out again to quickly verify he’s not lying. He’s pretty sure he’s remembering correctly, but he doesn’t want to get caught out. Sure enough, the internet backs him up. “See, look!”
Minho peers at the screen but remains dubious.
Before Jisung can argue his case any further, there is a shout from further up the beach, their names carried on the wind. When they both spin around, they see the others, returned to the living, waving at them. Chan has the yellow cricket bat high in the sky.
“C’mon!!” Changbin’s voice carries the furthest. “We’re gonna play!!”
As they make their way back to the group, Minho says, “You’ve gotta tell Hyunjin about that fish with a butt-mouth. He’s gonna lose his shit.”
And he’s right.
.
If they thought they were tired before playing cricket, when the game is done, they’re all thoroughly wrecked. Even Minho takes a moment to lie down in the sand to recover, breathing deeply when he finally bowls Chan out. Hyunjin, Jeongin and Changbin take his victory lap for him, all of them leaping and jumping on Chan, who admits his loss with a graceful smile. (Never mind that it took all five of them almost an hour to get him out.)
The sun is much lower now, close to the horizon, sunset looming ever closer. They’ve spent the whole day in the sun and it’s easy to tell. Even with the reapplied sunscreen, they’re all a little red in places. Jisung missed a spot on his shoulders. Changbin’s nose is a rosy red. Hyunjin forgot to cover the backs of his knees.
Minho, who has kept Chan’s aunts hat on for almost all of the day, has escaped the worst of the sun. He looks at them all smugly from beneath the brim, as if that had been his plan the whole time.
They linger to watch the sunset; Jisung and Jeongin and Minho sit in the sand while Hyunjin, Changbin and Chan take a final dip in the water. When the sun has gone and the last of the pink has left the sky, they gather their things and hike back up to the house.
“Thanks for lunch again, hyung,” Jisung says to Chan as they go.
“Don’t thank me,” Chan says. “Thank Minho, he did all the labour.”
“Someone’s gotta keep you all fed,” Minho says.
When they get back to the house, a big part of Jisung wants to drop straight into bed to recover, but he resists the urge. He can hide in his bedroom any other week of his life. This one he needs to savour. He doesn’t let himself sit down, not until he’s changed and back downstairs. Only then does he let himself drop into one of the pool chairs.
Chan and Jeongin haven’t bothered to change. After washing the sand off using Chan’s aunt’s hose, they both went straight for the pool. They’re both lying sedately in the water, floating, heads resting on the concrete edge.
“Let’s do takeout tonight,” Jeongin suggests. “That way no one has to cook.”
Changbin and Hyunjin volunteer to collect their food, and head out soon after. Jisung relaxes in his seat, not quite letting himself doze off, keeping himself awake by scrolling through his phone. Minho emerges from the house a little later, in fresh clothes and with wet hair that suggests he showered. He takes the seat next to Jisung and presents a small portable speaker.
He pushes it in Jisung’s direction. “You can be in charge of music.”
Jisung takes this task very seriously. He has several playlists prepared for just this occasion. His personal music taste is all over the place, so he spends hours curating his Spotify to have something ready when he gets given the aux. And thank God, too. His ‘songs to play when you’re on aux and you’re trying to impress people’ playlist goes down a treat. He tries not to feel too pleased with himself every time Chan or Jeongin yell out, ‘hey, I love this one!’ or ‘This is cool, who’s it by?’
After a while, Chan pulls some floaties into the pool and climbs onto one that’s shaped like a unicorn. “What does everyone want to do tomorrow?”
“Beach again?” Jeongin suggests.
“Sleep,” Minho says.
“I was thinking we could go on a hike,” Chan says. “The weather was so shit last time we were here, but tomorrow it’s gonna be perfect. It’s not too far, only a couple of kays.” Kilometres, Jisung translates in his head. He’s getting better at picking up these Australian-isms. “It’s kinda steep but only for a bit. The view is crazy.”
“You want us to go walking,” Minho says.
“Yes,” Chan says.
“For fun.”
“Yes please."
“Ugh.”
Chan grins as Minho slumps back in his chair. It’s clear to all of them that he’s won this battle. As Minho puts up his fuss – which is startlingly close to the fuss Hyunjin might make, though Jisung’s got enough sense not to say so – it strikes him again that Minho really does have a soft and gooey centre. He plays all tough and scary, but as soon as he is given the opportunity to make someone happy, he takes it. It’s sweet.
“Do you have any of your songs on here?” Jeongin asks Jisung, from the pool.
Jisung says, “On Spotify? I wish.”
“They’re on Soundcloud though, right?” Chan says. “You can play them from there if you want.”
Jisung feels all his nerves pool right behind his sternum. He swallows dryly and looks down at his Soundcloud app.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chan follows up. “No pressure.”
“No, no.” Jisung talked a massive game with Minho earlier. After saying all of that, he can’t exactly back out, can he? And to be clear, he really doesn’t want to. He wants to show them his music, he just also wants very badly for Minho and Jeongin to like it. He shouldn’t worry though, right? He already knows that Chan likes his stuff. He wouldn’t tell Jisung to play it if he didn’t think the others would enjoy it. “It’s cool. Lemme just figure out which one to play.”
It's not like his discography is huge or anything; he just wants to get it right.
“I got it, I got it,” Chan says.
“You should let him choose, hyung,” Jeongin says.
Chan frowns. “No, that’s the name of the song.”
“Oh,” Jeongin says.
Minho laughs and Jisung joins in, chuckling as he brings the track up. His finger hovers over it for just a beat. He thinks shit, is this the right one? Is it too much of a tone-shift from the music he’s been playing? What if the rapping is too clumsy and they notice?
He presses play.
No matter how confident a person is, it’s excruciating watching people listen to something you’ve poured your heart into. Jeongin, who has grabbed another of the pool floaties, reclines back in the water, bobbing his head along as he listens. Chan – who has heard this track multiple times – watches all of them with that lovely big smile of his, like he’s trying to read what they think from their faces. Jisung thinks that Minho might do the same as Jeongin; settle back into his chair so he can get the full effect of the song, but he doesn’t. He watches Jisung instead. His gaze is gentle somehow, assessing but soft, and Jisung finds he doesn’t mind the weight of it.
As the music plays out, interrupted occasionally by Chan saying, ‘Wait, I love this part,’ and ‘Ah, that line is so good,’ Jisung sits on the edge of his chair and tries not to get too in his own head.
When they are about halfway through, Minho reaches over to him. He settles a hand on Jisung’s knee, which – ah, Jisung only realises now – had been bouncing fairly frantically. He goes still under Minho’s warm hand which lingers for a beat before Minho pulls away.
“It’s really good,” he says quietly.
Jisung flushes warm. “Thanks, hyung.”
When the track is finished, Jeongin and Chan both burst into a haphazard round of applause. Chan is so enthusiastic he almost loses his balance on the floaty. Jeongin asks a bunch of questions, about the song writing, about the flow, about how Jisung fit the lyrics in specific places. Jisung does his best to answer outside of ‘it’s just what felt right,’ and Chan chimes in to help with the more technical stuff.
They’re still talking about it when Changbin and Hyunjin returns. There are several boxes of pizza stacked high in Changbin’s arms. Hyunjin holds what looks like the garlic bread they’ve ordered.
“Wait, what?” Changbin is aghast when he catches up on the conversation. “You played a song already? I missed it? You were supposed to wait for me!”
So Jisung plays the track again. Minho gets up to organise the table and Chan and Jeongin leap out of the pool to help. When Jisung attempts get up and offer his own assistance, he is told very sternly to stay where he is. Changbin has way more questions than Jeongin did, but they’re a little easier for Jisung to answer.
Jisung explains the shift from chorus back into verse. “I wanted to keep the momentum going, but still slow it down a little. I think that’s just where the rhythm felt right, you know?”
“Yeah absolutely. And the change up, it keeps the energy high without letting you lose interest, it’s so clever. You nailed it.”
Changbin nods his head with the beat, sinking into the music in a way that Jisung recognises straight away. It’s like he can see the gears ticking inside Changbin’s head, all the different parts of Jisung’s composition clicking together. This song took Jisung weeks to make perfect. He made all those working parts and poured over them, until he could place them with purpose in exactly the right spot. He watches Changbin’s head bop along and thinks, yeah, I did a good job.
Changbin looks more serious with the music playing, keeping his gaze down and focused while he listens. Hyunjin sits beside him and nods his head along too. He makes small little movements, his foot tapping, his hand moving; all of it in a way that seems completely unconscious. Not surprising from a dancer.
When the song winds up for a second time, Minho calls them inside to eat. They’ve laid the pizza out on the large dining table, with plates and cups set out for everyone. Jisung ends up sitting between Jeongin and Changbin, both of them barely pausing as they quiz him further on his process.
Chan wasn’t lying. Changbin gets it, and just hearing the way he’s talking about music, Jisung feels more and more excited to work with him. With Jeongin too, who admits he doesn’t rap very much, but he knows the basics are the same. Lyrical construction, beats, cadence, rhythm; it all plays a part in songs with heavy vocals too. Jeongin seems excited for the chance to work on something with Jisung when they return to their real lives, which gives Jisung that lovely fuzzy feeling again. It doesn’t feel like the sort of thing you’d say to someone you’re just putting up with.
“Changbin-ah,” Chan interrupts, because that’s the only way he’s able to get a word in. “You should play some of your stuff too.”
“Ooh, yes,” Hyunjin says. “Can I pick which one?”
Hyunjin leans in close over Changbin’s shoulder and makes an assortment of different noises as Changbin scrolls through his phone. Changbin seems momentarily thrown off by the close proximity but eventually settles into it, letting Hyunjin lean on his shoulder.
“Ooh, Doodle, yes, play that!” Hyunjin squeezes Changbin’s bicep as he chooses the song, and Jisung watches in real time as Changbin convinces himself that’s a super normal thing that all friends do.
Then the track starts and Jisung doesn’t pay attention to anything else.
Changbin raps in a way that Jisung wishes he could. Not – Jisung doesn’t mean that in a self-pitying way, or anything. He’s got his strengths, and like he told Minho, he knows he’s good at what he does. But Changbin has a quality to his voice that feels tailormade for rap verse. There is a grit to his tone that Jisung would never be able to manufacture, something innate in his delivery that carries weight and edge. And then there’s his flow, a blend of speed and rhythm that just feels right.
“Holy shit,” Jisung says when they’re about halfway through. “You’re amazing.”
Changbin’s cheeks go very pink, and he ducks his head. The sweet little grin he tries to hide is equal parts bashful and pleased. Hyunjin rubs at his arm again.
“I’m serious,” Jisung goes on. “Your pace is insane, and your tone is like, perfect.”
The red on Changbin’s face blooms ever brighter.
The gushing doesn’t stop, even when the music does. Jisung gets Changbin to play another, and then another, and then one that he and Chan collaborated on, and then some of the stuff he’s written for other people. Every track is incredible, the sort of thing that Jisung would love to work on, and given the way that Changbin matches his enthusiasm, Jisung feels pretty sure he’s going to get a chance to try. Eventually, Hyunjin stirs and gets up, grabbing himself a drink and offering everyone else a bottle. It doesn’t take long for the soju to work its magic. In no time at all, Jisung feels himself growing louder, more confident, bolstered by the alcohol. His nerves never go all the way away, but they fade a little, clouded out by the loud music and easy conversation. Chan unearths the karaoke machine relatively soon after. It takes him a while to figure out how to set it up, but once he does, they’re off to the races. They turn the speakers up, each of them taking a turn at the microphone. Chan and Jeongin do a devastatingly emotional ballad, ruined perhaps by their giggling during the pauses, while Hyunjin and Minho dance in the background. Changbin drags Jisung up to rap with him.
It's wonderful.
It’s wonderful, and even though Jisung knows he’s been drinking, and of course that’s going to make him a little softer, a little more sentimental, he tries not to fight it. This week has turned out so much better than he’d even hoped. Chan’s friends are so cool. And they like him.
Hyunjin is the first to fade.
It happens almost accidentally. In one moment, he’s on his feet, dancing around the room, laughing and improvising back-up vocals for Jeongin’s performance. In the next, he has slumped on the couch. He places his head in Changbin’s lap without a second thought – Changbin’s a little pink from the alcohol, and this does absolutely nothing to help his cause – and lets out a sweet little sigh as he shuts his eyes.
Changbin looks too flustered to do anything about it, but Chan comes to his rescue. When Jeongin’s song finishes, Chan reaches over and pats Hyunjin’s ankle.
“Hyunjin-ah,” he says, “You can’t fall asleep here.”
Hyunjin rubs his cheek against Changbin’s thigh. He doesn’t seem to hear the squeak that earns him. He pouts, his eyes still shut. “Why not?”
“You’ll hurt your back,” Chan says. “And it’s cold. And Changbin needs to sleep too.”
“He can sleep with me,” Hyunjin hums.
There is a beat. In the moment that Chan hesitates, caught off guard, not sure what to say to that, Minho leaps to his feet.
Loudly, he says, “Hyunjin-ah! Get up! It’s bedtime!”
He doesn’t give Hyunjin a chance to reply. He leans down over him and takes a firm hold of Hyunjin’s shoulders. With what seems like no effort at all, Minho hauls him up and into the air.
That wakes Hyunjin up very quickly. He shrieks and clings to Minho’s arms, holding on tight as he’s pulled upright. Minho is careful with him though. He keeps a close hold on Hyunjin’s arms and makes sure that Hyunjin is steady on two feet before his grip eases. Once Hyunjin is standing, Minho wastes no time turning him and directing him towards the stairs. Although his face is stern, Jisung doesn’t miss the gentle way Minho guides him out of the room.
“Oh, shit,” Chan says, glancing at his phone. “I didn’t realise how late it was.”
Jisung checks. Damn, yeah. It’s a little after one in the morning. As if it had been waiting for a cue, exhaustion slams into him. He becomes suddenly aware of all the ways his body aches, and how badly he wants to lie down.
“Mhm,” Jisung says. “Bedtime.”
It takes Changbin perhaps a beat longer than it should to stir to action. He shakes himself and, seemingly just catching up with the conversation, says, “Yeah, I think I’m gonna pass out if I stay up any longer.”
They clean as little as they have to – taking their drinks to the kitchen, turning off the karaoke machine, locking the backdoors – and then all of them head upstairs.
“Hike tomorrow?” Chan checks as they go.
“We don’t have to get up too early, do we?” Jisung asks.
“Nah,” Chan says. “We’ll go at around eleven?”
“Late hike,” Changbin says. “Count me in.”
“Sounds good,” Jisung says.
He waves goodnight to the others and then ducks into his room. Minho isn’t there yet, probably still helping Hyunjin get settled, so Jisung takes the opportunity to change into his pyjamas. He has just gotten into bed when there is a soft tap at the door. Jisung gives him a quiet all clear and Minho slips inside.
“Hyunjin okay?” Jisung checks.
“Yeah, he’s good,” Minho says. He switches off the room light but keeps the one on his phone on so that he can see. “He always crashes like this when he drinks. It’s hilarious, it’s like he just hits a wall.”
“It’s cute,” Jisung says.
“Ew,” Minho says.
Jisung snorts. Now that it’s dark, and his head is resting on his soft pillow, and his blankets are heavy and warm, he can feel sleep tug at him. His thoughts turn a little soupy. He doesn’t even feel flustered when Minho turns his back to him and takes off his shirt. He just shuts his eyes and keeps them that way, until he hears the sounds of Minho climbing into bed.
“Did you have a good day today?” Minho asks quietly.
“I really did,” Jisung hums. He can’t quite bring himself to open his eyes again. “Everyone’s been so nice. I’m having such a good time.”
“I’m glad,” Minho says.
Things turn quiet. If Jisung listens properly, he can hear the sounds of the waves crashing outside his window. He breathes in time with it, his mind blissfully blank.
“We should hang out when we get back,” Jisung says softly.
Minho hums. “You want to?”
“Of course, I do.” Jisung rubs his cheek against his pillow. Everything feels so soft. “You’re so cool, hyung.”
Tomorrow morning, he’s gonna be mortified by all this. There’s no doubt in his mind. But right now, he doesn’t care very much. He’s too comfortable, too warm. Sleep and alcohol have turned his thoughts to syrup, and he can’t be bothered to worry about it now.
“I think you’re cool too, Jisung-ah,” Minho says.
Jisung huffs a little laugh. The thought of Minho – confident, weird, hot Minho calling him calling him cool seems completely outrageous. “That’s wild.”
It makes Minho laugh too. “You don’t think you’re cool?”
“Not as cool as you are.”
Minho laughs some more. It’s a charming sound, Jisung thinks distantly. Like quiet little bells. Maybe Jisung could put it in a song one day. He wouldn’t mind having it in his pocket, tucked safely away for Jisung to listen to in little moments.
“Go to sleep, Jisung-ah,” Minho says.
Jisung fights it, just a little longer. “We’ll hang out when we’re home, though, right?”
“Yeah, Jisung. Of course, we will.”
Jisung lets out a happy sigh. With that matter settled, he feels completely at ease letting himself drift off. “Cool.”
The last thing he hears is that lovely little laugh.
.
Notes:
jisung: wow this guy is so cool it's so easy to talk to him it's just so effortless
jisung: he's so good looking, it's like he was carved from stone or something, i want to look at him all day.
jisung: damn I kinda want to record his laugh and keep it with me so that I can listen to it whenever I want
also jisung: is this, a friend?two drunk boys flirting:
you’re cool
no you're cool
no you
no you
((don't forget to slam those kudos/subscribe buttons if u enjoyed, and leave a comment if u wanna make my day xx))
Chapter 5
Notes:
u guys!!!! the response to last chap was so wonderful, tysm for reading and for leaving ur kudos and comments. they made me so happy 😭😭 we're like 1 kudos off 100 which is making my head explode, i'm so glad you guys are enjoying the story so far xx
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
Predictably, everyone is slow to rise the next morning. Jisung doesn’t stir until after nine, and even then, it’s only because sounds from downstairs cut through his dreams and pull him to the land of the living. When he rolls over, he expects that Minho will be up already, maybe doing yoga again, but he’s wrong. Minho lies on his belly, his cheek mashed into his pillow and his hair sticking up in all sorts of directions. There is a little frown on his face, like maybe he’s heard the noises from outside their room too, but he’s fighting harder to resist them. A part of Jisung kinda wants to watch and see how that battle plays out, but he draws the line at watching people sleep. He remembers what everyone said about Edward Cullen back in the day. That shit is creepy.
From the sounds of it, at least Changbin and Chan are already awake. Jisung can recognise both of their voices now, although they do seem to be trying to keep it quiet. When Jisung comes down the stairs, he quickly figures out that the cause of the commotion is the rubbish pile that Changbin seems to have accidentally knocked into the sink. Chan is half helping him clean, half laughing at him, which isn’t really helping with the noise.
“Morning,” Jisung says as he reaches them. “You need a hand?”
“Oh, Jisung!” Chan says. “Sorry, I hope we didn’t wake you. Yeah, if you don’t mind? Oh, there’s coffee too. You want a coffee?”
Jisung helps clean – it’s really just a trash run, so it doesn’t take long – and then helps himself to a coffee. Given that it’s just the three of them, it doesn’t take long for their conversation to turn to music again. Sober now, and feeling a little fragile about it, they are more subdued than they were last night but no less earnest. They talk about meeting up when they’re back home, about some unfinished tracks that they might be able to collaborate on. By the time the others appear – Jeongin first, then Minho, then Hyunjin, all looking different shades of sleep dazed – they have tentative plans to catch up at Chan’s place in a few weeks’ time.
It takes a while for everyone’s energy levels to pick up. The coffee helps, and Minho eventually comes around and cooks everyone some breakfast. Getting some food in certainly lifts people’s spirits, and with Chan keeping them all on track, they end up leaving for the hike only a little after they’d planned.
It’s a short drive to the start of the hiking track and since they can’t all fit in one car, they split up to get there. The entire drive, Chan reassures Jisung that the hike won’t be too strenuous. It’s a four-kilometre track, leading up to a lookout that will give them a nice view of the ocean and surrounds. Chan’s done it a couple of times, and he says his aunt sometimes uses the track when she goes on her morning runs. Jisung thinks Chan’s aunt sounds a little insane, but he doesn’t say that. The thought of running up a mountain for a brisk morning jog is not Jisung’s idea of a good time.
Still, he’s content when they reach the track. The weather is beautiful, and the air is nice and warm. Jisung hadn’t really packed for a hike, but he’s got his sneakers and the walk is supposed to be easy, so he’s not too worried. Chan thinks it’ll only take them a few hours to do the full track, then they can go back to the house or the beach for a nice cool-down swim.
When they set off, Jisung is surprised to see Hyunjin take the lead. It’s not really a shock that Hyunjin is in good shape – he’s a dancer, and Jisung saw him at the beach yesterday after all – but he’d expected a little complaining maybe. Instead, Hyunjin seems incredibly happy to be out here with everyone. He keeps easy pace with Chan, Changbin and Jeongin following behind, while Minho and Jisung take up the rear.
It's the first time all morning that they’ve really had a chance to talk, and just at the thought, Jisung feels his cheeks heating.
“So,” Minho says leadingly, eyes looking especially wicked. “You think I’m cool, huh?”
“I plead the fifth,” Jisung says immediately. “I can’t be held responsible for anything I may or may not have said last night.”
“Nuh-uh,” Minho sings. “We weren’t even that drunk last night. You just think I’m really cool. I suppose it had to be said.”
Jisung scowls. “You said I was cool too.”
Minho shrugs. “You are.”
And what’s Jisung supposed to say to that, huh? He stumbles a little, not looking where he’s going, and is only saved when Minho steadies him. He holds Jisung’s arm briefly, then releases him with a smirk.
“You seem extra fragile this morning,” he says.
“Joke’s on you,” Jisung grumbles. “I’m always fragile.”
Minho barks a laugh. Then he says, “You’re alright though, right?”
“Yeah, of course.” Jisung did have a bit of a headache when he woke up, but coffee and breakfast has soothed the worst of it. Now, the only things he has to battle are the brightness of the sun and the steepness of the hill. Nothing too awful. “Haven’t been on a hike in ages, actually. It’s fun.”
Minho eyes the path before them dubiously. “It’s something, alright.”
Jisung leans into him, bumping his shoulder against Minho’s as they walk. “You’re having a good time, don’t lie.”
“Maybe it’s the company I like,” Minho says. “Did you ever think of that?”
Jisung looks ahead of them, at the backs of this group that he thinks he might be close to calling friends.
“True,” Jisung says. “Everyone’s pretty happy this morning, don’t you think? It’s lucky no one’s too hungover.”
For some reason, when Jisung glances over at Minho, he’s met with a bemused expression. Minho watches him oddly for a beat, before chuckling and returning his gaze front.
He hums, nodding, and says, “It’s the ocean air, I think. It’s very restorative.”
Jisung takes a huge breath in, soaking in the salt-air. “You’re so right.”
They walk easily for a little while, chatting about nothing, enjoying the view. After a while, Minho says,
“Did you mean it, about us hanging out after this?”
Jisung glances at him, then quickly back at his feet. He tries not to feel too embarrassed. Minho’s already has his fun with Jisung’s drunken mumblings from the night before. He seems amused, sure, but not in a way that comes at Jisung’s expense. He’s smiling warmly, open, the same way he’s been with Jisung this entire trip.
“Yeah, of course.” Jisung can’t quite bring himself to meet Minho’s eye, already embarrassed. “I mean, only if you want to, though. No pressure.”
“I want to,” Minho says easily. “That sounds nice.”
Jisung grins. He doesn’t mind letting Minho see this one, even if he does look a little too pleased with himself. Not when Minho returns the look with a gentle grin of his own.
“Maybe we could meet up on campus some time?” Jisung suggests. “What are your classes like, what days do you come in?”
They pass the time talking about university. Chan was right about the walk. It’s pretty easy especially now that they’ve got going. There is an incline, but it’s not too steep yet. Minho tells Jisung about the classes he’s taking and the days he might be able to fit a coffee catch-up in. He’s on campus on Wednesdays and Thursdays generally. He doesn’t have to spend too much time there because he can use the studio at his work, but during the heavier assessment weeks, he comes in more often so that he can practice on the stage where he’ll end up performing.
“Oh yeah,” Jisung says. “Chan mentioned something about a showcase, right? Or was that Hyunjin?”
“Hyunjin’s doing the first year one,” Minho explains. “His choreo’s good. You should ask him to show it to you while we’re here. He’ll be shy about it, but he needs to get over that. He’s good, he just needs to work on his confidence.”
“You did the showcase already?”
“Mhm, last year. It was fun, there were about ten of us who performed. We did a group performance, then each of us did a solo.”
“I bet you were amazing,” Jisung says, even though he’s never seen Minho dance properly. He did a little last night, but they’d all been drinking, and Jisung’s thoughts were too clumsy to pay close attention. He feels pretty confident about his judgement, though. There’s something about the way Minho carries himself – the surety in all his movements – that tells Jisung that Minho is completely in control of the way he moves. He has every faith in the world that it translates to his dance.
“Thanks,” Minho says, “I was.”
Jisung snorts. “Do you have to do a showcase every year or something?”
Minho shakes his head. “Kind of. This year it’ll work a little different. It’s still a major project – I’ve gotta come up with the choreo and everything. But it won’t be as many people, and you have to do a solo, they don’t accept group applications.”
“And everyone in second year has to do it?”
“Ah, no,” Minho says. “It’s not compulsory. I’ll actually be up against mostly third years, I think. Most people do it in third, but they let you have a go as long as you’re a second year or above. From what I’ve heard, there’s a few other people in my year who are trying.”
“So you’re doing it a year early?” Jisung asks.
Minho nods. “Yeah, I think I’ve got a shot.”
Jisung doesn’t really understand. “Like, you think you’ll pass?”
“I think I should at least try for it, you know?” Minho shrugs. “If I fuck it up this year, I can always try again next year, right?”
“Sure,” Jisung says. He has no idea how grading works for dance majors. He’s only just got a handle on how his own university assessment works. “Do you have to re-take the class if you don’t pass this year?”
“Ah,” Minho says. “It’s not a class I’m taking, it’s like an audition.”
“Audition for what?”
“We have an exchange program with Kyoto University,” Minho says. “They open it up to people from second year and up. The showcase, it’s an audition to see if you qualify to study over there for a little while.”
“Oh, right, gotcha.” Suddenly the whole concept makes a lot more sense to Jisung. He’d been thinking Minho had some high-stakes class that only third years should have been taking. “Cool, so if you get it you get to go to Kyoto?”
“Yup,” Minho says. “Just for the semester, but it’d be a good experience. With dancing, it’s important to do networking and shit, to get your name out there. Doing overseas stuff looks good on the resume, you know.”
“Yeah.” Jisung doesn’t really know, but it makes sense. Music is a competitive industry – Chan is always telling Jisung that the key is making something unique, something that’s specifically yours, that makes you stand out from the rest. Jisung can only imagine how hard it must be for dancers to do the same thing. “That sounds like an awesome opportunity, hyung. It’ll be so much fun.”
Minho smiles but shrugs. He has an air like he’s trying to be chill about this, but Jisung gets the impression this is something Minho wants quite badly. Jisung focuses on that, and not on the weird feeling that seems to be stirring low in his gut, like he has any reason to be disappointed that Minho might leave the country.
“I’ve got to make it through, first,” Minho says. “The third years are all super talented, it’ll be a tough fight beating them out for the spots.”
“How many spots are there?”
“Five,” Minho says. “I think there’s like thirty of us auditioning. We’ll see how it goes.”
“I’m sure you’ll do it, hyung,” Jisung says.
Minho laughs. “You’ve never seen me dance.”
“I saw you dance last night.” Jisung recalls the way that Minho and Hyunjin had shimmied during karaoke and tries not to snicker.
Minho glares at him. “That doesn’t count.”
“Sure, it does,” Jisung laughs. “You were very graceful.” And then, because it turns out he kinda likes pushing his luck where Minho is concerned, he says, “Well, at least, Hyunjin was.”
Minho gasps. “Excuse me?”
“Are you talking about me?” Hyunjin calls out from ahead of them.
Jisung holds Minho’s eye while he says, “Just your superior dancing skills!”
Minho’s eyes light up.
“Ah, yes,” Hyunjin says. “That sounds about right.”
“Hyunjin-ah,” Minho sings out, a wonderful grin on his lips. “I don’t think I heard you properly. Did you want to say that again?”
Jisung watches as Hyunjin analyses the distance between them. Hyunjin is still up the front with Jeongin; Chan and Changbin are between them, and Minho will have to run at least a few feet to catch up to him. After assessing the danger, Hyunjin evidently decides the cushion between them is big enough.
He says, very slowly, like Minho is an idiot, “Jisung said I’m a better dancer than you, Minho-hyung. I was just acknowledging his thoughtful and correct observation.”
Minho lunges forward.
Hyunjin cackles and legs it.
Jisung laughs as he watches Minho manoeuvre easily around Changbin and Chan, hot on Minho’s heels. It’s a bit steeper here, but that doesn’t stop him. Hyunjin is hindered, a little slower than he might be normally because he’s laughing too hard to focus. It takes no time at all for Minho to catch him, at which point Hyunjin gets even louder, screaming out for mercy.
Of course, it’s while Hyunjin and Minho are wrestling, while the rest of them are all watching and laughing, that Jisung slips. It’s not really his fault. He isn’t looking at his feet – too caught up by the spectacle in front of him – but the path’s been so easy so far, so he’s not thinking about where he should be stepping. A loose rock beneath his foot is all it takes for the ground to go sweeping out from under him and all Jisung registers is – shit!
And then he’s down.
All in all, it’s very fast. One second Jisung is on his feet and the next, he’s on the ground, and fuck, he lands hard on his knees, and his hands, and oh shit his ankle isn’t supposed to twist that way.
“Jisung!”
Jisung can really only think about his ankle for the new few seconds. It’s stinging hot, angry pain that radiates all the way up his leg. He rolls, feeling the rocks scrape at the skin of his palms and his knees, but ignoring it; it’s just noise compared to whatever the fuck he’s done to his foot.
When he stills, there is a cloud of dust around him. Chan is the first to reach him.
“Shit!” is all he says.
“Fuck,” Jisung cries.
God, how embarrassing.
Very quickly, Jisung is surrounded. Chan is the closest, ducking in close to Jisung, immediately putting a hand on his back to steady him. Jisung leans into the touch, because when he shifts and looks down at his ankle, he sees –
“Oh, shit, you’re bleeding,” Hyunjin says.
He really is. Whatever nasty rock it was that caught him, it must have been sharp. There is a long cut that goes from his ankle and stretches all the way up his calf, and yeah, it’s definitely bleeding. The good news is that it doesn’t seem too deep. The fall has simply scraped his skin up, the same way it had his knees and hands. If he washes the dirt away, it should be fine. What isn’t so fine, is the sudden angry red flush of his ankle, and the way it hurts when Jisung tries to move it. He fell over enough as a kid to know those were the signs to look out for.
“Damn it, I’m so sorry, fuck!” Jisung holds onto Chan tightly, his hand fisting in the fabric of Chan’s tee. He’s vaguely aware that’s kinda rude of him, but he’s in a little too much pain to worry over it, and Chan doesn’t seem to care.
“Don’t say sorry, Jesus,” Changbin says. “Are you okay?”
“Did you hit your head?” Chan brings his hand from Jisung’s back up so that he can cradle the back of Jisung’s head. His palm is warm and gentle and Jisung leans into that too.
“No,” Jisung says. “I think I’m alright, my foot just fucking hurts.”
“I bet, fuck.” Hyunjin worries at his lip, looking over Jisung, concerned. “It looks pretty swollen.”
“Yeah,” Jisung says.
Minho crouches down by Jisung’s feet. “Is it okay if I touch you?”
Jisung nods, so Minho carefully takes hold of Jisung’s foot. He uses a light finger to prod at Jisung’s ankle, making him hiss.
“Sorry,” Minho says.
“It’s okay,” Jisung says.
He winces again as Minho moves him around. Minho touches him gently, but it still hurts to move his foot too much. Jisung lets out a little sigh of relief when Minho finally pulls away.
“I think it’s only twisted,” Minho says.
“Have you done a first aid course?” Jisung asks.
“No,” Minho says. “But I’ve seen plenty of messed up ankles at the studio. You can usually tell which ones are properly broken. The bones don’t look right.”
Jisung looks at him urgently. “But mine do, right?”
“I think so,” Minho says. He reaches out to touch Jisung’s leg, like maybe he wants to reassure him, but catches himself at the last minute. As Minho pulls away, Chan edges in closer, offering more of his body for Jisung to lean against. Jisung relaxes into the hold and, when he sees Minho looking, realises he’s still got a hand twisted in Chan’s shirt. He releases him and holds onto Chan’s strong arm instead. Minho glances away.
“Should we call an ambulance?” Jeongin asks.
“No, no!” Jisung says hastily. Fuck, that would make this so much worse. What if they have to send a rescue crew to come get him from the hill? What if he ends up on the news? God, that would suck. “I can walk back down, for sure.”
“No, you can’t,” Minho says. There’s a weird expression on his face, but Jisung doesn’t read into it too much. His foot hurts. “Don’t be stupid.”
“I don’t want to ruin the walk,” Jisung says. It comes out a little like a whine, but there’s not much he can do about that now. Who cares? He’s injured, isn’t he? “Hyunjin wants to see the view.”
Hyunjin huffs. “Don’t worry about that. You’re hurt, that’s more important.”
“But you were really excited.” It’s the worst thing in the world, but Jisung feels his emotions brewing hot, ready to spill over. There’s a stinging behind his eyes, and his foot really hurts, and he’s spoiled the day for everyone. Fuck. Fuck.
Chan runs a soothing hand down over Jisung’s shoulder, rubbing at Jisung’s arm. He’s so warm against Jisung’s back, and when he talks, Jisung can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”
But Jisung pouts still. “I really don’t want you guys to call anyone.”
“Someone needs to take a look at your ankle, Jisung,” Chan says gently.
“I’ll walk down,” Jisung says stubbornly. “Or I’ll just wait here for you guys. I’ll be fine, I swear.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Minho says again. He’s backed away a little, leaning away from Jisung’s leg, keeping a careful distance from Jisung’s injured foot. “No one’s leaving you here.”
“How about this?” Chan says. He squeezes at Jisung’s arm and again, Jisung relaxes into the touch. It’s nice, having Chan this close, looking after him like this. “I’ll walk Jisung back down the hill. My aunt’s friend is a doctor, I’ll text her and see if she can come around and take a look at your foot. That way, the others can still go and see the view, and we can make sure your foot’s okay. How does that sound?”
Jisung forces himself to breathe. The pain is making him feel a little dizzy, but at least if they go with Chan’s plan, he won’t feel so guilty for ruining everyone’s day. Besides, if Chan sticks with him, he’ll be okay right?
“That sounds okay, hyung,” Jisung says.
“Okay,” Chan says. “Do you need to sit still? Or do you want to try standing up?”
Jisung braces himself. “I think I can try standing.”
They all hover very close as Jisung figures out how he’s going to do this. He brushes the worst of the dirt and pebbles off his hands and reaches for Chan. Chan takes his hands carefully and helps lever him up, with all the others standing close by, ready to catch him if he needs. He wobbles a little, right at the end, and everyone panics for a brief moment before Chan steadies him.
He lifts one of Jisung’s arms and holds it over his shoulders, letting Jisung drape his weight on him. He’s warm, solid, and Jisung feels a flutter in his chest.
“How is it?” Changbin checks. “Are you okay?”
Jisung tests his ankle and winces again. Yeah, that’s definitely not okay for weight bearing, but hey, he’s up, isn’t he?
“I think I’m alright,” he says again.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Changbin looks from Chan to Jisung with worried eyes. “What if you need more than one person to help? I could come, or Minho maybe?”
Jisung glances at Minho. There’s still a strange look on his face, but Jisung thinks it must be concern; worry, probably that the day has taken such a sudden turn. Jisung feels immediately more annoyed with himself for fucking everything up. Things had been so easy, everyone was having such a good time, and now he’s gone and ruined it. He just wants to get out of their way, so they can start walking again – and not lose the whole day to his theatrics.
“No, I think it’ll be okay,” Jisung says. He presses into Chan again, and Chan brings his other hand up, pressing it against Jisung’s belly, keeping him steady.
“I’ve got him, you guys,” Chan says to the others. He offers them one of his sunny, reassuring smiles. “It’ll be alright. We’ll meet you back at the house, okay?”
The others don’t look quite convinced, so Jisung urges them on. “I promise I’m okay. Please, don’t let me ruin the walk for you.”
“You haven’t ruined anything,” Minho says sternly.
“Seriously,” Hyunjin says. “It’s fine if we all stop now.”
“No, please don’t,” Jisung says.
“Are you sure?” Jeongin says.
Jisung nods. Now that he’s standing his thoughts feel a little less dazed. He’s still hot and still embarrassed, but it’s not the end of the world. With Chan’s help, he’ll be fine.
“I’m sure. Please. Take some photos for me, so I can pretend I wasn’t lame and made it to the top.”
“You’re not lame,” Hyunjin says crossly.
Jisung huffs a laugh. “Sure, sure. I’m still sorry though.”
“Stop apologising,” Chan orders. He pats Jisung’s belly, and it makes Jisung feel very, very warm. “You guys go. We’ll be fine, I promise.”
Very begrudgingly, the others back up and give Jisung a little more space. They still don’t seem convinced that this is the best way ahead, but they seem out of arguments at least.
“We won’t be too long,” Changbin says. “Text us if you want us to come back down.”
“Or if you need anything,” Hyunjin says.
“We will,” Chan says, “but I think we’ll be fine.”
“Okay.”
Slowly, carefully, the others begin to move further up the path. Jisung catches Minho’s eye as he goes and tries to offer him a reassuring smile. Minho sees it, and Jisung can see that he tries to return it; gives him a shaky smile of his own, but it doesn’t land. His mouth is too tight around the edges. There’s tension by his eyes. Before Jisung can diagnose it, Minho steps behind Hyunjin, looking further up the path.
Jisung ignores the weird twist in his stomach and returns his attention to Chan.
Making their way back down the hill takes a lot longer than it had to walk up it. Chan is great the entire time, of course. He keeps his hands on Jisung, holding him carefully as he guides him down the track. He talks, too, clearly trying his best to keep Jisung’s mind off the pain by distracting him. He tells Jisung about all the times he’s injured himself on walks like this, or playing football with his friends, or mucking around with his sister. He talks about the crazy injury stories he’s heard from his friend who’s studying medicine. It does the job, keeps them both occupied as they go, and, although the journey is long, they eventually make it back to the car.
Chan’s aunt’s friend – who’s named Haneul – meets them at the house. It turns out Chan had texted her right after Jisung had fallen to see if she was free. Chan helps Jisung to the couch and rushes off to get an ice pack while Haneul looks over Jisung’s ankle. Her determination matches Minho’s. It isn’t broken, but it’s twisted pretty badly, and it’d be better if Jisung can keep his weight off it for the next few days.
“You might need to go down to the hospital and see if they’ll give you a pair of crutches,” she suggests.
Chan shakes his head. “No need, I think we actually have some old ones around here somewhere. I’ll find them.”
“That’s lucky,” Haneul says. To Jisung, she continues, “You’ll need to be careful for a little while. I brought some painkillers you can take. You shouldn’t need a cast – the worst of the swelling should go down over the next few hours, but you have to make sure you’re not too rough with yourself so that you don’t make it any worse.”
Jisung’s heart sinks. He’d been expecting it but that doesn’t soften the blow in any way. They’re here to have fun, and now Jisung’s ruined it. Earlier this morning he’d been thinking about going to the beach again or having a swim in the pool. Now he’s stuck on the couch and even the thought of moving hurts. Goddamnit. Why didn’t he just look?
Haneul leaves soon after that. Jisung thanks her for coming about thirty times, and then Chan follows that up with thanks of his own. She waves them off, leaving them with a warning to be more careful next time, and to text her if they have any questions.
When Chan has shut the door behind him, Jisung slumps back into the couch.
“I’m so sorry, hyung,” he says.
“Please stop apologising,” Chan says, taking a careful seat at Jisung’s side. He reaches out and touches Jisung’s knee – the one that’s attached to his not-injured foot. He rocks it a little and Jisung settles into the lovely warm feeling that brews in his chest. “You fell over. You didn’t do it on purpose, right?”
Jisung flushes. “Right.”
“I mean you could have just said you didn’t want to go on the walk. This was a pretty dramatic way to get out of it, Jisung-ah. I’m joking.” Chan doesn’t even pause between sentences, leaving absolutely no time for Jisung to worry that he might be serious. “Seriously. Please don’t stress, you’re the one who got hurt. How could any of us complain about that?”
Jisung lets out a big sigh.
“Are you hungry?” Chan asks. “I’ll make you some food, then maybe we can watch a movie or something.”
God, he really has fucked up Chan’s day, hasn’t he? Jisung knows better than to say it out loud, but Chan has no control over his thoughts, and Jisung lets the guilt simmer in his chest. What an idiot. Who goes hiking and doesn’t look where they’re going? Everyone else was fine on the track, of course it was him who was gonna cause a problem by being thoughtless. Damn it.
Chan squeezes at his knee again. “Stop beating yourself up.” Apparently, he can read minds now. “I’m serious. No one is mad. I’m just glad it isn’t properly broken.”
“Me too,” Jisung says quietly.
Chan offers him one of his wonderful smiles. “Okay. Lunch?”
Jisung nods.
Chan makes them both a sandwich and then comes back to the couch, bringing Haneul’s box of painkillers with him. He sits nice and close to Jisung, and when Jisung’s finished his food and taken his medicine, he nestles into the sofa cushions so that he can rest his head on Chan’s shoulder. It’s a little shameless, sure, but his ankle hurts, and the painkillers have made his thoughts a little soft, so Jisung doesn’t let himself question it too much. Chan doesn’t seem to mind. He shifts a bit, getting comfortable himself, and then rests his head on the top of Jisung’s. It's actually really nice.
They pull up a superhero movie, because that’s easy and Jisung hasn’t seen the latest one yet. He pays attention to about half of it, but his mind never stops wandering back to the hike, to all the ways he could have saved himself this embarrassment.
The movie is almost finished by the time the others get back. They are sweaty, and their skin is a little sun-kissed, but their first priority is Jisung.
“This looks cosy,” Hyunjin says.
Jisung lifts his head from Chan’s shoulder and offers them all a tired smile.
Changbin comes over and sits on Jisung’s other side. “What did the doctor say?”
Everyone hovers around Jisung the same way they did when he’d fallen at first. Jeongin lingers by the ottoman where Jisung has his leg stretched out. Minho and Hyunjin stand a little to the side. While Chan fills everyone in on Haneul’s assessment, Jisung can’t help but notice the way that Minho stands a little further back than everyone else. He peers over Hyunjin’s shoulder at Jisung’s foot, but never once catches Jisung’s eye.
Jisung feels that weird feeling again. It must be the medicine.
“The movie’s almost done,” Chan says. “Do you guys wanna join?”
“Hell yeah,” Changbin says. “I love this one.”
“I’ll make some food,” Minho says. “Is anyone hungry?”
There is a chorus of yes’s from the other, but Jisung and Chan shake their heads.
“Chan made me a sandwich,” Jisung says.
“Aw,” Hyunjin reaches over to pat Chan’s hair. “You’re such a good hyung, hyung-ah. What would we do without you?”
Minho heads to the kitchen and Jeongin goes with him, offering help. They let the movie keep playing – the others promise it’s okay, they can see it from the kitchen if they need, and besides they missed the start of it already. Minho whips them up a meal – noodles, yum – and the others depart briefly to get a bowl before returning.
As they settle in, Jisung frowns. “Is Minho-hyung not coming?”
Hyunjin shakes his head. “I think he went for a lie down. He was a bit tired; I think.”
“Oh,” Jisung says.
“It’s been a big day,” Chan says.
“Yeah,” Jisung says.
.
As kind as the others have been, Jisung’s injury really does throw a spanner in the works. Chan does find the crutches he’d told Haneul about, but even with them, Jisung slows everyone down. He can’t carry his own dishes back to the kitchen, so the others do it for him, and all he gets to do is feel shit about it. When the others suggest bailing on their plans to go down to the beach for sunset again, Jisung puts his foot down.
Metaphorically, to be clear.
“I already ruined the hike,” he says. “Don’t let me muck this up again.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Chan chimes.
“I want to go to the beach,” Jisung says stubbornly. “It’ll be slow, but I’ll be fine. Please. Let’s go.”
Chan looks a little dubious, but eventually he caves. He helps Jisung up the stairs so that he can change out of his dirty hiking clothes. He taps on the door and says,
“Minho-yah, can we come in? Jisung needs to change.”
Chan and Jisung both startle when Minho opens the door, much faster than either of them had been expecting. His hair is mussed up, like he’s been sleeping, but his eyes are still tired.
“Of course,” Minho says. He offers Jisung a soft smile. “Will you need help?”
Jisung shakes his head. “We’re alright but thank you.”
Minho steps easily out of the way, keeping the door open so that Jisung and Chan can squish by. “I’ll get out of your hair, then.”
“Are you coming down to the beach?” Jisung asks, before Minho can leave them completely.
Minho nods. “Yeah, sounds fun.”
He leaves, heading down the stairs before Jisung can say anything else. Jisung frowns, feeling unsettled but not quite sure why. It must be the medicine sitting funny in his stomach. Surely. What else could it be?
Chan helps Jisung to his bed and then helps to fish some clothes out of Jisung’s bag. He leaves Jisung to get changed alone but promises to stand right outside if Jisung needs help. Jisung appreciates the offer, of course, but he has no intention of calling Chan in. If Chan’s going to see him undressed, Jisung does not want it to be under circumstances like these. What he has in mind is a great deal sexier.
Once he’s changed and Chan has helped him down the stairs again, they make their slow way down to the beach. Jisung gets the hang of the crutches pretty quickly, but he hadn’t expected them to hurt. His underarm chafes where the crutch cushion bears his weight and Jisung realises very quickly why people don’t like these things.
Even going slow, they eventually make it down to the sand. It’s about as busy as it had been the day before – maybe a little less, given that the sun is close to setting and the air has turned a shade cooler.
Changbin lies a towel out for Jisung, and Chan helps Jisung sit down. Minho takes a careful seat on Jisung’s left.
“You’re sure you okay here?” Chan checks.
Jisung feels warm at his worry. It’s so nice to know that Chan cares. “I’m all good, hyung.”
Chan grins. “Alright then.”
He and the others head down to the water. It leaves Jisung and Minho alone, and for the first time this whole trip, the air feels a little stiff around them. Yesterday, Minho had sprawled out in the sand, he’d leaned into Jisung’s space, and he’d made easy jokes. Today, he sits still, his legs crossed and his back straight. He looks out to the water instead of at Jisung.
Jisung fiddles with his fingers, not sure what to say, not sure why he’s not sure.
“You’re really alright?” Minho asks, after a little while has passed.
Jisung hums. “Yeah. Haneul gave me some medicine. It’s not so bad.”
“That’s good,” Minho says.
Quiet takes over once more.
Then Minho says, “Sorry.”
Jisung twists his face all the way up. “For what?”
Minho shrugs. He keeps his eyes on the horizon. “Me and Hyunjin, we were mucking around. We shouldn’t have been. Was distracting.”
Jisung scoffs. A part of him wants to reach out and take Minho’s shoulder, give it a little shake for good measure. He might have, a few hours ago, before the air turned weird around them. Now, he holds himself back.
“Hyung,” he says. “You’re not seriously apologising for me falling over, right?”
Minho looks down at the sand. He draws a little pattern with his finger, the same way he did yesterday. It feels different somehow. His brow looks heavier.
“Maybe I am,” he says, surly. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“I’ll tell you to stop being stupid,” Jisung says. “I’m the one who wasn’t looking where I was going. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”
“It was an accident,” Minho says.
“Exactly.” Somehow, reassuring Minho about this is far simpler than reassuring himself has been. Jisung finds himself parroting the same words Chan has thrown at him since he’d fell. “It was an accident. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just bad luck.”
Minho doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t argue either.
Jisung takes it as a win. He’s about to say so to Minho, to rub it in his face a little, and see if he can take some of the tension out of Minho’s shoulders – when Minho interrupts.
He nods down at the water. “They’re having fun.”
It’s kind of a bizarre thing to say. Jisung frowns, looking out to see the others. They haven’t gone in as deep as they did the day before. They seem happy messing around in the shallows, splashing each other and then making a hasty retreat so they don’t get splashed themselves.
Jisung nods. “Yeah. Looks like it.”
Minho leans forward a little, still digging his fingers into the sand. Jisung tries to get a look at his face, to see if there are any hints there that might explain why this feels weird all of a sudden, but Minho doesn’t look back.
“Chan was great today, wasn’t he?”
Startled, feeling very bewildered, Jisung looks over to Chan. He has picked Hyunjin up, holding him in the fireman’s carry while Hyunjin shouts and slaps his arse. Jisung can’t help but laugh.
“Yeah,” he says, feeling warmed just by the thought. Chan has taken such good care of him today. If Jisung thinks about it too much, he knows he’ll let himself get carried away. It’s hard to fight it now, though. Watching him muck around with his friends, after he’d spent the whole day looking after Jisung, making sure he’s okay – it makes Jisung’s chest feel lovely and tight. It’s not like Jisung wants to be injured – no, to the contrary, this shit fucking sucks – but if it had to happen, then this was the next best thing. Chan had held onto him pretty much from the moment he fell. They got to cuddle when they were watching a movie. It’s all been so lovely. “Yeah, he’s been awesome.”
Minho pauses for another drawn out moment. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, as unsure as Jisung has ever heard it.
“I don’t know if you know… but he’s…”
But the words trail off there. Minho watches Chan for a moment. Jisung watches his throat bob as he swallows.
“Yeah?” Jisung says.
Minho lets out a breath. He pauses, just for a second, then he shakes his head. He turns to look at Jisung and offers him a soft smile. It’s the first since this morning that doesn’t feel weird. His expression is suddenly open and warm again.
“He’s too good, I think,” Minho says. “He’s the best person I know. I’m glad he was there to help.”
Jisung grins. “Me too.”
Minho looks over to Jisung’s foot. “And I’m glad you didn’t break it. That would have sucked.”
“Still sucks a little,” Jisung says.
Minho rolls his eyes. “You have no idea. Do you know how many fucked up ankles I’ve seen?”
Jisung doesn’t, but he wants to know. He’s not the bravest of guys, sure, but he doesn’t mind a gruesome medical story or two. It’ll help him feel a little less sorry for himself.
“No, but you should tell me about them.”
.
Notes:
oh man. hurt ankles and hurt feelings this chap. poor boys.
very keen to hear ur thoughts about where we might be going from here!! leave a comment if u have a mo, otherwise tysm for reading. i'm going overseas on fri but i have the next few chapters ready to go - so i'll see u this time next week <3
Chapter Text
.
On Thursday, it rains.
It’s ridiculous, but Jisung can’t help but feel a little responsible. It’s like everything was going smoothly until he fucked up his ankle, and now that he has, the world has taken its cue to follow suit. It’s like the weather has shifted with his mood, just a nice little way of saying ‘See what you did? You ruined this trip for everyone. Fuck you.’
Of course, he tells nobody this. He already knows the sort of reception it would garner, and he’s not looking to be reassured. Honestly, he kinda wants to just stew in it and feel cross with himself, but he knows that sulking will only make things worse. Chan had hovered around him almost all of the night before and was still doing it the following morning. It was nice – the attention, especially – but Jisung didn’t need to give him any further cause to worry.
Chan, when he sees the gloomy skies and sprinkling rain, somehow manages to smile brightly.
“Oh, nice! We can have an inside day!”
Minho considers the weather outside with much less forgiveness. To Chan, he says, “Your relentless positivity is sickening.”
Privately, Jisung maybe agrees.
Still, it’s the right energy to have on a day like this. Chan pulls all the blankets from the bed in his room and sets himself up on the couch, which encourages all the rest of them to do the same. When Jisung makes to get up, Minho makes an annoyed sound and gently pushes him back into the couch cushions.
“I’ll get yours, idiot,” Minho grumbles. “You can’t carry anything anyway, what’s the point in you clambering up the stairs?”
Jisung huffs but stays where he is.
Minho returns with the bed blankets piled high over his shoulders. He makes a fuss of bringing them all down at once, but he’s impossibly careful when he throws the blanket over Jisung. Once he seems happy that Jisung is all cosied up, he glances at the empty space beside him. Jisung assumes that Minho will sit there, and frowns when Minho moves for the armchair instead. He doesn’t have the chance to dwell on it though. The others come down the stairs soon after. Jeongin ends up next to Chan, while Hyunjin and Changbin squish into the space beside Jisung. Changbin ends up sharing the ottoman where Jisung has his foot propped up – after checking very carefully that there was room available for his feet too. With all of them huddled away beneath their blankets, and the cloudy grey skies outside, it all suddenly feels very cosy.
They waste the day away watching movies, then a couple of episodes of TV, then a documentary that Chan has heard about but hasn’t gotten around to watching again. They move around a little – Jeongin searches out some snacks they can all share, Minho and Chan get up to prepare lunch just after mid-day, Hyunjin pulls out a small diary and scribbles pictures with pencil while the television plays – but for the most part, they stay on the couches all day. In the late afternoon, the warm atmosphere turns them all sleepy. Minho falls asleep in his chair. Jeongin and Chan both head up to their rooms for a nap.
Jisung stays where he is, not seeing the point in moving to his room if he can just chill here. He doesn’t want to hassle anyone to help him get up, and he’s comfortable where he is. Besides, with half the room sleeping and Chan and Jeongin upstairs, he’s given control of the TV.
“You want to watch anything specific?” Jisung asks Hyunjin.
Changbin is asleep as well. He nodded off halfway through Chan’s documentary. His glasses are askew on his nose and his head is tilted back, resting on Hyunjin’s shoulder. Jisung’s not sure when that happened, but Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps up with his sketches, only glancing up when Jisung catches his attention.
“Huh? Oh, no, I don’t mind,” he says. “Is there anything you want to watch?”
Jisung shakes his head. Without any specific direction, Jisung pulls up YouTube. It’s logged into Chan’s aunt’s account, so the recommendations are pretty different to what Jisung usually sees – cooking recipes and DIY videos where Jisung would usually get video essays and obscure animal facts. He scrolls through them anyway, and eventually settles on a forty-minute-long video showing someone building a vivarium for their new pet frogs.
“You’re kinda weird, aren’t you?” Hyunjin says, when the video starts to play.
Jisung shrugs. “Come on, who doesn’t like frogs.”
“Me,” Hyunjin says easily. “I don’t like frogs. I don’t want them anywhere near me.”
“Hard same,” Jisung says, “but these frogs aren’t here, they live with this guy. We just get to watch this guy build them a little house. That’s cool, isn’t it?”
Hyunjin watches the video for a moment. Together, they watch the man place sand and then soil and then pebbles in the bottom of a huge glass tank. When he starts adding tree branches, one with a little hollow where the frog’s will be able to chill, Hyunjin sighs.
“Okay, it’s kind of cute.”
“I told you,” Jisung says.
Hyunjin snorts but lets him get away with it. They ease back into a casual silence, watching the vivarium come along. The video doesn’t have any narrations – just text on the screen that they can read if they want. Music plays in the background instead, a gentle classical track that keeps the room feeling warm and soft.
When the video ends, the automatic play function pulls up another video by the same channel. The frogs grew out of this vivarium, it seems, and need to be moved to another. That video is an hour and a half long.
Jisung looks at Hyunjin.
Hyunjin sighs. “Put it on.”
It’s about halfway through that one that Changbin stirs a little. He still has his legs on the ottoman, but even in his sleep he’s kept his limbs carefully to himself. He is a little less careful with Hyunjin’s personal space though. He shifts and his head rolls a little, turning into Hyunjin’s neck, his chin resting right beside Hyunjin’s collarbone. Jisung glances over, watching him move, and doesn’t miss the way Hyunjin’s cheeks flush a little.
Jisung thinks carefully for a moment, before he eventually asks, “You okay there?”
Hyunjin glances down at Changbin. Changbin’s curls tickle his chin. He meets Jisung’s look briefly before looking quickly away.
“I’m fine.”
“I can move over if you want,” Jisung offers. There’s not heaps of space, but if he shifts a bit to his left, then Changbin would have more room too. “Might give you a little more space.”
Hyunjin goes a little pinker. He doesn’t look at Jisung. “No, it’s cool.”
Jisung doesn’t push. He’s more comfortable around everyone now, but he reminds himself he’s only known these guys for a few days. Hyunjin’s business is his own, and he’s entitled to manage his relationship with Changbin however he wants to. Maybe one day down the line Jisung could say something – but that’s a while off, and it’d only happen if he gets the chance to know Hyunjin a little better. He hopes he will.
They pass the time with more YouTube videos, letting the recommended options guide them. By the time Jeongin and Chan return downstairs, Jisung feels pretty confident about the differences between an aquarium and a vivarium and a terrarium, and Hyunjin’s drawn about seven different frogs and two jumping spiders.
When Minho wakes up, he does so suddenly, with a gasp that makes the whole room laugh. His hair sticks in all different directions and he squints at the brightness of the TV.
“Why am I looking at frogs right now?” He asks the room at large.
The noise is enough to stir Changbin as well. He presses his nose in against Hyunjin’s throat, then quickly pulls away when he realises where he is. He tries to catch Hyunjin’s eye, looking apologetic, but Hyunjin avoids it. He keeps his gaze resolutely on his sketching.
After a moment, Changbin lets it go.
Jisung reminds himself, none of my business, it’s none of my business, and does the same.
In keeping with the vibe of the day, dinner is a chill affair. They order take out again, and navigate away from YouTube, pulling up another movie to watch instead. By the time they’ve all eaten, Chan is yawning again.
“I know I only just got up,” Chan says, “but I think I’m gonna go to sleep. Is that okay?”
“Course it is,” Jisung says.
“No,” Minho says. “You’re banned from sleeping. You must be awake until at least eleven-sharp. Those are the rules.”
“Don’t say that hyung,” Jeongin says. “Chan-hyung will take it seriously. He’ll stay up all night.”
Minho rolls his eyes in Chan’s direction. “You’re the boss of you, Christopher Bang,” he says. “Sleep whenever you want.”
Chan ducks his head and looks abashed. God, he’s sweet.
“The weather’s supposed to be better tomorrow,” Chan says. “If it’s stopped raining, I’m thinking about getting up early to go check out the sunrise over the water. Anyone interested?”
It turns out that everyone is interested. Jisung is the only one who shakes his head. His ankle doesn’t feel quite as bad as it did the day before, but it’s still throbbing and he’s still using the crutches to hobble around. He doesn’t think that waking up in the dark and forcing the others to help him get down to the beach sounds like the best start to the day. Better for him to stay behind and keep out of everyone’s way.
Of course, Chan checks a few times that Jisung’s sure, but he drops it when Jisung assures him he’d rather sleep in. So, they all head to bed. Chan helps Jisung up the stairs while Minho collects his blankets from the couch. Even after lazing around all day, it’s impossibly easy to fall asleep.
The following morning, Jisung wakes to find the room empty. As he’d expected, Minho must have gone down to the beach with the others. They hadn’t really settled on a return time, but when Jisung makes his slow way downstairs and to the kitchen, he finds a note waiting for him there.
We’ll be back around 11, Chan has written in his chicken-scratch scrawl. We’ll keep an eye on our phones. Text us if you need anything.
It’s not quite ten yet, so Jisung settles in and makes himself a coffee. His ankle doesn’t feel too bad this morning. The swelling has gone way down and it’s still a little tender to walk on, but he’s pretty sure he’ll be able to get by without the crutches tomorrow. He’d risk it today if there wasn’t a chance that would cause problems for the others down the line. It takes him a little while, but he eventually sets himself up outside, sitting at the table by the pool so that he can drink his coffee and enjoy the fresh air. He watches stupid videos on his phone, sorts out his emails, and texts his parents.
He jumps about a foot in the air when he hears a bang from inside the house.
His heart thunders instantly. He glances over at the beach path, as if the sound of a door slamming could have possibly come from that direction. When he sees nothing – nope, none of his friends there – he turns his wide eyes back to the house.
Inside, in the kitchen, a blonde boy that Jisung has never seen in his life, grins brightly at him. He waves and vanishes from the kitchen window. Jisung has about three seconds to panic – is it a thief? Do thieves usually do their work at ten-thirty in the morning, and wave hello when they’re caught? Jisung’s injured, how the heck is he supposed to defend the house? – when the stranger appears at the backdoor.
He steps outside easily, treading confidently, as if he’s been here before.
“Hey there,” he says, and Jisung is even more startled to identify a thick Australian accent. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Felix.”
“Felix.” Right. Thank God. Okay. Jisung presses a hand to his chest and tries to calm himself back down. It’s such a relief that he recognises that name, that the accent feels so familiar. “Right, of course. The others mentioned you. I didn’t know you were coming. I’m Jisung.”
This feels like the sort of thing that Chan should have put on his sticky note, but there’s no time to worry about that now.
“Oh, no,” Felix says. “They didn’t know I was coming. I wanted to surprise everyone.”
“Ahh,” Jisung says.
“Where is everyone?” Felix asks. “I thought I’d get to do the fun, like, ‘jump out and catch everyone off guard’ thing.”
“They went down to the beach,” Jisung says. “But you can consider me caught.”
Felix’s eyes go big and round. He looks like a Disney character. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, no.” Even though his heart is still a little lodged in his throat, Jisung’s recovered from the worst of his surprise now. “It’s cool, don’t worry. I’m just messing with you.”
“You’re from Chan’s composition class, right? The one he’s helping out with?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Jisung nods a little shyly. Chan’s talked about him with someone else, then. That’s so nice. “He told you about me?”
Felix nods sunnily. “He did! He thinks you’re so incredible, by the way. He won’t shut up about you whenever you guys work together.”
Jisung feels very pleased and tries not to show it.
“But he said you hurt your foot?” Felix says.
“Oh, yeah.” Jisung sticks his foot out now as if to prove it, but it’s a little embarrassing. Now that the swelling has gone down, it doesn’t look like the sort of thing that should keep him off his feet. Maybe he should have ditched the crutches earlier.
But Felix just lets out a sympathetic coo. “Yeah, Channie-hyung said it was pretty bad. That’s such bad luck.”
“It’s not too bad,” Jisung says. “It’s definitely getting better.”
“That’s good,” Felix says.
Felix, Jisung learns quickly, is absolutely luminous. In everything he does, the way he moves, and smiles, and speaks, there is a brightness that seems to shine out of him. He’s also impossibly good looking – which, honestly, is Chan finding all these models on purpose somehow? It doesn’t seem fair – with big eyes and sharp cheek bones and a blonde mullet that somehow looks incredible. And he’s kind. Like, crazy kind, considering he and Jisung only met each other a few minutes ago. Almost immediately he offers to make Jisung another coffee, or to cook him up some breakfast.
“Ah, ah, no,” Jisung says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s not worth the hassle.”
Felix is not swayed. “How about this, I made some brownies to bring down with me. That’s perfect for morning tea, right?”
Jisung’s not super sure what morning tea is, so he doesn’t feel qualified to comment. Felix takes that as a yes, and in no time at all, he is back at the table with a container full of fresh brownies. Jisung fights him on it to start with – they should save them for when everyone’s back, he doesn’t need special treatment, really, it’s fine – but eventually caves. When he does, he is privately very glad that he did. The brownies are nice as hell and he wants another almost as soon as he finishes the first.
Felix pushes the container in his direction. “Take another, come on. I made heaps, it’s fine. Besides, you’re injured. You deserve it.”
Jisung takes another one. It’s only polite. And besides, Felix is right, there’s more than enough for the others to have. Jisung missed out on the beach, didn’t he? No one will begrudge him taking an extra brownie.
It’s actually weirdly easy to talk to Felix. Easier than Jisung often finds it with new people. Sure, there are some stilted pauses here and there, the kind that always appear when two strangers are suddenly asked to keep each other occupied – but it’s not hard, not the way it usually is for Jisung. Felix asks about Jisung’s music, then tells Jisung a little about himself. He’s a dancer too, a first year like Hyunjin, although he insists, he’s not as good as him. Jisung thinks about everything he’s learnt from his group of people so far. If they are any indication – and he thinks they should be, given that Felix is one of their close friends – then Jisung is sure that Felix is underselling himself. Even looking at him, Jisung can tell he’s in good shape.
“Are you sure you don’t want to text the others?” Jisung asks, when it’s almost half-past eleven, and their friends haven’t returned. “They were supposed to be back by now, I think.”
“Nah.” Felix grins, eyes alight. “I wanna surprise them. I’ve been hyping myself up the whole drive here.”
He’d hit the road at four in the morning, Felix tells him. His sister had a graduation ceremony and dinner last night that he couldn’t miss, but he’d really wanted to catch at least the tail end of the trip. Especially with the weather forecast as good as it was. Even though they were only going to be at the house until Saturday, Felix says that he’s happy to have a few nights with everyone. He hasn’t seen everyone all together in ages.
He's right about the surprise, too.
Hyunjin is the first to appear from the beach path. He looks tired and he’s whining something over his shoulder, presumably to the others who are behind him. When he catches sight of Felix, he goes stock still.
Then he shrieks.
“Lix-ie!” Hyunjin launches himself forward and Felix has just enough time to get to his feet before he has his arms full. Hyunjin wraps himself around Felix and rocks them both side to side. “You’re here! I can’t believe you made it, ah, this is so great!”
Felix cuddles Hyunjin close himself, looking over the moon at his reception. Jisung watches it all grinning, pleased that the surprise has gone the way Felix was wanting it to. He glances towards the path again, to see who is going to be surprised next and sees Minho.
Minho has stopped as well. His eyes are wide. For a quick second, Jisung swears he sees panic sing across those delicate features, but it’s gone in a flash. Jisung probably imagined it.
“Yongbok-ah,” Minho says, a beat delayed. Jisung hasn’t heard the name Yongbok yet but given the way Felix pulls a little away from Hyunjin and turns his smile on Minho, he can only assume that he’s who Minho means. “You’re here!”
“I am,” Felix says. “I drove down this morning.”
“The drive was okay?” Minho asks. “How early did you get up?”
“Not too early,” Felix says, although he’s just told Jisung facts to the contrary. “I had lots of coffee to keep me awake hyung, and I played lots of music. It wasn’t too bad.”
Minho doesn’t look quite convinced, but he nods, letting it go. He glances at Jisung quickly. There is something a little off in his expression. Like he’s worried. It must be the thought of Felix driving so early. Jisung’s figured this out about Minho already; he doesn’t like to show it, but it seems he’s always thinking about his friends, and making sure they’re okay.
Minho comes over and takes the seat beside Jisung.
Jisung smiles at him, then turns to look for the others – ready to see their reaction to Felix’s surprise.
Minho touches his arm.
“Hey,” he says.
He doesn’t say anything else.
Jisung half-frowns, half-smiles. “Hey.”
Minho doesn’t look quite settled in his seat. There is something jumpy about him, a stiffness to the way he’s holding himself that makes this whole interaction feel strange. He opens his mouth a couple of times, like he might be on the cusp of saying something, but never quite makes it.
He tries again, but—
“Felix?”
Jisung spins around. Chan is here now too, with Changbin and Jeongin right behind him. They all stare at Felix with shared expressions of glee. Jeongin is grinning, Changbin is looking around like he can’t believe his eyes. And Chan – God, there’s that lovely smile of his again. His eyes are bright, and his mouth is a little open, like Felix being here is too good to be true. Ah, he looks so happy, it makes Jisung’s chest feel warm just seeing it.
Felix looks at Chan softly, fondness radiating from him.
“Hey, hyung.”
“You’re here?” Chan says.
“I am! Is that – that’s okay?”
“Of course!” As if spurred on by that, Chan launches forward too. He pulls Felix into a hug of his own, tucking his face in by Felix’s shoulder as he holds him tightly. Felix wraps his arms around Chan like an octopus, grinning and pressing in close. Changbin gives them maybe a second to themselves before he leaps on the two of them, enveloping both of them in his big arms. That makes Jeongin laugh and jump in too.
“Jisung-ah,” Minho says from behind Jisung.
Jisung is still a little caught up in the big reunion before him. Everyone’s laughter is contagious, the energy lifting as the surprise settles in. He is still grinning when he turns back to Minho. “Yeah, hyung?”
“Um.” Minho looks around the table, gaze darting about, never quite sticking the landing. “Have you had breakfast? I’ll make you something, why don’t you come inside with me?”
“Ah, thanks, but I’m alright,” Jisung says. “Felix brought brownies, he let me have some.”
When Hyunjin hears about the brownies, he lets out a huge, dramatic gasp. Changbin does the same, releasing the others so he can make a break for them. That starts a pandemonium of a different kind, everyone pressing in close around the table, reaching for a brownie of their own. Felix eats it up, laughing as everyone moves around him.
“I hope they’re okay,” he says, as everyone starts chewing. “I only made them yesterday; they shouldn’t be stale yet.”
“Shut up,” Hyunjin says with his mouth full. “They’re literally perfect.”
“They’re so good, hyung,” Jeongin says. “They’re always good.”
“It’s like you’re magic or something,” Changbin says.
They all settle around the table. Jisung ends up squished between Minho, who is still weirdly quiet, and Hyunjin, who is quiet only because his mouth is otherwise occupied. Jisung reaches for another brownie while he can – it looks like they’re going to go pretty quickly.
“Sorry, sorry.” Chan takes the spot next to Felix and leans in close, right into Felix’s space. He rubs at Felix’s shoulder. “Can we go back to how you’re here? What happened with Rachael’s grad? I thought you said you couldn’t miss it?”
“It was, but Rachael knew I was sad about missing it, so she let me borrow her car.” Felix is practically glowing. Jisung would be too if he’d been able to surprise his friends as well as this. “I just got up super early this morning so I could get here at a decent time.”
Chan frowns. “How early?”
“Minho-hyung already did this part,” Hyunjin chimes.
“It was fine, hyung,” Felix says. “I was very responsible; I had a lot of coffee, and I knew I could pull over if I got tired.”
“You could have gotten here later, we wouldn’t have minded,” Chan says.
“Yeah,” Felix says, “but I wanted to see you! Everyone’s here and I didn’t want to miss any more than I already have. And it’s fine, isn’t it? I’m here, I’m in one piece.”
Chan remains dubious but he doesn’t argue anymore. Point for Felix, Jisung thinks.
Everyone settles in, each with their own questions for Felix about his journey here and how well he’d kept it secret. Apparently, he’d been texting Chan and Hyunjin this whole time, and he’d said again and again how sad he was that he was missing out.
“You almost made me cry!” Hyunjin complains.
“I had to!” Felix says. “How else would I make sure it was a surprise?”
“You should go into acting,” Chan says.
It’s funny, seeing Chan and Felix speak to one another. It’s like just by virtue of being here, Felix has made Chan’s accent a little stronger. And it’s all so comfortable. Jisung has been feeling more in place within this group of boys over the last few days, but it’s impossible to miss the effortless way Felix slots in. He rubs at Changbin’s shoulders, admires his muscles, and Hyunjin doesn’t even blink an eye. He ruffles up Jeongin’s hair – which is something Jisung has seen Changbin and Hyunjin try, only to receive an elbow to the gut. With Felix, Jeongin endures it all with a smile on his face. Even Minho is soft where Felix is concerned. He’s still a little more reserved that Jisung has grown used to, but when Felix speaks to him, his eyes are impossibly fond.
Eventually, Changbin gets up in search of coffee. “Anyone else want one?”
He is met by a chorus of assorted ‘yes’ noises.
Jeongin follows Changbin inside to help him with the now-inflated coffee order. As they go, Minho nudges Jisung with his elbow.
“How did you sleep?” He asks quietly, letting the others keep talking around them.
Jisung frowns. On its own, the question is fine, but it feels a little strange for Minho to be enquiring now. “Uh, fine?”
Minho hums. “I heard a weird noise last night, thought it might have kept you up.”
Jisung didn’t hear anything last night – or at least, nothing he hasn’t heard the entire time they’ve stayed here. The waves outside his window and the soft sounds of Minho breathing. Maybe every now and again, before falling asleep, he’s heard people moving around in the corridor, searching out the bathroom, but it’s never woken him up.
“Oh, weird,” Jisung says. “I didn’t hear anything.”
Minho looks around the table. He shifts in his seat. “Uh. Maybe we could check the room at some point. See if we can figure out what it was.”
Jisung frowns. “Okay? Yeah, we can look.”
Minho moves again. He can’t seem to stop moving, actually. He’s tapping a finger against the wood of the table, Jisung realises. Not loudly or anything – it’s not making any noise – but he’s doing it. His knee is bouncing as well.
“Um,” Minho says. “Maybe we can go check now?”
Though he tries, Jisung can’t quite keep his face straight. It’s just weird, okay? Minho’s being weird and Jisung doesn’t know why, or what he’s trying to do.
“You want to go now?” Jisung asks.
Minho nods, his head jerking. “Yeah. I think, uh. I think we should.”
“Um.” Jisung looks down at his foot, which is getting better, sure, but certainly isn’t there yet. He’s got his crutch with him, but honestly, he’s not that keen on the idea of getting in everyone’s way so that he can clamber up the stairs to search for some mystery noise he didn’t even hear. “My foot is kind of sore, still. Can we do it later?”
Minho pauses. It lasts a beat, then another, and then he hastily nods again. “Sure, sure, of course. Sorry. I, uh, wasn’t thinking.”
Because Minho seems so unsettled, Jisung puts a gentle hand on his arm. It stops Minho’s tapping at the very least.
“We can look a little later,” he says. “If it was loud enough to keep you awake, I’m sure we’ll be able to find it. Maybe after coffee?”
He gets another jerky nod in response. “Sure. Sounds good.”
Jisung squeezes Minho’s arm once, then releases him. He hasn’t solved whatever Minho’s problem is; that much is clear. Minho still seems uncomfortable in his seat, and he starts tapping his finger again. He glances away from Jisung, looking between Chan and Felix for a second. Then he catches Jisung’s eye once more. For a moment, he has that ‘caught in the headlights’ look about him again. He shakes it off and offers Jisung an unsteady smile.
“Coffee’s up!” Changbin calls, as he and Jeongin make their precarious way back to the table. Both of them have several mugs in each hand – it seems neither of them wanted to make a second trip.
“Thank you,” Hyunjin calls out, reaching out to help Jeongin as soon as he is near enough. “You’re the best.”
“I know,” Jeongin says easily.
Changbin hands a mug to Minho and a mug to Jisung – Jisung’s first mug is still right in front of him, which is embarrassing. Jisung makes a mental note to do the dishes when everyone is done.
“Jisung said you guys went down to the beach to watch the sunrise,” Felix says as he takes his mug from Jeongin. “How was it?”
All at once, the others talk over one another, telling them how amazing it was to see the sunrise over the water. Hyunjin wants to go again tomorrow morning, so that he can bring his sketchbook and try to capture it. The water was freezing, Chan and Changbin report, but it was worth it to be there as the sun came up. Jeongin says he stayed on the sand with Minho, but it was just as beautiful from the shore.
“We should definitely go again tomorrow,” Chan says. “You have to see it, it’s so beautiful.”
“Jisung, too,” Changbin says. “If you feel up to it.”
Jisung nods. “Yeah, I think I’ll try. My foot feels like it’s getting better.”
“That’s great!” Chan says.
“It was so empty too; we practically had the whole beach to ourselves. Let’s have some lunch, and we can head back down,” Hyunjin says. “It’s too nice out there to miss it.”
The group agrees to that readily. Jisung starts thinking about how he’s going to get down there. It’s going to be a pain asking the others to help him, but it’ll be worth it. He feels a little disappointed that he missed out this morning, and he doesn’t want that feeling to get any worse. The day inside the house was nice yesterday, but with the sun shining like it is, and energy flowing through everyone – bolstered by Felix’s sudden arrival – he couldn’t stand staying behind again.
When the coffees are finished, everyone starts making moves; Hyunjin and Felix gather up everyone’s dishes, Minho helps Jisung get to his feet and passes him his crutch. By the time Jisung is steady on his feet, there are no mugs left for him to attempt to carry. He frowns.
“Do you need to get changed?” Minho asks.
Jisung looks down at his clothes, then back up at Minho. “Uh, no. Why? Do you think I should?”
He only realises now but Minho’s ears are pretty red. It’s strange, because so far Jisung has only seen that happen when Minho is embarrassed, but nothing like that has happened. At least not that Jisung can figure out.
“No,” Minho says. “Sorry, you’re fine.”
Jisung doesn’t hide his confused look. He’s been trying to be tactful this whole time, but Minho’s behaviour is so strange and jarring that Jisung doesn’t know how to manage it.
“You okay?” he checks.
Minho – just for a moment – settles. He goes still, but not in the awkward, abrupt way that he has been. His eyes turn soft, and he looks at Jisung with an expression that feels far more familiar.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Sorry.”
Jisung smiles at him. Maybe Minho’s just having an off morning or something. Maybe he’s just tired.
He pats Minho’s arm and tries to look reassuring. “It’s all good, hyung. Don’t worry. Maybe you need another coffee.”
Minho smiles, and it doesn’t have quite as much energy behind it as Jisung is used to, but it’s there. “Yeah, maybe.”
They follow the others towards the house. When they get inside, Changbin has already started on the dishes – damnit – but Hyunjin is at his side, dishtowel at the ready. Chan is standing with Felix, by the kitchen island.
“Have you unpacked your stuff already?” Chan asks.
Felix shakes his head. “Nah, it’s still in the car. I wasn’t sure where I’d be sleeping.”
“I’ll come help,” Chan says.
Jisung watches them go, then looks over to Minho. “You think they’ll need a hand?”
Minho shakes his head quickly. “Nah, I think they’re good.”
Jisung hums. Chan never really needs help with heavy lifting, to be fair, and Felix can’t have packed too much for a two-night stay. It’s just that Jisung feels so useless, standing around with his crutch while everyone else helps. He didn’t get to the dishes in time, and there’s no point in pushing in now. He’s eaten food that everyone else has cooked for him, he’s gotten in the way of everyone’s hike. He just wants to be helpful.
“What do you want for lunch?” Minho asks. “I’ll cook something.”
“What does everyone else want?” Jisung asks.
“Let’s see what we have,” Minho says. Already he is shepherding Jisung towards the kitchen. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”
Jisung goes where Minho is directing him, thoughts already shifting to lunch. The salad that Minho made a few days ago was pretty nice, maybe Jisung could help him make that again? Or, if they still have the right ingredients, he could maybe make some noodles to bring down. Are noodles okay to eat on the beach? The sand seems like it will be inconvenient, but it would be for any meal, right? They’ll figure it out.
There is suddenly a thump from outside.
Jisung spins around. Shit, Chan must have dropped something.
“Jisung-ah—”
Jisung slips out of Minho’s reach. It’s actually pretty impressive, given he does it whilst negotiating his crutch. He keeps moving because it seems like Minho might follow him, and Jisung doesn’t want to be stopped again. As he makes his way towards the door, he calls back, over his shoulder.
“It’s okay, hyung, I’ll just go see if they need any help. I’m sure they’re fine, but it’ll be better to check, right?”
He slips out the front door. Minho is being so weird. He can’t figure it out and he has no clue where it’s come from. It’s just so odd, to see a guy who’s been so chill the entire time Jisung has known him, suddenly hovering like this. Something else must be going on. It’s the only explanation. Jisung decides he’ll ask Minho about it when this is done. Not like he had earlier, he’ll ask properly, see if he can talk Minho into explaining himself. Surely, if he knows Jisung is a safe ear to talk to, he’ll tell him.
For now, Jisung puts it out of his mind – it’s not like he’s going to figure it out in this exact second, right? He focuses on catching up to Chan and Felix instead. They probably won’t need him, but he wants to be there, just in case. That thump sounded—
Oh.
Jisung’s thoughts trip, just like he had on that hill the day before yesterday. Almost distantly, like absent, fuzzy pictures that slowly come into focus, Jisung makes sense of the sight before him. Chan, Felix, at the side of the house. No, that’s not right. Chan has Felix pressed against the side of the house. Chan is the one doing the pressing.
They’re kissing.
Oh, they’re really kissing.
One of Chan’s big hands is cradled around the nape of Felix’s neck. It’s funny, actually, cause that’s exactly what Jisung imagined him doing, when he thought about Chan maybe kissing him one day. Isn’t that funny? Chan’s got his other hand on Felix’s waist, holding him so tight that the fabric of Felix’s tee is scrunched up in his palm. Jisung can see the way Chan’s muscles flex as he pulls Felix in close, God, so close, practically devouring him.
And Felix meets him there. He has his arms wrapped around Chan’s neck, the fingers of one hand buried in Chan’s lovely curls, the other dragging slow down Chan’s neck. Their eyes are shut – neither of them has any idea that Jisung is there. They haven’t heard the door behind him, they mustn’t have heard his voice as he came near. They make little noises of their own and perhaps those are enough to drown everything else out. Or maybe, just holding each other is all it takes.
They are entirely caught up in each other, in consuming each other, in kissing.
Jisung feels his chest cave in.
From behind him, a careful hand slips into his own. Jisung barely notices it. He can’t look away. All he can see is Chan and Felix and Felix and Chan and Chan – and Felix.
“Jisung-ah,” Minho says softly, tugging on Jisung’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go back inside.”
.
Notes:
(ahhh jisung that's rough buddy)
smash that subscribe/kudos button and leave a comment if u love me xx
Chapter 7
Notes:
yo okay i'm hella nervous about this chap because lowkey it's the reason i started writing this fic, but also writing it made me dig deep in some personal places so i'm a lil vulnerable about it lmaaaoooo. tws are below.
as always, tysm for reading and for leaving kudos and comments for me. its prob unhealthy for me to be as attached emotionally to the lil ao3 emails as i am rip. but thank u, i really mean it. hope you enjoy the chap.
tw: in-depth description of a panic attack, improper/untrained management of a panic attack. pls pls remember jisung is not a reliable narrator.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
Minho guides Jisung through the house. Jisung doesn’t really register it, honestly. His ankle kinda hurts, but who cares? His thoughts aren’t quite with him. They’re still outside, with Chan and Felix and their desperate, wandering hands.
He feels a little like someone has reached into his chest, carved everything there out and kept it for themselves. Empty, rattled. There is a sense of loss that seems to echo through those empty spaces, filling him up but with nothing good. Jisung can’t name it. Whatever it is, it’s cold and it’s hard and it’s embarrassing.
He’s such a fucking idiot.
Of course, of course, Chan doesn’t want him. Chan doesn’t see him like that, he never has. Jisung has never felt as stupid, as foolish as he does right now. Chan didn’t invite him on this trip so that they could spend time together. Chan invited him as a friend, maybe because they had the space, maybe because Felix couldn’t make it. All those dreams Jisung had – of passing time in Chan’s company, of testing the waters, of maybe telling Chan the truth – God, they’re just fantasies. The fantasies of a dumb little kid who had no clue how to read a room, let alone read another person.
Minho squeezes his hand.
He guides Jisung carefully up the stairs and waits until they are tucked away in their bedroom before he lets go. Numbly, Jisung sits on the end of his bed.
Minho shuts the door and leans against the back of it.
“Whatever you’re thinking right now, don’t,” Minho says.
Jisung starts crying.
He hates himself for it. What else is new? He buries his face in his hands. God, he’s such a loser. Who does this? Who breaks apart because they saw two people kissing? Who starts crying like this? He’s a grown up, for fuck’s sake. What is he doing? Fuck. He’s got to stop. Minho is right fucking there.
“Sorry,” Jisung says, and it spills out of him, sounding wet and sad and so humiliating. “Sorry, God. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I don’t… it’s not—”
It’s not what you think, he wants to say, but God. What does Minho think? What awful, sad, true conclusions must he be drawing, confronted with such a mess?
“I should have told you,” Minho says.
Jisung chokes on his own breath. He laughs and hears how nasty it sounds. “Why would you have told me?” He can’t stop thinking about Felix’s fingers in Chan’s hair. God. Fuck. “It’s not like you knew, why would you possibly—?”
Jisung jerks his head up.
He has no idea what he must look like – he’s not a pretty crier, he knows that much, the rest doesn’t matter, does it? – but he barely thinks about that. No. The only thing he can think about is Minho, and what Minho just said, because…
“Wait,” Jisung says.
Minho swallows. “It’s not a big deal.”
“You knew?” Jisung’s voice shakes. He drags his fingers through his own hair, scraping his nails against his scalp, focusing on the way that it stings. “Fuck. Fuck!”
“Jisung,” Minho says quickly. “It’s okay. So what if I knew? I didn’t say anything.”
Jisung’s skin feels too tight. It feels like there’s bugs creeping between his muscles. There’s a buzzing in his head, not his thoughts, no, fuck, those are all gone, useless, just like him. He’s shaking, but he can’t do anything to stop it. He digs his fingers into the meat of his thigh.
“How did you—?” He has no idea what he’s trying to say. He has no idea about anything, except for – this is bad, God, this is so bad. Minho knows? “What do you mean you knew, how could you—?”
He hasn’t told anyone. He hasn’t said anything to anyone, which means that Minho figured it out for himself. It means that Minho only had to look at Jisung, only had to spend a few days in his company, and he could see the truth. He figured out Jisung’s feeling in a matter of days. That means – that means –
“Does anyone else know?” Jisung asks.
“No.” Minho pushes away from the door, but then hesitates. His hands float awkwardly in the air, hovering there, his fingers grasping for nothing until he curls them into fists. “No, Jisung-ah, I swear. No one else knows.”
Jisung brings his legs up to his chest. His ankle doesn’t like that at all, but he doesn’t give a fuck. He tucks his elbows in on top of his knees and covers his head, trying to take a deep breath, face tucked away in the dark. It doesn’t work. He crawls in on himself, squishing himself together, fighting hard to disappear. Even now, he knows how ridiculous this all is. Minho must think he’s insane.
“Oh, fuck,” Jisung says, right into his knees. “Do you think Chan knows?”
He can already see it. Chan pulling Felix away, waiting until Jisung is out of earshot to whisper the truth to him. Or maybe they’ve been texting about it. Maybe Chan’s been talking about it all week, about how he’s had to dodge Jisung’s advances, and stay out of his way, so that he can escape Jisung’s creepy, unwanted feelings.
Jisung tries to take another breath and gags on it.
A thump tells Jisung that Minho has moved, but Jisung can’t make himself lift up his head. He can’t even make himself breathe. Fuck, he can’t breathe.
“Jisung-ah.” Soft hands smooth over Jisung’s knees. They touch at his elbow and gently start to unravel Jisung’s limbs from the knot he’s tied them into. “He doesn’t. I promise you. Chan doesn’t know. Try and breathe.”
As if Jisung isn’t trying already.
Jisung heaves in a breath – it hurts, it’s too big for his body, his lungs don’t want it – and chokes again.
“Oh, my god, I’m such an idiot,” Jisung says.
“You’re not,” Minho says. “You’re not. Please listen to me. It’s okay. It’s really okay.”
Jisung wrenches his arms out of Minho’s grasp and tries to cover himself up again. It’s barely even a conscious thought. He just needs to hide, he needs to get away, he can’t be here right now. He can’t do anything, he can’t think, he can’t fucking breathe.
“Shit,” he hears Minho say, distantly. “Shit.”
Jisung tucks further into himself. He’s such a loser, he’s such a fucking loser, what was he thinking? Why did he even come?
The bed dips suddenly, and Jisung dips with it, falling into a suddenly empty space. He realises, when he is met by warm arms, that Minho has climbed onto the bed beside him. He has wrapped his arms around him and oh, he’s tucking Jisung’s head beneath his chin. He rubs a hand up and down Jisung’s back, and slowly begins to rock them both.
“It’s okay,” Minho chants, quietly, almost under his breath. “I promise, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re alright.”
It’s warm there. Minho’s t-shirt is soft and, without giving it any thought, Jisung presses his face against the fabric. He can smell laundry detergent and salt air. Minho must have worn this shirt to the beach. Of course, he did. He hasn’t changed, has he? Everyone came back from the beach, they had coffee, and they came inside. When would Minho have had the chance to change?
The thought feels foggy.
In the real world, Minho is still saying, “It’s alright. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
Jisung takes another breath. Minho’s detergent has a funny scent. Clean, crisp. His chest feels warm. Warm and solid. The hand that moves over Jisung’s back is like that too. It’s heavy. His movements are sure. Minho rocks them both back and forth, and never once does Jisung think that they might fall.
He takes another breath.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, against Minho’s body. “Sorry, God, I’m sorry.”
His thoughts are still fuzzy, but they’re coming back a little now. With every inhale, every catch of that soapy clean smell, Jisung feels a little more of himself return. He knows, distantly, what’s happening. His therapist has taught him to recognise all the signs. Turns out all her clever technical lessons aren’t super helpful in the moment, there and then, when he needs them.
“Don’t say sorry,” Minho says. He pets Jisung’s hair. “You’re fine.”
“Sorry,” Jisung says again. “It’s – I’m so stupid, I – it’s fine, it’s nothing.”
Minho must think he’s out of his mind. Other people have, for far less-stupid things. Having a panic attack is one thing. Having a panic attack because a guy doesn’t like you back is another. And yet, here Minho is, wasting his time making Jisung feel better, making sure Jisung breathes, because Jisung couldn’t get himself together enough to fall apart in private.
“Stop apologising,” Minho says. “I’m serious. It’s fine. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
As stupid, as idiotic, as foolish as Jisung feels, he can’t bring himself to pull away. It feels safe here. With his face tucked into Minho’s chest, his head tucked under Minho’s chin. Wrapped up here, it’s almost like Jisung can forget there’s a there to worry about. God, wouldn’t that be nice.
Life isn’t so kind. Minho is still here. Outside, Chan and Felix are still there. Hyunjin and Changbin and Jeongin are all still there. Jisung is still in Chan’s aunts house, six hours away from Seoul, with no way home of his own. None of it will just vanish, no matter how badly Jisung wishes it would. It doesn’t matter what happens now. At some point, Jisung’s going to have to go outside. No one else is going to do it for him. He’s stuck. There’s nothing he can do about any of it.
He squeezes a helpless hand into the fabric of Minho’s shirt. When he takes a breath, he shudders, but he makes it.
Minho keeps rubbing at his back. After a moment, he says, “I swear, Chan doesn’t know a thing.”
Jisung doesn’t move. He keeps his head down. “How could you know that?”
“I just know,” Minho says. “He doesn’t know. If he knew, he’d never have let you find out about him and Felix like that. He’s not like that.”
“What if—” Jisung takes another breath. It goes down easier. “What if this was his way of – I don’t know, letting me down easy?”
He feels it when Minho shakes his head. The move is sure, resolute. “Chan’s not like that. He wouldn’t.”
A part of Jisung wants to argue. A nasty part, the part that sneers all the worst things in his ear, the part that doesn’t let him sleep at night. But – but, Minho has a point.
Chan isn’t like that. Chan’s not cruel like that. He’s the best person Jisung knows.
“You think he would?” Minho asks.
Jisung sniffs. Then he shakes his head. “No.”
Minho nods. Again, Jisung feels it, feels the way it moves them both. “Exactly. He’s not like that. He doesn’t know anything. He’s not – super switched on when it comes to stuff like this.”
A laugh creeps out. It’s not a nice one. Jisung says, “I guess he and I have that in common, huh?” His hands are already tucked in close to his face so it’s easy enough to rub at his eyes. “Fuck. I’m so stupid.”
Minho pats his hair again.
“Jisung-ah,” he says, and it’s gentle, and soft, and all the things Jisung doesn’t deserve. “Come on. It’s okay. It’s not – you have a crush, so what?”
Jisung cringes. He knows Minho can feel it because he stiffens, holding Jisung a little more tightly before he seems to remember himself and lets Jisung go. Suddenly, without even really meaning to, Jisung has lost his safe, warm place. There’s no excuse to stay tucked in Minho’s arms anymore, not when Jisung’s the one to pull away.
He rubs at his eyes again. He can’t look at Minho, he just can’t. A crush, he called it. Just a silly little crush. The sort of thing that high schoolers worry about. That’s all this is. That’s all it takes to break Jisung.
“Don’t say it like that,” Jisung says.
“Sorry,” Minho says. “I just mean – you’re allowed to be upset about this. You like him. It’s – it’s shitty, that he and Felix are – whatever they are – but it’s not your fault.”
“It is.” Jisung sniffs harshly again. Everything in the room seems too bright. The sun is still shining outside. It lights their bedroom up beautifully. Chan’s aunt really has an eye for natural lighting. God, why the fuck is he thinking about Chan’s aunt? “He’s never even – he doesn’t think of me like that. It’s weird. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Minho’s hand twitches, like he wants to reach for Jisung again. He doesn’t. Instead, he says, “It’s not weird. Don’t – it’s normal.”
Jisung scoffs. It’s a wet sound, pathetic. He looks around the room, at anywhere except Minho’s face. This poor guy. He doesn’t even know Jisung, not really, and he’s stuck here, taking care of him. What a joke. What a joke Jisung is.
“I’m serious, Jisung-ah.” Minho does reach for him then. He takes a hold of Jisung’s knee and squeezes it. He seems to be trying to catch Jisung’s eye, but Jisung doesn’t let him. “It’s okay. I mean. It’s shit. It’s gonna feel like shit for a while, but it’s not – it’s not a crime or anything. You’re allowed to have feelings. You’re allowed to like someone. Especially Chan. He’s – he’s easy to like.”
Minho’s voice is so warm, and so gentle.
Jisung can’t help himself. He glances up, and meets soft, open eyes. He can’t bear to look at them. He glances away again, and wipes at his face. “Yeah.”
Minho watches him carefully. Even from his peripherals, Jisung can tell. The way that Minho moves around him, holds him gently – it’s all so cautious. Like he’s afraid Jisung might break if he says the wrong thing.
Not a crazy thing to assume, Jisung admits, given the givens.
“Yeah,” Minho says after a moment. “So. Don’t feel bad about it. It’s just a thing people do. You’re just – being a person. That’s all it is.”
Jisung scrubs at his eyes again. “It sucks.”
Minho hums. “Yeah. It’s like that sometimes.”
“I’m sorry,” Jisung says.
“If you apologise again, I’m gonna kick your ass,” Minho says.
Jisung snorts. It surprises both of them.
“I’m s—” Jisung cuts himself off and wipes his hand over his face again. It’s like he can’t remember any other words. This is so fucking embarrassing. “I just. I feel so stupid.”
“Don’t,” Minho says. “You like him. You’re allowed to be disappointed.”
Hearing Minho say it out loud makes Jisung’s skin crawl. He doesn’t like sharing secrets, he’s never liked when people know his business, and suddenly it’s like Minho can see his insides. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to be here.
“How did you know?” he asks quietly.
Minho takes a pause. Then he says, “I told you, I just – noticed.”
“Noticed how?”
Jisung wants to run through the past few days with a fine-tooth comb. He wishes he could somehow, could trawl through every moment of the last week and see what it looked like to someone on the outside. Did he stare too much? Did he touch Chan too much? Did he smile too much? Did he look too pleased when Chan paid him attention?
God, he probably did all of that.
Minho shifts a little. “I guess I was just paying attention.”
Jisung sighs. He buries his head in his hands again, but this time he doesn’t keep them there. His pulse is coming down. Dread curls through him, heavy and deep and awful, but preferable to that gaping emptiness that pushed in on his lungs. He notices, far later than he should have, that his hands are shaking. They always did after an attack.
He twists his fingers together, holding them firm, trying to settle.
“Is this why you were being weird?” He asks, after a little while.
Minho huffs a laugh. It’s only little, barely a puff of air spilling over his lips. Jisung glances over at him again – just quickly – to see the red of Minho’s ears still lingering.
“I’m always weird,” Minho says. “I didn’t think you minded.”
“I don’t.” It’s easy to say. Jisung doesn’t even have to think about it. He doesn’t mean weird the way Hyunjin might have meant it. He means weird for Minho. “I mean weird-weird. You know. Earlier. Did you actually hear a noise last night?”
Minho ducks his head. After a beat he says, “No.”
Now it’s Jisung’s turn to laugh. God. Fuck. So Minho had known even then, the way that Jisung was about to lose it. He must have been bracing himself, waiting for the first chance to get Jisung alone, to get him out of that situation. He certainly tried enough. Suddenly, all his odd questions make perfect sense. Minho had been trying to get him out of here, to stave this off, to save himself the hassle.
“Right,” Jisung says. He’s so tired.
“I just.” Minho isn’t usually this unsure of his words. Jisung must have really thrown him off. “I wanted to tell you before anything happened. I don’t know. I didn’t know if you knew about their… thing.”
Jisung’s not sure he wants to talk about this. He thinks about how tiny Felix looked, caught up in Chan’s big arms. He thinks about the little noises they made.
Still, he says, “Their thing?”
“Yeah.” Minho seems to have given up on trying to catch Jisung’s eye. He’s followed Jisung’s lead instead, fiddling with his own fingers, just to have something to do. “They’re – it’s not super clear, all the time, if they’re together or not.”
Jisung sniffs again. “What do you mean?”
Minho shrugs. “Sometimes they are and sometimes they’re not. They don’t always tell us when it’s one or the other.”
“Oh,” Jisung says. “So they’re not dating?”
“I don’t know,” Minho says. “Don’t know if they know.”
They both sit with that, just for a little while. Jisung thinks and he thinks, and he thinks. Chan are Felix aren’t properly together then, but they’re something. Jisung knows they grew up together. That means they’re something much bigger and much older than whatever Jisung and Chan are.
“I thought—”
Jisung snaps his mouth shut. God, what does it even mater?
“You thought what?” Minho asks.
Jisung looks at him again. He doesn’t think about it, just does it, and suddenly he’s caught in kind eyes again. Looking at Minho, it feels easier to admit the humiliating places his brain can take him.
“I thought maybe he was just hiding it, you know? That he’s had a – Felix, this whole time.” Despite what Minho has said, Jisung can’t help but imagine it. Chan in their studio, carefully avoiding Jisung’s feelings, treading around them like a landmine. Maybe he likes the way that Jisung writes enough to do something like that. Maybe he wants to keep Jisung around so they can work together, and he didn’t want to risk losing that by letting Jisung down. “Like. What if he knew it would upset me, so he didn’t say anything because of that, you know?”
Minho doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t look at Jisung with pity or anything of the like. He just listens. When Jisung is finished he says, “I don’t think that’s it.”
“Chan would do that.” Jisung says it confidently. There’s no doubt in his mind. He might not have known about Felix, but that doesn’t mean he knows nothing. There are some things about Chan that are so basic, so foundational, it would be impossible to miss. His empathy is one of them. “He’d do it if it meant he didn’t have to hurt my feelings.”
Minho hums. “He might. But if he had, he wouldn’t do this. If this was all some big plan, he’d have told Felix about it, and they’d have been more careful, don’t you think?”
Jisung takes a deep breath.
It makes sense, kind of. It’s a solid argument. It won’t help with Jisung’s nerves – no, he knows those will keep him awake for months, playing this shitshow over and over again in his mind – but for now he lets the logic convince the reasonable parts of his brain.
He gives a little ‘mhm,’ giving in. He doesn’t have the energy for anything more.
They sit there for a while longer, neither of them saying anything. Now that they’re quiet, Jisung can hear the sounds of the house moving around them. Changbin and Hyunjin are talking in the kitchen. It sounds like Jeongin is there too. He’s laughing at something. Jisung can’t hear Chan or Felix. They might still be outside. Maybe they’ve come in already, maybe they crept down the hallway while Jisung cried, and tried hard not to eavesdrop. Or maybe they heard it all, and they shot each other awkward looks, before moving on to Chan’s room.
God. This fucking sucks.
As if he knows exactly what Jisung is thinking, Minho asks, “What do you want to do?”
“Die,” Jisung jokes.
“Don’t say that,” Minho says.
“Sorry,” Jisung says.
Minho lets him get away with that one. “I can tell them you bumped your ankle or something, if you don’t want to go to the beach anymore.”
Jisung thinks of Chan and Felix, out on the beach, shining in the sun, and his stomach turns. He nods quickly. It turns out there is a benefit to fucking up your ankle. It’s a pretty good excuse to get out of things.
“Do you want me to stay?” Minho asks.
Jisung shakes his head. He wants to cry some more. He wants to curl up in a ball and pretend none of this has happened. He wants to hide under his covers and never talk to anyone downstairs ever again.
“I kinda just want to be alone, I think,” he says, instead of any of that.
Minho gets to his feet. He offers Jisung another gentle smile. “Alright. Do you want me to bring you up some lunch?”
Jisung shakes his head.
“How about I save you some, and I’ll text you when we’ve left,” Minho offers. “That way you can come down and have some while we’re all out.”
Jisung thinks about that. A few brownies really aren’t enough – he already feels hungry again. At the same time, he doesn’t feel like eating food again, ever. What a conundrum. At least, with Minho’s offer, he won’t have to talk to anyone for a while.
“That would be cool,” Jisung says. “Thanks hyung.”
It earns him another smile.
“Of course,” Minho says. “Have a good rest. Let me know if you need anything.”
He doesn’t waste any more time. He slips out the door quietly, looking like nothing has happened at all. Jisung thinks, even with everything that’s happened, that his secrets are safe with Minho. He won’t tell anyone.
Jisung contents himself with that. There’s nothing else he can really do, after all. He shuts the window blinds and flops onto his side, jarring his ankle as he does and hissing. He flips the edge of his blanket over, just enough that it covers his head. Then it’s good. It’s safe. He cries.
.
The others go to the beach. Jisung doesn’t know how long they’re gone, only that he’s still in bed when they return. He listens to them all – Hyunjin chattering excitedly about something, Changbin and Jeongin laughing. There’s a new voice mixed in with the rest, a wonderful loud laugh that Jisung can only assume belongs to Felix. It fits in perfect place, a cacophony of happy sounds that instantly fill the house with life.
And Jisung is still tucked away upstairs.
There is a light tap on the door, a soft warning, and then Minho slips inside. He is windswept and sun-kissed, a rosy colour to his cheeks that suggests maybe they forgot the sunscreen this time around. Jisung can see dots of sand on his legs, but otherwise he looks relatively clean. He must have washed away the worst of it in the yard before coming inside.
“Hey,” Minho says.
Jisung swallows around a dry throat. It’s pathetic, how hoarse his voice is. “Hey.”
Minho puts some of his things in his bag, then comes around to the head of his bed to plug his phone into its charger. He grabs a stray t-shirt and pair of shorts from the end of the bed.
“You mind if I change in here?”
Jisung shakes his head. He pulls the blankets over his head, which serves the dual purpose of offering Minho some privacy, and Jisung a place to hide. Quite convenient, honestly. He takes this last moment to brace himself. In a minute, he’s going to have to get up and get his shit together. He’s going to have to go downstairs and pretend everything is fine, like he hadn’t seen anything outside this morning, like Minho hasn’t been forced to watch him breakdown over nothing.
There is another soft tap. This time, it’s Minho’s fingers, lightly touching Jisung’s shoulder through his blankets.
Time’s up then. With a last, deep breath, Jisung pops his head out from beneath the blankets. Minho is crouched near the bedside table, looking at him with a kind, open expression. Jisung searches it for the pity, for the annoyance that must be lingering beneath the surface but – Minho is a good actor. He keeps it all hidden.
“Sorry,” Jisung says.
Minho huffs.
“How was the beach?” Jisung asks.
“Hot,” Minho says. “Sandy. Like a beach.”
“Sounds fun,” Jisung says.
“The guys are still figuring out plans for dinner,” Minho says. “Think it might be takeout again. You have a preference?”
Jisung shakes his head. “Whatever everyone else decides.” He forces himself to move, shifting, stretching out of the little ball he’s curled up into over the past few hours. His joints creak. His foot hurts. When he sits up, his vision clouds a little bit, not expecting the movement. He should drink some water. “Sorry,” he says again, even though he knows he’s not supposed to. “I’ll be down in a bit.”
Minho watches him. He holds the edge of Jisung’s mattress, his fingers pressing into the plush. His head tilts a little to the side.
“Do you want to?” he asks.
Jisung frowns. “Want to what?”
“Come downstairs,” Minho says. “You don’t have to.”
Jisung appreciates the thought, but he can’t quite hold in his laugh. It’s quiet, defeated. “Yeah, hyung. I kinda do.”
He’s here for another two days. He can’t go home – Chan drove him here – and he can’t hide away in his room the entire time either. There’s no other choice. The only option he has is to go re-join the group and pretend everything’s fine. Pretend he hasn’t humiliated himself.
But Minho says, “You don’t. Not if you don’t want to.”
Jisung stares at him, bewildered.
“I’ll cover for you,” Minho says. “The guys won’t care. I told them your ankle was hurting and that you wanted a rest, they all understood. I could just say it’s not any better. They might – I mean, they’ll want to come check on you, probably, but when that’s done, they’ll leave you alone. Just tell me what you want to do. I’ll figure the rest out.”
Jisung conjures up images of everyone at his bedside, crowding around him, asking more questions about his foot. He can only imagine how worried Chan will be. Or maybe he won’t. Maybe Chan will shoot Felix a look, a knowing look, and they’ll hover awkwardly around the truth of it all.
Jisung cringes at the thought. Without meaning to, he says, “I want to go home.”
God.
He’s such a loser. He wants to suck the words back in immediately. He sounds too much like a toddler, on a sleepover and overwhelmed. Crying out for his parents, too afraid to sleep somewhere new. He’s supposed to be an adult, for fuck’s sake. What the fuck is he doing?
Minho doesn’t reply straight away. His smile is still there, but it’s a little sadder now. Jisung looks quickly away, before the pity can peek through. He can only imagine what Minho is going to say. He meant it like – what does Jisung want for dinner? What does Jisung want to do tonight? Does he need more time to sort himself out before putting on his big-boy pants? He didn’t mean it like –
“Alright,” Minho says.
“What?” Jisung says.
“Alright,” Minho says again. “I’ll take you home.”
Jisung gapes at him. He can’t help it. He can hear what Minho is saying but the words don’t make sense.
“You can’t,” Jisung says.
“Why not?”
“You don’t have a car!” Jisung very distinctly remembers their shared six-hour journey here. It’s not like they teleported here. Minho got picked up by Chan the same way Jisung did. Neither of them has a way out of here. “And we can’t just leave – it’s six hours, you can’t just drive me home—”
“Sure, I can,” Minho says. “I’ll borrow Chan’s car. He won’t mind.”
Jisung’s heartrate is up again. A spark of cowardly hope bursts to life in his chest at the thought of a lifeline – a way out. He tries hard to suffocate it. He can’t start thinking like that, he cannot make Minho do this, that would be insane –
“Jisung-ah.” Minho touches Jisung’s knee and squeezes, just lightly. “If you don’t want to be here anymore, then that’s that. It’s simple, isn’t it?”
“No,” Jisung hisses. “I shouldn’t just – run away, I should—”
“Why not?”
“What?”
“Why can’t you run away? You’re sad. This thing with Chan and Felix, it’s made you sad. And that’s okay.” Minho says it like it’s obvious. Like it’s straightforward, the only foregone conclusion. Like people haven’t been telling Jisung all his life that there are some things you just have to put up with – that being an adult is being uncomfortable, is hiding what you want, is keeping everyone happy. “If you wanted to stay anyway, then that would be fine, but you don’t. That’s also fine. I’ll take you home.”
“I don’t – I can’t make you do that.”
Minho shrugs. “You’re not. I’m offering.”
Jisung stares at him. He doesn’t know what to say.
It’s six hours. Six hours in a borrowed car, six hours this late in the afternoon. They wouldn’t get back to Seoul until ten or eleven at the earliest. They’ll probably be driving in the morning. They can’t do this.
“I’m not ruining your trip,” Jisung says.
“You’re right,” Minho says, easy, like it’s nothing. “You’re not.”
“You’ll miss the rest of the week.”
“Maybe. I can always come back if I want to. It’s just driving.”
“I can’t make you do that,” Jisung says again.
“I’m not asking what you can do,” Minho says. “I’m asking what you want. Jisung-ah, what do you want?”
Jisung thinks about it. He thinks about going downstairs and putting on his mask for everyone. He thinks about watching Chan and Felix together and pretending everything is fine. Then he thinks about his room, at home, and his bed. He thinks about being tucked away from all of this.
He looks at Minho. He searches his face for any sign that Minho doesn’t mean it, that Minho wants Jisung to lie again, to keep everyone happy. He finds nothing.
Quietly, he says, “I want to go.”
Minho nods. “So let’s go.”
From there, things move astonishingly quickly. It seems that Minho doesn’t want to give Jisung the chance to overthink things – although he probably doesn’t know that that’s a losing battle. He helps Jisung out of bed so that he can start to pack his things. He vanishes downstairs briefly, to let everyone know about their plans. In the moment he’s left alone, Jisung panics because of course he does. He feels like such an idiot, reacting like this, to something so small. Is he really making Minho take him all the way home? Who the fuck does he think he is?
Minho returns before he can spiral. “I told them your foot is hurting too much. They’re bummed, but they understand. Chan says it’s cool if we take his car.”
The relief Jisung feels is awful.
“Have you got all your stuff?” Minho asks.
“I think so,” Jisung says.
His heart pounds as Minho helps him down the stairs. The others are all gathered around the table by the pool. As they approach the back door, Minho presses in a little closer behind Jisung. He doesn’t say anything, but Jisung feels bolstered by it regardless. Just by the strong, warm, presence at his back.
“Hey.” Chan gets to his feet as soon as he sees them. His eyes are big and round and lovely. God, he’s just so lovely. “Minho said your foot is hurting again. Did you bump it or something?”
“Uh, yeah.” Jisung glances at Minho. They probably should have confirmed their story before coming out here. “I think when we were packing up after breakfast.”
It’s the only thing that makes sense, especially given the way Jisung had been talking before everything happened. His foot really does feel much better than it had. He feels like absolute shit for lying.
“That sucks,” Chan says.
“Yeah,” Jisung says. “You’re really okay with us taking your car?”
“Of course, man,” Chan says. “I can always get a ride with Felix.”
“Right,” Jisung says.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t get the chance to hang out with you more.” Summoned, Felix appears at Chan’s side and God, they do look great together. It’s like Felix was made to be tucked underneath Chan’s arm. Jisung thinks about them kissing again, then tries very hard to think of literally anything else. “We should do something when we’re all back, if you want?”
Jisung swallows. His smile probably looks a little strained, but he hopes no one is looking that closely. If they are, maybe they’ll put it down to pain. He’s not sure he wants to hang out with Felix, not really, but – none of this is his fault. He can’t be blamed for Jisung reading into things that weren’t there. And he was so nice this morning.
So Jisung says, “Yeah, that sounds cool.”
Felix grins like the sun.
Jisung feels like a piece of shit.
“Me too, please!” Hyunjin calls out. “I need you to teach me your Minho-wrangling ways.”
Jeongin snorts. “Yeah, good luck.”
Minho eyes Hyunjin dangerously, while everyone else laughs. Jisung ducks his head. He’s not sure he likes that joke very much, especially given he’s about to make Minho drive him six-hours home in the middle of his holiday. He hasn’t wrangled anything. Minho has watched him fall to pieces and is a nice enough guy to help him do that out of sight.
“Don’t forget we said we’ll meet up next week,” Changbin says. “I’ll hunt you down at the studio if I have to. I gotta pick your brain for those bars.”
“Yeah, course,” Jisung says. The thought of going back to the studio makes his stomach turn, but so does the idea of never going again. He doesn’t want to lose what he has with Chan. Even if it isn’t exactly what Jisung imagined. It’ll be okay when he gets home. At least that way he’ll have a week to prepare himself to face them again. To behave like a normal person. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“We should get going,” Minho says. “The sun’ll go down soon.”
“Yeah, yeah, absolutely.” Chan reaches out and pulls Jisung into a hug. His embrace is as warm and as comforting as it’s always been, but Jisung stiffens anyway. He doesn’t want this, not when Chan doesn’t want it – not the way Jisung does. “Text me when you get home, okay? And let me know how your foot goes.”
“I will, hyung,” Jisung says, when Chan releases him. “Thanks so much for letting me come along.”
“Anytime,” Chan says. “I mean it.”
Hyunjin nods enthusiastically behind them. “Yeah, you’re in now. Don’t go thinking we’ll let you go easy.”
The others make an assortment of positive noises, all agreeing easily with Hyunjin. Jisung would have been over the moon to hear it yesterday, or the day before, or literally any other day of this trip. Tonight, it makes his stomach twist. These guys are all so great. They’ve been so welcoming, and this is how Jisung pays it back? By turning tail and running? Just because Chan doesn’t see him the way Jisung wants him to? God, they’d laugh so much if they knew the truth.
Horrifically, his eyes start to sting.
Minho rubs a hand over Jisung’s shoulder. “Okay. We’re going. We’ll text you guys.”
“Drive safely!” Felix says.
The others agree. As Jisung and Minho wave a final goodbye, they are followed by a chorus of ‘pull over if you have to!’, and ‘make sure you take snacks for the road!’ and ‘keep us updated!’ Chan triple checks that Minho has the keys he needs, and they talk quickly about where Minho is going to leave Chan’s car. Soon enough, Jisung finds himself being shepherded through the house by Minho again. Chan follows them out, waits patiently while they get their stuff in the car, and waves a goodbye as they pull out of the drive.
Jisung slumps into the passenger seat. He’s been in bed practically all day, and he’s still exhausted.
“You can sleep if you want,” Minho says.
Jisung hums and shuts his eyes.
.
Jisung sleeps on and off during the drive. Every time he wakes up, he offers to take over the driving, but Minho refuses. He seems content; his music playing in the background, his fingers occasionally tapping on the steering wheel. Jisung knows he’s being shitty. He should try harder to stay awake, to come up with something that they can talk about that will keep Minho occupied. Minho doesn’t complain, but every time Jisung wakes up, he feels worse about it. About halfway through, Minho gets Jisung to help him queue up a podcast episode, but he doesn’t ask for anything else. And even though he’s the one driving, the one doing all the work, he's also the one to reassure Jisung.
“I’m fine,” he says, time and time again, whenever Jisung apologises. He seems to have figured out that getting Jisung to stop is a losing battle. “Seriously. I’ve driven way longer than this in one go. It’s not a problem.”
Still, the guilt stews. By the time they reach familiar streets, and Minho starts asking Jisung for specific directions, Jisung is desperate to get out of the car. Everything is too heavy for him; too big. He’s taken advantage of Minho, he’s stomped all over Chan’s hospitality, and he’s had a breakdown over nothing. He just wants to crawl away – so that Minho can finally be free of him.
But when they pull over, Minho puts the car in park.
“I can go in on my own,” Jisung says.
Minho shoots him a look. “Not on that ankle you can’t. It’s fine. I’ll get your stuff.”
And so even when they reach Jisung’s front door, he’s still burdening Minho with his shit. Minho’s right. There’s no way Jisung could have walked upstairs on his own, especially with his bag in tow. Jisung’s dorm is on the third floor, and his building doesn’t have an elevator. If Minho wasn’t here, Jisung would be screwed.
When he opens his room door, he thinks he might finally be able to set Minho free.
Minho follows him inside without pausing. “Where do you want your stuff?”
“Anywhere,” Jisung says. “Sorry. Thank you.”
Minho sighs but doesn’t tell him off. He drops the bag at the end of Jisung’s bed, then looks around the dorm. It’s tiny – Jisung knows that all university dorms are, but his building feels especially unimpressive. It’s one of the older ones on campus, and anywhere you look, you can see something breaking.
“You have a shared kitchen?” Minho asks.
Jisung nods. “Yeah, it’s down the hall.”
“You got any food?”
“Hyung,” Jisung says. “You don’t have to get me food. You’ve already done more than enough. I swear, I’m okay now.”
But Minho stands firm. “You haven’t eaten anything all day.” He’s right. He knows Minho left some food out for him, but Jisung hadn’t been able to find the energy to go and search it out. They’d snacked a little in the car – Minho had raided their supplies for a packet of chips and some chocolate – but aside from that, Jisung’s working off three brownies alone. “At least tell me you have noodles or something.”
Minho would back off if Jisung told him too. There’s a part of Jisung that knows that, and maybe it’s that part that doesn’t want to put up a fight. Minho has been so wonderful. He’s done so much for Jisung today, without any reason at all. And it’s nice; being looked after. So even though Jisung feels like an idiot, and even though he wants to be out of Minho’s hair as fast as possible – he finds a pack of instant noodles.
“See, wasn’t that easy?” Minho says. “Give it to me. You should have a shower. I won’t be long.”
He leaves, ducking out the door and glancing both ways down the corridor before heading left, towards the kitchen. Jisung stands still for a moment after he goes; processing, thinking – then decides to just stop thinking at all. He does as he’s told. He showers and he dries his hair and on the other side of it, he feels a little more human.
When he comes out of his bathroom – at least he has one of those to himself – Minho is waiting, sitting on the edge of the bed. There are two steaming bowls of noodles on Jisung’s working desk.
“I made some for me too, I hope that’s okay,” Minho says.
“Dude, of course it is,” Jisung says.
They eat in relative silence. It’s awkward, at least it is for Jisung, and he searches for something to say. He fails, just like he had in the car. Minho doesn’t seem to care. He just sits on the end of Jisung’s bed and chews, keeping an eye on Jisung while he finishes his meal.
When they’re both done, Jisung takes a deep breath. “I don’t know how to thank you for today.”
Minho shrugs. “Don’t. There’s no need.”
Jisung laughs, small and dry. Everything that Minho’s done today, and he doesn’t even want a thank you? Is he a saint? It’s either than or he really wants to get away. That’s probably it. He’s spent more time with Jisung today than anyone should be forced to. It’s about time he makes his escape.
“I wanted to give you this,” Minho says. He pulls out a slip of paper and passes it to Jisung, who unfolds it to find a string of numbers. A phone number. “It’s mine. I realised we didn’t get the chance to swap them before today.”
“Oh, yeah,” Jisung says.
He stares at the number and tries hard, so hard, to figure out why Minho’s giving it to him.
“Text me if you need anything, okay?” Minho says.
God. He must think Jisung is such a loser. There must be something in Jisung’s face that betrays how close he is to falling apart again. Something that tells Minho he needs a safety blanket, that he can’t be trusted to look after himself.
“Right,” Jisung says. “Okay.”
“I had a good week with you, Jisung-ah,” Minho says. “I hope it wasn’t all bad.”
Jisung shakes his head, albeit a little slow. “It wasn’t.”
Minho gives him a small smile. “I’ve texted the others, they know we’re home. You should get some sleep. I bet it won’t feel so awful in the morning.”
It will, but Jisung doesn’t need to say that. He doesn’t need to bother Minho with his shit anymore.
“Thanks, hyung.”
It’s strange. This morning started so well. Barely twelve hours ago Jisung was by the ocean, hanging out with new friends, feeling happier than he had in a long time. It seems crazy that things could chance so suddenly, could go badly so quickly. It’s his fault. If he’d been stronger about Chan and Felix, he and Minho could still be there now. Minho wouldn’t have had to give up his holiday. They’d still be having fun.
“I’ll go now,” Minho says. “You don’t need anything else?”
Jisung shakes his head. “You’ve done more than enough.”
Minho shrugs, like it’s easy. Like driving all this way, like taking care of Jisung, like covering for him – like all of it was nothing. There isn’t a trace of pity in his eyes – even though Jisung searches for it, and he does, because Minho must be thinking it, right? What else could he possibly think of this boy, this kid, that he’s had to wrap up in bubbles and ferry all the way home?
Minho opens the door, but stops, just for a moment. He smiles. It’s gentle, just like him, and soft and warm and careful.
“Don’t be a stranger, Jisung-ah,” he says.
Then he’s gone.
.
Notes:
help i'm in love with lee minho and i think you can all tell
i think i might have taken steps away from what you guys were expecting with this story but i hope you guys will trust me with it. jisung coming home has been in the plan from day 1, so i hope u guys are keen to stick with me to see where we go from here
on another note, i am still overseas rn (thailand and its AMAZING). writing has slowed a little, and I'm going to try and post next chap on time but there's a chance it might be a little late. I promise, if it is, i'm here and working on getting the next chap ready for you. tysm for reading xxx
Chapter 8
Notes:
lmaaaoooooo after all that last week i'm a day early slay
wee surprise in this chap. hope u love it x
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
Being stressed at twenty-four feels a lot worse than being stressed at nineteen.
Of course, nineteen-year-old Jisung would have had a meltdown if anyone had told him so. He would have screamed and shouted from the rooftops that no one understood what he was going through. No one felt what he felt. No one had to go through the things he had to go through.
But twenty-four-year-old Jisung, stressed out of his goddamn mind and late to a very important meeting, feels uniquely qualified to tell his younger self to shut up. So what if he missed a couple of university deadlines? So what if some snarky kid in his class didn’t understand Jisung’s lyrics. None of that mattered. What matters is getting to the studio on time – before their client gets fed up with waiting and storms out – before their boss realises that Jisung’s the one who’s screwing it up -- before Chan and Changbin murder him.
As he rushes down the street, he stumbles past a group of people and comes dangerously close to losing his tray of coffees. By some miracle, he rescues them before they can properly spill. His heartrate thunders. He can’t lose them now, not when he’s gone to all this work to collect them.
It’s Chan’s fault, actually, if you think about it.
Jisung had been ready, at the studio, right where he was supposed to be, half an hour ago. He’d prepped all his notes, done his final checks of the track, and was passing the time scrolling the phone, waiting for their client to arrive. Today, they were meeting with a rep from another company, who was considering contracting them on to help with an album for one of their new girl groups. It was a huge opportunity – something the three of them had been dreaming about for years now.
Of course, only fifteen minutes before the rep was due to show up, Chan had gasped.
“We should get them coffee,” he’d said, suddenly urgent. “That’s what they’d be used to, right? Fuck. Why didn’t we think of that?”
Jisung had glanced at the time on his phone. The coffee shop was only two blocks away.
“We’ve got time,” he’d said, like an idiot.
“You reckon?” Chan had said.
“Yeah, of course,” Jisung had said, like an idiot.
It turns out he’d been wrong. The line at the coffee shop just after lunch was very different from the line at half-past-six, which was when Jisung usually got into the studio. He liked to come in early to dodge the worst of the rush on the trains, which is something he should have thought about before getting to the café at its busiest time. He’d been practically ready to vibrate out of his skin while waiting in the line. It had felt like a lifetime. He hadn’t been able to pull his gaze away from the clock.
He'd finally been able to order with about six minutes to spare. Making the coffees took three. Getting back to the office was usually a five-minute walk, which is why Jisung is hoofing it, his head empty save for the running loop of: do not fall, do not fall, do not fall.
By some miracle, he makes it to the studio with the coffees intact. The same cannot be said for his lungs, but fuck it, who needs those?
When he skids up to their meeting room door, he is only a minute late. Chan and Changbin are inside already, looking a vague mix of panicked and pale. Their client is nowhere to be seen.
“Is she here?” Jisung says, bursting through the door.
“She needed to go to the bathroom,” Chan says.
“Thank fuck,” Jisung says.
Changbin motions anxiously for Jisung to come inside, hissing, “Quick, quick, she’ll be back any second.”
He’s not wrong. Jisung’s ass has only just hit his seat when the door opens again, and the rep walks inside. She’s wearing incredibly tall heels, that click with foreboding as she approaches. She catches sight of the coffee.
“Oh, you brought drinks?” She reveals a pink traveller’s mug. “That’s so nice of you. You didn’t have to. I brought my own.”
Jisung turns a lethal glare in Chan’s direction. Chan at least has the decency to look briefly sorry before he forgets Jisung completely, turning all of his attention to the pitch. Begrudgingly, Jisung does the same.
Despite their inauspicious start, the meeting ends up going quite well. The rep is happy with the tracks that they show her, and says it fits well with their plans for the group’s debut. She says specifically that she’s impressed by the composition and the lyrics, and that she thinks their sound might be just the thing they’re looking for. Jisung has to work very hard not to look at Chan or Changbin when she says this. If he does, he knows the grin he’s trying desperately to stifle will break through.
They wrap everything up very professionally – Jisung and Changbin had practiced their handshakes all morning – and wait diligently for the rep to leave the building before they start congratulating themselves.
“I think that went well,” Chan says. “She was nice!”
“She was scary as fuck,” Jisung says.
“She was cool, shut up,” Changbin says. “And she seems actually interested, which is the important thing here.”
“You bet,” Chan says. “You reckon she says that to everyone?”
“Let’s not think about that,” Jisung says.
Then he thinks about it for the next three hours.
It would have been longer, too, if it wasn’t for the email that comes through to their boss at around four that afternoon. They’ve received an official offer for the track, as well as a request that they maybe consult on a few other wips that the band members have been working on, which is far more than they’d been hoping for.
Chan reads the email aloud, looking vaguely shell-shocked.
“Are you serious?” Changbin’s wide eyes dart between Chan and Jisung, his face blank like he doesn’t dare believe it.
Jisung practically shoulder charges Chan in his efforts to see the laptop screen himself. Changbin claws at his shoulders, shoving him so that he can see too. For a beat, it is dead silent while they all read the email again. And then again, for good measure.
Then Chan whoops. He leaps up into the air, fist first. That’s all it takes for the shouting to begin. Between the three of them, all jumping up and down, grasping for each other, cackling, elated, unbelieving – their small studio becomes too loud far too quickly. Fuck it, it’s soundproofed.
“Holy shit!! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”
“No way! No fucking way!”
Jisung lets out his longest, “Yo!!!” ever.
It's probably not the most professional reaction, but they’re still new to this, okay?
“Drinks tonight,” Chan says when all three of them have their feet back on the ground. He has one hand on Jisung’s shoulder, the other on Changbin’s. His clenched grip says very clearly, this is not a request. “Text the others. We’ve got to celebrate.”
As is the case with almost anything Chan sets his mind to, the next parts happen very quickly. They wrap up the work that they have left – mostly thanking their boss for the opportunity and making sure they’ve done everything they need to let the rep know that they’re taking up the offer. Chan calls their favourite bar and reserves a table. Changbin extends an invite to the group chat. In what feels like the blink of an eye, Jisung is seated in a plush leather booth, a drink in his hand, feeling a little winded.
It's just so – so much.
It isn’t right to say that Jisung never imagined this for them. It’s what they’ve been working for this whole time, isn’t it? How could they do that with any authenticity if Jisung had never thought they’d reach this point? Everything 3Racha has made since their forming has been created with their blood, sweat, and tears. Every track, every single one of them, was built on sleepless nights and hours of overtime and a relentless perfectionism that sometimes made Jisung’s bones ache. If any of them had thought of this as some sort of pipe dream, they wouldn’t have made it this far. Hell, they wouldn’t have made it through the door.
So, it’s not quite disbelief that has Jisung so stunned. It’s more like – it’s like – he can’t believe it’s real. It feels as if Chan could take hold of Jisung’s shoulders, shake him a little, and all of this would fade away. A part of him is waiting for some sort of alarm to wake him. He’s pinched himself a few times to no avail.
But if he isn’t going to wake up anytime soon, he might as well enjoy it, right?
When the three of them are together like this, it’s easy for them to take off talking. They dive into it, discussing how they should approach the band members when they meet them, how they might help them fine-tune the unfinished tracks that still need a little bit of work. They might as well have not left the studio at all. If it weren’t for the alcohol between them, making them all a little louder than they usually are (which is loud) Jisung would have forgotten they moved at all.
Then a pair of arms snake around Changbin, who is sitting at the end of the booth. They smooth up over his biceps before gliding down to his pecs.
Hyunjin is here.
“My boys! Jagi.” He hooks his chin over Changbin’s shoulder and grins at Jisung and Chan. “You did it!”
Jisung lifts his drink high. “We did it!”
“I’m so proud of you!” Hyunjin says it to them all, but then he turns and presses a messy kiss to Changbin’s cheek. He’s grinning, looking wicked, clearly trying to be annoying – but completely blind to the way it makes Changbin glow. He rubs Changbin’s arm again. “I hope you’re proud too, you worked so hard.”
“Thank you,” Changbin says, but in that tiny way of his, the one that is reserved for whenever Hyunjin is nearby, turning him shy.
Chan takes a gulp of his drink, then puts it down a touch too loudly, snagging their attention. “It’s not over yet, though, we still have to meet with the band and – you know – sometimes these things need to just click, and if that doesn’t happen, they’ll be well within their rights to withdraw the contract, and then – ”
“No!” Changbin bats his hands through the air, hissing at Chan. He is far louder now than he had been moments before, but Hyunjin clings onto him persistently. “None of that! We can worry about all that later.”
It’s good advice, but Jisung’s gonna worry about it right now, thank you very much.
“Right,” Hyunjin says. “This should be celebrating time. Is Felix coming?”
Chan glances at the time on his phone. “He’s on his way. Shouldn’t be too long.”
“I think he’s getting Seungmin on the way,” Jisung says. He’s not one-hundred percent sure on their plan – he’d seen Felix extend the offer in their group chat when they’d been working out where to meet – but Seungmin had simply replied ‘cool,’ so it was hard to say how far the plan had come along. The studio where Felix works is pretty close to Jisung and Seungmin’s apartment, and Seungmin has been home all day, working on his thesis. It’s impossibly easy for Felix to get his ride to swing by and collect him.
“Oh yeah!” Chan says. “Well, either way, they won’t be long. Should we order a round for them too?”
The answer is, of course, yes. By the time Felix and Seungmin do arrive, there is a drink each waiting for them, as well as a group of friends who are slightly rowdier than they had been half an hour prior. Felix greets them all with that bright, bright smile of his and hugs everyone he can get his hands on. Jisung lets himself be rocked back and forth, soaking in that Felix-energy and letting it soothe his nerves. Maybe they should worry about everything later. Maybe today they do deserve a little treat.
Seungmin, by contrast, holds out a fist. “Congrats.”
Jisung bumps it. “Thanks, dude.”
Seungmin offers the same to Chan and Changbin, before taking a seat beside Jisung. Felix squishes past Hyunjin and Changbin so that he can tuck himself in at Chan’s side. He isn’t as touchy as Hyunjin had been, but he does take Chan’s arm and haul it into his space. He holds Chan’s hand with one of his own, their fingers twisting together in Felix’s lap, and twines his other arm under Chan’s bicep. He rubs his thumb over the skin there. Jisung watches them fondly. It’s been years. The affection between Chan and Felix is so natural, so stable, so reliable, that it has faded into part of the background. If Jisung feels a pang in his chest, it's not for Chan himself. No, there, he has more than learnt his lesson. It’s just a little lame that Chan and Changbin have partners like this, people who wear their love loudly and proudly on their sleeve, and Jisung’s got –
“Yo, I meant to tell you.” Seungmin leans into Jisung’s space and says, “Internet bill came in. You owe me.”
His housemate.
“Sure,” Jisung says. “Just message me how much.”
Seungmin smirks. “Already did.”
Jisung rolls his eyes. He met Seungmin in his third year of university, when he’d finally become fed up with dorm living and found a room available to rent off-campus. In hindsight, the room ad was hilarious. Seungmin had written formally, direct in this the same way he was in all things. Room for rent, with adjoining bathroom. Applicants must be clean and quiet. Interested parties please text this number. Jisung was neither clean nor quiet, but he had been an interested party, and one out of three was good enough for him. He’d managed to hide the truth from Seungmin for a solid few months, before the cracks began to show. Thankfully, by the time Seungmin saw how messy Jisung’s bathroom was, Jisung had already hassled his way into Seungmin’s good books. At least, that’s what Jisung tells everyone. Seungmin insists he couldn’t be bothered looking for anyone new.
Whatever. Seungmin can lie all he likes, Jisung knows he likes him. He can’t escape now.
“I can’t believe this,” Felix says. “It’s like, it almost doesn’t feel real, you know? You guys have been working for this for so long.”
“Yeah,” Chan says. “It’s crazy.”
“Imagine going back in time and telling those SoundCloud artists they’d be officially producing in a few years’ time.” Hyunjin rubs at Changbin’s shoulder. “I think your head would have exploded.”
“Oh, no question,” Changbin says. “I’d have laughed in your face.”
“I think I would have fainted,” Jisung says.
“Pretty standard, then,” Seungmin says.
Jisung glares at him.
“It’s just so wild, if you think about it,” Felix says. “Seeing you guys grow like this. Like, I can still remember when you and Changbin started making stuff together.” He slaps Chan’s arm as a memory seems to occur to him. “And when you started talking about Jisung, when you were helping out with his class, remember? You guys have come so far.”
Hyunjin leans across the table, catching Felix’s eye and nodding with glee. “Do you remember when Jisung-ie showed Bin-ah his stuff for the first time? It was so funny, it’s like they forgot the rest of us were even there.”
Changbin grumbles. “We weren’t that bad.”
Jisung casts his mind back. He’s pretty sure they were.
“I don’t think I was there for that,” Felix says. He squints as he thinks and it’s the cutest fucking thing ever. “I got there the day that Jisung had to leave, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” Hyunjin says.
Abruptly, Jisung feels very ready for the conversation to move on.
“Why’d you have to leave?” Seungmin asks.
Jisung clears his throat and shifts a little. No one at the table knows the truth – Jisung has worked tirelessly to ensure that they didn’t – but that fact doesn’t ease the sudden spike of nerves that surge through him. “Uh. I fell on a hike, fucked my ankle.”
Seungmin shoots him a look. “Of course, you did.”
Indignant, Jisung says, “Hey!”
Unapologetic, Seungmin says, “You’re the one with the track record, my guy.”
Chan, ever the peacekeeper, waves an easy hand through the air. “Ah, it was just unlucky. Sucked that he had to leave though.”
“It was that bad?”
“Yup.” Jisung keeps Seungmin’s eye, trying very hard to keep his expression clear. Seungmin has eyes like a hawk, and often finds it terribly easy to see-through Jisung’s lies. Not all of them though. If Jisung puts his mind to it, sometimes he can slip things past him. And this is something he would very much like to go undiscussed.
Was his ankle bad enough to leave? No. Not at all. Is Jisung particularly interested in explaining the breakdown that had sent him running? No. Not at all.
Changbin reaches over and pats Jisung’s shoulder. “He stuck it out for a little while though! We even found him some crutches, they kinda worked?”
Hyunjin snorts. “You should have seen him trying to manage them on the beach. It was so funny, oh my god. He was like a little baby deer.”
Jisung glares at him.
Seungmin barks a laugh. “Please tell me you have a video.”
“Oh, my god, I wish.”
Jisung clears his throat. “I just want you all to know how much fun I’m having right now. It’s great, I’m having a great time.”
Hyunjin offers him a saccharine smile. “Great!”
“Minho-hyung drove you home, right?” Felix asks.
Abruptly, Jisung wishes he hadn’t said anything. He should have let Seungmin and Hyunjin keep going. This is not the direction he wants this conversation to take. He thinks of Minho – kind smiles, warm conversations, cat videos, good food – and feels suddenly unbalanced.
He swallows. “Uh, yeah.”
“You made someone drive you home?” Seungmin is clearly having the time of his life grilling Jisung like this. His expression is equal parts incredulous and thrilled.
“I didn’t—” Jisung panics, feels very cross with Felix for bringing this up, and quite hot in the face. “I didn’t make him.”
“Isn’t it like eight hours?” Seungmin says.
Jisung looks down at the table. The condensation that has gathered beneath his drink is suddenly very interesting to him. He drags a finger through it. “It’s six.”
“Six. Did he have somewhere to be or something?”
Fuck this conversation. Fuck this conversation so hard.
“No,” Jisung says. He draws little patterns with the water. He doesn’t want to look at anyone. “He just – offered. He was just being nice.”
Seungmin lets out a little puff of air. “Yeah, wow. Sounds super nice.”
“Ha!” Hyunjin says. “To Jisung maybe.”
Jisung thinks about kicking him under the table, but it’s too high risk. There are too many legs that he might mix Hyunjin up with – and it’s certainly not worth the absolute cacophony of noise that would result. He settles for a glare, which of course, only makes Hyunjin positively gleeful.
“Hey,” Felix says, pouting. “He’s nice. Just like, scary-nice.”
Hyunjin huffs. “I’d say scary-scary.”
Changbin elbows him. “You’re not fooling anyone, Hwang Hyunjin.” The fondness in his voice is sickening. “We all know you love him.”
“Whatever.” Hyunjin shoots him a disgusted look, the effect of which is ruined completely by the way he sinks into Changbin’s side. Love seems to radiate from him, even when he’s trying to hide it. Jisung can see the way he’s rubbing at Changbin’s knee. Gross. Hyunjin doesn’t stop, even when he returns his attention to Seungmin. “You should have seen it though, it was amazing. Jisung had him wrapped around his little finger.”
Jisung’s leg jerks, going for the kick before he can even help it. He just catches himself. The room suddenly feels incredibly warm. He can feel how his face has flushed.
“No, I didn’t,” he says quickly, emphatically. “Shut up.”
“You so did,” Hyunjin says.
“I did not.” Jisung sends Hyunjin a look that he hopes conveys the message: shut up, shut up, shut up. They’ve had this conversation a few times over the years. Every time the trip comes up, Hyunjin marvels at how Jisung and Minho had gotten along. Every time, it makes Jisung’s skin crawl. “He was just – he’s just a cool guy. Leave him alone.”
Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but finally takes mercy on Jisung. He settles back in his chair and lets it go.
Jisung knows, is the thing. He knows how much he took that final day. He’s had years to think it over, to review every little part in agonising detail. It’s not just that he forced Minho to drive him six hours home. No, it’s worse than that. He’d basically collapsed on Minho after all. He’d lost his mind, he’d cried all over him, he’d panicked and he’d – God, it’s just so fucking embarrassing. He’d taken, and taken, and taken, and Minho had let him – Minho let him have it all, and Jisung hates that.
He hasn’t even seen Minho since that night, since – ‘don’t be a stranger, Jisung-ah.’ Minho had asked him for one thing and Jisung couldn’t even manage that.
It sucked, Jisung sucked, and he resolutely did not want to hash it out again.
“Wait,” Seungmin says. “Have I met him?”
“You must have,” Chan says.
But Jisung shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
He knows so.
“He lives in Japan,” Changbin explains. “He got a job over there when he was doing his study abroad.”
“But he’s visited heaps,” Chan says. “He was here in March, at a bunch of things. Surely you were at one or two. Hyunjin’s birthday?”
“Nah,” Felix says. “Remember, Jisung was sick? They couldn’t come.”
Jisung studies the table once more, his stomach rolling.
“Oh yeah,” Chan says, drawing the ‘yeah’ all the way out. He asks Jisung, “Was that when you had Covid?”
“No. No, just—” Cowardice, actually. “Didn’t want to risk it.”
Jisung has made a fine art of avoiding Minho over the years. It’s not nice of him. It’s the opposite of nice, actually. Jisung knows he’s a piece of shit, it’s just –
At the start, Jisung was too cut up about Chan to think about Minho that much. He spent too many weeks wallowing in self-pity. Chan and Changbin had only let him get away with it for so long. After a few declined invitations to hang out together, maybe have a studio sesh, Chan had ambushed Jisung in class. He had, of course, assumed that he’d done something to upset Jisung. He’d guessed it was over Jisung’s foot – Chan had taken on all the responsibility for Jisung’s injury, for not paying enough attention to how much pain Jisung was in, and he felt awful about it. He’d apologised so earnestly, with his eyes big and round, then even Jisung’s broken heart couldn’t stop him from trying to reassure him. Jisung had caved – met up with Chan and Changbin the following weekend, and then they just – kept him. They were a team; a good team. They wouldn’t hear anything else.
Then, Felix had started texting him. He’d gotten his number from Chan and told Jisung again how disappointed he’d felt to have missed out on getting to know him. He wanted to make up for it now. Jisung didn’t know how to say no without being a jerk, so they got coffee. It was kind of nice, actually, so they got coffee again. Felix suggested studying together – or really, just sitting nearby each other in the library while they each worked on separate projects. Jisung hadn’t known how to say no to that either.
Hyunjin had appeared too, after a while. Given his proximity to Changbin and Felix and Chan, he became as unavoidable as the rest of them.
After a few months had passed, Jisung had found he didn’t really want to avoid them anyway.
Minho, though. God, Minho was a different question.
Every time Jisung thought about him, an echoing, heavy guilt rattled through him. His stomach turned. He felt almost sick with embarrassment, just at the thought of having to look at him again. Jisung could remember the smell of his detergent so distinctly. He could recall the feeling of those strong arms wrapped around him, the gentle noises that Minho had made to soothe him. And over what? A crush, Minho had called it.
How could Jisung possibly hang out with all of them, with Felix and Chan there, and Minho too – knowing everything? The thought was – God, at the time, it was enough to make him nauseous.
So Jisung found excuses. When he was invited to events that Minho might attend, he found reasons that he couldn’t make it. Every time he did, the guilt brewed stronger. Jisung got really good at ignoring it.
Then Minho won his competition. It all happened very fast from there. He was suddenly in Japan, then Hyunjin was telling them all he’d decided to stay, and Jisung had thought, ‘There. That’s done. It’s done.’
And he’d felt awful.
The guilt was always there, whenever the others mentioned him. The others spoke of him so fondly, even when they were calling him scary and mean. They never meant it. Of course, they didn’t. All Jisung could remember was that gentle touch, those kind smiles. And it’s not like Jisung didn’t know he was being an asshole. Of course, he did. Every time he thought about it too deeply, he resolved that next time he would grow up. He would face Minho – maybe apologise for everything back then, at least to try and clear the air between them – and then. Then Minho would visit, and the opportunity would be right there, and Jisung would suddenly find another excuse.
Chan hums. “Ah, fair,” he says.
It really, really isn’t.
“You’ll get to meet him soon, though!” Hyunjin says.
Jisung freezes.
“Yeah?” Seungmin says. His voice sounds a little odd. Jisung looks up to see that his housemate has fixed him with a sharp, assessing look. Not good. But he can’t worry about that now. What did Hyunjin just say?
“Yeah!” Hyunjin says, hopping a little in his seat, eyes bright. “He’s moving back! We think in August, but he’s still figuring it out.”
“No shit!” Chan has a big old grin on his face, elated. Jisung tries to remember how to breathe. “How am I only finding out about this now?”
Felix leans over the table, bright as anything. “He got a job?”
Hyunjin nods. “He did! He said his job over there was becoming a little too focused on choreo only, not the dancing. We’ve got plenty of time for that later, when our knees all give out. He wants to dance-dance again.”
“Sick!” Felix says. “Do you know which studio he’s gonna work with?”
Jisung tunes them out. His heart is a hummingbird in his throat. He tries to focus on his drink, the table, fucking anything that isn’t the exact conversation going on around them right now. His stomach rolls. He only notices that his leg is jumping when Seungmin kicks him lightly in the ankle.
Startled, Jisung looks at him.
Seungmin’s eyes are still impossibly sharp. “You good?”
Jisung swallows. “Yeah, man.”
It doesn’t work – of course it doesn’t work. Seungmin’s not an idiot and, like Jisung said, he’s got a nasty habit of seeing straight through him.
“We should do something!” Felix says suddenly. “To celebrate!”
Hyunjin leans across the table, almost vibrating with exciting. “Yes! Oh, my god, yes. That’s such a good idea. A party?”
Felix slaps Chan on the bicep, which startles Chan into a pout, but Felix doesn’t notice. He’s too caught up. “What about the coast again? It could be like a do-over. I missed out on the full thing last time, this time we could all go.”
Chan forgets about his arm. His back goes straight and he grins. “Hell yeah!”
“Yen-ah could come up from Busan, too!”
“Yes!”
“When, when is good for everyone?”
“Wait! Let’s do it in September.” Hyunjin and Felix are suddenly like an energy loop, enthusiasm feeding enthusiasm. “We can make it for your’s and Jisung’s birthday too! It’s perfect!”
“Will your aunt mind us using the house again?” Felix asks Chan.
Chan shrugs. “I don’t see why not? Unless someone’s got it booked already.”
Felix scoffs at that. “That’s fine, we can work around that. We’ll just find a week that works for everyone.”
“Oh, my god,” Hyunjin claps his hands together frantically. “Yay, this is going to be amazing.”
Jisung’s head spins.
.
In the car home, Seungmin offers Jisung a short reprieve. He might not know exactly what’s going on in Jisung’s head, but it’s clear he’s aware something is stirring there. He doesn’t even make a fuss about being the one to order the rideshare, which really is a sign he’s being nice. It’s the sort of thing they always squabble over. Seungmin wouldn’t let up unless he was actually worried.
God, that’s embarrassing.
Seungmin’s not really the sort of guy to get in other people’s business. He’s a good friend, solid and open and happy to help when he’s needed – but he doesn’t like to stick his nose in. Normally he waits for Jisung to cave, then makes a big fuss about being asked for help and holds it over Jisung’s head for months.
Tonight, when they get home, he simply says, “Minho’s the one you’re weird about, isn’t he?”
Jisung swallows. He drops his keys in the little dish they keep by the door and busies himself flicking on the apartment lights. Not looking at Seungmin, he says, “Yep.”
Seungmin lets that settle for a moment.
Then he says, “You want to talk about it?”
Jisung shakes his head. “Not really.”
What would he even say? Minho is a guy that Jisung somehow barely knows, who has also seen Jisung at his most vulnerable. He’s a guy who has been nothing but gentle with Jisung – a favour which Jisung has returned with awkwardness and avoidance. He’s a guy that has taken Jisung being an absolute jerk to him, and somehow remained impossibly kind.
No one knows about Jisung’s thing for Chan. It’s been years, years of Jisung being an asshole, and years of Minho keeping his secret safe.
“You want to go to this coast thing?” Seungmin asks.
Jisung leans against the bench in their tiny little kitchen and lets out a sigh. He stares up at the ceiling and tries to figure out how to answer that.
Does he want to face Minho again? No, not really. Does he want to see Minho again?
Fuck, there’s a part of him that wants that more than anything.
Maybe this is it. Maybe this is his chance to finally be fucking brave about this. He’s seen glimpses of Minho through the years – photos on Hyunjin’s and Felix’s Instagram accounts, snapchats from Chan (who even uses snapchat still, the dinosaur) – and from what Jisung can see, he’s doing well. He’s been dancing. He’s been working, doing something he loves. He’s still impossibly handsome.
Of course, there’s a chance this all blows up in Jisung’s face. Who’s to say that Minho doesn’t hate him now? Jisung might, if the tables were turned. If someone had treated him so poorly.
Maybe this is Minho’s chance to get all of that off his chest instead. Maybe he’ll look at Jisung and sneer, and that scary part of him will appear, and Jisung will be done for.
But.
If Jisung’s honest, he doesn’t think that’s a possibility at all. He might not know Minho anymore – or he may not have ever known him, really – but he knows enough. Minho’s not that guy.
To Seungmin, he says, “I don’t know.”
Seungmin moves through the kitchen around him. He checks out the fridge, doing a quick scan for food, before he turns to the pantry and grabs a packet of instant noodles. He dumps them in a bowl and tears up the flavour sachets, while the water boils.
“Organising a week away for so many people is hard to make work, you know.” He keeps his attention on his food, which Jisung is desperately grateful for. It’s easier to think when he doesn’t feel so watched. Seungmin knows that. “I’m just saying. You can say something came up. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to?”
Jisung thinks of that dark little room in Chan’s aunt’s house. He thinks of those warm arms that had held him, and that soft, soothing voice that had said, ‘You don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to. I’ll take you home.”
A shiver runs down his spine, and suddenly the decision is made. Since this afternoon, everything has felt a little out of Jisung’s control. It’s like he’s been a beat behind it all – a passenger watching as his life takes these sudden turns. But it’s not – not really. No one else is driving for him. He’s in charge.
Today, he made one of his dreams come true. That has to mean something, right?
“I think I do, actually,” Jisung says.
Seungmin frowns, glances over at him. “You do have to come?”
“No.” Jisung swallows, then shakes his head. “I think I want to.”
For a moment, that simply settles between them. Seungmin turns, tilting his head and assessing Jisung once more. Jisung wonders what he sees.
Then Seungmin shrugs and returns to his food. “Sounds good, then.”
“Yeah,” Jisung says.
It does.
.
Notes:
yoooo a timeskip!!!!! who knew!!!! (me, I knew, I knew from the beginning)
would it shock u to learn i am like fiercely anti-love triangles. i knew that if i was to write one, i'd want the characters to have distance to grow and learn and really know what they want (it's what minho deserves). ipso facto - time skip!!! everyone's done some growing. plus, now i get to write TWO summers, and I love that shit. also, FINALLY, seungmin joins the party. i've been missing him.
tysm to all of u commenters and kudosers and readers. ily all to the moon and back. can't wait to hear ur thoughts on this one.
i also made a twt. i don't know how it works. pls say hey if ur so inclined.
Chapter 9
Notes:
team, i gotta say it, you are just the best. tysm for the response to last chap - i'm so glad u guys weren't too shocked and horrified by the timeskip because i am loooooving it
this chap is slightly longer, which i expect that will happen with a lot of the second half chaps, cause i got a lot to share (peep that +2 chapter count yeeeeeew).
hope u love x
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
Jisung thinks it’s a little funny, given how few cars they’d had last time they’d made this trip, that they’re now having to manage something of a car surplus. Chan and Felix drove down a few days early, so that they can spend some time with Chan’s family before the rest of the group arrives. Jisung and Seungmin are driving together so that Seungmin has time for a last-minute meeting with his thesis advisor before they go. Jeongin is coming from Busan, so he has to drive his own car. It’s only Hyunjin, Changbin, and Minho who are really car-pooling, and that’s only because Minho’s been staying with them while he looks for an apartment in the city, and it made sense for them all to travel together.
“Is there even room to park that many cars?” Jisung had asked Chan, at the studio, a few weeks back.
Chan had shrugged. “Eh, we’ll figure it out.”
It means that when Jisung and Seungmin arrive, in the late afternoon, Chan is waiting for them. He waves sunnily at them, then directs them to park around the side of the house, right behind Chan’s car, which has already been tucked away.
“We might have to do some shuffling,” Chan says, as he helps Jisung collect his bags from the car. “But that shouldn’t be too hard.”
Excited tapping on the window behind them snags their attention. Felix is grinning brightly behind the glass, one hand waving frantically, the other balancing a tray of yet-to-be-cooked baked goods. Jisung can’t figure out what they are from outside, but his stomach rumbles regardless. He and Seungmin had stopped for a coffee on their drive, but otherwise hadn’t eaten.
Chan laughs when he hears it. “Yeah, I’m pretty hungry too. We were thinking we might go into town for dinner, what do you reckon?”
“Please,” Jisung says.
Felix greets them both with a warm hug, then puts his goodies – chocolate chip cookies, Jisung sees upon closer inspection – into the oven. They give Seungmin a quick tour of the house, and Jisung follow along, taking in all the little changes that have been made since the last time he was here. Chan’s aunt has bought a new couch for the living room and added a collection of little wooden fruits to decorate the huge kitchen window. She’s renovated the upstairs bathroom and found a runner for the hallway that fits the space perfectly. Somehow, Jisung had forgotten how airy and summery the house is and he feels abruptly lucky that they get to stay here for free. She must be making a killing renting the apartment out to vacationers.
As it happens, Seungmin and Jisung are sleeping in the room Jisung had shared with Minho last time. As they enter, Jisung sees that little bed under the window, and all he can remember is the way that he’d cried there. The memory tightens his chest, and he thinks, maybe he’ll take the other bed this time, but then he thinks about how Minho had slept there, and it feels a little creepy. Even with five years between then and now, the space doesn’t feel like one he can occupy.
He deposits his things on his old bed before Seungmin can snag it. It earns him a glare, which Jisung ignores easily. He’s had a lot of practice.
Chan and Felix are sharing a room, and so are Hyunjin and Changbin. It’s actually lucky that they’ve coupled up because they wouldn’t have enough rooms otherwise. Jisung can only imagine the shitfight that would go down if they had to draw straws over who was sleeping on the couch.
Jeongin arrives shortly after that. He and Seungmin have met each other once before, but it was only briefly, so Jisung does the introduction again anyway, just in case. They shake friendly hands, Jeongin claims his room, and then Chan claps his hands together.
“Alright,” he says. “Dinner?” He glances at his phone for the time and says, “I can book a table for six o’clock? The others can meet us there.”
“Perfect!” Felix says. “That’ll give the cookies time to cool down.”
And it is perfect, in the end. The six o’clock booking gives them just enough time to freshen up and change before they all climb into Jeongin’s car and head into town. Chan points out all his favourite local spots – an ice cream shop and a café he likes, a bar that lets you drink and play video games and even has karaoke booths – and says they should check them all out while they’re here. Felix endorses all of them, telling them how much he’s enjoyed visiting. He wants Jisung to come with him to the video games bar specifically and thinks that Seungmin and Jeongin absolutely must sing a duet at least once during their visit.
Chan takes them to a restaurant that looks out over the water. They sit on the balcony, because the air outside is warm but not too warm, and the gentle summer breeze is too nice to turn down. The sun is still high-ish in the sky. Hopefully, it sets while they’re still eating. They order some food and a round of drinks and for the table. When they come out, Jisung tries not to finish his in one go. His pulse is working so hard he could probably run a marathon right now. A part of him wants to, just to try and expel the energy that’s trying to vibrate out of him. His body feels far too small for the nerves that thrum through his veins.
Seungmin elbows him gently and says, under his breath, “Dude, chill.”
Yeah right.
Jisung rolls his eyes and doesn’t dignify that with a response. It’s not like there’s a switch he can use, to tell his brain to turn the anxiety off. Even with all the advice his therapists have given him over the years, even with the added assistance of his anxiety meds, he’s not calming down anytime soon.
“He’s gonna be here whether you’re freaking out or not,” Seungmin mutters. He shoves some food closer to Jisung. “Might as well have a full stomach, right?”
Jisung grumbles but takes a bite. His stomach only rolls a little when he swallows, so he counts that as a win. Seungmin’s probably right. Even if everything goes pear-shaped, and Minho screams at him in front of everyone, or calls him a loser, or tells everyone about Jisung’s old thing for Chan – even then, it’s better to have something in him. That way he’ll have something to throw up if he needs to.
Minho’s not going to do that, though. Surely not. Right?
Jisung shakes himself a little, trying to physically dispel the thoughts. He has a drink – just a sip, nothing too crazy – and tries to focus on the conversation going on around him, rather than the open restaurant behind him. He’d thought was being pretty clever, taking a seat with his back to the entry, so that he wasn’t constantly monitoring who was coming in through the doors. Now, he just feels exposed, vulnerable, and hyper-aware of the sounds behind him. Was that the door opening? No. No, it was just the scrape of Chan’s chair leg against the ground. Wait, was Felix looking at someone coming in? No. No, false alarm. He’s just reading the specials menu. Fuck.
Beneath all of it, Jisung remembers that this – this anxiety, this nervousness – is all his own goddamn fault. If he hadn’t been such a coward, he wouldn’t be here now, would he?
Seungmin elbows him again. Jisung has another bite.
“How was seeing your family, hyung?” Jeongin asks Chan.
Chan grins as bright as anything and begins to gush. He’s always in a good mood when he’s been visiting his family. He doesn’t get to see his parents or siblings very often, given how far away they live, so he seems to soak up the time he gets with his aunt and cousins instead. They’d only been together for a few days, before his cousins returned to Seoul, and his aunt left to visit a friend in Ulsan.
“It’s so nice of her to let us use the house,” Jisung says.
“Yeah,” Felix says. “I was thinking we maybe buy her a bottle of wine or something, to say thank you?”
“Absolutely,” Seungmin says.
Chan rubs at Felix’s nape, easy given the arm that he has swung casually over the back of Felix’s chair. “That’s a great idea, babe.”
They resolve to pool their money so they can get her a really nice bottle when they go to the shops tomorrow. They’ve held off getting all their food for the week, waiting for everyone to be here before they decide what they need. Chan insists that he isn’t leaving everything up to Minho this time – ‘I cook! I cook heaps now!’ – but he eventually admits defeat in the face of everyone’s relentless laughter. It isn’t too big a deal to wait, anyway; Hyunjin, Changbin, and Minho will be with them soon enough.
Jisung clears his throat. “Do we know how far away the others are, hyung?”
He ignores the shrewd look he can feel coming his way from Seungmin’s direction. If he feels a little hot under the collar, so what?
“Nothing since Hyunjin-ah texted earlier.” Chan glances at his phone. Hyunjin had messaged the group chat with a quick ‘on our way!!’, accompanied by about thirty assorted smiley-faces, at around eleven that morning. It was close to six, now. “They can’t be too far away.”
Jisung smiles, hopes it doesn’t look as tight as it feels, and nods.
“Hey, everyone.” Seungmin leans over the table, and it might be a casual address, but the devious look in his eyes puts Jisung on red alert immediately. Where Seungmin is concerned, he can never be too careful. “Guess what Jisung did this morning.”
Jisung’s eyes go wide. He puts his hands up. “No, no. Wait.” He looks around the table quickly, searching for back up, but his traitorous friends only have eyes for Seungmin. He waves his hands a little faster. “Wait, hang on.”
“What, what?” Felix asks, intrigued, excited.
“No, wait,” Jisung says. “Let me at least explain, I didn’t—”
“Okay, so we stopped for coffee on the way, right?” Seungmin starts.
Jisung bats at him with his hands. Seungmin, of course, catches them easily – then holds on tight, rendering Jisung completely powerless embarrassingly quickly. “No, Seungmin-ah, you’re gonna tell it wrong.”
“We didn’t want drive-through, so we just stopped at the one that has that little café, you know? With the green sign?”
“Yeah?” Felix looks positively thrilled, the traitor. He’s leaning over the table now, too, made up entirely of glee.
Neither Chan nor Jeongin are much better.
“Shh,” Jeongin says to Jisung. “I want to hear the story.”
“Yeah,” Chan says, grinning. “Be respectful while Seungmin-ah’s speaking.”
Jisung pulls fruitlessly against Seungmin’s hold.
“So, we ordered, and we sat down, and Jisung was being a total menace, you know the way he does?”
“Hey!” Jisung says.
“Ah, yep,” everyone else says.
Seungmin lights up with every word that spills out of his mouth. He loves this, making fun of Jisung, and he does it so often he could probably call himself a professional these days. Jisung yanks at his hands again and fails. Again.
“He kept poking me with his little stirring stick, and making these weird noises, and every time I made a noise, he was copying me, that sort of thing.”
“The ultimate form of comedy, yes,” Jeongin says.
Jisung pouts.
“And he didn’t even notice that a family was sitting next to us, cause he was so caught up being annoying. Anyway, they brought our drinks out and he was so busy putting sugar in his coffee that he didn’t notice it wasn’t me making the noises anymore—”
Felix barks a laugh.
Jisung wails.
Seungmin is undeterred. “—It was the kid next to us, and Jisung just kept doing the copying thing.”
By now, the whole table is snickering. Chan at least has the decency to look a bit sorry about it, even though he’s laughing along with the rest of them. Jeongin and Felix do not.
“I even tried to tell him, but he like, just kept going, and then the mum was like, ‘uh, do you mind?’ and he went back ‘uh, do you mind?’”
Felix lets out a scandalised noise.
Jeongin covers his mouth he’s grinning so widely.
Chan says, “Oh, no, Jisung.”
“I know,” Jisung whines. Even thinking about it is making his cheeks heat again. He’d done quite a good job of forgetting what had happened this morning, with everything else he had to worry about taking precedence. Now that Seungmin is making him relive it, though, the experience has returned to him in technicolour. The way the woman had glared at him. The stern look of the father. The kid who’d blinked up at him, confused, before he’d started laughing at the look on Jisung’s face.
He would like very much to bury his head in his hands. He can’t, because Seungmin still has him in a death grip, and is resolutely ignoring Jisung’s whinging.
“And it wasn’t until the dad was like, ‘I think that’s enough’ that he even noticed,” Seungmin finishes grandly. “You should have seen him, he went so red, it was hilarious.”
“Shut up,” Jisung says through gritted teeth. “You should have said something sooner!”
“It’s not my fault you don’t know what’s going on around you!” Seungmin says while he laughs. “You should have been looking!”
“I was making my coffee!”
“What, you can’t add sugar and use your eyes at the same time?”
“I was focusing!”
“Alright.” A hand settles on Jisung’s shoulder and squeezes. It scares the life out of him. Jisung jerks, swings his head around, and sees Hyunjin peering down at him with a pleased smile, eyes alight. “I have to know what we’ve missed.”
Jisung’s stomach flips.
Hyunjin is so close, leaning in and over Jisung, that for a moment, he’s all that Jisung can see. It doesn’t last long, though. Hyunjin rubs over Jisung’s shoulder then takes a step back, waving at everyone as the table realises that the last of their friends have arrived. There is a chorus of excited noises from every direction. Jisung’s eyes search and there, behind Changbin, who is rounding the head of the table, there’s –
Minho.
God. He looks good.
He’s smiling, the easy kind, that comes out when you’re around a bunch of other people who are smiling too. He’s relaxed, his shoulders loose and low, one hand tucked in his pocket. His hair is long, strands curling, framing his eyes. The t-shirt he’s wearing drapes over his shoulders and arms as if it was made specifically for him. He looks a little tan, kissed by the sun. Jisung swallows.
As soon as the others realise that he’s there, they leap to their feet. Chan engulfs Minho in one of his huge, bear hugs – so enthusiastic that it rocks them both a little where they stand. Minho laughs but lets it happen, then opens his arms again as Felix leaps on them both.
“You’re here!” Felix sings, squeezing him tight. “Ah, it’s so good to see you again.”
This is the first time they’ve seen Minho since he’s been back. His move was delayed a little, Hyunjin had informed them, while he tried to sort out who was going to take over the lease of his apartment in Japan. He’d only arrived in Seoul two weeks ago and was so occupied getting his stuff brought over and organising everything with his new work, that there simply hadn’t been time to catch up as a group before their holiday was scheduled. For Jisung, that had made things both easier and more difficult. Easier, because it was another excuse, another extension on the time he had to get himself sorted. More difficult, because it only drew it out further – only made the coast trip that much more intimidating.
Now that he’s here, right in front of Jisung, who’s heart is a hummingbird, lodged in his throat – he thinks he could have done with more time, still. But – fuck. That’s the attitude that got him here in the first place.
Felix and Chan eventually release Minho, stepping back and out of his space.
“Here, here, sit, sit,” Chan says, motioning at the empty chair beside his. “There’s more food on the way, but if you want to order something, the menu is just there. Do you want a drink? I’ll get you one.”
Minho waves at him. “Ah, it’s fine, hyung. I’ll get one in a sec.”
“It’s so good to see you again, hyung.” Felix leans around Chan so that he can see Minho properly, then looks to Hyunjin and Changbin, who’ve settled on Minho’s other side. “Did you have a good drive?”
“Yeah, it was pretty easy,” Changbin says. “I feel like it went faster than it did last time. Hyunjin showed us a few podcasts he’s been listening to. It was chill.”
Hyunjin looks at Jisung. “It was that one with the cloud scientist you showed me.”
Jisung clears his throat. He has no idea what his face is doing. Whatever it is, he’s powerless to change it. There’s a weird buzzing in his ears. “Ah, yeah. That’s a – that’s a good one.”
His gaze flicks to Minho.
Minho is looking back. His head is tilted, just a little. A very small smile plays at his lips.
“Hey,” Jisung says, after a beat.
The smile grows a little, but – it’s not right. It’s not – Jisung’s not sure what it is, but it’s -- it’s a smile, but that’s all it is. There’s nothing else there.
Minho nods his head. “Hey, Jisung.”
Then he looks away. There’s nothing that necessarily snags his attention – Hyunjin and Changbin are still talking about all the new things they’ve learned about clouds, and about the podcast itself. None of it invites Minho’s attention specifically. It doesn’t need to. He seems happy to just listen.
Jisung’s heart sinks.
He’s not – he doesn’t know what he was expecting. Not this. Anger? But then, no, if he’s honest, he knows he never truly expected Minho to be angry. At least not at the dinner table, surrounded by their friends. It’s – it’s good, of course, that Minho isn’t. He isn’t cross that Jisung is here, he isn’t pointing out how overtly Jisung has been avoiding him over the years. He’s just – there, being nice.
Being polite.
Seungmin taps his knee against Jisung’s, once, just quickly. At some point, although Jisung can’t remember when, he’s released his hold on Jisung’s arms. He leans over the table and holds out a hand.
“Sorry, we haven’t met. I’m Seungmin.”
“Ah, shit,” Chan says, “Sorry, we should have done introductions.”
Minho takes Seungmin’s hand. He smiles and this time it crinkles at his eyes. “Nice to meet you. I’m Minho. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You too,” Seungmin says warmly.
Minho’s eye flick over to Jisung, then away again. “You live with Jisung?”
Seungmin sits back in his seat, completely at ease. “Yeah. It’s been around two years now, right?”
He looks over at Jisung like he needs verification or something. Jisung swallows around a dry throat and nods. “Uh, yeah. Maybe two and a bit?”
Seungmin turns his smile back to Minho. “Two and a bit.”
“Nice,” Minho says. “It’s good to meet you too.”
Then he looks away again.
Jisung clenches his fist, where it rests on his lap below the table. He realises, far too late, that he had been hoping for more than this. He doesn’t deserve it – God, he knows he doesn’t deserve it – but it turns out that a deluded part of him thought maybe Minho would be like he was before. Warm and open and just – there, on Jisung’s wavelength without even having to try. He’s not. Of course, he’s not. Who would be, after being ghosted the way that he has? Jisung could kick himself.
How dare he feel disappointed over this? What right does he have to demand that from Minho, after everything? And it’s not like Minho is being unkind. He’s just – he’s being normal. Polite and friendly. Even that is more than Jisung deserves.
“Wait,” Hyunjin says. “What were you laughing about before? Jisung-ie looked miserable, I have to know.”
Before Jisung can stop him, Seungmin launches once more into his tale from this morning. The others egg him on, in on the joke now, and Seungmin is bolstered by their energy. This time, when he tells the story, it’s with even more flamboyance. He even re-enacts Jisung’s face when Jisung had realised it was a random kid he was copying, and not his housemate.
Hyunjin cackles. Changbin points a finger in Jisung’s face and giggles with unrestrained glee.
Jisung puts up the requisite fight. He thinks he reacts all the ways that he’s supposed to. It’s hard to tell, though. He feels a little like he’s underwater. His thoughts are in two places – trying to keep up with the conversation, but also, trying not to think too much about Minho. Trying not to play that benign smile over and over in his head.
“Ah,” Chan says, standing up, sounding as fond as ever. As he rounds the table, he pauses to ruffle at Jisung’s hair. Jisung ducks a little away from it, but mostly lets it happen. “You’re so funny, Jisung-ah.”
Jisung huffs. “It wasn’t on purpose, hyung.”
“That’s what makes it funny,” Chan says. To the table at large, he says, “You guys want a drink? I’m buying.”
“Ah, yes please, hyung. Thank you!” Hyunjin says.
“Thank you, Channie-hyung!” Changbin says.
“I’ll come with you,” Minho says.
They don’t go too far, but it’s enough for Seungmin to track their distance. When he seems sure they are out of earshot, he ducks in close. He keeps his voice quiet, careful not to let the others hear him.
“You good?”
Jisung takes a deep breath. He has no right to be upset over this. He’s the one who made it happen, after all. If this week is simply him, reaping what he’s sown, then he’ll cope. It won’t be pleasant, but he’ll manage.
“Yeah,” he says.
Seungmin eyes him but doesn’t push. He’s good like that. Then he says, “He’s hot.”
“Shut up,” Jisung hisses.
Seungmin snickers but has settled by the time Chan and Minho return. They have more drinks with them than Jisung had expected. Chan slides one to Hyunjin, then Changbin, then Jeongin. He keeps two for himself and Felix. Minho passes one each to Jisung and Seungmin.
“We figured we’re celebrating,” Chan says, “so we got one for everyone.”
Jisung nods his thanks to Minho, who smiles that awful not-smile again.
“Cheers!” Felix says, lifting his glass. They all reach into the middle of the table, echoing him and clinking their drinks together. Felix takes a big drink, then lets out an incredibly satisfied sigh. “God.” He leans back in his seat and tips his head back, letting the blushing sun wash over him as he shuts his eyes. “This is amazing. I’m so glad we’re here.”
Sipping his drink, letting conversation soak in around him, Jisung watches the sky turn pink. Over the balcony, he can hear the gentle roll of the waves as they crash onto peach-yellow sand. Hyunjin and Jeongin and Changbin are laughing. Chan watches with doe eyes as Felix sinks deeper into sentimentality. Seungmin gets Minho’s attention, asking about the job he has lined up now that he’s moved home.
There really is no room here for Jisung to feel sorry for himself.
He’s by the ocean, surrounded by friends. Yeah, he fucked up, but he already knew that. It leaves him with two choices. He can either continue to fuck up, or he can figure himself out and fix it. That’s why he came on this trip, isn’t it? What kind of a loser would he be if he let a little politeness stumble him now?
He braves a look at Minho.
This time he isn’t looking back. His focus is on Seungmin. They’re still talking about his new job. “I think they’d seen my stuff on YouTube. They asked for a resume, but they offered me the job about ten minutes after I sent it through. I think it was just an admin thing they needed.”
“That’s cool,” Seungmin says. “I guess it works sort of like a digital portfolio anyway.”
“Yeah,” Minho says.
Under the pink sky, Minho’s hair looks even darker. Occasionally he has to flick his head to keep his hair out of his eyes, although it falls back in place almost straight away. He has one elbow leant against the armrest of his chair, the other stretched out on the table, holding his drink in an easy grip.
“It’s gotta be a better medium for you though, right?” Seungmin’s good at this sort of thing – engaging new people in conversations that feel genuine. Asking about their interests. Jisung’s comfort zone is still talking about the weather. “I’m surprised that the creative arts haven’t taken more advantage of it, honestly. It seems like a far easier way to get a handle on a dancer’s ability, compared to anything written on paper.”
“There’s always been the audition piece, too, but yeah.” Minho shrugs. “It’s definitely a tool that a lot of companies aren’t utilising.”
Minho glances at Jisung. It’s only a fleeting little thing, but when he meets Jisung’s eye he seems to startle, right before he quickly looks away.
And Jisung feels a little warmer.
It’s not much – just one look – but it’s not nothing, either. He won’t let his hopes get too high, but it feels like a good sign, that Minho isn’t ignoring him altogether. Jisung settles back into his chair, has another sip of his drink, and lets the world move around him for a while.
.
Of course, two drinks turns into three, turns into four, and suddenly none of them are in any state to drive. Chan is so pleased by the prospect of walking home, that Jisung’s not entirely sure this wasn’t by design. He doesn’t mind it though. He watches fondly as Chan and Felix walk ahead, their hands swinging between them, trudging along the sand. The rest of them meander behind, Hyunjin hassling Jeongin, Changbin trailing behind, laughing at them. Jisung has been talking to Seungmin, mostly about the shit they’ve got to organise before their upcoming rental inspection. It’s Jisung’s turn to deep clean the bathroom, as Seungmin has been reminding him for days. He’ll get to it, he’s just – had other shit on his mind. It’s fine. He doesn’t live in like, squalor or anything. It won’t take him too long.
“I should just kick you out,” Seungmin says.
Jisung laughs in his face. He’s heard this threat before. “Please. You could never replace me.”
Seungmin keeps a very straight face. “You’re not special, Han Jisung.”
There’s really nothing Jisung can do but attack him, then. It’s the principle of the matter. He leaps onto Seungmin, doing his best to keep him in a headlock, and manages it for a few seconds. Seungmin’s a squirmy bastard though, so he slips away relatively quickly. He races off to catch up with Hyunjin and Jeongin, laughing as he leaves Jisung behind.
Jisung lets him go, chuckling as he slows back to a normal pace. It takes him a second to realise that this means he’s been left at the back of the group, where Minho has been strolling, hands tucked into his pockets. His shoulders seem to hold more tension than they had while they were eating.
For a moment, Jisung considers leaving him be. Minho hasn’t expressed much interest in speaking to him directly – aside from basic pleasantries. Maybe now isn’t the best time to ambush him.
But when he catches Minho’s eye again, Minho smiles, and it feels a little more real than the others have.
Jisung says, “Hey.”
Minho says, “Hey stranger.”
Jisung’s stomach turns. It’s a sudden, uncomfortable thing; it comes so quickly that Jisung has no hope of hiding his reaction. Shit. That’s – shit.
Then Minho says, much more quietly, “Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Jisung shakes his head. The shock of it was unpleasant, but again, it’s not as if it’s completely undeserved. “No, it’s – you’re fine. It’s fair.”
Minho grimaces, like he doesn’t really think it is, but he doesn’t say anything else either. Jisung thinks he might walk away, is surprised when he instead, falls into step with Jisung. It’s hard to tell with the wind coming across the water, but Jisung thinks he hears him sigh.
It’s so easy to recall the night that Minho returned Jisung to his dorm. Maybe it wouldn’t be, if it had been any other day, but those few hours in particular – Jisung has played them on a loop in his mind maybe a thousand times. He remembers even the smallest details; the rhythm Minho’s fingers had tapped against the steering wheel, the heat of the sachet spices in the instant noodles Minho had cooked, the sound of the door as it had gently shut behind him.
The quiet, ‘Don’t be a stranger, Jisung-ah.’
Ah. Minho had asked him for one thing.
One damn thing, and Jisung hadn’t even managed that.
His apology lingers on the tip of his tongue. It should be ready to go. Jisung has practiced it enough. He’s rehearsed all the things he knows he needs to say sorry for. There’s no better time than now.
But then Minho says, “Did I hear him say he’s kicking you out?”
Jisung frowns, takes a moment to catch up, then huffs a laugh. He looks ahead to Seungmin, who appears to have rescued Jeongin from Hyunjin’s clutches. They’re chatting, laughing about something.
“Yeah,” Jisung says. “But don’t worry, he says that like, once a week.”
Minho hums. “Sounds healthy.”
Jisung waves a hand through the air. “Ah, he’s fine. I pretty much tricked him into living with me anyway. I like to think of it as paying my dues.”
“Right,” Minho says.
The wander quietly for a moment more. Ahead of them, Felix has climbed onto Chan’s back. Chan lopes happily under his weight, the sound of their mingled laughter echoing back to Minho and Jisung. Changbin and Hyunjin have settled down, walking easily, hand in hand. Jeongin and Seungmin are still caught up in conversation. It’s nice.
Jisung thinks again about his apology, but in the end, he sticks to what’s safe. They’re already talking about Seungmin, aren’t they? Maybe it’s best to keep it simple for a little while.
“I promise I’m not the worst housemate in the world,” Jisung says. “We’ve got like, a chore-list on the fridge. I keep the place pretty clean. So what if my room is a bit messy? It’s not like that’s his problem. He can do what he wants with his room, I’m not stopping him.”
Minho glances over at him. There is a faint frown on his face, but he doesn’t say anything.
Jisung realises he’s been rambling. “Besides, it’s not like he’s the king of the lease, or anything. We both signed the same piece of paper. I’ve got as many rights as he does, you know? I just don’t get the ensuite.”
Minho hums once more. The frown has vanished as quickly as it came. He offers a little shrug, instead. “Doesn’t sound very fair to me.”
“Right?” Jisung says, feeling vindicated. A part of him wishes Seungmin had heard that, but the rest is far too pleased to be speaking with Minho again to worry about him. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”
Minho leaves a short pause before he asks, “And you guys met each other…?”
“A couple of years ago. He posted the room ad online and I was so sick of living at the dorms, I would have said anything to get a place, you know?”
“Mhm.”
“I learnt to clean that’s what matters, right?”
Minho lets him talk inanely about his and Seungmin’s apartment for far longer than he should. Jisung tries not to look at him too much. That’d be creepy right? Still, he finds his gaze wandering to that sharp profile more often than he means to. Minho seems content looking out to the ocean, or up ahead to their friends – but every now and again his eyes flick over to Jisung. Some of that tension has leaked from his shoulders. Jisung watches him, watches the way that the wind pushes his hair across his face, and suddenly, this feels very easy.
It always did, with Minho, didn’t it?
“I should have texted you,” Jisung says.
Minho stiffens again. His shoulders lift a touch closer to his neck, and he looks quickly to the sand beneath their feet. “Ah,” he says. “You don’t have to say that.”
“I do,” Jisung says, because it’s true, because he means it. “I should have. I wanted to.”
Minho looks up. “You did?”
“Yeah.” Jisung nods. Now that he has Minho’s eye, he doesn’t want to lose it again. “I was just—” embarrassed, a coward, too chicken-shit to face you. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”
Minho watches him for a moment. Then he swallows. “You don’t need to apologise.”
“I do,” Jisung says again. “I still don’t know how to thank you for everything you did. You were—” God, he doesn’t even know how to explain it. How much it means to Jisung that Minho helped him the way he did. That he gave enough of a shit to see Jisung like that and not look away. “—amazing, Hyung.”
Abruptly, Jisung flushes. Shit. He’d been worrying about how to address Minho for weeks, ever since they’d started planning this trip, to be honest. He’d made a lot of grand plans for how to get around it, so that he didn’t make things awkward. Just to stumble over it now, of course.
Jisung ducks his head. “Sorry,” he says hastily. “I don’t know if I, uh…”
“You can call me hyung, still,” Minho says. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
“Right.” Jisung almost wants to double check – just to be sure he heard correctly – but it feels like too much to risk. His heart is thrumming, high in his throat. “Well. Thank you, hyung. I’m really grateful. I should have said thank you then, too.”
Minho huffs, just a little laugh, but it lights Jisung up regardless. “You did. I think you said it about thirty times.”
Jisung scratches at the back of his neck, abashed. “Ah. Yeah, probably. I meant it.”
Minho shoots him a soft look – his softest yet, since they have seen each other again. Something in Jisung’s chest squeezes tight.
“I know you did,” Minho says. “It’s okay. I was happy to help. I’m glad it helped.”
Jisung nods. “It did.”
“And you’re, uh…” Minho glances forward once more, his gaze settling on Felix and Chan, who are still ambling on ahead. “That’s all sorted now?”
Jisung’s face flushes. He ducks his head and looks out towards the water. Fuck, his thing for Chan feels like a lifetime ago now, but it makes sense that it isn’t for Minho. It’s not like Jisung has really given Minho a chance to see otherwise, right?
“All sorted,” Jisung says. “Definitely. Gone. Done and dusted.”
“Good,” Minho says. Then, hilariously, he seems to panic. “I mean – it wasn’t a problem or anything. I’m just glad you haven’t been…”
“Pining?” Jisung says.
“Sad,” Minho says.
“Ah.” Jisung kicks some sand, tries not to lose himself in the warm feeling in his belly. “Yeah, no. None of that.” Felix chooses that moment to slip off Chan’s back. Chan doesn’t seem to want to let him go, but Felix is wily, so he makes it happen pretty quickly. He comes around to Chan’s front and shows him his back, demanding he climb on, so that he can have a turn too. Chan laughs and shakes his head – of course, he does, the martyr – but Felix is persistent. It turns into a chase, down the sand and closer to the water, both of them laughing as they go. “No. There was a – thing, I don’t know, with me and Chan, a few years back – but I should have known it was never going to work. They’re like, perfect for each other. And obsessed with each other. It’s kinda gross.”
He sees the way his little confession makes Minho frown. ‘A thing’ probably isn’t the best word for what went down with him and Chan. But Jisung doesn’t feel quite like calling it a mistake, either. One kiss, during one of Chan and Felix’s off-again periods, when they were both overtired and stuck at the studio. It had taken maybe ten seconds for them both to realise how wrong it felt. For Jisung, it was something of a revelatory moment. It represents, in his mind, the final closing of a book. So no, not a mistake – a lesson; and a valuable one at that. Jisung and Chan made a great team, but not like that.
He doesn’t really feel like explaining that to Minho right now, though. Maybe when they’re on steadier ground. Jisung tries not to hope too hard, but he has a feeling that they might get there.
“But you’re okay?” Minho asks, after a moment or two has passed.
Jisung nods. He feels brave enough to bump his shoulder against Minho’s. “Yeah, hyung. I’m okay.”
“I’m glad,” Minho says.
Jisung smiles at him. He hopes, probably fruitlessly, that all the warm feelings that are brewing in his chest aren’t written all over his face. He’s proud, that he finally worked up the courage to apologise, and he’s pleased, that Minho doesn’t seem to hate him completely. He’s an expressive guy, alright? Those sorts of things are hard for him to hide.
He looks out towards the beach again. It’s his best – only – bet at keeping his thoughts at least a little hidden, right now. He clears his throat.
“Tell me about Japan, hyung. I want to hear all about it.”
.
Notes:
fun fact: jisung's fun little coffee shop story happened to me in thailand. my buddies laughed just as hard as the kids did. sorry to that family. that was my b.
also!!!!!!! finally!!!!! minsung reunion!!!!!! imo overdue!!!!!!!!! (they were apart for one (1) chap) but still!!!!!!!!!
can't wait to gobble up ur observations/thoughts/reactions on this one.
Chapter 10
Notes:
ahh, i'm excited for this chapter!! hope u enjoy x
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
Jisung wakes up the following morning, hears sounds of life coming from beyond the bedroom door, and feels just as nervous as he had the day prior.
Seungmin is still asleep. The bedroom is mostly dark – but enough light creeps around the edges of the blackout blinds Chan’s aunt has installed that Jisung knows it must be at least mid-morning. He can hear the clink of porcelain against granite – the others preparing breakfast maybe, or at least getting themselves coffee. He will, at some point soon, need to get up, get his shit together, and go join them. But even with an apology under his belt – and a conversation that feels almost, kinda of, maybe like the ice has broken – his stomach still clenches at the thought.
He shouldn’t have had as many drinks as he did yesterday. He wasn’t drunk-drunk by the end of the night, but he was definitely on the wrong side of tipsy for a few hours there, which makes it difficult for him to run through last night’s conversation with any clarity. If Jisung is anything, he’s an overthinker, so it’s annoying that he’s robbed himself of the opportunity to trawl through the exchange with a fine-tooth comb.
Minho had seemed okay-ish last night. He’d told Jisung about his work in Japan and the friends he’d made there and his favourite parts of Kyoto. He’d walked with Jisung for almost all of the trip home and laughed at all the right times when Jisung had thrown a few jokes at him. But when they reached the house, when they all settled by the pool, none of them feeling quite ready for sleep, he’d returned to Changbin and Hyunjin’s side. Jisung’s not sure if he’d said something wrong, or if that was just a normal thing to do, something that Jisung was reading far too much into. Was Minho angry with him? Or did he simply not care enough to be worried at all? Did his distance feel weird because Minho’s behaviour had changed, or had Jisung spent too many years playing and replaying their first visit to this house, putting meaning in things that had none at all?
Jisung rolls onto his back and scrubs at his eyes.
Fuck it.
Whatever the answer to those questions may be, he isn’t going to figure it out while he’s tucked away in his bed upstairs. It’s time to nut up, or shut up, Jisung thinks – and yeah, Chan’s maybe shown him that movie one time too many, but the principle stands. He gives himself ten seconds more to be wrapped up in his blankets, then hauls himself upward. He keeps relatively quiet, but even the sounds he doesn’t manage to stop don’t budge Seungmin. He’s not normally one to sleep in, so Jisung figures he’ll let him have this one. They’re on holiday, after all, and Jisung is a big boy. He can go downstairs and have breakfast with their friends – his friends – without back up.
When he reaches the kitchen, he finds it surprisingly empty. Whoever had been making all that noise earlier has clearly moved on. Jisung peers out the window and sees Hyunjin and Changbin sitting at the table outside. They are both on the same side, Hyunjin sitting behind Changbin, Changbin’s back pressed against Hyunjin’s front. Changbin has his head tilted back, resting on Hyunjin’s shoulder. His eyes are shut but they’re speaking quietly to each other. Hyunjin pauses, just for a moment, to bury his nose in Changbin’s hair.
It’s funny, Jisung thinks, how tiny Changbin can appear when he lets Hyunjin wrap him up like this. He doesn’t get to see this side of Changbin very often. At work, when he isn’t his loud and exuberant self, it’s because he’s turned serious, shifting all his focus to whatever track they’re working on. It’s sweet, seeing his friends turn soft like this. They’re a relatively tactile couple around the group, but often they ham it up when everyone is around, like it’s an exercise in making people laugh, or making the other squirm. It’s not often that Jisung gets a glimpse at their quieter moments, their gentle intimacy, but the sight makes him feel warm. Thank God they sorted their shit out.
As he’d expected, when Jisung steps outside, Hyunjin and Changbin pull apart – not by much, but enough that Jisung doesn’t feel uncomfortable taking a seat opposite them.
“Morning Jisung-ah,” Changbin says. “You sleep okay?”
“Morning. Yeah.” Jisung reaches for the pot on the table. It’s still hot, steam spiralling from the spout. When he lifts the lid to check what’s inside, the strong smell of coffee meets him. “How about you guys?”
“Same,” Hyunjin says. “I don’t know if it’s just that we’re on holiday, or if there’s something special about this house, but I slept like a log.”
“Not the alcohol?” Changbin asks.
“Hush.” Hyunjin elbows him.
“Thanks for making coffee,” Jisung says, as he takes one of the clean mugs and fills it to the brim. “Smart, putting it in the teapot.”
“That was all Channie-hyung,” Hyunjin says.
Jisung glances around. “He’s up?”
“Yup. He went with the others to pick up the cars. Oh, that reminds me.” Hyunjin grabs his phone, unlocks it, and pulls up his messages. “Is there anything specific you want from the store? They said they’ll get groceries on the way home. If there’s anything you want, we can message them, there’s still time.”
“I’m all good,” Jisung says. He’s not the biggest cook, and he’s sure that he’ll be happy with whatever the others come up with. “Who’s they?”
“Channie-hyung, Minho-hyung, and Felix,” Changbin says. “Yen-ah’s still sleeping. Is Seungmin up yet?”
Jisung shakes his head.
“We’re thinking of heading down to the beach when they get back.” Hyunjin peers dubiously up at the sky. There are definitely clouds in the sky, but their colour is teetering between white and grey. None of them are so dark that Jisung worries they might be rained on. “This is supposed to clear up around lunchtime, apparently. The forecast for the afternoon is pretty good.”
“Yeah, cool,” Jisung says. “Sounds good.”
He has a big sip of coffee, shutting his eyes and listening to the distant sound of the waves crashing. God, Felix was right yesterday. It’s so nice to be here, away from everything. It’s almost funny, considering who he was the last time he sat in this place. He’d been so unsure of his place around these people and – while it’s not like his nerves are gone completely, it’s not as if last night’s conversation solved everything – it’s reassuring to sit with his friends and not feel like an outsider.
After a moment of peace, Hyunjin clears his throat. It’s a sound that Jisung has heard many times before; the prelude to something. He opens his eyes warily.
Sure enough, Hyunjin has him fixed with a calculating look.
“So,” he says, leadingly. “I saw you and Minho-hyung talking last night.”
Changbin shifts in his seat. There is a soft little thump, that lines up too perfectly with his movement. Hyunjin doesn’t move, doesn’t even acknowledge the sound, but the tightening of his features suggests to Jisung that Changbin has just kicked him. Not a great sign.
Jisung swallows his coffee and says, “Uh, yeah.”
Hyunjin props his elbows on the table, then settles his chin in his hands. “And how’s that going?”
Caught under such a close look, Jisung feels his heart rate kick up a notch. Of course, it’s not like he’s expecting his friends to be completely ignorant to the tension between he and Minho – but he doesn’t like the idea that Hyunjin’s been watching this carefully.
Jisung glances over at Changbin, searching for a potential ally, but only finding another shrewd look. Changbin is trying far too hard to look casual.
He buys himself time. “How’s… talking going?”
Hyunjin doesn’t let him have it. “Yep.”
“Uh.” Jisung puts his coffee down. His palms feel a little sweaty suddenly, and he fights the impulse to wipe them on his thighs. He thinks back to the night before, to his and Minho’s conversation, and tries to imagine what that must have looked like from the outside. “Fine, I guess. Why?”
Jisung hasn’t talked about his thing with Minho – the avoiding thing – with any of them. Seungmin’s probably the one most in-the-know, and even then, Jisung has worked hard to get out of explaining himself anytime Seungmin asks questions that land a little too close to home. Hyunjin is Minho’s best friend – even if getting either of them to admit it is akin to pulling teeth. It occurs to Jisung now, far too late, that Minho may have told him everything.
“Just wondering,” Hyunjin hums.
His expression is annoying. He’s trying hard to be natural, but he’s always been a famously bad liar, so the result is something almost smarmy. Jisung tries not to let his irritation take hold. He’s been working on that lately, and he knows the bulk of that response is his growing uneasiness – not Hyunjin. But Hyunjin clearly knows something, and a twisting feeling in Jisung’s gut insists that he doesn’t want to know what.
Then Changbin says, “Does this mean you’re over your thing?”
Panic comes quickly, as it always does where Jisung is concerned. Try as he might to hide it, Jisung’s never been very good at concealing his reactions. He knows that Changbin and Hyunjin can both see the way he’s gone still, but that knowledge feels distant, especially when compared to all the other thoughts that are suddenly singing through Jisung’s mind. His thing? God, what does that mean? Surely, they can’t mean his old thing for Chan. Right? Surely. Fuck. What has Minho told them?
Jisung’s mouth feels very dry. “My thing?”
“Yeah,” Changbin says. “The thing, you know, whatever went down between you last time we were here.”
Hyunjin reaches over suddenly, trapping Jisung’s hand. He realises, belatedly, that he’s been digging his fingernails into the wood of the table. Hyunjin rubs his thumb over the back of Jisung’s palm and says,
“Don’t freak out. Whatever happened, Minho-hyung hasn’t told us anything.” It’s ridiculous that Hyunjin can so accurately pinpoint what it is that has Jisung’s mind spinning. “Not for a lack of trying, mind you.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Changbin says quickly. “I just meant ‘your thing’ like – whatever it was you were angry about. It’s all fixed now?”
“Angry?” Jisung is vaguely aware that all he’s doing is echoing the same words they’re using – but there’s too much happening right now for him to have capacity to search for new ones. This is not good. This is so far from good, it’s not even funny. “I wasn’t – I haven’t been angry.”
Hyunjin sighs. “Jisung, come on. You’ve been avoiding him for years. Did you think we wouldn’t notice?”
Put that way, Jisung realises he really has been very foolish. Of course, they’ve all noticed. Of course, they’ve all drawn their own conclusions to explain away Jisung’s behaviour. None of his friends are idiots, and Jisung has never been very good at being subtle. Suddenly, the way they’d all easily accepted his excuses feels so obvious. It had always struck Jisung, that none of them ever had any questions. He’d figured he was coming up with good enough explanations that he was somehow getting away with it.
“Like, obviously it’s fine.” Hyunjin gives him a sympathetic look, but whatever empathy he feels, it’s not enough to stop him speaking. He squeezes Jisung’s hand. “You’re allowed to feel however you want, and he obviously upset you. But it seemed like a good thing, that you didn’t try to get out of this trip, you know? And then, seeing you talking last night, we figured you must have sorted it out. Did Minho-hyung apologise?”
Jisung takes a deep breath. It fights him every inch of the way. He obviously upset you. God.
“No,” Jisung says, “No, he. He didn’t – there’s nothing – he doesn’t need to apologise.” It suddenly feels absolutely imperative that Jisung gets his shit together, at least enough to say this. He cannot have anyone thinking that Minho is responsible for the mess that Jisung has made. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Right.” Changbin and Hyunjin share a quick look that Jisung doesn’t like at all. It is clear – abundantly clear – that neither of them really believes him.
“I mean it,” Jisung says, much louder than he’s said anything else. He yanks his hand away from Hyunjin’s, suddenly not able to stand the feeling of someone touching him. “He didn’t – he’s great, okay. It was me, I’m the one who fucked up.”
The wariness they both radiate shifts a little, turning into something a little more uncertain. They glance at each other again – the way couples always seem to – as if they are checking something silently between them. It only makes Jisung feel more jittery. They’re right. It has been years. That means years of Hyunjin and Changbin asking questions – just not of Jisung. If this is conclusion they’ve drawn after who knows how many conversations with Minho, then –
“Wait, wait,” Jisung says. “Does Minho-hyung think I’ve been angry with him?”
Their look is guilty now.
Hyunjin shifts slightly, uncomfortable. “Uh. I don’t know.”
“He doesn’t really talk about it that much,” Changbin says quickly. He can’t quite sit still either. “But like. He knows, you know, that you’ve been avoiding him.”
“You weren’t really that subtle about it,” Hyunjin says, apologetic.
“Fuck,” Jisung says.
God. It’s not like Jisung thought he’d been the master of deception or anything. Yeah, he thought he’d been lucky with his excuses, but he’d known that Minho would have at least figured out what Jisung was doing. That’s why he’d come to set things right, isn’t it? He’d expected Minho to be angry with him for being silent all those years, for how transparent Jisung had been in his inability to face him. He’d been ready for Minho to hate him. He’d never, never thought that Minho would assume it was the other way around. It was – it was ridiculous! Who could know everything that happened between them – the way that Minho had looked after him, had been so kind, had kept his secrets – and think that Minho was in the wrong?
“Wait,” Hyunjin says. “If you’re not angry with him, then what even happened?”
“I, uh. It was…” But literally how does Jisung explain? He can’t tell them about the Chan thing. It’s done, it’s in the past, but God, how awkward would it be if the truth came out now? “I was just – embarrassed.”
Fuck, even that is probably too much.
“Why?” Changbin asks.
“Did something happen that day he took you home?” Hyunjin’s interest in solving this mystery seems to have superseded his discomfort. He leans over the table again, ducking in close. “Everything with you guys seemed so chill before that. What did you do? Did you try and kiss him or something?”
Jisung’s ears start ringing.
Changbin huffs. “Hyunjin-ah.”
“What? I’m just asking!”
“Kiss him?” Jisung says faintly.
“Well, yeah,” Hyunjin says. “You seemed super into him like, that whole trip. I mean, I guess you both seemed into each other – that’s why it was so weird when you suddenly didn’t want to see him – but like, we all just figured he maybe moved a bit fast for you or something. Not like, on purpose, of course not. It’s just, he can be so intense about stuff, you know, so we thought—”
“Stop,” Jisung says. He puts his hands up, as if he might be able to physically block all the – everything that’s coming out of Hyunjin right now. “Stop, just. Stop.”
Hyunjin stops.
Jisung needs to – breathe. He just needs to breathe.
“Sorry, Jisung-ah,” Changbin says, and his voice is soft, and low, and guilty. “We didn’t mean to stress you out.”
“It’s fine,” Jisung says, even though he’s not really there, not really even thinking about that. He presses at his temples and only then realises he’s got his head in his hands. There’s no room to even think about that. He’s still trying to sort through everything that Hyunjin has just said. Where does he even start?
They thought he was – into Minho? Like, okay, yeah. Objectively, even then, Jisung had been able to see that Minho was an absurdly good-looking guy. He wasn’t blind, he had eyes. But – he’d been so obvious about Chan. Thinking about it still made him cringe. Minho had figured it out in mere days. Jisung half-thought that everyone had clued on, and they’d all decided just not to mention it, to save Jisung the embarrassment.
“Minho-hyung didn’t do anything,” Jisung says. He’s said it before but it’s so, so important that they understand him. “Nothing. I need you guys to get that.”
They both nod hurriedly.
Hyunjin says, “Okay. We trust you.”
“Sorry,” Changbin says again.
“I didn’t – do any of the things, you were thinking.” Did you kiss him? Did you kiss him? Did you kiss him? “I just – I was embarrassed that I made him drive me all the way home. It felt like I couldn’t take care of myself, or something, like I was a kid that he needed to babysit. It was embarrassing, okay? That’s it.”
Hyunjin frowns. He doesn’t need to say what he’s thinking.
“I know. I know it’s stupid,” Jisung says. Hearing it out loud – especially after hearing all the things they’d come up with which are so, so much worse – he feels like even more of an idiot. “It’s so stupid. I just – it was easy to just – not be around him for a bit, cause then I didn’t have to think about it. None of it was his fault. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
Of course, of course, his eyes begin to sting.
He just – this is so much worse than he’d thought. He’s been so much more awful than he thought, and he’d already known he was being pretty shit. Now – now he has to reckon with the fact that Minho has been dealing with this for years. Is this what Minho has thought this whole time? That he did something to Jisung that was so awful it warranted being ignored for so long?
Fuck. Fuck!
He rubs at his eyes, fighting desperately to stop the tears spilling.
“Ah, Jisung-ah, don’t cry.” Changbin seems to materialise at Jisung’s side. He must have walked around at some point, but Jisung missed it. One second, he’s looking at the two of them, the next: Changbin has him wrapped in sturdy arms. “It’s okay. That’s good, that it’s something like that. That means it’s all been a misunderstanding. You can just fix it, right?”
Jisung buries his face in Changbin’s bicep. The dark helps with the tears. A few stray drops leak out, but they are immediately swallowed by Changbin’s sleeve. The rest, Jisung somehow manages to stifle.
“It’s just so stupid,” Jisung says again, his voice muffled.
He feels a hand pat lightly at his head. Hyunjin’s never been the best at offering comfort, especially to Jisung. They are both just a little too awkward for each other, most of the time. Still, it’s nice that he’s trying.
“It’s okay,” Hyunjin says. “You’re stupid heaps of the time.”
Jisung lifts his head just enough that he can glare over Changbin’s arm. Hyunjin meets him with a smug, unbothered look.
“I’m not the one who thought Minho-hyung did something to me,” Jisung says. “That’s stupid. That’s crazy stupid.”
Hyunjin sighs. “I didn’t think he did anything, God. He’s not like that, he would never. But – I don’t know, sometimes people don’t always get him or his – his whole thing. I thought you did, when we were all here, but then – I don’t know, you’re the one who was avoiding him! How is that my fault?”
It’s not.
It’s really not, Hyunjin’s right. This is all Jisung’s fault.
He slumps into Changbin’s hold. It’s not even ten in the morning and he feels completely exhausted. It is now abundantly clear that Jisung’s little apology from the night prior hadn’t been nearly enough to solve the problems Jisung has caused.
“Does he hate me?” Jisung asks quietly.
Changbin lets him go, but only so he can lean down and look Jisung dead in the eye. “No. Of course he doesn’t. He just…”
The way that he trails off isn’t promising at all.
But Hyunjin picks up where Changbin left off. “He never told us what happened, right? So we had to guess – which was unfair of us, I get that. Sorry. But all Minho-hyung ever said was that he’d upset you, and that you had a right to keep your distance, so we just left it, cause we figured he knew better than we did.”
“He doesn’t,” Jisung says, resolute. “He’s wrong. He didn’t upset me at all.”
“Okay,” Hyunjin says slowly. “Then. I don’t know. Maybe you should tell him that.”
“Yeah.” Jisung has never felt so sure about anything in his life. He has to speak to Minho. He has to clear this up. He has to explain himself and do it far better than he’d done the night before. Absurdly, this drive that fills him seems to negate his nerves altogether. The thought that Minho has been feeling guilty this whole time, feeling responsible – it’s enough to wipe any of Jisung’s hesitations clear. He has to fix this. “I will.”
.
By the time the others return from the store, bags and bags of food hanging from them, Seungmin and Jeongin are both awake. They’d both seemed a little wary – in a way that told Jisung they’d probably seen at least a glimpse of Jisung’s conversation with Changbin and Hyunjin from the window and decided to steer clear. Neither of them mentions it, though, which Jisung appreciates. They’re certainly two guys who are good at minding their business.
As they carry the bags of food inside, everyone rushes to help. Jisung catches Minho’s eye briefly – Minho holds it for just a moment, offers a friendly nod and smile, but quickly busies himself elsewhere. Jisung’s stomach tumbles.
Changbin lingers a little close to Jisung, the way he always does when Jisung gets upset over something. It’s like he’s activated some sort of caring gene, one that tells Changbin to keep nearby, just in case Jisung needs him again. It’s sweet, and Jisung lets himself soak in the comfort that is having a friend who cares enough to hover like this, but it’s also not really necessary. Jisung knows what he’s got to do. He just has to figure out the best way to do it.
Hyunjin is a little more pragmatic. He slips in by Jisung’s side as Jisung is emptying some of the grocery bags, putting the food in the fridge.
He says, quietly, “If you want to talk to him while we’re at the beach, I’ll make sure everyone stays clear.”
Jisung frowns, keeps his eyes on the milk he’s fitting into the fridge door.
“How are you going to do that?”
Hyunjin tuts. “Never mind that. Do you want to talk to him or not?”
“I want to talk to him,” Jisung says.
“Good.” Hyunjin reaches out and taps Jisung on the nose. He dances out of Jisung’s reach while Jisung is still blinking, registering it. “Then I’ve got your back. Don’t worry.”
Jisung’s already worrying, if he’s totally honest, but not about Hyunjin’s ability to keep their friends distracted. He’s worried that Minho won’t want to speak with him. He’s worried that Minho might be done with him altogether. And most of all, he’s worried because if that were the case, Minho would be so, so justified. After all, what reason has Jisung given him to hear him out?
When the food is all put away, and everyone has had the chance to change into their beach gear, they trundle down the path towards the beach. Everyone lays their towels out on the sand, kicking their shoes off and abandoning their phones to Minho’s care – who has already made himself comfortable in the sand.
Jisung wonders briefly what Hyunjin’s plan is, then,
A sunscreen bottle knocks him in the head.
“Jisung-ah, you didn’t put any sunscreen on.” Hyunjin does not appear to have noticed, or care, that the sunscreen has knocked Jisung’s sunglasses clean off his face. “Don’t even think about coming in until you have.” He swings around and to the rest of the group, shrieks, “Last one in has to clean the dishes tonight!”
Then he legs it.
Idiot.
Of course, all their friends are barely a beat behind him. They race after Hyunjin, all of them shouting about fairness and rules. It is, unfortunately, an incredibly effective way of leaving Jisung with Minho, alone, just the two of them.
Minho peers up at Jisung curiously. “I thought you put some on at the house.”
Jisung had. Chan and Felix are pretty strict about sun-safety, so Jisung had put his sunscreen on as soon as he’d changed into his beach clothes. It hasn’t even sunk in yet – his skin still feels sticky and greasy. Seungmin and Changbin had done the same. It’s an appallingly bad lie, one that everyone should have seen through in an instant.
Jisung doesn’t bother trying to defend it. Instead, he says, “I need to talk to you.”
“Ah,” Minho says.
“I need to apologise to you,” Jisung says.
Minho looks down at the towels, at his knees, at a lot of places – not Jisung. He smiles, but same as yesterday, there’s nothing behind it. “We did this last night.”
Jisung shakes his head. “Not properly. I need to do it properly.”
Minho sighs. His shoulders slump a little, defeated, and it’s an awful look on him. “Jisung, I—”
“I’m an idiot, okay.” It’s maybe not the best start. Since talking to Changbin and Hyunjin this morning, Jisung has been in something of an adrenaline haze. He’s tried rehearsing what he’s going to say in his head, but nothing clear has materialised outside of: I’m sorry, it’s my fault, you were so wonderful. “I know you know I was avoiding you. Hyunjin said you think it’s because you upset me.”
Annoyance flashes across Minho’s features. He says, “Don’t worry what Hyunjin says.”
“He’s right though, isn’t he?” Jisung realises, too late, that doing this standing over Minho is not the move. Fuck. He drops down onto the towel, leaving a solid amount of space between them, and tries to bring down his tone, the urgency that is vibrating out of him. He’s got to get this right. He’s got to say the important things first. “Hyung, you – you were amazing.” He said that last night, but it bears repeating. He’ll repeat it as often as he needs. “There’s – you didn’t do anything, okay? It was all me.”
Minho doesn’t look quite as cornered now that they’re both on the same level. He still won’t look at Jisung. He turns, looking back up towards the house instead, maybe contemplating if it’s worth making a run for it. It stretches out his neck, makes his jawline taut.
Jisung makes himself go softer still. “I was embarrassed. That’s all it was. I’m sorry it’s such a – a nothing reason, but. I just – after everything, with Chan-hyung and you, like, bringing me all the way home. I just felt so stupid and weak and I – I didn’t know how to – face you, I guess, so I just – didn’t.”
It would be easier to say all of this to the sand, to keep his eyes down so that he can maybe work at making the words a little better, but he can’t look away. He has to be sure that Minho is listening to him, that what Jisung is saying is getting through. It means he gets to watch as Minho slowly turns back to him. He doesn’t say anything, so Jisung does.
“I’m really sorry, hyung,” Jisung says. He holds Minho’s eye, and it’s hard, but it’s also somehow easy. He watches Minho blink, like he’s startled, trying to process. “It was so unfair of me. I was just – being selfish. I didn’t think – I thought you’d be angry with me, I didn’t realise you’d think you did something, because you didn’t, you were perfect. Seriously. You were so wonderful. I can’t – I don’t know how to tell you, how amazing you were.”
Jisung stops there, because he can see Minho’s ears turning a bit red, and he thinks maybe he’s gushed enough. He wants to say sorry again, and again, and again, but he has to give Minho space. He has to give him room to take it in, so he sits on the towel and twists his fingers into knots, physically biting down on his tongue so that he doesn’t cave to the impulse.
After a moment, Minho clears his throat. “Why were you embarrassed?”
Jisung swallows. Recalling that day, his little breakdown, still makes his skin feel itchy. He tries not to cringe too visibly. “It’s – you saw me that day, hyung. I was pathetic.”
Minho frowns. “No, you weren’t.”
“You don’t have to say that hyung, I know I was,” Jisung says. He reaches up, scratches at his neck. “I was crying all over you, and like, I panicked over nothing. Like, it was just a – a nothing thing, and I acted like the world was ending, that’s so ridiculous, it’s crazy, I shouldn’t have—”
“You were upset,” Minho says. “You’re allowed to be upset.”
Jisung appreciates the sentiment, but – “Not like that. Not over something like that. Like, even you said, it was just a crush, and I lost it.”
Minho shifts a little, an aborted little movement. His hands hover awkwardly in the air for a moment before he settles them on his knees. “I didn’t mean it like that—”
“I know you didn’t, sorry,” Jisung says, “but you were still right. It was just – it was so stupid, losing my shit over something like that. And then I made you drive me all the way home, and then I made you cook for me.”
“You didn’t make me to do any of those things.”
“I did, I did, and you were – you just did it all, I made you look after me like I was some kid, and—”
“Jisung.” Suddenly, Minho’s voice is louder, sterner. It cuts off Jisung’s words, and his thoughts, and his gaze jumps up, landing on Minho. He wears a serious expression. “Stop saying it like you forced me to do anything. I’m the one who offered. I wanted to help.”
“And you did!” Oh, no. Jisung’s mucked it up again. “God, hyung, you helped so much – but like, you shouldn’t have had to. I should have been able to sort my own shit out.”
Minho shakes his head and straightens his back. “You didn’t need to – you had a bad day. That’s all it was. People are allowed to have bad days.”
“I know that,” Jisung says, although he knows most people reserve their bad days for the serious shit like a crisis at work or fighting with family. “Still, though, it wasn’t that big of a deal, I didn’t need to lose it like that.”
“You didn’t—” A frown settles on Minho’s face, half-frustrated, half-confused. “—you didn’t lose it, I mean. You were just upset. It was normal.”
Jisung scoffs. “It wasn’t normal, hyung.”
But Minho doesn’t budge. “It was. It – you weren’t expecting it. You got a shock. Lots of people would react the way you did, seeing something like that, especially if they’re – invested, like you were.”
A little breath escapes Jisung.
Minho is just filled with empathy. The depth of it makes Jisung feel almost unsteady; unbalanced, even though he’s sitting on the ground. It’s the same as it was on that day, the one they’re talking about, all those years ago. Even with Jisung before him, admitting all the things that he’s done wrong, Minho is still offering him compassion. There is just – so much kindness in him.
“You’re such a good guy, hyung,” Jisung says.
Minho blinks again, fast. For a moment, he just stares at Jisung, before he seems to abruptly return to reality. He clears his throat hard, and his gaze skitters away. His ears are definitely red now.
“Jisung…”
“I should have talked to you. I should have pulled my head out of my ass and just – been a grown up. I’m really sorry. You deserved better than what I gave you.”
Minho sighs. His hands are still on his knees. He digs his fingers into the skin there, pink blooming under the pressure, turning tan skin rosy. Jisung wonders – errantly, vaguely, completely out of the blue – how it might feel if it were his fingers, doing the pressing.
“We only knew each other for a few days,” Minho says, and the words drag Jisung back to the present, away from fingers and flesh. Wait. What was that? Fuck. No time to figure it out now. “You didn’t owe me anything.”
Jisung swallows and forces himself to look away from Minho’s knees. He runs through Minho’s words a second time in his mind, thinking them over, giving them the attention they deserve. He hums.
“Sure, but.” It doesn’t really matter how long they’d known each other, does it? “The same works in reverse, hyung. You didn’t have to do what you did. You could have just let me lose my shit by myself.”
Minho’s face scrunches up, showing immediately what he thinks of that. “That would’ve been shitty.”
“Not really,” Jisung shrugs. “Heaps of people would’ve expected me to figure it out by myself, but you didn’t. You went out of your way to help me and I just – let you think you did something wrong. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Minho shifts. He’d been sitting with his legs crossed, but he stretches them out now, keeping them only a little bent so that he can rest his arms gently on his knees.
“It’s okay,” he says quietly, and for the first time, Jisung thinks Minho understands enough for him to mean it. “It wasn’t – it didn’t keep me up at night, or anything. I just, I don’t know. You didn’t want to see me, so I figured I’d just leave you alone.”
Jisung’s chest aches. “I’m really sorry.”
Minho scans Jisung’s features. It feels like a physical thing, mapping out Jisung’s face, taking everything in. Jisung wonders what he can see.
“Thank you,” Minho says, softly.
Then he smiles, and it feels real, finally, and Jisung feels something in him ease. A weight seems to lift from Jisung’s shoulders; the air around them suddenly feels a little lighter. It is as if Minho’s words are somehow permission for Jisung’s muscles to relax, for him to sit a little easier in the sand.
“What did you think?” Jisung asks quietly. “Can I ask? Is that okay?”
Minho nods. “Of course, you can ask.” He looks out towards the water, but this time it doesn’t feel like he’s doing it just so that he doesn’t have to look at Jisung. He seems contemplative; thoughtful. “I don’t know. I thought I’d made you uncomfortable or something. You said, when we were on the trip, that you wanted to hang out after. Then you didn’t, so I figured I must have done something.”
Jisung’s awful brain conjures up images of Minho checking his phone, waiting for the text or the call that wouldn’t come. Waiting for Jisung to get his shit together.
He takes a shaky breath. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” Minho says. “People say, sometimes, that I can be a bit much. I’m not really good at knowing where the line is, all the time.”
Jisung starts shaking his head long before Minho finishes talking. “You weren’t. You weren’t too much, you were perfect.”
It earns him a wry smile. Minho says, “You keep saying that.”
“Cause it’s the truth,” Jisung says. “I mean it.”
God, he really likes those flushed, pink ears.
Minho looks down at the towel, ducking his face a little. He can’t quite hide his pleased smile, though, and Jisung thinks, wow, yes, hello. I’d like to see that again.
“Well,” Minho huffs. “Okay. I’m glad.”
Jisung edges a little closer. He’s still on his knees, so the move is by no means subtle. He doesn’t mind. Earnestly, he says, “Genuinely, hyung. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m so sorry I fucked it all up.”
Minho sighs. “You didn’t – you haven’t fucked it all up.”
Hope blossoms. “I haven’t?”
Minho rolls his eyes, and it looks fond and exasperated. “No. If you were just embarrassed, then that’s – that’s way better than what I thought.”
“I was, I swear.” Jisung nods quick, hurried. “I was just – it was so embarrassing, hyung.”
“I don’t think it was,” Minho says, “but that’s fine. I’m just glad you don’t – not like me, or something.”
“I definitely don’t not like you,” Jisung says, so quickly it almost confuses himself. He takes a moment, making sure he got the double-negative right. “I like you, hyung. I like you so much.”
Whoops. That’s maybe more than Jisung meant to say.
His eyes go wide at the same time that Minho’s do, and for a moment they stare at each other. Then they both break – embarrassed laughter spilling out of Jisung, mixing with Minho’s amused chuckle.
Jisung says, “Sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s fine, Jisung-ah,” Minho says.
Oh, that’s nice. Shit. Jisung didn’t realise he’d been missing that.
“I really did want to be friends with you,” Jisung says – because it feels important to say. He hadn’t been lying when he’d asked Minho to hang out with him after their trip. He’d just – lost that, among the mess of the rest. “I wasn’t lying. I just – fucked it up.”
“Well,” Minho says. He gives Jisung another of those smiles, sweet and small and filled with something Jisung doesn’t know how to name. “We can be friends now, if you want.”
Jisung grins, properly grins, and says, “Really?”
Minho huffs. “Yes. Stop making me repeat myself.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Jisung says. “It just – feels too good to be true, you know?”
Minho pulls a face. “Gross, stop being so sentimental.” Jisung knows that he’s being incredibly lame, he just doesn’t care. He can’t keep the glee from his face. Minho looks at it and shies away, laughing. “I’m going to be sick.”
Jisung pouts. “Hyung! It’s good, isn’t it?”
Minho sighs. “Ugh, yes. It’s good. Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Jisung asks, even though he knows, even though he’s doing it on purpose.
“Eugh.”
Minho reaches over and shoves lightly at Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung laughs as he lets the pressure of it knock him over. He falls onto the towels, on his side, and peers up at Minho from there instead, keeping his eyes big and round. Minho looks over him, that lovely smile playing on his lips. He looks happy – like he’s happy to be here with Jisung, even after everything, and it fills Jisung with warmth, seeing it.
“Thank you so much for listening to me, hyung,” Jisung says. “I’m really glad we talked.”
“You should tell Hwang Hyunjin his distraction tactics are for shit,” Minho says.
“They worked, didn’t they? Maybe I should buy him flowers.”
Minho peers down at him. “You’re that happy?”
Jisung blushes, but says, “Of course, I am,” anyway. This earnestness thing is embarrassing, sure, but he’s learnt how dangerous it is to hide things for the sake of his dignity. And it’s worth it, definitely, for the way Minho startles, then quickly looks out towards the water.
“Well,” Minho says, a little awkward. “You definitely shouldn’t tell him that. He’ll be so obnoxious.”
Jisung reaches out and touches Minho’s ankle. His skin is warmed from the sun, and smooth.
“It can be our secret, right hyung?”
Minho makes a face. His neck is pink like his ears, now. He says, “Ah, yeah. Uh. Sure.”
Jisung asks, “Can I hug you?”
And that really throws Minho off. It throws Jisung off a little too, if he’s honest. He’s not sure when the thought occurred to him, when he decided he wanted to hug Minho, let alone when he decided to ask. But still. It’s out there now.
“What?” Minho asks.
Jisung pushes himself back up. He’d landed mostly on the towels, so he isn’t too sandy, but he can feel some fall down from his hair. He’s already said it, hasn’t he? Might as well give it the full send.
“Can I hug you?” he asks again. “I – I want to, but I know you’re not like, super touchy. Sorry. I thought I’d ask.”
Minho blinks a few more times. He searches Jisung’s face, shifts a little where he’s sitting, and says, “Uh. Okay.”
Jisung pushes himself back onto his knees. He crawls across the towels and reaches for Minho – and he does it all confidently, because he knows the second that he hesitates, he’s going to crumble. He can’t overthink this. He won’t let himself.
Minho watches as his approaches, his eyes wide, but he doesn’t move. He lets Jisung reach out, over towards Minho. The angle is odd, the sand uneven, and Jisung practically tips into Minho’s embrace. Warm arms catch him and then – they’re hugging. Jisung has his arms around Minho’s shoulders, Minho has him framed at the waist. Jisung catalogues a world of feelings. The skin of Minho’s neck is incredibly soft, and warm. His hair smells fresh, clean, kind of like flowers. His shoulders feel sturdy, strong. His hands feel big.
Did you kiss him? Hyunjin had asked.
Jisung pulls back.
Minho lets him go, keeps one hand on his waist until Jisung has twisted and settled into place, sitting at Minho’s side. When he removes it, Jisung’s skin feels somehow warmed, but colder. He can feel the imprint of Minho’s hand, right where it had pressed through the fabric of Jisung’s shirt.
“Thanks for listening,” he says again, because it really means it. “And for talking to me again. I really don’t deserve it.”
Minho nudges him with his shoulder. “Shut up with that shit. You do. You’re fine.”
Jisung nudges him right back. “I’ll work hard this time, hyung.” He lifts a fist and cheers it in Minho’s direction. “I promise. Fighting!”
Minho rolls his eyes. “Oh, my god.”
Laughing, feeling pleased with himself, Jisung settles in at Minho’s side. God. Even the day looks brighter. The clouds in the sky have turned lighter, most of them dissipating altogether. The water, where their friends appear to be playing a mutated version of Marco Polo, looks somehow bluer.
“You can go swim, if you want,” Minho says.
“What?”
Minho shrugs. “I mean – I’m okay here if you want to go. I’m glad you stayed to talk it out with me, I’m glad we’ve cleared everything up – but you don’t need to stick with me all day if you want to go hang with the others.”
Jisung frowns. He says, “Uh. Do you want me to go?”
“What?” Minho says. “No?”
“I can, if you want some space?” Maybe Minho needs a little time to process everything that’s happened. Jisung can give him that if it’s what he needs.
But Minho lets out a frustrated little noise. “Jisung-ah. I just meant, you don’t need to keep me company if you’re worried that I’ll change my mind or something. Seriously. We’re all good.”
“Okay, good,” Jisung says. Minho’s reassurance only stokes that warmth in Jisung’s body, contentedness blooming, taking hold of him. He wants to lean over, nudge into Minho again, just to feel him there. To remind Jisung that they’re good now, that he might’ve just fixed things. Looking out at the water – he sees Chan take Hyunjin down in a brutal tackle, Hyunjin’s shriek cut off as they both disappear under water. Everyone around them howls with laughter. “… It looks kinda rough out there, though. Do you mind if I stay?”
Minho says, “Of course not.”
“Cool, yeah.” Jisung glances over at Minho and finds that he’s already being watched. There is a look in Minho’s eye that Jisung can’t even begin to analyse. He thinks it’s good, though. It feels good. “Then I’ll, uh. I’ll stay.”
“Yeah,” Minho says. “Cool.”
.
Notes:
two big convos in this chap - i really enjoyed writing both. changjin are so much fun to write - i think when this is finished, I might write an interlude on how they got their shit together, so let me know if you'd be interested in that? - also just loved the changsung and hyunsung moments. ahhh i just love those kids so much!!!!! it's obscene!!!!!!
as for minsung - ah, they're just the best. i hope u guys enjoyed their discussion and are excited for where they're going next.
here is twt. also, it would mean a lot to me if ur able to leave ur thoughts below. it really gives me the energy to keep writing, seeing that you guys are invested in the story. but either way, tysm for reading. ily xx
Chapter 11
Notes:
you would not belieeeeeve how hard this chapter fought me, lmaoooo. the words did not want to be written.
also. there was a real point there when I thought this chap would get the total to 69999 words. it didn’t. but if feels important that I let u know.
but hey! we made it. as always a huge thank u to those of u who've been reading and kudosing and bookmarking and commenting. hope u love the new chap x
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
As the forecast predicted, the sun does away with wispy clouds and the afternoon melts into something warm and soupy. Jisung does swim for a little bit. He talks Minho into wandering down to the shoreline with him; they walk with the water up to their ankles for a while, then Jisung caves to impulse and runs in to dunk his head under. It’s cold, but the air is warm enough that he doesn’t mind.
Minho keeps to the shallows, but sticks relatively close to Jisung’s side, never so far that they can’t talk. He asks Jisung about his music, and how he likes his job, and the kind of work Jisung gets to do these days. Jisung asks the same questions right back, and as he and Minho pass the day speaking, he revels in the filling of empty spaces. There’s so much he hasn’t been able to know about Minho – how could he ask anyone questions about him when he’d been trying so hard to avoid mentioning his name? – so it’s nice to see those little mysteries so easily solved. Minho loved Japan, he learns, and loved the friends and the life he made there. Still, it was a fair way away from his family, and when the job had turned into something a little too far from what he’d pictured, Minho had decided it was time to try something new again.
“Also, I missed Korean food,” Minho says, which makes Jisung cackle.
Eventually, they trundle back up to the sand. The others have stayed in the deep water almost this entire time – an incredible feat of stamina, Jisung thinks – but soon enough they tire too. Soggy, exhausted, everyone returns from the water and drops onto their sandy bed of towels. Seungmin pulls out a book, which he lets Jeongin read over his shoulder. Hyunjin makes a pillow of Changbin’s belly and falls quickly asleep, Changbin not far behind, his fingers tangled in Hyunjin’s wet hair. Chan and Felix cosy up, Felix sat between Chan’s legs, Chan’s chin hooked over Felix’s shoulder. Even though Jisung doesn’t feel nearly as tired as his friends look, their sleepiness is infective, so he drops down too. He and Minho lie flat, eyes to the sky, heads tilted near each other so they can continue to speak quietly. They pass the time looking up at the few clouds the sun hasn’t quite burnt off, making ugly shapes of them.
“That one looks like a dick,” Jisung says.
Minho snorts. “It looks like a cauliflower. What kinda dicks have you been looking at?”
From the other side of the towels, Jisung hears Seungmin snort. He primly ignores this and huffs, making sure Minho knows it’s for him.
“I see plenty of dicks,” he says, even though he really doesn’t. He’s an introvert, and he’s allergic to meeting new people, and finding the energy to seek out a casual hook up is literally always more effort than it’s worth.
Minho says, “I hope not ones that look like that. There are way prettier dicks out there.”
Jisung feels his face go hot – not the sun, unfortunately – and refuses to let his mind wander too far at the confidence in Minho’s voice. Instead, he searches for another cloud that might stand out to him. Luckily, he’s an imaginative guy.
“That one looks like Bulbasaur.”
“Oh shit,” Minho says. “I see it.”
Stomachs start grumbling not long after that. Laziness keeps them where they are for a little while, but as the sun sets, and the air turns slightly cooler, they all find the motivation to pack up and head back to the house.
Their dinner is simple. They cook some noodles and a little meat, and eat together at the outside table, because it’s cooler now but still pleasant. Jisung finds it remarkably easy to snag the seat beside Minho, and he ignores the smug look that Hyunjin sends him as he sits down. He can tell that Hyunjin and Changbin are just dying to ask questions – they keep sending him little looks that they must think are sneaky but are absolutely not – but he’s not interested in giving them the full debrief right now. He’s happy, sitting with Minho, keeping his attention, slowly but surely answering more little mysteries.
When they go to bed, Seungmin says, “You and Minho seemed pretty chill today.”
It’s not a question, so Jisung just ducks his head and shrugs.
“That’s all going good?” Seungmin asks.
Jisung says, “Yeah. I think so.”
“Sick.”
Even though he hadn’t done much during the day, Jisung sleeps like a log. It’s like he lies down on his bed, shuts his eyes, and suddenly it’s the morning, and every muscle in his body feels stiff and heavy. It takes him a while to shake it off, long enough that Seungmin wakes up and heads downstairs without him. He fucks around on his phone for a little while, and when he can focus on the screen without his eyes drooping, he makes moves to get up.
He jumps about a foot in the air when there is a sudden knock on the door.
“Jisung-ah,” Changbin calls through the door, thumping on the wood. “Get up, Chan’s got plans. We’re going kayaking.”
As is the case with really anything that Chan organises, the next hour moves very efficiently. Chan explains to the group that about fifteen minutes down the road, the ocean turns into a river mouth, and there’s a place that lets you hire kayaks to explore. The weather’s gonna be nice today, and Chan thought it would be a fun way to pass the time. He doesn’t force anyone to come, but when he looks around the room with those bright, excited eyes – well, everyone caves immediately.
So they’re going kayaking.
“There’s life jackets, and the water stays super shallow,” Chan says to Minho, as every disperse to get ready. “Will that be okay?”
Minho sighs and says, “I’ll be fine, hyung.”
Jisung says, “We can go in a double, if you want.”
Minho and Chan look over at Jisung; Minho surprised; Chan amused. Jisung is sure that he must look just as surprised, gazing back at them. He really… had not thought at all before offering. He’d just been listening and then – there it was – out in the open. Did Chan even say if they had doubles? Fuck, that’s embarrassing.
Chan claps Minho on the shoulder. “Hey, that’s a great idea!”
“You’re sure?” Minho checks.
Jisung knows he’s pink, he can feel the heat of it at the back of his neck, but he nods. In hindsight, maybe it’s a little needy of him, to have occupied Minho for all of yesterday and to demand more of him today – but fuck it, the offer’s already out there, isn’t it?
“Yeah,” he says. “Course.”
“Cool,” Minho says.
For some reason, Chan looks between them then throws his head back and laughs. It’s probably Jisung’s awkwardness that’s set him off, so Jisung fixes him with an angry glare, but Chan doesn’t even blink at the sight of it. Instead, he sweeps Jisung up into a bear hug, rocking him a little with the force of it.
Even as Jisung squirms to get away, Chan pats his head and says, “Ah, Sung-ie, you’re so cute, I’m gonna die.”
Jisung pokes viciously at Chan’s tummy, which wins him his freedom. “I’m just being nice!”
Chan ruffles his hair. “You’re being so nice!” he agrees, which Jisung decides quickly is way worse than if he’d argued. “You’re doing such a good job.”
Then Chan trots off, still laughing quietly to himself.
Minho has watched all of this with a funny expression on his face. He’s smiling, his eyes very fond, but the dip of his brows is maybe a little confused. It clears quickly, once Jisung is looking his way, and he reaches over to tap Jisung’s nose.
“Don’t turn that pout on me,” he says, as he moves to follow Chan towards the stairs. “He’s right, you’re adorable.”
Then he vanishes too, leaving Jisung feeling vaguely windswept and very indignant. Eventually he gets his ass into gear, heads back to his room and gets ready for another day in the sun. They’re all delayed in another round of sunscreen application, and confirming which cars they should take to get there. Changbin and Jeongin’s cars are the easiest to access, so they split into two groups and head off.
Organising the kayak hire is left to Chan, by virtue of him being the closest thing to a local, and this whole thing being his idea. In the end, they’re all in doubles.
“No couples!” Jisung claims loudly when he sees how everyone has started to divvy themselves up.
“What?” Hyunjin says, appalled. “Why?”
“You’re too in sync,” Jisung says. “Unfair advantage.”
“Oh, but you and Minho are pairing up?” Jeongin asks.
Jisung frowns. “Uh, yeah?”
There is a beat where all of his friends look at him, which – Jisung does a double take, and is about to ask, before Jeongin lets out a huge sigh and loops his arm around Changbin’s elbow. “Whatever. Dibs Changbin.”
Hyunjin scowls. “No fair, you just want him cause he’s got the biggest muscles!”
Jeongin doesn’t confirm nor deny, but he does look incredibly smug – although maybe not as smug as Changbin, who preens at his boyfriend’s comments, and does a little flex of his bicep, as if they all need supporting visual evidence for his claims.
Hyunjin still looks incredibly miffed – he was probably counting on those muscles himself, Jisung thinks – but before he can whine any more, Felix drapes himself over Hyunjin’s back.
Squeezing Hyunjin’s shoulder, rocking him a little, Felix says, “We can be a team this time!”
Hyunjin melts.
Chan and Seungmin bump fists when they realise that they are the pair left behind. Jisung just knows they’re going to be at the front of the group the entire day. There’s just something about the two of them, turning sheer determination into an iron will that’s almost impossible to defeat. Chan already looks like he’s thinking this is a race, and Seungmin is incredibly good at egging him on. The rest of them have no hope.
As they get into their kayaks, Jisung notices Minho fiddling with his life jacket a little. He’s been remarkably chill about all this so far, which Jisung has almost taken for granted. Idiot. He should have known this might make Minho a little unsettled.
Jisung bats Minho’s hands out of his way and reaches for the life jacket clips himself. He tightens the straps at Minho’s waist first, before moving his attention to the clips at the front.
“I’m actually okay at this, you know,” Jisung says. “My dad used to take me kayaking all the time. I won’t let you fall in.”
Minho smiles at him. It’s a lot, looking at it so closely, and Jisung feels his throat go a little dry.
Minho says, “It’s like three feet of water.”
Jisung shrugs, yanks on the straps of Minho’s jacket one final time, and grins at him. “Yeah, but. Still.”
Minho reaches for Jisung’s jacket – which Jisung has already expertly done up, thank you very much. He doesn’t go for any of the clasps. No, instead he goes for the shoulders. He tucks his fingers under Jisung’s jacket and yanks upwards, with so much force that Jisung lifts a little too.
“Very safe of you, Jisung-ah,” he says, approvingly. He sets Jisung back down on the ground and pats his shoulders, apparently satisfied with his improvised safety test.
Jisung, very stunned by how easily Minho can move him, blinks a few times. When Minho’s little comment catches up to him, however, he frowns.
“Of course, I’m safe. I know the risks. I almost got eaten by a crocodile once, you know.”
Minho scoffs, then laughs in Jisung’s face.
Jisung says, “Hey! I’m serious!”
He spends the next thirty minutes trying to convince Minho he’s telling the truth. It’s annoying, because he is, but it’s also funny because Minho resolutely refuses to believe him. He also tells Jisung that, if he is telling the truth, then almost getting bitten by a crocodile is the opposite of good water safety, which of course sets Jisung off again. Aggravating as it may be, at the very least, their conversation seems to distract Minho from worrying too much. As they climb into the precariously balanced kayak, Minho is far too occupied making disbelieving sounds, humming sarcastically, to fuss about the kayak wobbling.
A price Jisung will just have to pay, it seems.
Soon enough, they are all in the water, ready to set off. It’s funny, because as much as this is a nice group activity, as soon as they’re all in their own kayaks, it’s incredibly hard to talk to anyone over the water. As Jisung had expected, Seungmin and Chan take off like they’re a professional team of rowers. He can even, distantly, hear Chan saying, “Stroke, stroke, stroke,” and thinks of about a thousand jokes he wants to make – devastated that they are too far away to hear how funny he is.
Changbin and Jeongin are almost as efficient. With Changbin at the front, it seems Jeongin has taken over steering while Changbin focuses on power. In contrast, Felix and Hyunjin take some time to figure themselves out, their kayak spinning around a few too many times before they get the rowing movements right.
“We can do better than that,” Minho says.
“We have to, hyung,” Jisung says. He’s not sure Minho knows how serious this is. “Our honour depends on it.”
Minho is surprisingly steady in the water. He is at the back of the kayak, the heavier of the two, which Jisung resents a little because he clearly has more experience. Still, being in charge of direction is key – especially if they want to prove they’re better at this than Hyunjin and Felix – so Jisung takes his navigation duties seriously.
As stern as Minho likes to pretend to be, he doesn’t let them stray far from Hyunjin and Felix until they’ve sorted themselves out. Only when they’ve figured out how to kayak in a straight line does Minho start putting proper power behind his strokes, which Jisung then reluctantly admits is pushing them through the water much more efficiently than he’d have been able to. Even as they begin to pull ahead, Jisung can feel every now and again when Minho slows them down – making sure the others don’t fall behind.
Once Jisung gets the hang of paddling again – he forgot how much this shit murders your shoulders – he settles into something of a rhythm. Chan was right; it’s a beautiful day, the sun hot but not unbearably so, and the water so clear he can see fish swimming beneath them.
“You’re good at this,” Minho says after a little while. “You work out, Sung-ah?”
“I told you!” Jisung says. “I used to do this all the time!”
“Yeah, used to. That doesn’t explain those arms you’ve been hiding.”
And sure, yeah, Jisung’s been wearing a lot of t-shirts on this trip. He hasn’t been as active at the gym as he used to be, but he still goes when he can, mostly whenever Chan and Changbin talk him into a group sesh. It’s not like he’s been hiding or anything, but yeah, the sleeveless shirt he’s got on right now – the one that must seem almost invisible under the chunky coverage of his life jacket – does show a little more skin than he has on this trip so far.
He's never very good with other people noticing his muscles though. He ducks his head a little and says, “I go to the gym sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” Minho echoes dryly. “When you’re not wrestling crocodiles.”
“I never said I wrestled one!”
They paddle, arguing over nothing, chatting about everything, for about an hour before the sting in Jisung’s shoulders becomes a little too much and he decides he needs a rest. He pulls his paddle from the water, balancing it across his lap, and slouches back into the tiny seat supporting him.
“Hey,” Minho says. “Quitter. None of that.”
“I need a break, hyung,” Jisung says, only he drags the hyung out until it’s long and stretched. Hyuuuuuuung. “Please. Take pity on me.”
Minho tuts. “I thought you said you went to the gym. Where your stamina?”
“Gone,” Jisung laments. “Lost. I never had any to begin with.”
“C’mon crocodile hunter,” Minho says. He’d stumbled across this joke about half an hour ago and has already used it to the death, sounding more and more pleased with himself every time. “You can’t give up now. You’re gonna make me do all the work?”
Jisung, whose thoughts have gone a little syrupy in the sun, says, “Yeah. You should take care of me.”
There is a beat.
Minho says nothing.
Jisung straightens quickly. He takes a hasty hold of his paddle and dips it back in the water, splashing himself.
He says, hastily, too fast, “Take care of me, like, physically.” Wait, that’s not better. “I mean, for kayaking. You should do all the work – with the kayak. Paddling. You know.”
“Paddling?” Minho says.
Jesus fuck.
“Kayaking!” Jisung shrieks. “I meant kayaking.”
Minho says, “Of course, you did. What else could you be talking about?”
If Minho could swim, Jisung would genuinely tip the kayak here and now. Given that he can’t, Jisung’s hands are tied, so he settles for abandoning the paddle once more, only so he can bury his face in his hands.
“You’re so mean to me,” he says.
“Yeah,” Minho says, unapologetically. “You make it pretty fun.”
Jisung twists as much as he can so that he can glare at him. Again, he can feel how hot his face and neck have become. If the little grin Minho wears is any indication, he has also noticed, which does nothing to improve Jisung’s situation.
“Hey Jisung,” Minho says.
Jisung turns back to the front, resettling in his seat. Surly, hard done by, he says, “What?”
“Would you rather have sausages for fingers or ice blocks for feet?”
Jisung sits with that, just for a moment.
Then he says, “What the hell, hyung?”
He can practically hear it as Minho shrugs. It could be in his head, but it feels like the kayak shrugs with him, bouncing in the water. He doesn’t have to work hard to imagine how Minho must look right now. Unapologetic. Unbothered.
“Answer the question.”
Jisung thinks. “Uh… ice blocks for feet.”
“But then you’ll be sliding everywhere!”
“And I’ll have functional hands.” Jisung scrunches his face all the way up – even if Minho can’t see it, it makes him feel better. “I know how to ice skate, I’ll be fine.”
“You’d have to ice-skate on all terrain though. How are you gonna slide on rocks? Or sand? Did you even think about that?”
Jisung didn’t think about that, but he doesn’t think that’s so crazy of him. Who’d think about that? “It’s still better than sausage-fingers! You wouldn’t be able to do anything? They’d just – flop around!”
“But you could still walk.”
“How did we get here?” Jisung asks.
Minho says, “Would you rather have a mouse-sized dog or a dog-sized mouse?”
Astonishingly – or perhaps, not astonishing to anyone who knows them – they pass the next long while discussing their answers to this question. After that, it’s ‘would you rather be constantly sticky or constantly itchy’ to which they both determine sticky is the clear winner. Then Minho hits him with another curveball: ‘would you rather have nipple-sized fingers or finger-sized nipples?’ and that one well and truly throws Jisung for a loop.
“Uh…” He thinks very hard about his answer. He carefully visualises having tiny little fingers. Then he looks down at his own hand. His fingers aren’t huge. And at least nipples can be hidden, right? “Finger-sized nipples?”
A throat clears from a nearby.
“What’s going on here?” Changbin asks.
Jisung almost falls out of the kayak.
Jeongin says, “Do you really want to know, hyung?”
It’s unwise of them. If they’d just paddled on by, minded their own business, Jisung and Minho might not have noticed them at all. They were pretty caught up in their debate, after all. As it is, now that they know the others are there, they have a new target for their questions.
“Well go on, then,” Jisung says. “What’s your answer, if you’re so smart.”
“What’s the question?” Changbin says.
“Would you rather have nipple-sized fingers or finger-sized nipples?”
“What the fuck?” Jeongin says.
“Finger-sized nipples,” Changbin says.
The day continues like this. It’s nice.
.
Jisung gets sunburnt. In fact, almost all of them do, to varying degrees. In Jisung’s mind, this was inevitable – it’s summer, they’re spending a lot of time outside, and it’s hard to reapply sunscreen from a kayak – but Chan gives them all sad, disappointed looks, nonetheless. He and Seungmin are pretty much the only ones who have escaped unscathed.
“He made us stop to reapply every hour,” Seungmin tells them.
Chan nods proudly.
They take a quick detour on the way home, so that they can pick up some aloe vera from the store – but aside from that, the rest of the day is remarkably slow. Seungmin and Minho put lunch together, and it’s the first opportunity Jisung has had to see them properly interacting with each other. He’s thought about how this might go – they’re both the kind of guys it’s hard to get a quick read on, so seeing them together is kinda like watching a wall talk to another wall – but they find common ground relatively quickly. Unfortunately, for Jisung, this common ground appears to be how easy they find it to make fun of Jisung. They have a great time, even if Jisung is scowling at them the entire time – probably because Jisung is scowling at them the entire time.
Jisung would complain about it more, except every now and again, when Jisung pouts a little too deeply, Minho passes him a morsel of food and winks at him – so it all feels very worth enduring.
When Seungmin sees this, he rolls his eyes.
Jisung ignores him.
When they’ve finished eating, and with nothing planned for the afternoon, everyone breaks up and does their own thing. Changbin, Felix, and Hyunjin have a bit of a swim in the pool, while Seungmin sits in one of the pool chairs and gets back into his book. Chan curls up in a shady spot on the grass and has a nap, and Jeongin elects to do the same but inside. By chance, Jisung and Minho end up with the loungeroom to themselves. Minho doesn’t have any preference on what to watch, so Jisung scopes out some of his favourite YouTube videos to show him. By the end of the day, Minho has been updated on all sorts of conspiracy theory icebergs and video game run throughs and he doesn’t even hate Jisung afterwards. Definitely a win.
In kind, dinner is as chill as anything. Now that it’s been a few days, they’ve relaxed into something of a rhythm, so the warm evening passes in a haze of alcohol and easy conversation. One by one, people get tired and call it, heading upstairs to sleep. Although he’s exhausted, Jisung keeps himself awake, so that he and Minho can have another drink, and talk a little more.
Inevitably, his eyelids start to droop. He only noticed when Minho prods him in the forehead.
He jerks back to wakefulness. “I’m listening, I’m listening.”
Minho gives him a very soft smile. “Your eyes were literally shut.”
“Were not,” Jisung says.
Minho laughs. He says, “Well, I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”
“Pfft,” Jisung says. “Weak.”
Minho rolls his eyes. He looks over to the other end of the table, when Chan and Hyunjin are heavily debating the merits of a new album that one of their favourite artists have released.
“The others are pretty awake, you can stay out here if you want,” he says.
Jisung considers them. He stifles a yawn.
“Nah, I think I’ll head up too.”
He thinks Minho might snort at that, but to be honest, he can’t really remember. He doesn’t recall much of anything, after heading inside, but he makes it to bed somehow. For the second night in a row, his sleep is heavy, and if he dreams, he forgets those too.
All this being said, they are young, and they are vital. The following morning everyone’s energy is back and charged full. It’s bizarre, in Jisung’s opinion, because every muscle in his body aches from kayaking yesterday. Even reaching for his coffee in the morning makes his shoulders twinge, which of course Changbin notices with glee.
“We gotta get you back to the gym, Jisung-ie,” he crows.
Of course, this turns the conversation to sports, and exercise, and the like – and none too soon, Chan is saying,
“Wait. Why haven’t we played volleyball yet? Does anyone want to play volleyball?”
“Oh, hell yeah,” Changbin says. “Sounds fun.”
Jisung thinks it does not sound fun, and he makes sure this feeling shows clearly on his face. Felix barks a laugh, when he catches sight of it, and comes around the table to sit at Jisung’s side. He wraps his hands around Jisung’s arm and hangs off it, leaning in so that his head can settle on Jisung’s shoulder.
“We can just watch, don’t worry,” he says.
“You’re not gonna play?” Minho asks Jisung.
Jisung shakes his head. His shoulders are burnt, and his muscles are tired, and he can’t think of much worse than getting to his feet and jumping around some more. He’s especially not prepared for his friend’s trademarked brand of competitiveness, because he knows as soon as Hyunjin and Changbin get going, they’ll wipe the floor with him, and laugh doing it.
“I’m not big on sports,” Jisung says.
“Tell the truth, Jisung-ah,” Changbin calls from across the yard. “He doesn’t know the rules.”
“Fuck you,” Jisung says. “I’ve seen Haikyuu.”
“He’s the best cheerleader though,” Felix says, ignoring them both and looking up at Minho, bright and sunny. “We have like, a whole routine worked out.”
This is a lie, but Jisung goes with it anyway. He and Felix are good at this shit – and he’s sure they’ll be able to improvise something. He can do the lyrics; Felix can do the moves. They’re a perfect team.
Minho quirks a brow. “I’ll look forward to it then.”
When Minho strides off, heading in Chan’s direction to help him set up an improvised the volleyball net, Felix nudges Jisung in the side. When Jisung turns to look at him curiously, he’s met with a pair of waggling eyebrows, and a look that’s just on the wrong side of too knowing.
“What?” Jisung says.
Felix just waggles his eyebrows some more.
“You’re being weird,” Jisung says.
Felix tugs on his arm. He dips his head in close and says, in a hushed, excited voice, “He said he’ll look forward to it.”
Although he’s not exactly sure why, this makes Jisung feel a little unsettled in his seat. He shifts a bit, not quite pulling away from Felix, but certainly betraying some of his discomfort. Felix sobers in a heartbeat.
He says, “It’s good, right?”
“Um,” Jisung says. “Yeah?”
Felix squints at him. His dismay doesn’t clear altogether, but it does turn to something a shade more calculating. To avoid those persistent eyes, Jisung looks out towards the others, where they are now playing games to figure out who will be on which team. From the looks of it, it will be Minho, Chan, and Seungmin versus Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Changbin. Minho is already pointing at Hyunjin across the net, looking down his arm at him like he’s preparing for a fight to the death, not a friendly game of volleyball. Hyunjin edges closer to Changbin, which makes Minho grin, looking wicked. Jisung smiles, immediately forgetting Felix is watching, cursing himself when he remembers.
Felix says, “Do you know what you’re doing, Han Jisung?”
Jisung swallows. “Not generally, no.”
Felix settles. He leans more heavily on Jisung’s arm, but he runs a hand up and down Jisung’s bicep, soothing him even when Jisung didn’t really know he needed it. Jisung tries to relax too. He eases into Felix’s grip, takes a deep breath, and reminds himself that Felix is the safest person in the world. If anyone is going to see through him, it might as well be him.
Changbin serves first.
Felix hums. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Minho-hyung, lately.”
Jisung watches as Minho lunges for the ball, reaching it just in time, getting it back over the net. He makes it look easy.
“Uh, yeah,” Jisung says again.
It’s not like he’s known for his eloquence. It’s not like that’s his whole goddamn job.
“How’s that going?” Felix asks.
“Um. Good.”
Felix looks at Jisung closely.
Jisung doesn’t look back. He already knows. “Shut up.”
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” Felix says.
Jisung clears his throat. Hyunjin has saved the ball that Minho has sent his way but is so busy crowing about it that he then misses the shot Seungmin returns. While they lament their lost point, Jisung watches Minho bound around with Chan, crowing their victory.
Jisung says, “Talk about what?”
Felix rocks him. He sings, softly, carefully, “Ji-sung-ie.”
Damn it.
It’s not – Okay. So. Jisung knows what’s happening right now. He’s not an idiot. He knows what Felix is hinting at – it’s the same thing that Hyunjin and Changbin have already said, although this time at least, there’s far less panic on Jisung’s behalf. He’s – it’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. He’s tried to ignore it, tried not to let his mind wander, but – it’s just – he’s only human, okay, and thoughts are a hard thing for him to keep in line. Sure, during the daytime when he’s focusing, he can keep himself together. It’s in the quiet moments, like when he’s about to drift off to sleep, or when Minho catches him off guard, that he loses the battle.
And then it’s like a deluge. Like yesterday. Minho tugs on his life jacket, lifts him only a little, and suddenly Jisung’s thoughts are off to the races. Jisung’s brain – his useless, not-at-all-helpful brain – conjures images of bronzed thighs, thick arms, that playful little smirk, hovering somewhere dangerous. He thinks of other ways that Minho might lift him, how easy it apparently is for him to shift Jisung around.
Caught out, under Felix’s careful eye, Jisung says, “I’m dealing with it, okay?”
Minho serves this time. Already exposed, Jisung doesn’t see the harm in watching the way his muscles flex as he hits the ball high over the net. Everyone else is distracted, and Felix has already seen clean through him.
Jeongin receives, hits it back; Seungmin dives for it, rescues it right before it hits the ground; this sends Hyunjin scrambling to meet the ball right up by the net. Unfortunately, this sets Chan up perfectly to leap high in the air and slam the ball into the ground of the opposing side. Another loud celebration breaks out, intermixed with frustrated, annoyed groans.
“Dealing with it?” Felix echoes.
“It’s complicated,” Jisung says.
In hindsight, the attraction that Jisung has felt towards Minho feels quite obvious. Even back in the day, he’d been able to recognise how handsome Minho was. He’d marvelled at the sharpness of his features, the toned cut of his shoulders, the brightness behind his eyes – even from the first moment he’d seen him, when he and Chan had collected Minho and Hyunjin from outside their old apartment. But back then, everything had been Chan. It clouded out everything else, made the details hazy. Jisung remembers being impossibly comfortable in Minho’s company, very grateful for his friendship, but he doesn’t remember his stomach flipping the way it has been lately.
God, he’s so shit at this sort of thing.
“Complicated how?” Felix asks.
And now Jisung is stuck, because how in the hell is he supposed to explain to Felix that the reason he has so much respect for Minho – the thing that has made him stand out in Jisung’s mind for so many years – is the way he’d cared for Jisung, when Jisung had fallen to pieces over Felix’s boyfriend?
“It’s just.” What is it, Jisung, come on? “He – he thought I was angry at him, for something, and we’ve only just sorted that out. I don’t want to fuck it up.”
Felix squeezes his arm. “But you sorted it out?”
Jisung nods.
“Then that’s not so complicated anymore, right? If it’s fixed?”
It’s not that simple, Jisung thinks. It seems crazy, that he would leave Minho in the lurch for so long, only to meet him again and suddenly demand so much. Yeah, Minho’s hot. That bit’s easy. Anyone can see that. But the thing is, Minho is also kind, and gentle, and caring in a way that makes Jisung’s chest incredibly warm. Those are the parts he can’t risk. They’re too important.
“I don’t know,” Jisung says.
Felix lets out a little sigh. He shifts, pulling away from Jisung’s arm so that he can pick up Jisung’s hand. He starts playing with Jisung’s fingers, just fiddling, soft, somehow reassuring.
“I don’t want to, like, tell you what to do,” he begins carefully. “But the way that I see it, Minho likes spending time with you. Like, I don’t know if you see it the way the rest of us can. And you’re clearly – I mean, you like him, right?”
God. Jisung doesn’t even know.
Well. No. It’s not that. He knows. He knows he likes Minho but – like that? Isn’t that too much to ask, after everything? Isn’t that being too selfish?
“He’s really cool,” Jisung says, and it’s lame, and not nearly the right words, but they’re the only ones he can come up with. “I just – I don’t know. It’s good right now. It’s better to just – keep things good, right?”
Felix shrugs. He’s taking all of this on so easily. Like all of this is simple.
“You can if you want,” he says. “It’s up to you, no one’s going to force you to do anything. But I guess, I don’t know. Is it better or is it easier?”
Jisung slumps. He squeezes Felix’s hand very tightly. “Fuck you.”
Felix laughs – like, throws his head back and lets out one of those deep laughs, that always seem to escape him without notice. Then he drapes himself all over Jisung again, ignoring the curious looks that everyone else sends their way, momentarily distracted from the game.
“Hey!” Hyunjin calls out. “Aren’t you supposed to be cheering us on?”
“You’re losing!” Felix calls back.
Hyunjin holds a hand over his heart and sends Felix a scandalised look. “Not for long!”
“Get to it, then!” Jisung says.
“Worst cheerleaders ever,” Hyunjin grumbles.
Of course, when Minho serves again, he manages to find a blank space between Jeongin and Changbin and scores his team another point. Felix and Jisung make a big show of cheering this time, letting their conversation fall briefly to the wayside, even if Jisung’s head is still spinning a little. This makes Chan beam and Seungmin point at the other team and laugh.
And Minho?
Ah, Minho does a sweet little celebratory hop as he picks the ball up again. He catches Jisung’s eye and offers him such a smile, pleased and easy and happy, and Jisung’s heart trips all the way over itself.
Goddamnit.
When the game starts again and attention is pulled away from them, Felix ducks back into Jisung’s space. This time, he wraps one arm over Jisung’s shoulder, then rests his head against the side of Jisung’s.
“I’m not saying you have to do anything,” Felix says again, because he’s wonderful like that, and he puts a lot of effort into knowing exactly where people’s boundaries are. “But maybe just – don’t be scared of it, either.”
Jisung huffs a laugh. He says, “Don’t you know I’m scared of everything?”
Felix squeezes at his neck. “Shut up, no you’re not.”
Jisung sighs.
“You don’t have to be obvious about it.” Felix rocks him some more, and it’s comforting, and Jisung feels incredibly lucky to have a friend who looks after him like this. “I’m not telling you to like, confess to him or anything. Just – maybe look a little closer, next time you’re hanging out. He’s so obvious, bro, it’s impossible to miss.”
Jisung frowns. “He’s obvious?”
Felix rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe not to you, but you’re like – famously bad at this stuff.”
“Hey.”
“I’m just saying.”
Jisung can’t really argue here, because Felix is right, because Jisung is famously bad at this shit. Look at how the last trip went. And his little blip with Chan.
“Just see how it goes,” Felix says soothingly, rubbing his arm when Jisung’s knee starts to bounce. “It’s fine if nothing comes from it, but at least that way you’ll know, right?”
Jisung swallows. He looks at Minho again. By some miracle, Hyunjin has scored, and is making a huge song and dance about it, shaking his ass in Minho’s direction. Minho seems to have taken this as something of a challenge. He’s laughing, so much so that the corners of his eyes are crinkled. Strands from his fringe dip across his forehead, dancing near his eyes, so he shakes his head to remove them. It does nothing, of course. They fall back in place almost as soon as he has removed them, and Jisung is seized by the urge to reach out, even from here, and brush them out of the way.
Felix nudges him. “Hmm?”
And somehow, with courage that comes from nowhere, Jisung nods.
“Just see how it goes,” he repeats quietly, and as he does, the decision solidifies before him. Felix is right. It doesn’t have to be anything huge. He’s not offering his hand in marriage, or anything like that. He’s just – seeing what happens. “Yeah, alright. I can do that.”
.
Notes:
yeeeeees jisung slaaayy (finally)
so excited for where we're heading next!!! i hope u guys are too!!! if u have a mo, it would mean the world if u drop a comment below and share ur thoughts on the chap.
i also am slowly beginning to understand twt. pls come say hey if u feel so inclined.
Chapter 12
Notes:
HOW WE ALL DOING MINSUNGERS. BIG DAY HUH.
in honour of want so BAD (which, wtaf, they love each other so much, i'm losing my mind, waaaah) i figured i'd post a day early.
maybe while u read u can listen to the track on repeat, cause that's what i'll be doing x
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
The thing is, and he’s said this before, but Jisung’s really kinda crap at this sort of thing.
It’s not like he’s completely celibate, or anything. He’s had his crushes and he’s gone on dates, and they haven’t all gone bad. As he’d come out of the haze of loving Chan, he’d met a girl who worked at a café near his dorm and they’d kinda-sorta hit it off. They’d seen each other a few times – little dates here and there, a couple of sleepovers, you know – but it hadn’t taken long to fizzle out. He’d been working a lot then – he and the others started as interns at their company, and they’d been so desperate to make it work that they’d all committed to crazy long hours. She hadn’t liked it much when he cancelled their dates to stay at the studio late, and eventually she’d told him he wasn’t what she was looking for.
After that, Jisung had tried to keep things more casual. Felix and Hyunjin used to drag him out on the town all the time, trying to get him to open up a little. That was before Hyunjin and Changbin had sorted their shit out, so it was always easy, because Hyunjin drew interested looks their way without even trying. Inevitably, Hyunjin would pick the one he liked the most, and those who’d been turned away would look in other directions. Jisung’s direction. It was good – super easy, honestly – because Jisung knew these weren’t the kind of people he’d become interested in long term. Still, even when he did go home with someone, even if the sex was good – there was still the rest to deal with. The awkward conversations, the long pauses while he searched for something to say. Fumbling around with a new person’s body, then afterwards, figuring out when he had to leave and how to get home in the middle of the night – God, it was all so exhausting. It was worse when they came back to his, too. There was nothing more awkward than trying to kick someone out, and Jisung didn’t like to be rude, so the result was often a snoring stranger sleeping in his bed, while Jisung stared at the ceiling and waited for the sun to rise. Then it was dodging offers for breakfast, or enduring the breakfast, only to find himself negotiating more drawn-out silences and uncomfortable small talk.
Of course, they weren’t all bad. A few of the people he’d hooked up with were looking for the same things Jisung was. They didn’t try and stay the night, and they happily offered their numbers in case Jisung was ever interested in seeing them again. And yeah, Jisung had texted a few of them every now and again, when he was feeling lonely, or simply needed to rid himself of pent-up energy – but it was always a moving thing. Some of them found other people who did want them to stick around. Some of them vanished without every giving him a reason, which, fair, cause Jisung wouldn’t have given them a reason right back. Some of them are still in Jisung’s phone, ready for when Jisung feels in the right headspace to reach out.
The common feature here, however, is that Jisung never really puts that much effort into seeking people out. Hyunjin says it’s cause he’s lazy, but Chan thinks he’s maybe a bit too afraid to put himself out there. Jisung thinks it’s probably a mix of both.
So faced with the concept of reaching out to Minho, testing the waters, ‘seeing what happens’ – it’s all a little intimidating, if Jisung’s honest.
He mentions this to Felix while the volleyball game still holds everyone’s attention. Felix doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest.
“Just start small,” he says. “Try touching him a little, maybe. Just on his arm or something.”
Now this, Jisung realises a little later, is embarrassing because it turns out Jisung’s been doing quite a lot of touching already. When the volleyball game wraps up, most the players collapse to the ground in varying states of exhaustion. The winners – Minho, Chan, and Seungmin – are just as obnoxious about their victory as you might expect. Chan is the kindest. He grins, laughs, looking pleased but not too smug with it. He bounds over to Felix with the energy of an overexcited golden retriever, bundling him up in sweaty arms (which Felix doesn’t appear to mind in the slightest). Minho and Seungmin are not quite as gracious. Seungmin points and laughs at Jeongin, who meets this with a glare. Minho has taken on Hyunjin and Changbin both – all of them arguing over the more controversial points, only getting louder and louder as they go.
With Felix and Chan otherwise occupied – gazing into each other’s eyes, gross – Jisung sees no point in lingering. He leaves the table and heads for the noisy ones. It’s only when he reaches for Minho’s sleeve, gives it a little tug, does he realise that the move feels quite natural. Minho looks over when he feels him, but otherwise he barely reacts, like he’s used to it. He takes a step back, making room for Jisung to step in at his side.
When Jisung does, Hyunjin fixes him with an accusatory gaze.
“You! Traitor! This is your fault!”
Jisung says, “I wasn’t even playing!”
“You were supposed to be cheering,” Hyunjin says. “But you spent the whole time gossiping with Felix! Where was the emotional support?”
Jisung shrugs. “I was going for the other team.”
“Traitor!”
“I’m supposed to be your best friend,” Changbin laments, looking wounded.
Jisung scowls. He points over at Chan and says, “You’re both my best friends.”
“Oh, so you like him more than me, is that it?”
“It’s okay, jagi,” Hyunjin says, reaching for Changbin like Jisung is someone big and mean and out to get them. With a lifted, imperious brow, Hyunjin says, “I think we all know where Jisung’s loyalties lie.”
His gaze flickers to Minho.
Jisung vaguely considers murdering him.
Then Minho says, “With the people who have talent?”
And they’re off again.
Feeling a little winded by that near miss, Jisung lets them wreak havoc for a little while. Minho is more than enough of an opponent for two people. He meets Changbin and Hyunjin head on, all of them clearly having the time of their lives yelling at each other like this. It gets louder and louder until even Jisung has to wince.
After a ‘Ya!’ from Minho that is almost enough to rattle windows, Jisung cups his ear in protection and elbows Minho. “Hyung,” he whines, “Please, a little quieter. I’m going to go deaf.”
Minho goes quiet immediately, and offers him a sunny smile. “Nah, I’m done. I don’t think there’s anything left to say.” He glances around, then checks the time on his phone. “You want to help me make lunch?”
Jisung frowns. “You always make lunch. You don’t want a break?”
Minho shakes his head. “Not if I’ve got you as a helper.”
“Okay then,” Jisung says. “Let’s do it.”
Hyunjin says, “Disgusting.”
Remembering the others are there, Jisung frowns and looks to them, only to see Hyunjin’s face is all scrunched up, watching them. He gives them a withering look, which is jarring next to the beaming smile Changbin is sending their way.
“You wanna eat or not?” Jisung asks.
Hyunjin scowls but says nothing.
Minho reaches over and pats him on the head. “Good choice, Hyunjin-ie.”
Hyunjin bats him away and stalks off, dragging Changbin along with him. As they go, Changbin twists around so he can show Jisung his proud smile, kinda like he’s a parent watching their kid leave for their first day of school. Jisung feels heat in his cheeks and yanks Minho away before his friends can embarrass him further.
“What do you want to make?” Minho asks, as Jisung tugs him into the kitchen.
Once again, Jisung realises he has touched him without really meaning to. Somehow, by accident, he has Minho’s hand in his – a fact which Minho seems to have accepted with ease. He lets himself be directed until they are all the way inside, and Jisung has no excuse to hold on anymore.
When he lets go, his hand feels weird, so he stuffs it in his hoodie pocket.
“I hadn’t really got that far,” Jisung says, sheepish.
“That’s fine,” Minho says. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”
And they do. Minho rifles through the fridge for a little while, assessing the ingredients they’ve got, and quickly comes up with a plan. He directs Jisung where he needs him – first to prep some vegetables, then to start cooking some noodles, while Minho focuses on getting the meat ready. Chan pops his head in a little while after that, asking if they need any help, but Minho waves him away. Jisung tries not to feel too pleased by this, and mostly succeeds, although he thinks he catches Chan wink at him as he heads back outside. Goddamnit.
It's surprising, but somehow not surprising at all, to find how easy the touching comes to Jisung. Not only is it easy to reach for Minho; to tap at his arm, or to bump his shoulder as they navigate sharing the relatively small kitchen space – but he realises Minho seems equally comfortable touching Jisung right back. He moves around Jisung with ease, but when he does, he rests a light hand on Jisung’s back, just letting Jisung know where he is. When Jisung is cutting the vegetables into pieces that are slightly too large, Minho touches the back of his hand before he shows Jisung the size that he has in mind. And when Jisung tells a joke, which he’s been doing pretty much this whole time, Minho isn’t afraid to bump Jisung hip with his own while he laughs.
It's nice – God, is it nice – and Jisung feels almost disappointed when the work ends, and the food is ready for eating. Felix and Jeongin help them ferry the food outside, and as they approach the table, Minho clears his throat.
When he has everyone’s attention, he says, “Now, everyone say thank you to Jisung-ah, he worked very hard for your meal.”
“Thank you, Jisung-ah,” Chan and Changbin and Felix chant.
“This is unbearable,” Jeongin says, which earns him a look of solidarity from Hyunjin and Seungmin.
“Shut up,” Jisung says to Minho. “You did everything.”
Minho touches him again. He taps Jisung’s nose. “Couldn’t have done it without you though.”
Hyunjin lets out a loud, drawn-out groan. Jisung’s face is hot again, although he’s not sure if it’s because Minho keeps touching him, or if it’s because this time it happened in front of an audience. Luckily, the food is a good distraction when dealing with eight hungry men, so Jisung lets his worries vanish in the pandemonium of everyone reaching for their food.
When they’re finished with lunch, but no one is quite ready to move again yet, the table becomes a little more subdued. It’s what always happens when your stomach is full on a warm day. They break off into their own little conversations, not really speaking as a whole group until Chan lets out a loud, satisfied noise and rubs his belly.
It catches everyone’s attention, and when he notices, he takes advantage by motioning for them all to look up at the sky. As they do, he says, “I think it’s going to rain this afternoon.”
Indeed. Despite the warm temperature, the sky is heavy with dark, ominous clouds that are looming ever closer in the breeze. They haven’t quite reached them yet, but Jisung has no doubt that when they do, they’ll have a lot of water to let go.
“Ooh, I hope it storms,” Hyunjin says.
“That’d be sick,” Felix says.
Chan whips out his phone. He scrolls for a little while, then says, “The forecast says we’ve got maybe an hour before it hits.”
“It’s not going to rain for the rest of the week, right?” Felix asks.
“Nah, should be gone by tomorrow,” Chan says.
“Yay,” Felix says. “We can still go on your hike!”
“Hike?” Seungmin says.
“Oh, yeah,” Chan says. “I was thinking we could go for a hike tomorrow, like we did last time.”
“Pass,” Jisung says.
Chan huffs a laugh. “I didn’t mean exactly like last time. I just thought it could be nice, you know, it’s a nice walk.”
“I’m just kidding, hyung,” Jisung says.
“A hike sounds good!” Hyunjin chirps. “And Seungmin-ah hasn’t done it yet, either. Or, maybe, are there other tracks we could try?”
“I’m sure there will be. I’ll have a look and see.” Chan looks around the table. “Is anyone else keen?”
There is an assortment of interested noises from everyone, enough that Chan grins, pleased. Jisung thinks it over. It’d be nice to spend another day outside with everyone. They’re all having such a good time spending time together – which isn’t always guaranteed with a group as big as theirs – and he’s sure it’d be nice to go out on another adventure. That said, if he did end up hurting himself again, he knows for a fact that he’ll never live it down. Besides, if it rains this afternoon, then it’ll be wet and muddy tomorrow, and Jisung already knows he’s capable of injuring himself in the best of conditions. Hopefully there’s an easy track they can take. He’ll have to see what Chan comes up with.
“Okay great, I’ll see what options there are,” Chan says. He looks upwards again. “Not sure what we’ll do while it rains. I’m pretty sure my aunt has some board games lying around somewhere.”
She does. It takes a while for them to hunt them down, but eventually Felix finds them in a hidden compartment beneath the couch. The others pack up everything after lunch, while Jisung helps Changbin put their makeshift volleyball net away. As Chan and his weather app had predicted, it starts to rain shortly after.
The spend the afternoon playing games. Unfortunately, Minho and Changbin don’t appear to know the difference between their indoor and outdoor voices, so Jisung passes the day lamenting his poor ears and future hearing loss. Chan settles everyone when it gets too rowdy, like when Felix gets too invested and suddenly forgets how to speak Korean, or when Jisung and Seungmin take it a little too far calling each other names. It’s fun, even if it’s loud, and it’s almost like they forget that it’s raining outside.
Later in the evening, when everyone has had enough of the games, they remember they’re trapped inside and try to come up with something to do. It’s Seungmin, who remembers the new horror film Jisung had told him about and suggests they all sit down to watch that. He does this right as the thunder starts up outside, and everyone quickly realises how perfect it is, to have a horror movie night in the middle of a storm.
“Plus, it’s a sequel, I’m pretty sure,” Seungmin says. “We should watch the first one too.”
“Fuck yeah,” Jisung says. “Is there popcorn? We should make popcorn.”
“Is there popcorn,” Chan echoes dryly. “Of course, there is, who do you think I am?”
So Jisung heads into the kitchen, hot on Chan’s heels, to help him get it ready. Seungmin takes care of finding the movie – it’s on one of the stupid number of streaming services, surely – and the rest of them run upstairs to source blankets, even though it’s not really cold enough to warrant them.
“It’s for the ambience,” Felix says, as he runs past the kitchen island, blankets stacked high in his hands.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin says, close behind him, also laden down with blankets. “You can’t have a horror night without blankets, that would be ridiculous.”
By the time Jisung and Chan have made enough popcorn to feed eight growing boys, the lounge room has been almost completely converted. Every couch has been covered in blankets and pillows, the lights have been turned to dim, and someone has even lit a few of Chan’s aunt’s candles. The television is all set up – paused on the opening screen – and Seungmin sits in his seat, the remote poised and ready to go. Most of the chairs have already been claimed. Jeongin and Seungmin have claimed the two-seater, and Changbin and Hyunjin have cosied up so they can both squish onto the armchair. That leaves the longer couch for Jisung, Chan, Felix, and Minho, and when Jisung steps into the living room, it becomes immediately clear that this was by design.
Minho has one end of the couch. There is a very conspicuous empty space beside him, then Felix, who is grinning like a loon.
“I saved you a seat, Jisung-ie,” Felix says, patting the couch invitingly. “Come sit next to me.”
Feeling hot, and absolutely certain the entire room can see right through this little charade, Jisung ducks his head and rushes over to take the seat. It takes some time to negotiate the blankets, but soon enough he and Minho are bundled up beneath a duvet that’s been dragged off one of the beds. Chan claims the little space left on Felix’s other side – again, not really a problem for them, since Felix ducks straight under Chan’s arm and snuggles in close. Jisung eases back into his seat and shoots Minho an awkward smile.
“Popcorn?” He offers weakly.
Minho grins and takes an absurdly huge handful. “Yum.”
The movie begins innocuously, as most horror movies do. There is a sense of ease that can’t be trusted through the first few scenes, and normally, Jisung would let himself sink into the feeling. He loves watching horror movies, even if he sometimes needs to sleep with the lights on for a few days whenever he sees one. He especially loves watching them as a group, because Chan and Changbin are certified cowards, and it’s always hilarious to see how worked up they get whenever there’s a particularly abrupt jump scare.
Tonight, however, is a bit of a different story. As much as he wants to lose himself in the film, Jisung can’t quite get himself across that line. He is too aware of where he is, of the warm body right beside his, in the dark, to fully immerse himself. In fact, he’s not even really following the story that well. The couch isn’t really made for four people, and no matter how close Felix and Chan sit to each other, there still isn’t that much space left over. Jisung wants to test the waters, sure, but he doesn’t want to force his way into Minho’s personal space. Some people prefer to watch films without being squished up against another person, and no one really asked Minho how he felt about this, before designating Jisung his seat. So he tries to keep all his limbs to himself, sitting straight in his seat, trying not to be a nuisance.
After a few minutes, Minho nudges Jisung’s knee with his own.
He ducks in close and says, very quietly, “Relax, Jisung-ah.”
“Sorry,” Jisung whispers back. They’ve got the movie playing pretty loud, so the sound is mostly hidden. Felix was keeping an eye on him earlier, but he’s also pretty crap with scary things, and the film appears to have all his attention now. “There’s not much space.”
“I know.” Minho shifts a bit, pressing himself up against the arm of the chair. Then he yanks at the back of Jisung’s t-shirt, guiding him gently back, until Jisung is resting properly in his seat, his arm pressed up against Minho’s. “It’s fine.”
It is not fine, Jisung’s racing pulse tells him, but he forces himself to relax anyway. It’d be way weirder to insist on keeping space between them anyway. And, when Jisung takes a deep breath and pauses to really think about it, he realises it’s nice, having Minho so close. He’s warm, and his arm feels firm against Jisung’s, and Jisung wonders how it would feel wrapped around him, instead of just pressed to his side.
The first scream on the screen makes the whole room jump and drags Jisung’s thoughts from fantasy very quickly.
He hadn’t been paying proper attention, if he’s honest, so it’s the reaction of the others that spooks him, more than the film itself. He tenses all the way up and feels it when Minho does the same. Chan swears and Changbin lets out a loud shout, which makes everyone else laugh, even if they, too, are slightly rattled.
“Why do we even watch these?” Chan wails. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight.”
Felix pats his chest soothingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.”
“Eugh,” Jeongin says.
The scare passes and everyone settles back into the film. Jisung untenses his muscles, still sore from yesterday, and stretches his neck a little. He doesn’t fight it when he sinks back into the couch again, leaning on Minho once more.
Minho says quietly, “You good?”
Jisung hums. “Yeah, I like horror movies.”
“Mhm,” Minho says. “Me too.”
He reaches for more popcorn and Jisung tilts the bowl towards him. Then he shifts a little, so he can balance it on both of their legs, and Minho can access it a little easier. With every minute that passes, Jisung feels himself relax more and more. The movie is actually pretty good. The main character is endearing enough that Jisung decides he wants her to live til the end – but also smart enough that her missteps aren’t super frustrating. The back-up cast is pretty good too, although Jisung knows he can’t let himself get attached to any of them. He has faith in the final girl system, but outside of that, none of them are safe.
He becomes invested enough that when the first of the supporting cast is suddenly brutally murdered, Jisung lets out a little cry.
“Goddamnit,” he says. “I knew he shouldn’t have gone in there.”
Almost everyone misses this, because Chan has once again made a far louder noise of dismay, only to curl into Felix a little more. Changbin has hauled Hyunjin’s hands up to cover his eyes. Jeongin and Seungmin don’t seem bothered in the slightest.
As the murder continues – and damn, it’s kinda drawn out – Jisung cringes away. He loves the thrills of horror movies, but this is his least favourite part, and if he were watching by himself, he’d be skipping this bit.
He squeezes his eyes shut, only for Minho to whisper, “I thought you said you liked horror movies?”
“I do,” Jisung keeps his eyes closed. “I like the horror parts, not the gore.” He peeks out through one eye, just to see more blood, more murder. He shuts them again, and maybe leans on Minho a little more heavily. “Tell me when it’s over?”
“Sure,” Minho says.
It takes a while, but eventually the character dies and the film moves on to the next scene. Beneath the blankets, Minho nudges him with his knee, then, just sort of rests his leg there, right up against Jisung’s.
“It’s over,” he whispers.
“Thanks,” Jisung says.
Now that the first murder has happened, the movie has apparently decided it’s off to the races. The killer has the entire group cornered and appears to be picking them off one by one, a classic of the genre. Jisung plays a fun little game with himself where he tries to pick which character will be next, only to jump with everyone else when he finds out suddenly that he’s picked wrong.
He covers his eyes again and waits. This time, Minho taps his thigh to let him know it’s safe to look again. Jisung looks back at the film, then resolutely doesn’t take his eyes off it, while he processes this. He is very, very aware of the singular spot Minho had touched him.
With the tension in the film ramping up, it’s easier now to forget himself a little. He sinks deeper and deeper into the couch cushions, pressing closer to Minho, ducking his head down low so he can hide his eyes when he needs. A part of him wants to draw his knees up to his chest, but he thinks that might be asking a bit much of the other three he’s sharing the couch with. He settles for dragging the duvet up near his chin, so he can cling to them and maybe hide when the movie really gets into the gorey stuff.
But then, out of nowhere, Minho reaches over and covers Jisung’s eyes.
A beat later there is another huge scream from the television. It takes Jisung a moment to figure out what’s happened. Then he registers that the floating hand before him is attached to Minho, who has somehow pre-emptively picked when the violence would next appear.
Jisung twists and peers up at him, frowning. “Have you seen this before?”
Minho looks down at him, and when their eyes meet, Jisung realises that wow, they really are very close. Minho’s nose looks so sharp from this angle. Even in the dim light from the film, his lips look very pink.
“Yeah,” Minho says. “I saw it at the cinema.”
Jisung frowns. “What? Why didn’t you say anything? We could have watched something else!”
“Nah, you guys wanted to watch it.” He offers Jisung a simple smile and shrugs. Even though the movement is small, it rubs his arm against Jisung’s. Jisung shivers. “Besides, it’s good. I’m happy to watch it again.”
Jisung still feels bad. He says, “Sorry, hyung.”
At this, Minho rolls his eyes. “Don’t say sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m having fun.” He swallows, and Jisung sees his throat bob with it. Then his tongue darts out, wets his bottom lip a little, and Jisung’s thoughts fuzz up. Still quiet, Minho says, “This is nice.”
Jisung looks up at him. He tries not to look too pleased, and has no idea if he manages it or not. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Minho says, and maybe, just maybe, if Jisung’s not crazy; he glances down at Jisung’s mouth. If it happens – and honestly, Jisung really could have been hallucinating, it could all be desperate hope and wishful thinking – it happens quickly. There and done in a second. Less than.
Hope blooms anyway.
“Okay,” Jisung says, and suddenly it’s impossible not to look at Minho. There’s nothing else worth looking at, is there? What possible reason could Jisung have that would justify looking away. “Then. Good.”
Minho huffs a quiet little laugh and rolls his eyes. He breaks their eye contact and Jisung mourns the loss, just in time for Minho to whisper, “Watch the movie, Jisung-ah.”
Reluctantly, Jisung drags his gaze back to the screen. He tries to pay attention, he really does – but there’s just so much else for him to think about. It’s impossibly cosy beneath their duvet. Minho’s leg is still pressed against his. His arm is a warm, solid weight at Jisung’s side. His shoulder is just the right height for Jisung now that he’s slumped so low. It wouldn’t take anything at all, for Jisung to tilt his head a little and rest it there. He wonders what Minho would do if he did. He doesn’t seem to mind all the other places that they’re touching, so who’s to say he’d care about this?
It's tempting – God, it’s so tempting – but Jisung keeps his head up, his neck straight.
As nice as it would be, it’s a little much to test in front of literally all of Jisung’s closest friends. Chan is making too much of a fuss now for Felix to have any attention left to spare the rest of them – but Jisung hasn’t forgotten the others. Seungmin has eyes like a hawk and senses like a bloodhound. He’d sniff out the first sign of weakness from Jisung, latch on, and use it to tease Jisung mercilessly for years. Hyunjin and Jeongin would probably do the same. Jisung can’t afford to give them that kind of ammunition.
Feeling a little hard done by, for no real reason, Jisung shifts again, readjusting against the cushions. Of course, he forgets about the popcorn bowl that is balancing carefully on his leg and Minho’s, and it dips dangerously but –
Minho catches it. Jisung grabs the bowl too, a beat late, and his fingers skim the back of Minho’s palm.
He pulls quickly away. “Sorry,” he whispers.
“You’re fine,” Minho says.
He resettles the bowl, and Jisung thinks briefly this might be the moment where Minho puts a little more space between them, but he doesn’t. He keeps his leg where it is, but moves his hand instead, resting it against his thigh so he can prop the bowl up. This is remarkably effective, except for the way that Jisung’s thigh is there too, right there, underneath the backs of Minho’s fingers, separated only by a few layers of blanket and clothing. The fabric between them isn’t nearly enough to hide the warmth, or the weight, of Minho’s hand. A part of Jisung expects Minho to notice this and pull away, but he doesn’t. He settles, focusing on the film, keeping his hand exactly where it is.
Jisung’s head might explode.
It’s just – it’s been so long since he’s been interested in someone like this. Since he’s had someone who makes him hold his breath the way he’s doing now. It’s ridiculous, and it makes him feel like a kid again, because all he can think about is that hand, and the heat of it, and the heat of it if it were to be pressed in different places.
It’s silly because all of this was supposed to be a testing of the waters. He was supposed to be trialling little touches so that he could see how Minho responded to them. Instead, here Jisung is, losing his mind over the way Minho touches him.
God, he wants Minho to touch him.
The heaviness of it slams into Jisung like something physical. It steals his breath, snatches up all the air in his lungs. It’s like that wanting has crawled into his chest, squeezed real tight, and laid claim to all the space remaining. That feeling is a hot and moving thing, and it surges through him. He is seized by the very real impulse to say fuck it, to everything, and crawl into Minho’s lap, into his chest, behind his ribs maybe, and make a home there.
He doesn’t. Of course, he doesn’t, that would be insane – but the urge is there, nonetheless. It’s so strong that, down near his tummy, tucked under the blankets so Minho can’t see, Jisung curls his hand into a useless fist. He digs his nails into his palm, and he tells himself, very sternly, to get a fucking grip.
Through the blanket, Minho nudges Jisung’s thigh with his knuckles, then tilts the popcorn bowl a little. There’s maybe a handful of popcorn left.
“You want to finish it?” Minho offers quietly.
Jisung swallows. Minho’s hand doesn’t budge, even though they’re both now fully aware of its position, both fully aware the other is fully aware. Jisung risks a glance up at him – dangerous, very dangerous, because Minho is looking right back, wearing a small smile, something patient in his eye.
“M’good,” Jisung mumbles, quiet as anything, half drowned out by the noise of the television. “You have it. Thanks, hyung.”
The smile grows. The corner of Minho’s eyes crinkle. He whispers,
“Anytime.”
Yeah, Jisung is fucked.
.
Notes:
yoooooooooo jisung's in his era of realising things, we love to see it.
as always, if u could pls take a moment to leave ur thoughts below, it'll genuinely make my day. had a FUCKED work week this week (tears, me making formal complaints, the whole nine yards yanno) and having ur comments about this story all saved in my inbox was a very soothing balm xx
Chapter 13
Notes:
hello my loves
have another early chap, cause u deserve it <3 tysm for reading and commenting and kudosing.
(peep the rating changes. oop.)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
Frustratingly, when Jisung wakes up the following morning, it’s to a headache harassing the space just behind his eyes. In those first few minutes, he scrubs at his face and hopes that the pain might clear on its own – a sleep thing, nothing to worry about – but he’s not so lucky. No, the headache really only gets stronger the longer that he keeps his eyes open.
This doesn’t happen every time Jisung watches horror movies, but it’s happened enough that he’s sure there’s a correlation. He thinks it’s something like a tension headache, maybe from watching movies that are designed to keep him on edge for an hour or two without relief. He’d thought briefly last night about taking some preventative medicine, just to stave this possibility off, but naturally, as soon as the thought had occurred to him, he’d forgotten it. More fool him, then, it seems. He quickly finds the pills he should have taken the night prior, and slips them into his pocket, so that he can take them with water downstairs.
Seungmin is still sleeping, but the sounds of life downstairs are relatively lively, and it’s steadily approaching the time they’d all agreed to meet downstairs, so Jisung reaches over and shakes him awake. This earns him a very surly grumble from beneath Seungmin’s blankets, but Jisung doesn’t bat an eye. His job here is done, so he leaves Seungmin to get himself together, and heads downstairs.
The brightness of the kitchen doesn’t help with the sting in his head, so he squints a little as he makes a beeline for the cupboard where the cups are stored.
“Morning Jisung-ah,” Chan sings out when he spies him.
Jisung grunts and waves at him, focused on his mission. He gets a cup then turns for the sink, right where Minho is leaning, a mug of hot coffee in his hand. He watches Jisung approach with his brow furrowed.
“Hey,” Minho says, as Jisung slips in next to him, starts filling his glass up with water. “You all good?”
“Got a headache.” Jisung throws his head back when he swallows the pills – a process that is always, always unpleasant – and then winces at the way his brain seems to rattle in his skull. He squeezes his eyes shut, presses a hand to his temple, and waits for the surge of pain to fade.
Minho makes a sympathetic sound. When Jisung blinks his eyes open again, he catches Minho at the very tail end of an odd little movement. It’s like he’s pushed himself away from where he was leaning against the bench only to catch himself, awkward, and resettle back where he started.
Chan says, “Oh no! That’s awful.”
Jisung pouts. “Yeah.”
He’s a bit of a baby when he’s sick, sue him.
“You just had medicine?” Chan checks.
Jisung nods.
“Does it normally help?” Minho asks.
“Sometimes,” Jisung says. “If I catch it early enough. Have to wait and see, I guess.”
“Do you want a coffee?” Chan suggests. “It might be a caffeine thing; I get withdrawal headaches all the time.”
Privately, Jisung thinks Chan maybe shouldn’t be as casual about that as he sounds, but he’s not up for arguing about caffeine dependency right now. Still, he grimaces and quickly shakes his head. There are some headaches that a coffee might clear right up, but this isn’t one of them. The thought of having some now makes his stomach turn.
“Nah, I don’t think that’ll help,” Jisung says.
Chan looks so concerned that it’s crossed over into cute territory. He is all big eyes and a sad frown. It’s hilarious when he gets like this because it becomes the only thing Jisung can remember when Chan goes into his more sombre work modes. It’s hard to take him seriously when all Jisung can see is his little puppy face.
“Have some more water,” Minho instructs, and he taps Jisung’s wrist lightly, as if Jisung needs reminding that he’s holding an empty glass. Even though it is the briefest of touches, the skin Minho warmed tingles for a few seconds.
Jisung does as he’s been bade, fills the cup back up to the brim and takes a sip. He watches Minho as he does, and is rewarded with a small, pleased smile for his efforts.
“Do you feel up to hiking, you reckon?” Chan asks.
Jisung sighs. He’d been pretty excited to go walking with everyone today – this felt like his redemption round, honestly, and he’d like very much to prove that he’s capable of putting one foot in front of the other without being a liability, despite evidence that perhaps suggests otherwise. But even looking out the bright kitchen window makes the pain ramp up a few levels, and the thought of being outside in all that light, sweating and hot on top of it, doesn’t sound particularly pleasant.
He says, “I don’t know. Maybe? Hopefully it goes away soon.”
Chan hums understandingly. He says, “It’s okay if you need to bail. Whatever makes you feel better, okay?”
Fondness welling in his chest, Jisung nods. “Thanks, hyung.”
Chan’s face scrunches up. “Don’t thank me for stuff like that. It’s basic, okay. None of us want to make you do something if you’re not feeling up to it.” The microwave pings, which is the exact moment Jisung realises it’d been on to begin with. Chan gets up from the island stool where he’d been sitting and heads over, revealing two mugs he’d been heating. “Sorry,” he says, as he squishes around Jisung to get out of the kitchen. “Me and Felix forgot to drink them, they got cold. Be right back.”
He hustles outside to deliver Felix’s drink to him. Jisung and Minho watch him go, then Minho bumps his hip lightly against Jisung’s.
“You wanna go outside?” Minho asks.
Jisung considers the brightness once more. Hyunjin and Jeongin sit with Felix at the table in the sun. Felix claps his hands together when he sees Chan returning with their coffees. It looks nice.
“Here,” Minho says, and he plucks his sunglasses up from where they have been hanging at the neck of his t-shirt, and offers them to Jisung. “You can use these if you want.”
Jisung takes them. They’re different to the styles Jisung usually wears, but they’re also dark, so Jisung’s not about to complain. When he puts them on, he looks up to Minho to see what he thinks.
Minho hums. “Looks good.”
Jisung’s belly flips.
“Are they helping?” Minho asks.
Jisung clears his throat. “Yeah, hyung. Thanks.”
Minho taps him on the nose this time, which adds a whole second layer to the flustered, dizzy thoughts singing around Jisung’s already tender brain. It is very light, barely there, which Jisung thinks is Minho’s way of trying not to make his headache any worse. Then there’s another touch, this one at his hip, as Minho nods towards the backdoor.
Given the very distracting pain behind his eyes, this is a lot to process.
Jisung gives up on thinking for a little while. He lets himself be guided towards the door, briefly mourns the loss of Minho’s hand when it drops away as they step outside. When they reach the table, it’s clear Chan has already told everyone about Jisung’s condition, because he is met with an outpouring of sympathetic noises. When Jisung takes the empty seat next to Felix, he is immediately wrapped up in warm octopus arms.
Felix tucks in close, settling a hand in Jisung’s hair, his fingers scratching lightly there. Jisung sinks into the hold completely.
Felix says, “You have a headache?”
Jisung nods morosely.
“Poor baby.”
Jisung nods at this too, and ignores the way Hyunjin snorts.
There are some jokes about this being Jisung’s way of getting out of hiking, which Jisung valiantly protests, but it’s obvious everyone is just messing around. They all offer their own suggestions for remedies.
Hyunjin says, “Maybe having a hot shower will help?”
And Jeongin says, “Nah, it’s probably best to try sleep it off.”
Chan says, “I definitely don’t think you should do much physical activity today. If it is a tension headache, then putting your body through more work won’t help anything.”
“We can move hiking to another day maybe?” Felix says.
But Jisung shakes his head – quickly, without thinking about it, and regretting it very soon after. He winces at his own movement, and pouts, and says, “No, no, don’t make me ruin another hike for everyone please.”
“You wouldn’t be ruining anything,” Chan says sternly.
“I know, I know,” Jisung says, “But everyone was excited to go today, and the weather might not stay this nice. You should still go. I’m just gonna have a nap, it’s not like I need a babysitter. I’ll be fine on my own.” Chan frowns, but doesn’t argue. Jisung sees him wavering and knows he’s on the cusp of winning. “Seriously, you guys should go, you’ll have fun. I’ll be bummed if you all hang around here just for me.”
Still on the edge of uncertainty, Chan frowns and says, “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Jisung says straightaway. “Very sure. Super sure.”
Felix scratches at his scalp again and Jisung lets his eyes flutter closed, leaning into it. Even with the sunglasses on, having his eyes completely closed offers an instant sort of relief. With every minute that passes, Jisung is more and more interested in heading back inside, climbing back into his bed.
He holds out for a little while longer. Seungmin and Changbin eventually join them – Seungmin still looking sleep dazed, Changbin looking freshly showered and ready to confront the day. They both make their own brand of empathetic noises when they learn of Jisung’s predicament, and their own jokes when they find out Jisung’s not coming along on the hike. Of course, it is all in good humour, and by the time Jisung does call it, everyone offers him a mix of friendly and worried smiles.
“I think I’m gonna go try to sleep some more,” Jisung tells them.
“Okay,” Felix hums, giving him a final squeeze before releasing him. “I hope it helps.”
“We’ll probably be gone by the time you wake up,” Chan says. “But everyone online says the track has pretty good reception, so you can message if you need anything.”
“Sounds good,” Jisung says. “Is it the same one we did last time?”
“Nah, this one’s a little further away. And it’s a bit longer too, so we’ll probably be gone for most of the day. Is that alright?”
“Course it is,” Jisung says. “Have fun.”
They all sing out different variations of “Sleep well!” and “Feel better!” He remembers at the last minutes to take Minho’s sunglasses off, glad that he did, because Minho will need them on the hike. When he delivers them safely back to his owner, he purposefully avoids looking at anyone else, not interested in their thoughts on this little exchange. Instead, he keeps his eyes on Minho, and catches a small, gentle smile to see him off. It warms his insides and, even though the medicine doesn’t appear to have helped his headache at all, he heads inside feeling relatively content. This only improves as the world becomes a little darker – first, when he steps inside the house, then more, when he makes it into his bedroom. He mashes his face into his pillow, pulls the blankets all the way over his head, and lets himself drift off again.
The nothingness is nice.
.
When he wakes, the house is noticeably silent.
It’s a little unsettling, maybe because Jisung has only ever stayed here when the house is filled to the brim with life. It takes him some time to get his bearings. His headache has, mercifully, faded almost to nothing. It might have been the sleep, it might have been the medicine, but either way Jisung is grateful. He is left with that tender feeling that always follows a headache, like he can’t make any sudden movements lest he risk reawakening the pain.
He hangs in bed for a long while. Eventually he braves reaching for his phone, where he finds a text from Chan in the group chat, sent just after ten a.m.
Heading out now! Let us know if you need anything. Think we’ll be back around 4ish.
Jisung gives the message a thumbs up, then navigates away. He messes around on his phone for a bit, before he realises, he’s actually quite hungry, at which point he bravely ventures downstairs. The brightness of the house isn’t nearly as overwhelming this time, which Jisung considers a good test. It’s early in the afternoon, only just past twelve, so Jisung heats up some leftovers to eat while he watches some YouTube videos in the living room. It’s warm inside, telling of how hot it must be out in the sun, and soon enough, Jisung feels a little antsy sitting inside and doing nothing. Usually this is his favourite thing in the world, but with the heat picking up, nudging at the echoes of headache that still remain, Jisung decides he might benefit from some fresh air.
It's too bright outside to be able to do much on his phone. While he’s washing up his dishes from lunch, the pool catches his eye. The water looks lovely and cool. There is a nice patch of shade over half the pool, where he can linger if the sun gets too hot. And having the house to himself means the added benefit of swimming in the pool without having to fight for his life playing a game with Changbin or Seungmin. The decision is made without really having to think at all. Jisung heads upstairs and changes into his swimming stuff. As he heads back downstairs, a book on Chan’s aunt’s bookshelf snags his attention. It has a swarthy looking man on the front cover, his shirt almost completely unbuttoned, with his arms wrapped around a petite woman, who gazes up at him adoringly. He’s not embarrassed to admit he enjoys a good romance story every now and again, and the plot of this one sounds intriguing, so he takes it with him. He just needs to make sure he puts it back before Seungmin sees it.
He sits on one of the pool chairs and reads for a little while, just testing to see if it hurts his eyes or if the brightness is still too much. After about half an hour he finds that yeah, it is kind of a strain to read the small text, but the light of the day is manageable. He sets the book to the side. He got a few chapters in, enough to know the male lead is a good mix of stern and charming, and the female lead is bold enough to give him a run for his money. He also learns the general tone of the book, given they are hooking up in an office by chapter three. Still, Jisung likes it, and if he can get away with it, he’s going to try and finish it before their holiday is over. They still have a few days left and the only other big thing they’ve planned as a group is the combined birthday dinner, they’re having for Seungmin, Jisung, and Hyunjin on Friday night. There’s time in there for him to sneak away and find out how this couple gets their happy ending (or happy endings, as it were). For now, though, he turns his attention to the pool.
He ditches his shirt, and bundles it up over his phone so the device doesn’t overheat in the sun. The water is pretty cold when he first gets in, but in this weather, he warms up quickly. He floats in the heat for a little while, before retreating to the shade, remembering he hasn’t put sunscreen on. Chan would be cross with him, but Chan’s not here, so he never has to know. Jisung just has to make sure he doesn’t get burned.
It’s nice, incredibly peaceful, listening to the sounds of the water lapping against the side of the pool, the breeze pushing through the leaves of the nearby trees, the distant crash of the waves against sand. Jisung floats on the surface, shuts his eyes, and tries to sync his breathing with the rhythmic sound of it all together. As he does, his thoughts all ease into the back of his mind, like they’re taking a rest along with him.
It is when he has truly lost himself in this relaxation that he hears a voice, from somewhere vaguely above him.
“You’re feeling better then?”
The spasm that ensues sends waves of water all over the place. Absurdly, Jisung’s first thought is ‘Intruder!’ although he’s pretty sure those don’t stop to check on your welfare when you’re sunbathing in the pool. Jisung splutters as his feet find the bottom of the pool once more, wiping his eyes and hastily looking up to find out who has suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
Oh. It’s Minho.
“Holy fuck,” Jisung says, settling a palm over his heart, trying to catch his breath again. “Hyung, what the fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”
Minho is crouching by the edge of the pool. He’s wearing lovely little blue shorts, a loose t-shirt that dips near his collarbones, and his sunglasses, balanced on the tip of his sharp nose. He looks insanely good, especially from Jisung’s low angle, and Jisung is suddenly very grateful for the water in his eyes. He scrubs at his face, mostly hiding while he tries to get a hold of himself, even while his thoughts run a constant stream of what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.
“I thought you went with the others,” Jisung says. His heart is still racing.
“Nah,” Minho says. “Thought I’d have a chill one today.”
“Jesus,” Jisung says. “Where were you? You could have told me. What if I’d heard noises or something, I would’ve thought you were a burglar or something.” He pictures how he might respond in that situation. There’s a pretty big vase in the kitchen he could have used as a weapon. “I could have hurt you!”
Minho tilts his head, smiles just a little.
He says, “Could you have?”
And that ricochets through Jisung so profoundly that he needs to take a moment. Lacking anything intelligent to reply, Jisung chooses instead to dunk his head under the water. He stays under long enough to give himself a mental kick in the head, reminding himself to be normal for fuck’s sake before he resurfaces.
Minho is still there, waiting patiently, a smile playing at his lips.
“How’s the headache?” he asks.
Jisung says, “Better, mostly. The sleep helped I think.”
“And you’ve eaten?” Minho asks.
Jisung nods; returns to his original question. “Where were you? I didn’t hear you when I was inside.”
Minho tilts his head towards the path that leads down to the beach. When Jisung turns to look, he sees that not too far from the pool edge, there is a towel bundled up, and the bag Minho has been using to go down to the beach.
“Thought I’d hang down there for a while,” Minho says. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
“Oh.” Jisung still feels a few too many beats behind this conversation, and he’s definitely not making any progress catching up. “You didn’t want to go hiking?”
Minho shrugs. “Wasn’t too fussed,” he says. “I already know how to walk, you know.”
Jisung blinks. Blinks again.
“You’re so weird, hyung.”
Minho offers him a sunny grin. “So people keep telling me.”
With Minho at the edge like this, Jisung has to crane his neck all the way up to look at him. There’s something about him from this angle that makes Jisung’s throat dry, takes his thoughts to places they probably shouldn’t stray. It might be the way that Minho is crouched, legs spread for balance, offering Jisung a direct glimpse of the pale inside of his thighs, right where they meet the stretched fabric of his shorts.
Jisung eases himself backwards, floating through the water, hoping a little distance might help to rationalise his thoughts.
“How’s the water?” Minho asks.
“S’good,” Jisung says.
“Warm?” Minho says.
“Kinda,” Jisung says. “Why? You coming in?”
He means it mostly as a joke. Minho hasn’t expressed much interest in the pool during this trip, even if he has gone into the water a few times at the beach. He’s kept mostly to the shallows and Jisung isn’t sure at what depth Minho draws the line. He’s surprised, then, when Minho shrugs and pushes his way back to the standing.
He says, “Yeah, might as well,” then whips off his shirt.
Jisung feels a little dizzy. The remnants of his headache, maybe. Maybe not. He has a brief moment – maybe two or three seconds – when Minho’s head is caught in his shirt, and all Jisung can see is toned, sun-browned abs, firm pecs, dark nipples. In the sun, Jisung can see a dusting of dark hair across the lower parts of Minho’s belly, and sure, his thoughts kinda flatline at the sight, but who can blame him?
He looks hastily away, hoping that Minho didn’t see the way he was looking. This is a mistake, he quickly learns, because he misses the way Minho launches himself into the air – and only discovers this when a veritable wave of water smacks him right in the face. Jisung coughs, spluttering again and wiping at his face as Minho resurfaces. The pool really isn’t that deep. Jisung can keep his feet on the ground pretty much the entire length of the pool, except at the far end, which is the part that’s in direct sun anyway. As it is, Minho seems pretty happy where he is, standing, with the water lapping at his shoulders.
God, those shoulders.
When Minho has finished wiping water from his eyes, pushing his wet hair back on his forehead – which, fuck, that snags Jisung’s eye too, is there anywhere he can look safely? – he frowns at Jisung.
“You lied. It’s cold.”
Jisung rolls his eyes. “You’ll get used to it, you big baby,” he says. “I didn’t even say it was warm.”
“You said it was kinda warm.”
“Well, it is kinda.” Jisung thinks the water’s a really nice temperature, actually. Sure, he’s been in there for a while, has had ample time to acclimatise, but that doesn’t mean he was lying.
Minho scoffs but makes no moves to escape the cool water. He moves his arms around, like he’s floating, but still keeping his feet planted. He tilts his head back, looking up the sky, which has the added bonus of lifting his shoulders a little further out of the water. Jisung watches the water stream over his skin, pooling at his collarbones before dropping down over more glistening skin.
Shit. He’s in trouble.
“Saw your book over there,” Minho observes lightly.
Jisung feels his face flame. He says, “Uhhh…”
“Looks interesting,” Minho says. “Must have a very compelling plot.”
Jisung clears his throat. “I, uh. I only got through a couple of chapters.”
Minho hums. “You liked it?”
Jisung sinks deeper into the water. Submerged all the way up to his chin, he feels brave enough to say, “Mhmm. It’s okay.”
“That shirtless guy on the cover, he’s the one in the mafia?” Minho asks.
Damn it. How long was Minho out here without Jisung noticing? He had time to pick up the book and read the synopsis?
“Um, it’s not really the mafia,” Jisung says, although he doesn’t know why he does, because he’s really only making this harder for himself. “He’s in like, a crime family from Seoul, though.”
“And she’s his secretary?”
Jisung clears his throat. “Uh. She’s more like his, uh, personal assistant.”
“Hot,” Minho says.
Jisung coughs.
“Not super great for women, though,” Minho observes, as if Jisung hadn’t made a sound at all. His eyes are still shut, but there is a very entertained smile playing at his lips, the menace.
“Yeah,” Jisung allows. “Seems like that’s a trend with these sorts of books.”
Minho opens his eyes to peer at Jisung curiously. Jisung gets the very real sense he’s made a misstep here.
Minho says, “You read a lot of books like that, Jisung-ie?”
Shit.
Feeling even hotter, or like maybe he should just hold his head under water and be done with it, Jisung says, “Uh. I mean. I’ve like, stumbled across a few, you know. I don’t like, search them out or anything.”
Minho smiles. “Ah, of course.” Then, because he is a menace, because he clearly wants Jisung to die, he says, “I don’t know, I think they’re kinda sexy sometimes.”
Jisung stares at him.
Minho seems to bask in it, amused, pleased to have stirred such a reaction. “You don’t think so?”
“You read them?” Jisung asks, ignoring the question.
Minho shrugs. “Sure. One of the girls at my old work used to read them all the time, I got a little curious. She didn’t give a fuck. Said I could borrow as many as I want. There was this one about this girl in an arranged marriage with this king, and it took them like, two chapters to start fucking.”
Jisung feels vaguely faint, watching the shape of that word on Minho’s mouth.
Minho continues, seemingly unaware of the way Jisung was watching him. “I even tried to make fun of her, you know, for basically reading porn over lunch, but she didn’t care. Ah, she was so cool.” He hums, still looking up the sky. “You should count how many chapters it takes in your book. Apparently, there’s a formula to it or something.”
Jisung looks everywhere but at Minho. That feels safer. He says, “Uh, they already did.”
“Ha!” Minho looks far too happy, learning this. “Was it any good?”
God, a light breeze could knock Jisung over right now. Water be damned. How did they get here?
“Uh,” he says, and he clears his throat again, and then again. In the book, the leads had found themselves trapped in his office overnight. The set up for it all was a little trite, but that’s how these books work, so Jisung hadn’t really questioned it. Of course, it had ended up with the female lead riding the male lead in his office chair. “Yeah. Yeah, it was fine.”
Minho lets out a happy, content little sound. He says, “Ah, maybe I’ll read it after your finished.”
Jisung thinks, what the fuck is happening right now?
He says, “Um. Sure.”
Minho doesn’t say anything else. He just floats, his head tilted back, letting the movement of the water rock him. His feet stay on the ground, but he seems as relaxed as anything. It’s almost annoying, seeing him so at ease, when Jisung feels so unsettled. His heart is still running far too fast, although the surprise he’d felt from earlier has long since faded. His thoughts are flustered, he’s certain his cheeks are red, and sure, he’s a little harder in his swimming shorts than the cool water warrants – but how is that his fault? Minho’s the one who started talking about porn and fucking, looking the way he does, dripping wet. Jisung’s only human.
He sort of hovers, where he is, trying to figure out what’s going on and failing. He is suddenly completely unsure of what to do with his body – too aware of his limbs, and where they are in relation to Minho. It’s weird for him to get too close, right? But the shade patch on the water is growing smaller as the sun moves from the sky, so they really are limited to that space, but what if he makes Minho uncomfortable? What if—?
Eyes still shut, Minho says, “Relax, Jisung-ah. You’ll give yourself another headache.”
How Minho knows that is beyond Jisung, honestly, but he’s not wrong. Jisung takes a deep breath, subtly adjusts himself in his shorts, and forces himself to do as he’s been told. A few minutes ago, he didn’t have a care in the world. Surely, he can get back there if he tries really hard. He just needs to take his mind off dirty books, and the revelation that he and Minho are dirty boys who apparently read them.
“Um,” Jisung says, searching for something—anything else they can talk about. He goes with something easy. “What time did the others leave?”
“Around ten-ish?” Minho says, kinda like he’s guessing himself. “They said they’ll be back around four, I think. I think it might be later than that, though. There’s this waterfall Chan wants to see, he said it’s a few hours to get there, then they have to come back.”
“Oh, a waterfall, cool,” Jisung says eloquently.
It makes Minho smile anyway. He sits up, rather abruptly, disturbing the water with the sudden move. It startles Jisung too, but Minho seems to take this in stride. Looking perhaps a little wicked, Minho says, “We’ll have to find something to keep us occupied, I guess.”
Jisung swallows. He reminds himself, no matter how charged the air feels, it’s probably all in his head. No way Minho meant it like – well. Like that. Minho’s just being – Minho. He loves unsettling people. That’s what this is, right?
Right?
“Uh, we could watch a movie or something,” Jisung says.
“We could,” Minho says.
When he says nothing else, Jisung can’t help himself.
He says, “Or, uh, we could swim for a bit.” He’s terrible at sitting with silences at the best of times. Right now, standing there under Minho’s careful eye, he feels like Minho can see straight through him. “It’s nice out here.”
“It is,” Minho says.
God, the way he’s watching Jisung, it’s – it’s something else. He looks so relaxed, too. He’s backed up a little, drifting through the water, so that his shoulders can lean against the lip of the pool. The nape of his neck touches the concrete, tilting his head up, just a bit, showing Jisung the sharp line of his jaw. His gaze feels heavy, hot.
Jisung twists his fingers around each other, beneath the surface of the water. He’s sure Minho can see it, even with the ripples blurring his line of sight. Shit. What else can Minho see?
“Uh. I’ve got to put sunscreen on, though,” Jisung says. “If we stay out here for too much longer, I mean. I didn’t put any on earlier.”
Minho tuts. “Mhm. Naughty.”
Jisung squeaks. It just – it just happens, escapes him without a thought. Immediately, he wants to bury himself beneath the water again, but he can’t, because Minho’s gaze has an unrelenting hold on him. Those eyes – God, there’s so much happening behind them, and it’s all a mystery to Jisung. Or. No. Maybe it’s not a mystery at all.
Minho quirks a brow. He says, “Do you want me to help you?”
They’re not talking about the squeak then. Good, that’s – good.
Jisung swallows. “Help me with what?”
“The sunscreen,” Minho says.
Of course, this conjures images of hands, Minho’s hands, his wet hands, sliding all over Jisung’s body. Maybe – maybe Jisung could help Minho too. Maybe he could rub his hands all over Minho, over those shoulders and that long, broad back. Fuck. Heat brews low in Jisung’s belly, nothing at all to do with the sun above them, not helping at all with his shorts situation.
“Or…” Minho says lightly, as if he hasn’t got Jisung trapped under that clever smile. “You could come a little closer. It’s still pretty shady here.”
As the sun has moved, as the shade patch over the pool has shrunk, it really has narrowed down their options. The thickest shade is right over the corner where Minho lounges. Jisung, by contrast, out a little deeper – is starting to get flashes of sun, when the breeze pushes at the leaves above him.
“Yeah,” Jisung says. He licks his lips, not even thinking about it, and watches Minho watch him. His voice is a little raspy. “Yeah, good idea.”
So, he drifts forward, edging through the water, creeping closer to Minho’s corner. Minho – God, Jisung doesn’t know how he does it, but he somehow looks completely at ease, all the while holding Jisung’s gaze taut. He looks kinda like a cat might, watching another creature skitter around it, knowing all he has to do it wait. His head tilts a little, patient, as Jisung gets nearer and nearer. He wears one of his little smiles, the private kind, small and almost teasing, and Jisung wants to –
Fuck, Jisung wants.
“Better?” Minho asks quietly, when Jisung is barely a foot from him.
Jisung shakes his head. He can’t stop looking at Minho’s mouth. It’s actually like, physically impossible for him to look away.
He says, “Kinda.”
Minho grins. He lifts his chin, just a little. “Can I do anything to help?”
Jisung wets his lips again. “You could, yeah.”
The space between them gets even smaller. It’s – it’s silly, this game they’re playing. Jisung thinks they’re both pretty much on the same page right now, and they both know it. Minho has opened himself all the way up, his arms stretched wide, innocuous, waiting. His gaze flicks from Jisung’s eyes to his mouth and back again. Jisung’s brain is processing things in images now – red lips, wet skin, sharp collarbones, wicked eyes – and it’s – it’s fun. The tension in the air, the heat in his belly, God, it feels so nice, and Jisung doesn’t mind, drawing it out like this.
“Like what?” Minho asks.
God, of course he isn’t giving Jisung an inch. Jisung should have known he wouldn’t. That’s fine. Jisung can work with that.
“You’re kinda hogging all the room,” Jisung says, and it doesn’t escape him, the way his voice has gone all quiet and gravelly. It’s still the same day around them. All the same sounds are still there, but it’s like Jisung can’t hear them at all. All there is, is him and Minho, and the gently closing space between them. “You never heard of sharing?”
He watches, far too closely, as Minho smiles and lightly, so lightly, bites down on the tip of his tongue. Jisung watches the pink of it, caught between sharp teeth, and feels another flicker of heat climb up his spine.
“I guess not,” Minho murmurs, because the space between them is so small now, he doesn’t need to put any volume into it. They could be touching now. They practically are, except for the inches of water between them, and the way that Jisung’s body feels achingly untouched. “You wanna show me?”
Jisung does.
So he does.
He ducks in, closing the gap between them, and kisses Minho the way he’s been yearning to for days. And for all that time they weren’t touching, they make up for it now in spades. In an instant, Minho has a hand curled around the back of Jisung’s neck, cradling it, holding him close. His other hand curves around Jisung’s waist, yanking him forward, and Jisung gasps, there, right into Minho’s mouth, when his body slides against Minho’s. He has to balance himself, holding onto Minho’s shoulder, but then he feels the muscles there, and can’t help but keep searching. He squeezes there, drinks in the noise Minho makes, then runs his hand back, over Minho’s nape, threading fingers up into wet hair.
“Fuck,” Minho says, hot, into Jisung’s mouth.
“Yeah,” Jisung says, right back.
There is nothing soft about it, save for the plush give of Minho’s lips against his own. Minho grips him tight enough to bruise, and Jisung lets himself moan with it, lets his greedy hands roam over Minho’s wet skin. He can’t get enough, enough of this, of Minho, of Minho kissing him like this. Minho drinks him in, clutching him close, tugging at his waist, and his hips, and fuck, taking a healthy handful of Jisung’s ass, squeezing tight. He doesn’t think as he hitches his leg up, making space for Minho mindlessly. Minho lays claims to it immediately, one of his thighs settling between Jisung’s, just right for Jisung to press up against and – fuck –
“Is this—?” Jisung pulls his mouth from Minho’s just for a second, gasping for air, eyes fluttering as Minho’s lips drag across his jaw. “Fuck – is this okay? – Is this, ah,” Minho nips at his neck, “too fast—?”
“It’s fine,” Minho says, and he tugs on Jisung’s chin so he can kiss him again. His tongue pushes at Jisung’s bottom lip, and Jisung opens for him without question. God, he wants it, he wants it all, every touch, every inch of bare skin he can get his hands, his lips on — but Minho pulls back the next moment. Jisung presses kisses to his cheeks instead, the high crest of his cheekbone. He urges his hips forward, bumping against Minho’s belly, earning another solid squeeze of his ass. “I mean,” Minho says, “it’s fine with me – is it, is it fine with you?”
“It’s so fine,” Jisung breathes out, right before he bites at Minho’s ear. The noise that earns him is exquisite. “I’m so fine.”
“Yeah,” Minho says, and then he has both hands at Jisung’s waist, hefting his weight up, readjusting Jisung so that he can wrap his legs around Minho’s hips. The water must help, but even then, Jisung moans at being moved so easily. He scrapes his knees against the wall of the pool, but he doesn’t give a fuck. “Yeah, me too.”
God, Jisung is so glad, because he doesn’t want to stop. It’s like a gate has come crashing down, the wall of a damn collapsing, letting everything rush out. Minho’s skin is warm and slippery, his mouth is so soft and hot, and his hands, fuck, it feels like they’re everywhere, but somehow still not enough. Minho clutches at him like he’s been wanting, and it feels so good, feeling wanted, wanted by Minho. Jisung could get drunk on it – fuck, maybe that’s what’s happening now. Everything feels frantic. Jisung doesn’t have enough hands of his own. He wants to touch Minho everywhere; he wants to be touched everywhere.
He uses his thighs to grind his hips forward, and maybe he’d feel a little guilty, getting his dick all up in Minho’s business like that, if it weren’t for the distinct hardness he can feel pressing against the inside of his thigh. When he moves, Minho lets out a low groan, right into Jisung’s space, and he swallows it up, making all sorts of little sounds of his own. Those hands that are mapping his back, his waist – they take a firm hold of Jisung’s ass and pull him back down, all while Minho pushes forward, urging against him.
Jisung moans, loud, long, lets his eyelids flutter.
“Shit,” Minho says, into his skin. “Shit, you’re so hot.”
Jisung tugs at Minho’s hair, guiding his mouth where he wants it, biting at his bottom lip. Pleasure sings down his spine, from the compliment, from the hot rub of Minho’s body, from the desperate edge to his voice. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” and here, Minho holds him again, spinning them both around, splashing water everywhere. He presses Jisung up against the pool wall and both of them groan from the feeling of it. Jisung’s hips kick up. “Yeah, fuck, God. I’ve been wanting to, to—”
“Yeah,” Jisung says, “Yeah, me too.”
With Jisung sufficiently held between the wall and the hot line of Minho’s body, Minho’s hands are free to roam. One glides up Jisung’s chest, soft palm over pointed nipple, continuing up until he can cradle Jisung’s head. He moves Jisung where he wants him, tilting his face so that he can devour him more thoroughly, as if that were even possible. Jisung sags into the hold, feeling deliciously dizzy at being steered through this, and feels it when Minho smirks against his lips.
He asks, so close, “How’s the headache?”
Jisung scoffs, even as Minho tilts his head back, so that he can map a line of kisses down Jisung’s neck. “You’re not asking me about my headache right now.”
Minho nips at his neck. Jisung ruts up against his belly.
“Why not?” Minho asks. “You know, Chan did say you should avoid physical activity—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jisung says.
“Or what?” Minho asks, and this time, when his hand reaches for Jisung’s pec, it’s to give him a rough squeeze, then pluck at his nipple.
Jisung squeaks, his head lolling back and says, “Or… or – fuck.” Of course, he loses the thought, what thought? Why the fuck would he be thinking about anything right now? Anything but this? “Just come back here.”
And he yanks on Minho’s hair, pulling until Minho gets the message and kisses him again. He wraps his arms around Minho’s neck, keeping him there, giving him no quarter.
“Mhm,” he says, a little while later, when Minho pulls back just enough to breathe, “You taste like chlorine.”
Minho huffs a laugh, the air pressed right against Jisung’s cheek. “That’ll be the chlorine.”
“Yeah,” Jisung says. He grinds his hips forward again, lets the heat rush through his body, doesn’t bother to hold back the little noise that it stirs.
“You wanna get out of here?” Minho asks.
Jisung tugs him in close again. “I don’t want to stop.”
Minho bites his lip, presses his smile in close to Jisung’s jaw. “Who said we had to stop?”
He pinches at Jisung’s waist, encouraging another helpless sound from Jisung. He can’t help the way that he’s squirming, pressing his body into Minho’s hands, Minho’s touch. He feels almost out of control, as if his body has said, don’t worry, we’ll take it from here, except for the way that every touch lights Jisung up on the inside, his thoughts a hazy mess, all jumbled up, desperate for more. It’s good, it’s so good, this warm and slippery kind of touching, but his swim shorts are tight around his thighs, and there’s skin of Minho’s that’s still covered, and you know what, that’s kinda unacceptable right now.
“Fuck, yeah, okay,” Jisung says. “Where’re we gonna go?”
Minho’s hand, the one on his waist, curves around the front, between them. Minho cups Jisung’s dick, through his shorts, and presses down hard.
Sparks fly behind Jisung’s eyes.
“Fuck,” he pants, gasps, breathless.
“I was thinking a bed,” Minho says, massaging Jisung like it’s nothing, like he’s had Jisung cock in his hand a thousand times before.
Jisung scrapes his teeth down Minho’s neck, breathing hot, gasping. “We’ll – fuck – we’ll get pool water everywhere.”
“We can have a shower,” Minho says.
And oh, oh, there’s an idea. More of this, more of this wet, but warm, hot, and with nothing between them. Jisung feels himself go a little dizzy at the thought, a rush of heat rising in him, insisting at him, yes, yes, that’s what we’re doing. He humps up into Minho’s hand.
“Fuck yeah, yes, let’s do that.”
Of course, that’s easier said than done, when it means he’s gotta let go of Minho so they can get out. His hands really like touching Minho all over, and his thighs really like having Minho tucked in so close, and his dick really likes the feel of Minho’s hand. God, and Minho’s mouth, how could he ever let Minho’s mouth go, now that he knows exactly how wicked it can be.
“Sung-ah,” Minho laughs, pulling away only for Jisung to drag him back in. He abandons Jisung’s dick – cruel – only to grasp at Jisung’s ass again, wrenching him forward, pressing Jisung’s cock nice and hard against his warm belly – ah, wait, maybe not so cruel. Jisung lets out a dizzy moan, distracted for just long enough to let Minho say, “Fuck, come on, I wanna touch you without these stupid shorts in the way.”
“Yeah,” Jisung says, thoughts blurry, head spinning. “Yeah, fuck, okay, let’s go.”
This time, when Minho pulls away, Jisung uncurls his legs and lets him go. He feels awfully cold without Minho in his arms, so when they have both dragged themselves out of the pool, Jisung wastes no time, coming up behind Minho and pressing a biting kiss to the back of his neck. With water dripping off him, all Jisung can see are the gorgeous hard lines of muscle, sharp shoulder blades and broad shoulders. He smoothes his hands around Minho’s waist, Minho’s hands coming up to hold the backs of Jisung’s wrists, and when he has run his fingers across those taut, wet abs, he dips them down, and lets his palm rub over the head of Minho’s dick, through his shorts.
Minho gasps, lets his head fall a little back.
“Fuck,” Jisung says, pressing the word into the nape of Minho’s neck, scraping his teeth there as well. He rolls his palm over Minho’s cock, grins when Minho’s hips kick forward a little. “Hyung, you’re so hot, it’s not fair.”
Minho’s mouth is open, his head tipped up to the sky, his eyes fluttering. He is, perhaps, the most gorgeous thing Jisung has ever seen. He says, “Then do something about it.”
Jisung rubs his dick against Minho’s ass, still mouthing at Minho’s shoulder, but trying to keep an eye on the expression on Minho’s face. He watches those eyelashes flutter against Minho’s cheek, and he thinks, sharply, proudly, I did that.
“Yeah,” Jisung says, rubbing against Minho once more, “Yeah, come on. Let’s go inside.”
.
As it turns out, Minho’s room has an ensuite.
Jisung, having only ever slept in the same bedroom in this house, was not aware of this. In any other circumstance, he might feel hardly done by, but given the givens, he honestly couldn’t care less. He barely sees Minho’s room as Minho crowds him inside, ushering him through to the bathroom without pause, then practically shoving him inside the shower. Blindly, still kissing Jisung, Minho turns the taps on – and they both hiss when the water comes out freezing cold. Thankfully, it warms quickly, and soon they’ve almost forgotten the water, too busy trying to push their wet shorts off. It’s a fucking struggle, the way it always is when water and fabric interact, and Jisung nearly stacks it twice before Minho steadies him. It’s hilarious, and the victory that comes when they both finally free themselves of their clothes is so sweet that Jisung can’t help but laugh. Minho giggles with him, swallowing Jisung’s laugh up in his mouth before he presses Jisung up against the tiles.
He palms the meat of Jisung’s ass, squeezing and pinching until Jisung is moaning, squirming up against him. His cock is hard against Jisung’s, hot, the friction divine. Again, it feels impossibly easy to bend his knee, wrap his leg around Minho’s and make more room for him.
“Hyung,” Jisung pants, kinda against Minho’s lips, kinda against his cheek. “Hyung, I want you to fuck me so bad.”
Minho groans, low and heavy. He says, “Fuck, I want to.” He digs his nails into the plush of Jisung’s ass, makes Jisung’s eyes flutter. “Don’t have any stuff though.”
“Fuck,” Jisung says.
“We’ll get some,” Minho says, and God, does that light Jisung up inside, because it means Minho wants to do this again. He says it like it’s obvious, like it’s easy, like anything else would be out of the question. “Unless you wanna see if Chan’s aunt’s got anything stashed away around here.”
Jisung puffs a laugh into Minho’s neck, doesn’t miss the goosebumps that rise there. He says, “Is nothing sacred to you?”
Minho grumbles, “Hey, she clearly keeps the house well stocked. Maybe she has some for her guests, it’d only be polite.”
“For her nephew?” Jisung says.
Minho frowns. “Hm, yeah, probably not.”
Jisung laughs and then, because he can and because it’s there, twists Minho’s nipple. That earns him a hiss, and a stern hand takes firm hold of his wrist. Minho presses his arm back against the tiles and Jisung’s mouth drops open, all of its own accord, to let out a breathy moan.
“Oh, fuck,” he says.
Minho watches his mouth, pleased, amused. He tightens his hold on Jisung’s wrist. “Yeah?”
Jisung nods, his head lolling back against the cool shower wall. He juts his mouth out a little, pouts his lips, and hopes that Minho will take the hint. “Yeah.”
Minho’s eyes flash, and he presses rough kisses against Jisung’s mouth, dips his tongue inside, tasting him.
He murmurs, “Interesting.”
Jisung hopes it is. He hopes he’s sparked all of Minho’s interest, because he wants it, he never wants it to be anywhere else. He hitches his leg up a little further, tilting his hips up, letting Minho press even closer. Minho takes the space given, his mouth roaming from Jisung’s lips, down over his jaw and to his neck. He bites and nibbles there for a little while before he continues to move down. When he pinches at Jisung’s nipples, gets a breathy yelp for his trouble, he lifts his head again.
Right in Jisung’s space he says, “I’m gonna blow you now.”
Jisung moans, nodding before really even noticing. “Yeah,” he says, and wow, words are hard, when all he can think about is Minho’s lips, his hot, hot mouth. “Yeah, fuck, that’d be—”
Minho presses a finger to Jisung’s mouth, shushes him, then sinks to his knees. He tilts Jisung’s hips a little, pulling him out from under the direct stream of water, and wraps his pink lips around the head of Jisung’s dick.
The back of Jisung’s head hits the tiles, hard.
He is, as it turns out, just as talented with that mouth as Jisung had expected. Not that he’d expected anything, it’s just – you know, when it’s late, thoughts wonder, and Minho has an incredibly mouth, red lips, and God, that grin, and anyone who’s got a dick and seen that smirk of his must have – they must have thought about it, just errantly, surely. So yeah, maybe Jisung has pictured Minho on his knees a time or two before, but that’s only – it’s only natural because, fucking look at him.
And the thing is, all those pictures he’d conjured up in his thoughts, they were – God, they had nothing on the reality. Jisung can’t look away, even though it means he’s getting water in his eyes. All he can see is Minho, he head tilted back, his mouth around Jisung’s cock, his wet eyelashes against his cheeks. The inside of him is so hot, and wet, and warm, and Jisung has to use everything in him to keep himself from thrusting further, from taking more. Minho holds onto his ass with one hand, but the other is tucked low, pressing between his own legs, and Jisung can’t comprehend it – this vision of Minho getting himself off while he chokes himself on Jisung’s dick. He is – God, he has an almost out of body experience – how the fuck did this happen? A few hours ago, he was sleeping off a headache, then after that he was watching shitty YouTube videos. How is he here now, with Minho on his knees before him, with the head of his dick bumping against the back of Minho’s throat?
All things considered, Jisung thinks he makes a valiant effort at holding out, but it’s no surprise when he starts to lose himself. His knees shake, his stomach clenches, and he has just enough time to tug on Minho’s hair, get out a rushed, “Oh, fuck, hyung, I’m—!” before it’s all over, and there are stars in his eyes, and vicious hot pleasure floods through his body.
Minho sucks him through it, doesn’t let him go until Jisung is flinching, over sensitive. He wipes his mouth with the back of one hand – which, for the record is way hotter than it has any right to be – and massages Jisung’s thigh with the other. His fingers dig into the meat of Jisung’s muscle beautifully, leaving pink spots behind, making Jisung’s breath catch.
“Fuck,” Jisung says, then, because he can’t think of anything else, “Fucking hell.”
“Good?” Minho asks. His voice is raspy.
“Fucking amazing,” Jisung says, and he grasps a handful of Minho’s hair and tugs him upwards. He takes Minho’s mouth again, groans at the taste of himself on those plush lips. It doesn’t escape him; the way Minho seems to like being moved around as much as Jisung does. He files it away for later, because there will be a later, he’s going to make sure of it. Minho’s cock bumps against Jisung’s hip, hard as anything, and Jisung feels suddenly ravenous for it. “C’mon,” he says, wrapping his hand around it, feeling that velvety skin nice and wet in his palm. “What do you want?”
“Anything.” Minho mashes his mouth into Jisung’s. It’s kinda insane, how lost in this they both are, but Jisung doesn’t give a fuck. Even the thought is far away, distant, barely there. He squeezes Minho’s cock, drinks in the responding whimper. “Everything, you.”
Jisung lets the pleasure of that spread through him, basks in it, and grins. He bites at Minho’s lip and says, “You don’t wanna be more specific?”
Minho nips at his jaw. He rubs his palms over the crown of Jisung’s hips, fingers grasping, clenching, and kisses Jisung a little more, before he says, “Could you – can I turn you around, is that okay?”
And Jisung gasps, right against those soft, bruised lips, “Fuck yeah, please, yes, let’s do that.”
Jisung is fully capable of turning himself around, but he lets Minho do it for him anyway. He shivers as he’s guided by strong muscles, stern hands that put him right where Minho wants him. The cold of the tile against his nipples, his belly, his spent cock – it feels almost rough, but in the best way possible. A little sting of pain to offset the pleasure that lights up every part of him. It’s divine. Minho presses the full line of his body up against Jisung’s back, tugging on Jisung’s waist, his hips, then reaching those grasping hands up so that he can grope at Jisung’s pecs again. He tugs and pulls at Jisung’s nipples, rolling them between his fingers, and it makes Jisung groan, right where his cheek is mashed up against the wall. This is insane. This is so hot. Jisung might die.
Minho grinds his cock hard against Jisung’s ass, grunting as he does. He takes Jisung’s hip again, holds it firm, keeping Jisung in place as he humps up behind him. He drags his teeth across the wet skin of Jisung’s back, neck, shoulders. Against the skin, he says, “I’m not gonna – I just want to—” and his cock nestles between Jisung’s cheeks, and his hips kick forward again.
Jisung says, “Yeah, fuck yeah, do it,”
Minho says, “Your waist is so small, what the fuck.”
“You like it?” Jisung says. He can only imagine how he must look, desperate and writhing, letting Minho take what he wants.
Minho bites his shoulder, makes Jisung cry out, and presses in somehow closer. “Yeah, I fucking like it, Jesus Christ.” He pushes forward again, his wet cock sliding against Jisung’s skin, and says, “You can’t tell?”
Jisung laughs, breathless, so pleased, and lets his head lol back. “I – I’m – I’m picking up some hints.”
“Mhm,” Minho says, mouthing at Jisung’s ear, fingers digging into Jisung’s waist, pulling him back, until all of their bodies are pressed together. Jisung can feel where Minho’s nipples dance over his back. Minho brings a hand around, groping at Jisung’s belly, brushing Jisung’s cock, making him hiss. “I guess I should work harder then.”
This time, when his cock presses up against Jisung, it slips, the angle going low, and the head of his cock presses right against that spot behind Jisung’s balls. The sound that escapes Jisung is entirely uncontrolled, a low groan that breaks halfway through when Minho does it again.
“Shit, shit,” Jisung says.
“I can’t wait to fuck you,” Minho says.
“Me – fuck – me neither.”
“Me fucking you? Or you can’t – ah – wait to fuck me?”
“Both – either – who cares?”
Minho presses his nose into Jisung’s wet hair, then moves so that he can pant right by Jisung’s ear. His fingers dig into Jisung’s flesh so hard that Jisung thinks it might bruise – God, he hopes it’ll bruise. The ferocity of his thrusts picks up. Jisung finds his face, his cock, his everything, rhythmically pressed against tiles, faster, faster, and can’t help the grunts that escape him, tiny puffs of air. That’s how he’ll sound when Minho fucks him, he already knows, and God, the thought of that, of Minho inside—
Minho gasps, “I’m gonna come—”
“Yeah, yeah, do it, please.” Jisung’s not afraid to beg. “C’mon, I want it, come on me.”
Minho lets out a low, long groan when he does, and Jisung thinks, damn, that’s maybe the best sound in the world, I should record that. He can’t really tell the difference between the hot water that streams over his back, and the come that Minho must be painting him with, but he basks in it anyway, in the feeling. Minho continues to hold him, direct him, putting Jisung’s body right where he wants it. When he is finished, when the clench of his fingers has eased a little, he guides Jisung back to face him, both of them a little shaky.
And then – God, then they just keep kissing. Jisung can’t get enough. He’s spent, and his knees hurt, and the water has suddenly turned from something nice, to something really annoying – but he doesn’t care. Minho is – Minho wants him. He – sure, by the end there, with all those innocuous little touches, Jisung had his suspicions, but here it is – the desperate proof that while Jisung has spent all this time wanting, Minho has been wanting him right back.
Soon, of course, the water turns cold. Minho drags his lips from Jisung’s to hiss and quickly shut off the taps. He doesn’t go far though, and as soon as the water is done away with, he’s back to Jisung’s mouth again.
They stay there for a while, wet, dripping, kissing. They stay there until the cool air creeps in, and Jisung shivers.
Minho says, “You wanna dry off?”
Jisung says, “Mhm,” against Minho’s mouth, and doesn’t let him go.
This makes Minho laugh, although he begrudgingly pulls away and tugs Jisung with him, leading him out of the shower. They have to stop kissing for a moment when Minho grabs his towel and uses it to pat at Jisung’s body. Jisung doesn’t help much, constantly reaching for Minho, trying to tug him back in.
Minho bats at his hands, laughing, and says, “Give me a second, you little demon.”
Jisung shoots him a thrilled look. “Little demon? Me?”
“Yes,” Minho says, and he taps on Jisung’s nose, which Jisung is quickly learning might be one of his favourite things ever. “And you know it, so sit still for a second.”
“I’m standing,” Jisung says.
“Ugh,” Minho says, but then he kisses him again, so Jisung’s won.
When they are dry – which takes them far longer than it should – and when they finally leave the bathroom, they only make it as far as the bed. Jisung thinks vaguely about his damp hair on these dry sheets, but quickly decides it can be a problem for later. He rolls onto his back, pulling Minho over him, keeping him as close as he can. Now that he’s had a taste, he doesn’t want to let him go, and he can already feel himself filling up again, building up to a second round.
Before he loses himself again, Jisung tries his hardest to be responsible. He pulls away from Minho’s mouth, only a bit, only enough to say, “We’ll talk about this, won’t we? When we – after?”
Minho pauses. He grins, a lovely little thing, tiny and small and just for the scant space between them.
“Yeah, Jisung-ie,” he says, bumping his nose against Jisung’s. “We’ll talk.”
“And—” Jisung gets the word in just before Minho can kiss him again, blushes, a little from the heat in Minho’s eyes, and maybe a little from the question he wants to ask. “And it’s – good?”
And God, does that smile bloom.
Minho leans down, and nips at Jisung’s lips. Quickly, he runs his tongue over the same spot, like he’s soothing it, taking care of him. Jisung feels so impossibly warm that he worries, genuinely, he might burst with it.
“Yeah,” Minho says, and he swipes his thumb over Jisung’s cheek. Smiles down at him, looks so, so pleased. “Yeah, it’s good.”
.
Notes:
bruuuuh it's been so long since i wrote smut, I hope it read okay LMAO
so, so happy that we could finally do something with all that tension thats been building and building hahahaha. i hope you guys enjoyed the chap! I might change my upload days to sundays, but it'll depend how much writing i get done over the next week.
also, lmao, this chap is like twice the length of all the others. i think that might happen more with the later chapters, as i get everything wrapped up. hope no one minds!!
as always, i would love love love to hear your thoughts on the chap. please leave a comment below if u have a mo and are feeling generous xx
Chapter 14
Notes:
i love how, as we get closer to the end, i get more and more keen to get the chapters out early lmaaooo
struggled with this chap a bit, went back and rewrote half of it, now i'm v pleased with it. hope you guys are too.
ps. tysm to readers, commenters, kudosers, and lurkers. you are very precious to me <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
Eventually, eventually, they tire.
Their kisses turn soft, gentle, then slow, until they are simply lying together, faces tucked close, breathing the same air. Minho’s eyes roam all over Jisung’s face, taking him in, and Jisung watches, wondering what he’s thinking. He could ask. Minho would probably tell him if he did, but this thing between them – which has changed so frantically, so fast – feels impossibly fragile. Jisung doesn’t want to fuck that up. What if he fractures, shatters, this precious, lovely thing they’ve found?
It’s Minho, who ends up breaking the silence.
He reaches up, presses his fingertip into Jisung’s tender bottom lip, and says, “God, look at you.”
Although Jisung feels a little uncertain, he can’t help but preen a little. He searches Minho’s face, sees the gentle fondness there, all that skin that Jisung has pressed his mouth to, and lets it make him a little braver.
Brave enough to say, “Good?”
Minho’s eyes crinkle at the corners.
“Very good.” Minho nudges Jisung’s lip again. “Your mouth is all red. If we keep going, everyone’s gonna know what’s happened.”
Jisung huffs, and says, “Yours isn’t any better.”
He’s quite proud, actually, of the way Minho’s mouth is all bitten pink. Jisung did that, Jisung’s mouth did that. God, what a privilege. He is so caught up in it, that his brain takes a little while to register everything else Minho has said. Something snags, at the back of his head, like he’s missed something he should be worried by – and when he thinks it all over again, it’s easy to figure out.
He says, a little more cautiously. “You don’t want them to know?”
Minho kisses him. Funny, given what he’s just said, but Jisung’s not complaining. He lets out a little hum of surprise, then sinks into it, eyes slipping closed. God, he’s not sure anything else will ever interest him again. Why do anything, ever, when he could be here, doing this instead?
“I don’t care who knows,” Minho says, when he pulls back a moment later. “We can tell them if you want. I just meant – this is pretty new. I thought we might want some time to figure it out ourselves, before everyone makes a big fuss.”
“Oh,” Jisung says, and he can feel the smile spilling out from him, sees the way it makes Minho smile too. Yes, that makes sense. He can only imagine the commotion they’re in for when Hyunjin and Changbin discover this new state of affairs. Their friends are wonderful, but they’re not exactly known for their subtlety and poise. “Okay. That’s fine then.”
Minho pinches at his cheek, scrunching up his face. “Yeah? That’s fine? You’re happy?’
Jisung bats his hand away, but he’s giggling, so he knows that probably minimises the impact. He’s just so content, so warmed from the inside. “Yeah, shut up, yes. I’m happy.”
This has all turned out so much better than Jisung had even hoped. He’d been trying not to put too much stock in the signals he was picking up from Minho, hidden in all those touches, all those weighty looks. A part of him can’t believe it still, that this is real, that Minho is and has been interested back. The awareness of that feels too big, too overwhelming for Jisung to properly process. He’s not sure what any of it means, and if he thinks about it too closely, his thoughts turn sour, so he’s trying to stave that off. It’s easier, then, to think about where he is now. To feel it, Minho’s body heat so close, the soft scrape of his skin against Jisung’s.
Minho sinks back into the pillow. His pinching fingers turn gentle again and he soothes his thumb over the crown of Jisung’s cheek.
“What time do you think it is?” Jisung asks.
Their phones are still outside. They should probably do something about that. The house is pretty private, but the path to the beach is technically accessible by anyone, and it’s probably not the smartest idea to leave their valuables completely unattended.
Minho hums. “Not sure. I got back around one, I think, so maybe – three-ish?”
Jisung sighs. That’s what he’d been thinking too, but he’d been hoping Minho might prove him wrong – tell him they have a little more time to lie here, taking things slowly. If they were especially lucky, they could freeze time or something, just a little pocket for themselves to fully drink their fill. But no, the others will be back soon. And Minho’s right; this thing is a little too new, a little too precious to be shared right away. He wants to – he doesn’t want to fuck this up.
“I think we still have a few hours before they’ll be back,” Minho says, easily interpreting the sigh. He tucks his knuckles under Jisung’s chin, dips in to give him another kiss. Then he just – doesn’t pull away. He rolls in closer, his naked hip bumping Jisung’s as he reaches over Jisung, cages him in with his arms. The next kiss is leisurely, long and drawn out, as if Minho has all the time in the world. He scratches his nails through Jisung’s hair, over his scalp. “We don’t have to get up just yet.”
Jisung smoothes his palm up the long line of Minho’s back. He hums against his lips, opening up for him, letting Minho take whatever he wants. God, this is nice. It’s so nice that Minho wants him like this.
Still, reluctantly, slowly, he pulls back. He tilts his head up, so that Minho can kiss his jaw instead of his mouth, and says, “Didn’t you just say we had to sort out the whole—” he motions vaguely at his lips, which feel raw and owned and tender, “—this situation?”
“Mhm, changed my mind,” Minho says, turning Jisung’s head so they can kiss again. “You should always look like this. I’m stupid, don’t listen to me.”
Jisung laughs, flushed and warm, and bats at Minho’s shoulder. “C’mon, you were right. The others are gonna lose their shit if they get home and find us like this.”
Minho pouts. It’s so much better from this close, where Jisung can see every dip in his brow, every sweet little wrinkle. Jisung feels himself melting already, under its thrall, and scratches lightly at Minho’s back, trying to keep focused. It’s very difficult.
Minho takes pity on him. He pulls back, lifting himself up to rest on his elbows, his face just above Jisung’s. He nods down at Jisung’s mouth and says, “I put a lot of work into this, you know.”
Jisung grins, giggles again, watches the way Minho’s eyes crinkle. He offers a compromise. “You can do it again tonight?”
“Deal,” Minho says immediately.
He kisses Jisung one last time, but this is a short little thing, there and gone before Jisung has a chance to even blink. Then he heaves his weight up and pushes further away, rolling back onto the bed. It’s ridiculous, because even though he’s doing exactly what Jisung asked him to, Jisung has to fight the urge to crawl after him. He likes having the heaviness of Minho’s body holding him down, he likes having Minho tucked all up in his space. As he laments this loss – his own damn fault, stupid! – Minho rubs a hand over his own belly and looks contemplatively to the ceiling.
He says, “I’m actually kinda hungry. Do you wanna get some food?”
“Sure.” Jisung hadn’t been thinking about it, but now that he does, his stomach makes it immediately clear that yes, food sounds good. “I had some leftovers for lunch, I think there’s still some left.”
Minho rolls onto his side. Now that there is a little distance between them, Jisung can see the assortment of pink and red marks that skitter his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Something hot curls in his stomach at the thought, no, wait – the knowledge that Jisung is the one who put them there.
“I was thinking we could go into town,” Minho says. “Find something there.”
It catches Jisung a little off guard. The absolute last thing he’s thinking about is putting clothes on and venturing out in public. He was steeling himself just for the act of walking downstairs to collect his phone. “Yeah?”
Minho shrugs. “It’ll give us a little more time to ourselves, even if the others do get home soon.”
“Oh, yeah,” Jisung says. Actually, that makes a lot of sense – gives them a little more control around the time alone they have left. “That’s clever.”
“I’m very clever,” Minho says.
Jisung rubs his cheek into his pillow. “You are.”
He notices, belatedly, that Minho’s ears have pinkened. Jisung’s pretty sure they weren’t like that a few minutes ago. He should know, too, because he’s been drinking in the sight of Minho, laid out and bare, all casual like this. Sure, his ears have been red a lot the last couple of hours. In the pool, in the sun. In the shower, bitten pink. Not recently, though.
Jisung keeps quiet, waits, and eventually Minho continues.
He clears his throat and says, “Then, maybe – on the way home we can – swing by the store or something.”
Jisung can’t help the little grin that fights it’s way free. “The store?” He makes his eyes big, his voice high and curious, and the expression on Minho’s face already says, I know what you’re doing. He perseveres. “What for?”
Minho reaches over and pinches Jisung’s nipple.
Jisung shrieks, even if Minho’s touch was more tender than teasing, and claps a hand over his abused chest. They are another part of him that feels bruised, not that Jisung is complaining, exactly. There’s something about Minho’s tricky fingers – Jisung kinda wants them on his skin forever, prodding and pulling and grasping however they’d like.
“You know what for, you little tease,” Minho says sternly.
Jisung does know, of course, and he wants to buy those things as badly as Minho does. The idea that he can’t have Minho all the way, can’t tuck him deep inside or press deep inside him, all because they’re missing a tiny piece of latex – well, frankly, it sucks, and Jisung would like to remedy that situation as soon as possible.
Still, he can’t help but pout a little. He likes the way Minho watches his mouth.
“What if I was really asking?” Jisung says, rubbing at his nipple, soothing the sting.
Minho doesn’t answer the question. He nods down at Jisung’s hand, instead, and says, “If you keep doing that, I’m never letting you out of this bed.”
Jisung grumbles. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Minho reaches for his other nipple then, and even with the delicious heat in his stomach, Jisung bats him away. As nice as it would be, as much as he wants to lie here with Minho for hours and hours or maybe even days – they do have to get up. They’re running out of time to make a clean escape.
“Okay, okay.” Jisung forces himself to keep the momentum up, not just rolling out of Minho’s reach, but pushing himself upright. “You’re right, we should go.”
His muscles feel wonderfully used, a little achy, in the very best way. He shuts his eyes, letting out a little sigh as he moves, rolling his shoulders, then his neck. He stretches when he stands, reaching his hands up high.
“Jesus,” Minho says.
Jisung peers over his shoulder at him. Innocently, not really innocent at all, he says, “What?”
Minho throws a pillow at him.
It’s fair.
Now that Jisung has started moving, Minho isn’t too far behind. There’s kind of a funny moment, when they realise that Minho has access to all his clothes, but all Jisung has are the soaking wet shorts that are still on the floor of the shower. It’s the sort of thing that might have mortified Jisung, if it’d happened with the wrong person, but with Minho, it just makes him laugh. Minho teases him for a little bit, then finds him a pair of shorts that he can use for the sneaky dash back to his room. He squeezes Jisung’s butt as he goes.
Jisung changes quickly, in his own room. The alone time is – good and bad. Good, because he gets to take a little moment, privately, to celebrate that this is all really happening. There is a giddiness in him, in the knowledge that Minho wants him, that Minho’s had his hands all over him. God, that Minho wants to do it again. But bad, perhaps, because it gives him a little too much time with his own thoughts. It’s inevitable, really, that he’ll spiral over this at some point. Without Minho watching him, some of those nasty thoughts, the ones that are always lingering somewhere in the back of Jisung’s brain, inch their way forward. On their backs, there is unease, a little bit of dread and – and Jisung just grabs the first shirt he can find, drags it over his head, and runs out to find Minho again.
All that shit – he can worry about it later. Right now, is good, it’s really good, and Jisung’s not gonna let his silly little thoughts fuck that up for him.
When he gets to the kitchen, he finds Minho, along with all of his things from outside. When Jisung is within reach, Minho passes over Jisung’s phone, then steps right into Jisung’s space, giving him another quick kiss.
It is exactly the balm Jisung’s thoughts needed, and he sinks into it, into the way Minho has so easily laid claim to the air closest to him. There’s no room for thinking here. There’s just Minho, warm skin, grasping hands, and soft lips.
“Shit,” Minho says, pulling away, looking at Jisung’s mouth again. “I’m really not helping your cause.”
Jisung grins at him, considers Minho’s own bruised mouth. “Me neither.”
They really do need to chill a little if they want this thing between them to stay on the down low. The way they look right now, anyone could tell how they have spent the past couple of hours. It’s actually kinda appalling that they’re going out in public like this, Jisung thinks. He doesn’t really know if he’s up for looking all the uncles and aunties in the eye, pretending they won’t be able to tell what he’s been up to just by looking at him.
They take Hyunjin’s car, because Minho knows where the keys are, and it’s the easiest for them to manoeuvre out from the side of the house. Minho drives, while Jisung searches for food options on his phone, eventually finding a place that looks alright and directing Minho there. It’s just a little shop, but in this town that’s kinda their only option – and the reviews online look pretty good. They order their food quickly, avoiding everyone’s eye save for each other’s, and are told it’ll be about a fifteen-minute wait before their food is ready. Even though it’s a little town, the shop is relatively full, so they decide to head back to the car and wait there.
When they are back in, and the car is quiet, and the world continues on around them – it really is all Jisung can do to keep his hands to himself. His fingertips itch to reach out, to close the small distance between the driver and the passenger seats, and have another taste.
“Behave,” Minho tells him.
Jisung lets out an aggrieved noise. “I am! This is kinda torture, you know.”
Minho is right there after all. He’s right there, and he wants Jisung, and it seems impossibly unfair that Jisung’s not allowed to just hand himself over.
“I’m aware,” Minho says, “but we have to stick to the plan.”
Jisung thunks his head back against the headrest of his seat. This world is very cruel and unfair. He reaches over and, given that he can’t have the parts of Minho he really wants to touch, contents himself taking hold of Minho’s hand. It’s the perfect compromise, actually, because it’s nice to twist their fingers together, to map the little lines of Minho’s palm, and to see whose hand is bigger. There is some discussion, a lot of wriggling as Minho tries desperately to climb his fingers out, make them longer – but the winner is definitely Jisung. It doesn’t matter that it’s only barely – the facts are facts – and Jisung lets his enthusiastic victory cries carry them all the way through their wait.
They collect their food when their fifteen minutes are up. When Jisung gets back in the car, hot food on his lap, he thinks they’ll head straight for the store, but Minho pauses.
He says, “Apparently there’s a beach that’s like, the opposite direction from where the others went. You want to check it out?”
“Fuck yeah,” Jisung says.
It’s kinda fun, this sneaking around thing. Jisung keeps his eye out for Jeongin and Chan’s cars, like the others could drive by at any moment and discover their little secret – even though literally all they’re doing is driving. Minho has to set his phone up with the Bluetooth so they can follow it’s directions to the beach, but that doesn’t take him long at all. In no time at all, they are hopping out of the car once more, kicking their shoes off and stepping onto the sand.
They sit where the sand is clearly dry, laying out their jackets before they put the food down, trying to keep it as sand-free as possible. They’re mostly successful – Jisung has to manage a few gritty bites here and there, but for the most part, it’s very yummy. He and Minho sit, side by side, looking out over the water, talking about nothing.
When the food is finished, when Jisung has rubbed a satisfied hand over his belly and sighed, content – Minho tugs him into his arms. There is some readjusting – shifting and negotiating limbs – but ultimately, they settle with Jisung’s back to Minho’s front, Minho’s arms looped forward, wrapped around Jisung’s middle.
Minho presses a quick kiss to Jisung’s neck.
Jisung says, “Hey, you’re breaking the rules.”
“Yup,” Minho says, and does it again.
It’s nice – it’s so nice – that of course, Jisung’s worried thoughts arrive, ready to ruin the party. He tries hard to stifle them at the start, but his anxiety is a persistent little bastard. It insists – demands – that Jisung think about this, properly. He hasn’t thought about it enough, he’s just dove in, headfirst, like he always does, no thought for the consequences. It’s going to backfire on him, the pitiless voice at the back of his head says. He’s not sure when, he’s not sure how, but it’s going to turn sour.
Jisung maybe squeezes Minho’s arm a little, pulling it more tightly around his middle, like that will somehow hide him.
Minho presses a hum right into Jisung’s hair. He says, quietly, “You know, I can see all those thoughts bouncing around in there.”
Short of coherent thoughts, of clever things to say back, Jisung goes with, “You can?”
“Yup.” Minho pulls one hand free of Jisung’s grasp, only so he can tap at Jisung’s nose, then his bottom lip. “They don’t look very fun. Are they fun?”
Jisung shakes his head. He feels, more than sees, the way Minho stiffens at this – so he tightens his grip on the arm of Minho’s that he has left, presses a little more firmly back into his embrace.
“They’re never super fun, hyung. That’s kinda – how they work, for me. But they’re not bad, either. I’m just – trying to think.”
It’s so hard to explain, the way his head works sometimes. He’s grown used to it. He’s got a veritable laundry list of coping mechanisms and exercises to practice from his therapist, but that doesn’t mean his anxiousness is gone. It just means that he knows how to make more sense of it now, knows that a lot of it is just his body trying to help him out, keep him safe, even if it’s in the most misguided way possible.
“If—” Minho starts, then stops again. He brings that other arm back down, wrapping it back around Jisung, which has to be a good sign, despite the unsure tone of his voice. “It’s okay if you think this has happened a bit fast. Or – if you need a bit of time to just – figure it out.”
Jisung shakes his head quickly. He can feel Minho’s neck, the dip of his collarbone, right behind his head and he likes it. He wants to keep him there, tucked around Jisung, as long as he can.
“No, no, hyung, that’s not it.”
Minho tries again. “I’d understand if you need—”
“I don’t!” Jisung’s not even sure what Minho was going to finish with – time, space, whatever. Jisung doesn’t need any of it. “I mean it, I’m just. Sorry. I’m not good at this stuff.”
“It’s okay,” Minho says quickly, quietly.
It doesn’t feel like Jisung’s said enough, so he tries again. “I just – I’m trying not to overthink it, you know? I’m – everything that happened this afternoon, I liked it. I liked it so much.” He rubs his palm along the back of Minho’s arm, feels the light scrape of hair there, the warmth of him. “Please don’t think I didn’t.”
Some of the tension that has crept into Minho’s body eases. Jisung feels it as the stiffness bleeds from him. His body softens a little, still moulded up against Jisung’s back. He noses into Jisung’s hair, takes a breath.
“Okay,” Minho says. This time, Jisung trusts it a little more. “Me too.”
Jisung keeps a tight hold of his arms. “Good, good. That’s good.”
They fall quiet for a little while. It’s a bit stilted, not quite as easy as it had felt only a few minutes earlier. Those nasty little thoughts of Jisung’s try to creep in, but he works hard to keep them at bay. It’s okay for things to be awkward sometimes. He’s not in any danger. It’s just Minho. Sweet, wonderful, kind, Minho.
Minho who gives him a gentle squeeze, and says, “Is there anything I can do to help? With the – thinking?” He pauses. Jisung doesn’t like this uncertainty on him. It doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t marry up with the picture of him that Jisung keeps in his head. That’s unfair of him though. Of course, Minho will have his clumsy moments, moments when he isn’t so sure of himself. He’s only human. “It might help, maybe, if we talk everything out.”
Jisung nods, nestles back a little further, resting his head against Minho’s shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
He’s the one who wanted to talk, after all. He’d been the one to bring it up earlier. It had seemed easy then, to say they should speak, sort all of this out like grown-ups. That’s because he had armfuls of hot, naked man all over him, kissing him everywhere. He reminds himself, now, that he’s still wrapped in the same arms. They’re just clothed now, and maybe a little less confident than they had been earlier. But it’s all still Minho.
He remembers the way Minho had smiled, had told him it would be good, their talk, and holds onto that.
There is a beat.
Another.
Jisung says, “I just—”
Right as Minho says, “Is it—?”
They both cut themselves off.
“Sorry,” Minho says.
“No, I’m sorry,” Jisung says. “You go.”
He twists his fingers up with Minho’s and squeezes, hoping it’ll help. He’s lucky, getting to sit with Minho wrapped around him, while they have this conversation. It’s a good, physical reminder that Minho wants him, wants to hold him, and he wants to offer some of that back in kind.
It seems like it works.
Minho starts carefully. “Um. This is kinda – sorry, if this is not cool of me, but – is it – does it have anything to do with Chan?”
Jisung’s face scrunches all the way up. He reacts, almost physically, recoiling a little in a way that would surely hurt Chan’s feelings, so it’s good he’s not around to witness it. It isn’t personal, Jisung’s just – surprised, honestly. He hasn’t been thinking about Chan at all, especially not this afternoon, when everything has been Minho, Minho, Minho, so it catches him off guard, that this is where Minho’s thoughts have led him.
Minho must feel it, the way he stiffens all the way up because he quickly says, “Sorry, shit—”
But Jisung is already saying, quickly, hastily, “Chan? What? No. No, God, not at all.”
“It’s none of my business,” Minho says.
Jisung thinks this is resolutely not true, given how in each other’s business they’ve been the past few hours. He feels when Minho starts to unwrap him, retreating, and maybe he shouldn’t – but Jisung grabs on, doesn’t let him go anywhere.
“No, don’t,” Jisung says, as he tries to straighten his thoughts out. It’s probably selfish of him to hold on to him like this, but he does it anyway. “It’s fine, you can ask, sorry, I just – wasn’t expecting it.”
“Sorry,” Minho says and Jisung decides he hates the word from him, he doesn’t want to hear it anymore. Who cares that Jisung uses it to death? Minho shouldn’t be sorry for anything, ever. “I just – I thought I’d better ask, just in case there’s still—”
“There’s not,” Jisung says. He takes Minho’s hand again, wraps it up in his own, maybe a little desperate. “I swear, that’s – that’s such old news, hyung, it’s. It’s history. There’s nothing.”
But Minho doesn’t seem totally convinced. His voice is still doubtful when he says, slowly, “You said – that first night, after dinner. You said there was a – thing, you and him had, or something.”
“Not a thing,” Jisung says. “Barely a thing, it was like, not even a blip. Nothing. I swear.”
He – he’s a little stuck, because he doesn’t want to let Minho go, he doesn’t want there to be any space between them, but he does want to see Minho’s face. It’d help, he thinks, maybe as a way to tell what Minho is thinking. Rather than just guessing from the movement of his muscles or the strain in his voice.
He settles for twisting, letting his head dip back on Minho’s shoulder, peering up at him.
Minho looks down at him, very close, a crease at his brow that Jisung wants to smooth out immediately.
“Is it…” Minho starts again, and Jisung really hates this look on him, this cautious, doubting thing. “Would it be okay if – I know it’s not my business. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but. I think maybe I’d understand better if—”
“I can tell you what happened,” Jisung interrupts. He’s maybe doing that too much, this conversation, but he only notices when it’s already happened. He’ll have to work harder, catch himself next time. “I don’t mind.”
Minho says, “Are you sure? Cause I don’t want to force you to—”
“I’m totally sure.” Damnit, there he goes again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk over you. But I really don’t mind.”
Cautiously, Minho nods. His arms tighten around Jisung, just for a moment, before easing once more. He lets Jisung hold onto him, cling to him really, and waits. Jisung takes a moment to feel relieved that Minho is listening, that he’s happy to listen – before he realises that, shit, that’s his cue.
Then, fuck, he has no idea where to start.
“Um,” Jisung says, “It was – like, one kiss.”
Minho swallows. “Where was Felix?”
Jisung winces. “Australia.”
Minho waits again.
Jisung looks at his hands. Okay, so it’s kind of hard to say all of this and hold onto Minho’s eye. That’s fine. He can still do this. He just needs to explain.
“It was, like, right after we started the internship,” Jisung says. “Lix went back to Australia that year, you remember?”
Minho nods.
It was such a weird time in Jisung’s life. Slowly but surely, in the time between learning who Felix was to Chan and Felix leaving for Australia, Jisung had been getting over Chan. He’d grown used to going out with Hyunjin and Felix, he’d figured out how to act when Chan and Felix were doing their coupley thing around him. Only then – then everything changed. Chan had graduated, had found this insane job opportunity, and was set on bringing Jisung and Changbin along with him. Felix was leaving, leaving the entire country – and Chan didn’t want him to go, but Felix went anyway. They were still together, at the start, but at some point, they’d fought – and then they weren’t together anymore, and it sucked. Chan didn’t talk about it much, but his mood turned sour and everything about him had seemed to wilt.
“It was right after Changbin and Hyunjin got their shit together,” Jisung explains. Then he says hastily, “Not that that was a problem or anything, but they were just, like, obsessed with each other, you know. They didn’t really have room for anyone else.”
Minho was in Japan by then. Jisung can remember how relieved he’d been that he wouldn’t need to work so hard to keep out of Minho’s path – then how guilty he’d felt, at that same relief, because he was a piece of shit and a coward who couldn’t own up to his own problems.
“It was kinda just me, trying to look after Chan, and he was so bummed that him and Felix were – off again, I guess. He was literally only working; I don’t think he even slept.”
Jisung had watched Chan retreat into himself, and it had been so hard, the way Jisung ached for him, for a way to make him better. He tried his best. He kept Chan company on late nights in the studio, talked him into napping on the couch while Jisung played around with their mixes. It worked some nights, others it didn’t. And then, on one of the bad ones, when neither of them had slept, both of them overworked and overtired –
“We kissed,” Jisung says.
It had lasted maybe a few seconds, maybe a little more. Chan had kissed him back – there was that at least – but then it was suddenly like they’d both woken up. Chan – Jisung – both of them had pulled back, startled, shocked. Jisung can still remember the awful way his stomach had dropped, how it felt like his whole world was caving in, how wrong it all felt.
“Shit,” Chan had said.
And Jisung – God, he’d tried to run, but Chan hadn’t let him. It wasn’t – Jisung wasn’t sad, was the thing. He was embarrassed, he was desperately angry with himself, but he wasn’t sad. He’d known that Chan wasn’t his, he’d already decided he hadn’t wanted to take him – he was just – they were both just so tired, stressed, sad that – well. Whatever. It had happened. It was a mistake, but it happened. One of them started it. Jisung wanted to say it was him, was pretty sure the whole thing was his fault, but Chan wouldn’t hear a bar of it.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jisung had chanted over and over again, while Chan had hugged him and said, “No, shh, don’t, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, it’s my fault.”
“It sucked,” Jisung says, on the beach, clinging onto Minho’s arms. “It was so – it felt so wrong, I knew, we both knew straight away it wasn’t right. It was so awkward.”
There had been a lot of tears, on both of their parts. They told Felix straight away – and fuck, hearing Felix crying on the other end of the phone is definitely still one of the worst moments of Jisung’s life. It didn’t matter that he and Chan hadn’t been technically together at the time – God, of course it didn’t. Everyone knew they were a unit, a permanent thing. The semantics were nothing, meant nothing.
It had taken months for everything to settle down, to return to some semblance of normalcy. Felix came home. Jisung had forced himself to be brave, to at least look him in the eye after making such a mess of things, and Felix – God, Felix, the best person on the planet, had waited maybe thirty seconds before he’d wrapped those loving arms around Jisung and said, “It’s okay, I get how it happened. Please don’t do it again.”
When Jisung tells Minho this part, Minho hums. He speaks quietly, right by Jisung’s ear. “He’s a good kid.”
Jisung nods. “He is. He’s better than I deserved.”
He feels it when Minho gives a little shrug. It bumps him, reminds Jisung that through all of this, Minho has stayed right where he is. Kept Jisung tight in his arms.
“People make mistakes,” Minho says.
“Yeah, well.” Jisung thinks that’s putting it a little too kindly. He and Chan fucked up. They were selfish, and it didn’t really matter how tired they were, or how long they’d been in the studio. They did a shitty thing. “I should have tried harder, not to.”
Minho hums again. He doesn’t agree, nor disagree, which Jisung appreciates – because he’s not looking for forgiveness. Felix already gave him that, and it’s something that Jisung holds close, treasures, so that he doesn’t fuck it up. Having Felix’s trust is a privilege, and Jisung’s never letting it go again. Minho doesn’t need to tell him that.
After a little while, Minho does say, “It sounds like you – you’ve had some time, to process it all.”
“Yeah,” Jisung says. He rubs his thumb over the back of Minho’s wrist, so grateful that Minho hasn’t pulled away. “It was – maybe, good, in the end. Like, it was shit, but – it made everything really clear, afterwards. Chan isn’t – he’s the best, but he’s not – he’s my best friend. That’s it.”
Minho takes a little while after that, sitting quietly, maybe just processing.
Jisung wants to say more, wants to insist that truly, there’s nothing there anymore – between him and Chan – and certainly nothing Minho needs to worry about. He doesn’t. He gets the sense that this space isn’t one he should occupy. His therapist is always saying he needs to fight that urge to think for other people. He can’t tell Minho how to react to this. He can only wait.
“I’m glad you sorted it all out with them,” Minho says eventually.
“Me too,” Jisung says. “I’m just glad they don’t hate me.”
He feels Minho stiffen a little, right before he says, “Chan was just as responsible as you were.”
“I know, I know,” Jisung says. He hadn’t thought that at the beginning – when his anxiety had insisted that he’d crept on Chan, like he’d been waiting in the wings for some sign of weakness so that he could pounce. He’s talked about this with his therapist too. And with Chan. Both of them are very insistent that he’s an idiot, although his therapist did phrase it in slightly more professional terms.
It's what Chan said that really stuck with him, though. ‘We fucked up. We know we fucked up. We just have to – own it, you know. And fix it. That’s the only way to move forward.’
“I just.” Jisung starts, then stops. It feels good, to have all this out in the open with Minho, for Minho to hear it all – but he feels like he’s missed something. There is something important, wrapped in all of this, that he hasn’t quite managed to say. Something he needs Minho to know. “I need you to know that – the thing with me and Chan, it’s done. It’s closed. I never want to open it again.”
There. There it is.
He feels Minho’s throat bob, because it’s still nestled right by Jisung’s ear, keeping him warm. Jisung’s not sure what it means, but it spurs him on.
He says, “I haven’t thought about Chan like that in years. If you’re – if you think today had something to do with him, I just want you to know – it doesn’t. It was – it’s just you.”
And God, Minho goes very still at that.
A little way away, waves crash into sand.
Minho says, very small, “Yeah?”
Jisung nods decisively. Anything less would be a lie. “Yeah. Yes.” He twists again, so he can catch Minho’s eye and hold it. “I just want you, hyung. I hope that’s okay.”
Minho pulls a hand away from Jisung’s – a loss, oh, but then that hand settles on Jisung’s jaw. Minho’s thumb tucks into the space right beneath Jisung’s ear, keeps him steady as Minho dips in and kisses him. Really kisses him, his tongue insisting at Jisung’s lips, his eyes fluttering shut, lashes against sharp cheeks. Jisung watches this all from very, very close, before his eyes close too, and he loses himself in it, in drinking Minho in.
“That’s very okay,” Minho says, into Jisung’s mouth, holding him in place. “The okay-est.”
Jisung clutches at him, awkward given the angle, holding onto Minho’s elbow, his wrist, anywhere he can reach. He smiles against Minho, and their teeth knock together. Neither of them cares.
They are breaking the rules again, Jisung thinks.
He doesn’t care about that either.
.
It’s late by the time they leave the beach.
The sun is still up, but only barely, the sky turning pink as it begins to say it’s goodbyes for the night. They stopped kissing maybe an hour prior, and have been very stern since, at least with their mouths. Minho realises that what he can’t do with his lips, he can do with his hands. He has spent the last half hour with his hands gliding over Jisung’s body, massaging Jisung with his fingers, his flat palms, all while nuzzling in close to Jisung’s neck. Of course, all of this has been above clothes, above the waist, except for those dangerous few moments when Minho’s fingertips had tucked beneath the seam of Jisung’s waistband. But Minho is cruel, so they never lingered long. Just enough to drive Jisung crazy, to make every part of him feel electrified, by the simplest of touches.
When they decide it’s time to go, Jisung is thoroughly flustered, half-hard in his shorts – but at least his mouth doesn’t look quite as bitten raw as it had.
He is so out of his head – or maybe they both are – that they nearly forget to go past the store on their way home. Minho is driving, which means Jisung is the lucky one who gets to hop out while Minho idles at the curb. Buying lube, condoms – it’s never a particularly enjoyable experience. Back when Jisung was a virgin, he’d thought it might feel cool, presenting condoms to a cashier, a clear announcement: I am sexually active. That opinion had lasted maybe two minutes into his first attempt, when he’d had to look a sweet, kind woman in the eye while he’d passed her a bottle of strawberry lube and condoms, ribbed for ‘her pleasure’.
They were ribbed for Jisung’s pleasure, thank you very much, and it felt like this woman knew it.
It is no less mortifying, now, which Jisung thinks is a little ridiculous. He’s a grown up. He has sex. He should be able to buy condoms without feeling like he’s eighteen again.
When he has his receipt and goods in hand, Jisung rushes back to the car. He knows his face is still hot, and that situation is not improved when Minho catches sight of him, and barks a laugh.
“All good?” Minho asks.
“Shut up,” Jisung says.
He shoves both items into his pocket, makes sure the hem of his t-shirt is enough to conceal any conspicuous bulge there that might give them away. It’s late enough now that they are both certain the rest of their friends will be home. Sure enough, when they pull up to the house, Chan and Jeongin’s cars are tucked neatly by the side of the house.
Minho parks them in and gives Jisung a reassuring look. They don’t kiss because that would defeat the purpose of their earlier restraint. Instead, Minho holds Jisung’s hand low, near the gear box, and gives it a squeeze.
He says, “Do you – wanna maybe come to my room tonight?”
Heat flares, nice and sharp, deep in Jisung’s belly. His mouth goes a little dry, he squeezes Minho’s hand back, and slowly nods.
“Yeah, uh.” Damn, his voice is a little raspy. It makes Minho smile. Jisung clears his throat. “That sounds cool.”
Pleased, ears red, Minho says, “Cool.”
When they go inside, Jisung worries that they’ll have to really put on an act – convince everyone that everything is perfectly normal, no, nothing has changed at all – but it turns out not to be a problem. Changbin and Hyunjin have already gone to bed. Chan and Felix are lying on the couch, both of them squished together so they can stretch out, Chan dozing while Felix plays idly with Chan’s fingers. Jeongin and Seungmin are – somewhere – not here, at least.
“Hey,” Felix says quietly. He gives them a tired, easy smile. “You guys went for dinner?” They nod, so he says, to Jisung, “And your headache is better?” Another nod. “Ah, that’s good.”
Jisung creeps a little closer, so he can keep his voice down, trying not to disturb Chan too much.
“You guys had a good walk?”
Felix nods. “Yeah, was fun. Longer than I thought though.”
“Yeah,” Jisung says. “You look wiped out.”
“Feel it, too.” Even as they speak, Felix’s eyes are drooping. Chan shifts a little behind him, the arm around Felix’s waist tightening, pulling him in close. Felix looks like he might nod off at any second. “Hope you guys don’t mind, you might have to do your own thing tonight.”
“Course not,” Minho says.
This is a bit of understatement, but Felix doesn’t need to know that.
“Where’re Seungmin and Jeongin?” Jisung asks.
“They’re around somewhere,” Felix says. “Think Jeongin might have gone to bed. Not sure.”
“We’ll find them,” Minho says. “You should sleep. You’re comfy down here?”
Felix hums. “Yeah. We’ll go up eventually.” He lets his eyes flutter shut, tucking his cheek up against Chan’s bicep, cosying into him. Jisung thinks they’ll probably find them here tomorrow morning, but he figures if they’re happy he’s happy. Jisung and Minho leave them to it. Minho puts their rubbish from dinner in the garbage, while Jisung peers outside, to see if anyone is out there. He can’t see Jeongin or Seungmin there either. It’s not particularly important where they are – it’s just, Jisung would like an idea of who is where in the house, for later. He has every intention of sneaking into Minho’s bedroom tonight, and that’s going to be difficult if Seungmin and his sharp eyes are floating around somewhere.
Seungmin isn’t in his room when he checks there. Jisung takes advantage of its emptiness, quickly changing, grabbing his charger so that he can use it later. He makes sure to get the lube and condoms out of his other shorts – wait, Minho’s shorts. Shit, he needs to get those back to Minho before anyone notices. He picks up the shorts and bundles the lube, condoms, and his phone charger inside them – since his pyjamas don’t have any pockets. He thinks about where he can hide the bundle. Under the bed maybe? Seungmin must be showering or something. Is it maybe smarter to sneak away now, let Seungmin sleep assuming that Jisung will return to the room later? Or should he pretend to sleep now, let Seungmin see him there, then creep out when Seungmin’s sleeping?
He decides on the first. Who knows how long Seungmin will be – he can take ten years in the shower if he listens to the right song – and quite frankly, Jisung isn’t interested in waiting that long. He does a final check of the room, making sure he doesn’t leave anything behind, when behind him, the door suddenly swings open.
Jisung spins around, clutching his contraband bundle to his chest.
For a beat, he and Seungmin watch each other.
“Where were you?” Jisung asks.
At exactly the same time, Seungmin’s eyes narrow, and he asks, “Where’re you going?”
There is a beat.
Jisung says, “The bathroom.”
Seungmin waits. Watches him. Jisung is in his pyjamas. That’s normal. That’s normal, right? What’s Seungmin even looking at? Jisung is being totally normal. He holds his bundle a little closer to his chest, kinda instinctively, then regrets it when Seungmin’s eyes catch there.
A tiny, clever little smile begins to creep onto his face. This is not a good sign, but it’s not like Jisung can do anything about it. Goddamn it. Why’d he have to choose the world’s most observant, suspicious dude for a housemate? That sharp gaze roves all over Jisung. It occurs to Jisung that he and Minho had spent so much time worrying about their kiss-bitten mouths, that he hadn’t given much thought to the rest of him. He has no idea what Seungmin might be cataloguing right now. His hair’s probably a bit fucked up. And shit, Minho had really gone at his neck. Does he have any bruises? Why didn’t he think to check that?
“The bathroom,” Seungmin says, lightly, as if testing the words out. He leaves a pause, probably on purpose, the dramatic motherfucker. Then he says, “And will you be coming back from the bathroom?”
Shit.
If Jisung were a better liar, he’d be able to play this off. As it is, Jisung is not a better liar, so his first instinct is to blush hot and say, “Shut up.”
Seungmin barks a laugh.
It’s far too loud, so Jisung hisses, bats at his chest, but Seungmin doesn’t seem to care at all. Or he doesn’t, until the sudden movement knocks the bundle in Jisung’s hands, and the packet of condoms fall unceremoniously to the floor.
For a beat, they both look down at the box.
Then Seungmin really starts laughing. He keeps it quieter this time, but he looks Jisung direct in the eye while he does, seemingly basking in the way Jisung’s face is burning. He chuckles, lets it all out, then settles into a smirk. A smirk that says, I know I’ve won.
Damnit. He’s gonna be a great lawyer.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Jisung says.
“What do I get?” Seungmin asks.
Motherfucker. Jisung can’t believe he’s fucked this up in like, less than ten minutes. He can’t tell Minho. He’ll never live it down.
“What do you want?” Jisung asks.
“You’re paying for breakfast, next time we go. Wait, no. The next three times.”
“Extortion!” Jisung says.
Seungmin shrugs. “I can be your ally here, or I can be your enemy. That’s entirely up to you.”
“Ugh,” Jisung says. There is literally no point in arguing. He won’t win. “Fine. But you’re not allowed to get anything crazy.”
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Seungmin asks.
They shake on it.
Jisung says, “You won’t tell?”
Seungmin nods, mimes zipping his mouth up. “Lips are sealed, bro. Have fun.” Then he winks, right before looking down at the ground. “Guess I don’t need to tell you to be safe.”
Face burning, Jisung huffs and quickly collects his condoms from the floor. He wraps them up in the shorts again, a little more carefully this time, absolutely refusing to look Seungmin in the eye. Even the air around him feels smug. Jisung purposefully ignores him and makes for the door.
Right before he opens it, Seungmin says, “Jisung-ah. You’ve got a bruise on the back of your neck. Might wanna hide that.”
Jisung scowls at him and stomps out of the room, pleased when he can shut the door on more of that self-satisfied laughter. He remembers himself a moment later, putting Seungmin out of his mind as he creeps much more carefully down the hallway. He makes it to Minho’s room without seeing anyone else – never mind that he still doesn’t know where Jeongin got to. He’s still stewing as he opens the door, cross and thinking about all the ways he can get Seungmin back for this.
Then he sees Minho, already in bed, shirtless, waiting for him.
Jisung can manage Seungmin tomorrow.
.
Notes:
as an aside, soft and domestic minsung is my absolute fave, fave, fave to write, holy shit, i love it so much, they're adorable. and!!! healthy communication to boot, what a treat
i'm really interested to see ur thoughts on the chansung stuff (and a lil nervous lol) but i've really wanted this story to include characters who are people, who are flawed, who make mistakes and have complicated relationships. i think lil things like this really help people grow and learn about themselves, so i hope that came across!!!
i am so, so excited to be ramping up to the finish line u guys!! i hope you are too and that you enjoyed todays chap!
if u have a mo, please leave ur thoughts below, they mean the world to me x
Chapter 15
Notes:
yaaaaalll i love this chapter, i'm so excited to get it out to u!!!
once again, the love u guys have shown me for this fic has been maybe the best thing in my life rn. i cannot stress how happy it makes me, i'm so deadly srs. sometimes i squeal out loud about it.
tysm x a mil <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
Minho opens him up slow.
He has one of Jisung’s legs propped over his shoulder, and a firm hold of Jisung’s other thigh, pressing it into the mattress. This spreads Jisung open for him, convenient, given Minho has laid claim to the space between. Occasionally, he dips his head down to lap at the head of Jisung’s cock, just a little, smiling when it makes Jisung whimper. Minho seems to particularly enjoy this, because every time Jisung gets a little too loud, he gets to bite at his hip in warning – never mind that it’s his fault Jisung is making noise to begin with.
“Hyung,” Jisung whispers, gasps. “Hyung, c’mon, please.”
“Shh, Jisung-ah,” Minho says, and this time he bites at Jisung’s thigh. He curls his fingers – the two that are tucked deep inside Jisung – just in the right spot, and Jisung feels his grin, teeth pressed against his flesh, when Jisung gives him another bitten-off sound. “You’ve got to be patient.”
“I’m being patient,” Jisung hisses, and he personally thinks it’s very impressive he’s still maintaining this conversation, especially given the stars that are dancing behind his eyes. His hips give a feeble kick, as he tries to press down, get more of Minho inside – but there isn’t really much he can do. Sprawled like this, he has no leverage, which is probably by design. He has to wait for whatever Minho wants to give him. “You’re being slow.”
It feels like Minho’s been down there for hours. He’d started by giving more attention to Jisung’s dick, licking, sucking, getting his mouth all over him. Then he’d spent maybe ten years on just the first finger, moving it around, helping Jisung relax, before finally adding another. Sure, maybe in real life, it’s only been a few minutes – but Jisung’s not there right now. He’s in the clouds, he’s only thinking about the fingers squirming inside him, the gorgeous man attached to them, and honestly, that needs to be taken into consideration here. He’s being so patient.
“Sounding a little ungrateful there,” Minho says lightly. He bites Jisung’s thigh again, only this time he sucks hard where he has bitten. Jisung squeaks, and Minho soothes his tongue over the same spot, like an apology he doesn’t mean at all. “You want to stop?”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jisung hisses.
“You know,” Minho says. “You don’t sound very relaxed to me. Maybe we should try again later.”
He begins to pull his hands away and Jisung turns instantly contrite, reaching down, catching Minho’s wrist before he can withdraw completely.
Jisung whimpers, small, and says, “No, no, no, hyung, please don’t stop. Please.”
Minho hums, then presses his fingers back in fast. Jisung just barely gets his arm over his mouth, before another sound escapes him, muffled into the crook of his elbow.
There’re those stars again.
“Shit,” Jisung says, right into his arm. The words are probably too garbled for Minho to hear, but Jisung thinks the context clues will probably help Minho solve the puzzle. Again, his hips move of their own accord, grinding down on Minho’s fingers as best they can. “Shit, fuck.”
“Ah, you look so pretty,” Minho murmurs.
“I’m gonna die,” Jisung says.
“Please don’t,” Minho says. He untucks Jisung’s thigh from his shoulder, but keeps his hand where it is, his fingers curling in an easy pulse, given that he knows exactly where Jisung needs them. Carefully, he eases his way further up the bed, until he is nestled between Jisung’s legs, his hard dick bouncing just near where his hand is.
As soon as Minho’s face is within reach, Jisung is grabbing for him, tugging him down. It’s so much easier to hide his sounds in Minho’s mouth, to let him drink them all up before they’ve even properly formed. Yes, good, yes. This is much better.
Carefully, gently, Minho prods him with a third. Jisung moans, relatively quietly, right into Minho’s skin and his legs spread even further. Minho can’t really touch him properly – he’s got one hand inside Jisung, and the other he’s using to hold up the bulk of his weight, making sure he doesn’t squash Jisung, although frankly, Jisung is willing to let him. Because of this, Minho seems happy to let his mouth do the exploring. Sure, he lets Jisung kiss him for a little while, but inevitably he becomes distracted. He drags his lips over Jisung’s neck, his collarbones, then sucks a pert nipple into his mouth.
Jisung muffles another cry.
“You’re doing so well,” Minho says, as he twists all three fingers now.
Jisung pushes his hands through Minho’s thick hair. While Minho nibbles at his nipple, Jisung is torn between pulling him closer or pushing those sharp teeth away. It’s – God, it hurts, but it doesn’t, it feels so good, it’s – it’s –
“Can you please fuck me?” Jisung whispers. It takes everything in him to keep his voice so low, but the only thing worse than Minho continuing to tease him like this, would be one of their friends coming to investigate the noise. Chan and Felix looked pretty knocked out on that couch, but there’s no guarantee they won’t wake up and stumble upstairs, heading for the room next door. Jisung doesn’t know how thick the walls are, but if he gets too loud, there’s no question that some of it will spill outside. He can’t risk that – not when he needs it, he needs Minho to fuck him, he doesn’t want to wait another second. “M’ready, come on, just put it in.”
“You’re such a romantic,” Minho says.
“Fuck me, hyung, please,” Jisung says.
Minho hides a chuckle against Jisung’s pec, then carefully pulls his fingers away. He slides that lube-slick hand along Jisung’s leg, over his hip, up to his waist – just to dig his fingers in there – uncaring of the slippery trail he leaves. Jisung doesn’t care either. So what if he gets lube on him? He wants it, no, he wants more than that. He wants Minho to get him dirty all over.
Minho gropes him wherever he can reach while he rolls his body, sliding more firmly between Jisung’s thighs, his arm no longer blocking the way. Jisung doesn’t waste any time, wrapping his legs around Minho’s sharp hips, arching up into him. He hisses when his dick knocks against Minho’s, sparks kicking behind his eyes again, and for a moment they are distracted, simply rutting against each other.
Minho pants into the space right by Jisung’s ear. The wiry hair at the base of him scratches at Jisung’s balls. Jisung pushes up into him, and claws at Minho’s back again, pulling him even closer. The warmth of his belly against Jisung’s, his arms, his hands that rove Jisung’s body with such confidence – fuck, it’s all so good. And God, is it bolstered by the fact that it’s Minho, Minho who’s drinking him in like this, Minho who’s touching him like he can’t get enough either.
“Okay, come on, come on,” Jisung says, hisses. He threads his fingers into Minho’s hair and gives a tug that is perhaps a little rough. He feels Minho jerk at it, says, “Sorry, sorry,” but then Minho pulls his head back and the blown out look in his eyes tells Jisung his reaction was the opposite of bad. “Oh. Good?”
“So good,” Minho says, and kisses him, so Jisung does it again.
“If I do it more, will you get in me faster?” Jisung asks. He sees the way Minho’s eyes flash at this, as if a challenge has been issued, and knows if he doesn’t course correct, he’ll be in for a lot more teasing. He skips right to begging again, making his eyes big and round, jutting his lip out a little. “Please, hyung, I want it.”
Minho hisses then bites at Jisung’s bottom lip. “I should’ve known you’d be all whiny like this.”
Into his mouth, Jisung says, “Yeah, you should’ve.”
“Where’re the condoms?”
While Minho moves briefly away, searching, Jisung takes a moment to bask in his victory. He fists his cock, whimpers at how sensitive he already feels, only for Minho to return and bat his hand away.
“I wanna do it,” Minho says.
“Then do it,” Jisung says.
Minho crowds back between Jisung’s thighs, holding him under his knee and pressing him up, and fuck, so open. It tilts Jisung’s hips up, just right, puts him in exactly the right position. He feels the rubber from the condom slide against his balls, then further back.
Minho says, “God, you’re mouthy.”
But Jisung’s not really listening anymore. The head of Minho’s dick is pressing right at his hole and again, Jisung has no leverage to do anything about it. He grasps at Minho’s back, his waist, tugs him forward – only for Minho to steal his wrist, press it back against the sheets, hold it there.
“Fuck,” Jisung says, long and low.
“You’re too loud,” Minho says, and he fucks inside.
He kisses Jisung as he breaches him, swallowing the worst of Jisung’s noises, the ones that spill out of him without any rhyme or reason. Jisung knows, in a distant place, that he’s supposed to be being quiet – and he’s trying, he is, but there’s so much else to think about. Minho’s cock is thick, and hot, and tucked deep inside him. The stretch – fuck, it stings, but in the best way. Minho opened him up well. Jisung bucks up to meet him, as best he can, notching his knee over Minho’s hip, digging his heels into the meat of Minho’s ass.
“Fuck,” Minho says, mouth wet, against Jisung’s cheek.
“Yeah,” Jisung says, and this time at least, he keeps his voice low. His voice breaks a little. Who cares? “Yeah – uh – fuck, come on.”
Minho adjusts slightly, shifting his weight so he can hold himself above Jisung, move his hips with more intention. It gives Jisung more room to wiggle, to writhe back, to pull Minho deeper into him. Minho’s thrusts are jerking him up the bed, rubbing his back against the sheets. Thank fuck they’d thought to pull the bed a little away from the wall. If they’d left it where it was, Jisung’s sure it would be thumping rhythmically, right in time with the desperate little noises he can't quite keep in.
They don't say much else. There isn't room in Jisung’s head to worry about words and sentences or any sounds that convey any real meaning. No, no – Jisung is all feeling. He is electrified from the inside. He wants warm skin, lithe muscle, hard thrusts. He wants Minho deep, deeper, deeper, and Minho is giving it to him – God, he’s really giving it to him. He bites at Jisung’s shoulders, his collar bones, shit, even the plush give of Jisung’s bicep. His hands squeeze desperately at Jisung’s waist, holding him in place, as much as is possible while he bounces him on his cock.
Soon, things turn hazy enough that Minho forgets to support some of his weight. His belly comes down, his chest, pressing against Jisung’s, urging him into the mattress. It captures Jisung’s cock, rubs him all over the hair on Minho’s stomach, the warm soft skin there, and Jisung can’t help it, he whimpers, another noise that leaves him before he’s even realised.
It’s all – it’s all too much, exactly right – the heat of Minho’s body rubbing over his dick, the cock burrowing deep inside him, the sharp sting of teeth and relentless hands. Jisung comes all over himself, vision whiting out, his hips kicking up. He can feel himself clenching down around Minho, who moans himself, probably too loud, and squeezes hard at Jisung’s hips. As Jisung comes down from it, Minho only becomes more desperate. He shoves into Jisung, open mouth against Jisung’s neck, his rhythm uneven. When he comes, he muffles his sounds right in the meat of Jisung’s chest, and his hot breath over Jisung’s nipple is enough to make Jisung’s spent cock twitch. Minho must feel this, right against his belly, because when his thrusts slowly gentle, he bites lightly down, just to make Jisung hiss, make him twitch again.
“Ha,” Minho says.
“You’re so mean,” Jisung says.
“You like it.”
“Ah,” Jisung says. He scratches at Minho’s scalp again, gets a soft hum for his troubles, nestled right in against his chest. “Shit, I really do.”
Minho kisses him for that, which soothes the sting of admitting defeat. They kiss for a little while, before the discomfort of a soft cock and condom in him becomes a little too much for Jisung. He and Minho untangle, just briefly, but long enough for Minho to discard the condom and throw a box of tissues onto the bed. They clean each other, throwing the used tissues who knows where before Minho drags the blankets over them. He nestles in by Jisung’s side, resting his head in the plush space by Jisung’s armpit. He twinges Jisung’s nipple again.
Jisung bats him away, says, “Ah, haven’t you had enough?”
Minho takes a handful of his pec, gives it a healthy grope. “Of these? Never.”
Jisung sighs, like he’s annoyed, but just quietly, he preens. Minho probably notices, but he’s kind enough, or tired enough, not to say anything about it.
Instead, he says, “You gonna stay?”
Jisung hums. “If that’s okay?”
Uncertainty flares quick and he realises they never really talked about that part; he’d just kinda assumed that would be alright. Shit. The thought of going back to his room now, where Seungmin will surely have a thousand questions, makes his stomach turn unpleasantly.
“Course it’s okay,” Minho says, and he pets Jisung’s chest, like maybe he has an idea of the nervousness that has been suddenly stirred. “Was just checking.”
Jisung breathes out, reminds himself that given everything else, it’s a relatively safe bet that Minho’s telling the truth, that he wants him here.
“I’ll have to sneak out pretty early though,” Jisung says. He can just reach his phone on the bedside table, so he quickly sets his alarm, while he’s thinking about it. Five a.m. will be more than enough time, right?
“What kinda girl do you take me for?” Minho’s eyes are drooping. He presses in a little closer to Jisung, tucks one of his legs over Jisung’s thigh, drapes his arm across his belly. He is clearly joking, incredibly content with Jisung so close, but still, Jisung’s nerves linger.
“It’s just cause we said we’d keep it to ourselves for a bit – it’ll be harder if I stay too late cause who knows what time everyone will get up and—”
With his eyes shut, Minho moves a clumsy hand up and taps at Jisung’s mouth. He misses at first, gets the spot just by Jisung’s eye, then his cheek – but eventually he hones in on his target. His fingers are gentle against Jisung’s lips.
He says, gently, “Shh, s’fine, was kidding.”
“Oh,” Jisung says. He knew that. He did.
Minho pats lightly at his face, then moves his hand down just a little. It settles by Jisung’s neck, where his thumb begins to rub at the crown of his collarbone. “Go to sleep, Jisung-ie.”
Jisung does as he’s told.
.
Normally, when Jisung’s alarm goes off, he wakes up grumpy. There’s something about being startled from sleep that leaves a sour taste in his mouth, every time, so on those days, he generally spends the morning bemoaning being awake at all, the foibles of capitalism and all that.
This time, he wakes with his arms full of very attractive, very sleepy dancer, and thinks – huh, maybe this isn’t so bad.
They haven’t moved far from where they’d fallen asleep. Minho is still sprawled mostly on top of him. He has perhaps a firmer hold on Jisung than he’d had the night previously. His fingers are tucked around Jisung’s waist, squished between Jisung’s side and the mattress. It feels cosy, secure. He winces at the sound of the alarm, shifting, but only really pulls Jisung closer, which makes Jisung feel very, very nice.
“Mhmm,” Minho says, face pressed into Jisung’s skin, breath hot. His hand glides down to rub at Jisung’s hip. “Time for a quickie?”
Jisung sighs, briefly entertains saying yes, then remembers he’s trying to be sensible about this. Chan is a pretty early riser, and Changbin can be too, especially when they’re on holiday. Everyone went to bed early-ish last night, too. Jisung has no idea when people will start to emerge from their rooms, and if he and Minho really do want to keep this to themselves for a bit, he can’t give in on day one.
He squeezes Minho’s shoulders, and says, “I wish.”
Minho lets out a sad little sigh.
“I can come back tonight, though, if you want,” Jisung says.
“I want,” Minho says immediately. Then, a little more awake, he says, “Seungmin won’t ask questions?”
Ah. Well, no time like the present to come clean on that front.
Jisung says, “Um… full disclosure?”
“He already figured it out?” Minho asks.
“Yup,” Jisung says.
“Hilarious,” Minho says.
He rubs his hand along the line of Jisung’s body, generous, greedy, before letting out a long sigh and pulling away. He releases Jisung – an awful feeling, Jisung doesn’t like it at all – and rolls over to make himself comfortable on the pillows instead.
As Jisung drags himself out of bed, he gets to watch Minho rub his cheek against the pillows, hair all ruffled and sleepy. He’s so fucking hot, frankly, it shouldn’t be allowed.
“You gonna sleep some more?” Minho asks, as Jisung pulls his clothes on.
“Yeah, probably,” Jisung says. “I’ll try.”
“Mhm, sleep well.” Minho’s eyes are closing again, now that he’s settled in. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
“You will.”
Jisung grabs his phone and his charger, then leans down, presses a languid kiss to Minho’s mouth. Minho hums happily, returns the kiss, even though both of their mouths are a little sour. As a parting gesture, just cause he can, Jisung ruffles Minho’s hair a little more. It makes him smile, sleepy, drifting off again already – and Jisung leaves him with a warm feeling stewing in his belly.
It's probably not smart of him to feel as – as pleased, as settled as he does. This is all so new, he doesn’t even really know what this is yet, but still. It’s hard to fight the contentedness that has settled in his bones.
Minho wants him to come back tonight. For now, Jisung is happy with just that.
As he slips out of Minho’s bedroom, he returns his attention to subterfuge. The corridor doesn’t really creak – the house is new, doesn’t make any of those sorts of noises just yet – but he tiptoes, nonetheless. Chan and Felix’s bedroom door is shut, but it had been last night, so Jisung can’t tell if they ever came up from the couch. He’ll find out later, he guesses.
His bedroom door isn’t too far, so it doesn’t take him long. He is just twisting the handle, about to slip inside, when a sudden noise down the corridor makes him freeze.
Hyunjin has just stepped out of his room. He’s wearing work out gear; leggings and a scoop neck t-shirt. He looks a little sleepy, but he’s alert enough to immediately clock Jisung, and frown.
“Hey,” he whispers, glancing up and down the corridor, like someone else might suddenly appear. “What are you doing up?”
Jisung flounders. He can’t fuck this up again. Not twice in less than twelve hours, surely. He thinks, with his bedroom door open, there’s a chance it looks like he’s just exited – rather than just about to enter – so he tries his luck.
“Ah. Woke up early, couldn’t get back to sleep.” He is very aware of the conspicuous charger in his hand. “Um. Thought I’d chill downstairs a little.”
That’s convincing, right? Right?
It’s probably not, but this time at least, fate is on his side. Either Hyunjin is too sleepy to notice all the ways Jisung is being suspicious, or he simply takes Jisung’s story at face value. He scrubs at his face, then shrugs.
“Was gonna do some yoga,” he says. “You wanna join?”
Jisung kinda just wants to go back to sleep, but given his story, it seems that opportunity has slipped out of his grasp. Without any reason to say no, Jisung swallows and says, “Sure. Sounds fun.”
“Cool,” Hyunjin says. “Maybe change out of your pyjamas, though. Do you have any workout stuff here?”
Jisung shakes his head.
Hyunjin says, “Just shorts and a tee is fine. I’ll meet you downstairs?”
“Yeah, easy,” Jisung says.
Goddamnit.
He ducks into his room, making room for Hyunjin to head past him and down the stairs. Seungmin is, thankfully, sound asleep. Jisung can only imagine the teasing he’d be in for if Seungmin discovered Jisung’s lies have led him to become stuck doing morning yoga instead of going back to bed. Whatever. Small mercies. Jisung changes quickly, gives his bed a last, longing look, then heads downstairs too.
He notices, happily, that Chan and Felix are indeed still asleep on the couch. How they’ve managed such a small space for the entire night, Jisung doesn’t know. At some point they’ve swapped places – Chan on the edge of the couch, Felix tucked close into the cushions, but they’re both still completely out of it.
Hyunjin sees him through the glass back door and beckons him over. It's cool and dewey outside, but at least here, they can speak at a proper volume.
“Can’t believe you’re up this early,” Hyunjin says. “I thought you were a sleeper-in-er.”
Jisung huffs a laugh. Hyunjin can’t see the irony here, and that’s a good thing, that’s what Jisung wants, but also, goddamn. He could be asleep right now.
“Have you done yoga before?” Hyunjin asks. Jisung shakes his head, which Hyunjin was evidently expecting, because he nods easily. “That’s fine, I’ll show you the simple stuff. C’mon, we should stretch first.”
Hyunjin is a surprisingly good teacher, Jisung learns over the next couple of hours. They don’t do yoga the whole time – no, about halfway through they get distracted just chatting, then decide they want a coffee before they keep going. They make a pot of coffee, hoping it doesn’t wake the others, before slipping back outside. After their little break, Hyunjin remembers a move he forgot to show Jisung, so they start back up.
All of this means, that by the time the others begin to stir, Jisung has his face in the grass and his ass high in the air.
Changbin is the first to find them. He slides the backdoor open and says, “Wow, Jisung-ah. Look at you go!”
Jisung and Hyunjin both hiss at him to be quiet.
“Chan and Felix are sleeping!” Hyunjin says.
Changbin waves them away. “Nah, don’t worry, they’re up. They’re making more coffee.” As if to prove it, he holds up his own steaming mug. He comes over just so that he can swat at Hyunjin’s ass. “Looking good, babe.”
Hyunjin hisses again, but doesn’t make any move to get away. “Excuse me, this is exercise, not a show.”
Changbin shrugs. “It can be both.”
He smacks Hyunjin’s butt again, then heads over to the table, to sit in the sun. Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue. Jisung, from his upside-down angle, has a pretty good view of Hyunjin’s face. The pinkness of his cheeks is maybe from how long they’ve been holding themselves upside down – but the pleased look on his face certainly isn’t.
“How much longer?” Jisung asks.
“Twenty more seconds in this pose,” Hyunjin says.
God. Jisung’s muscles are already screaming. Twenty seconds sounds like an eternity. A little louder, so Changbin can hear him, Jisung asks, “Is anyone else up?”
Changbin hums. “Mhm, yeah. Everyone except Jeongin and Seungmin.”
And, look. If Jisung maybe arches his back a little, straightens his legs just a bit, who’s gonna know. Minho hasn’t come out to say anything; Jisung has no idea when he might have dragged himself out of bed – but he’s inside somewhere. Maybe that somewhere is the kitchen, the one with the big window, that looks out right over the spot where Jisung and Hyunjin are. Maybe he’s watching Jisung stretch, the same way Jisung watched him, years ago. God, that’s – Jisung’s not sure how he feels about that. He is absolutely certain he won’t look the way Minho had looked, doing the same stretches. There’s a sort of elegant grace that all dancers seem to have, a control over their body that Jisung absolutely cannot channel. He probably looks clumsy and awkward – but, like, Minho already knows that right? He knows that, and he’s still interested, so maybe it isn’t the worst thing in the world for Minho to see him like this.
It can’t hurt to try a little harder, right? Where’s the harm in that?
“Okay,” Hyunjin says, when their twenty seconds are up, while Jisung’s fighting the urge to just faceplant into the grass. “We’ll be on all fours for this next one.”
He gets on his hands and knees, then watches as Jisung does the same. Jisung tries to copy his pose – it’s pretty simple, right? – but apparently still fucks it up.
“That’s kinda it,” Hyunjin says. “Arch your back a bit more, you need to like, stick your butt out.”
Jisung thinks he probably looks like a total idiot. Whatever. He’s here now. Might as well send it. He kicks his butt all the way out, wiggles it a bit, just so he can see Hyunjin scoff and roll his eyes.
“Okay, not that much, you little slut,” Hyunjin says.
“You’re a pro, Jisung-ah,” Changbin calls out.
“Shut up,” Hyunjin and Jisung say.
He settles into the position, trying his best to mimic the way Hyunjin is doing it. Hyunjin watches him, apparently deems Jisung’s efforts satisfactory, and moves to the next step.
“Now you want to stretch your right leg out, make it straight, keep your toes pointed – and stretch your left arm out front, that’ll help you keep your balance.”
Jisung rocks and wobbles, but somehow manages to keep himself upright. He can’t get his leg quite as high as Hyunjin can, but he figures if he doesn’t land face-first in the grass, he’ll count it as a victory. This one burns as much as the last, especially so, given his activities the night prior. It stings little, but it feels kinda good too, stretching out tired muscles, muscles that feel nice and tender and used. He manages to hold out until Hyunjin tells him, then drops out of it with a sigh.
The backdoor slides open.
“Good morning,” Minho says mildly.
A thrill sings through Jisung, just at the sound of him. He has to work very hard to keep his expression clear, to look over at Minho like it’s any other morning, like he didn’t have Minho buried in him a little while ago. When he looks over – casually, very casually – he finds Minho already watching him. He doesn’t look nearly as sleepy and soft as he had earlier. There is a sharpness to him, as his gaze roves all over Jisung, very brief, but very heavy all the same.
Changbin says, “Mhm, it is a good morning, isn’t it?”
Minho smiles at him pleasantly, in a way that maybe isn’t so pleasant at all.
Changbin, when he sees it, giggles, thrilled.
“Hey, focus,” Hyunjin says, snapping his fingers, catching Jisung’s attention. “We’re not done.”
Now that more people have come outside, Jisung feels a little more self-conscious contorting his body in all sorts of ways it shouldn’t go. He looks over at the table, at the coffees that Minho and Changbin have, and thinks it’s probably time for a second. His stomach grumbles too. He wouldn’t mind having a bit of breakfast.
At Hyunjin, he pouts. “We’re not?”
“Nope, we’ve got a few left.” Hyunjin says. “But this one you can lie down for.”
“I’ll take it,” Jisung says.
He regrets this a few seconds later, when he finds out that he and Hyunjin will now be lying on their backs, shoulders pressed to the ground, hips thrust up to the sky. Number one, it makes his hips, his thighs, all feel especially stretched. He was in a position quite similar very recently, to be fair. Number two, he is now distinctly aware of the weight of Minho’s gaze. Or, fuck, maybe not his gaze. Jisung doesn’t know for sure that he’s looking, can’t check without it being obvious. So really, it’s just his presence. The knowledge Minho is there, right there, able to glance over whenever he wants.
He tries to clear his mind. He tries to keep his back straight, his hips high, to push through the burn. He tries not to pay too much attention to Minho.
But of course, of course, when Hyunjin says their time is up and Jisung can relax – Minho’s eyes are the first he finds. It’s delicious, hot, to see Minho’s heavy gaze, right over the lip of his coffee cup, where he is taking a long sip. It fizzes through Jisung, lights him up, and he thinks, Oh. Oh, that’s quite nice.
“Okay, this is the last one,” Hyunjin says.
“Thank god,” Jisung says.
“Boo,” Changbin says.
“On your feet, c’mon.” Hyunjin gets up and holds out a hand to help Jisung do the same. After having laid down, Jisung is a bit dizzy when he stands, and he wobbles, making Hyunjin laugh. “God, you’re hopeless.”
“Hey, I’m trying!”
“You are, you are, sorry, you’re doing great.” Hyunjin, at least, has acknowledged that this is not Jisung’s preferred way to start a morning. He’d said earlier, over coffee, how happy he was to have company. And yeah, Jisung can admit, it’s been a kinda nice way to greet the day. He steers Jisung through this one, turning him so Jisung is facing the house, his back to the table “Okay, spread your legs, wide, like this.”
He widens his legs, stepping out much further than Jisung will be able to, still facing Jisung, until he is one big triangle. Jisung tries to copy him, and manages it mostly, albeit with a much shorter stretch.
“Yeah, perfect,” Hyunjin says. “Now you’ve gotta bend this knee, here,” he taps Jisung’s knee, guiding it down. “Yep, cool. It’ll help your balance if you stick your butt out here too.” Behind them, Jisung hears the very distinct, recognisable sound of Changbin snickering. He flushes, wondering what this must all look like from their perspective. “Okay, now you’re gonna reach down, hold onto your ankle, here. Yeah, like that – and then you just reach up with your other arm.”
Jisung, who is definitely going to fall when Hyunjin lets him go, says, “Oh, sure, I’ll just do that.”
Hyunjin snorts. “You’ll be fine, come on. Try it.”
Surprisingly, Jisung is actually fine. He wobbles again, but it does help to stick his ass out, and once he has a better handle on his balance, the reaching up part ends up being quite easy. Hyunjin grins at him, proud, then gets into position himself.
“There you go, you got it,” Hyunjin says.
Feeling a little more confident, Jisung twists his head around so he can see Changbin and Minho. Well, more Minho, but Changbin’s not supposed to know that yet. He manages to keep his balance pretty well until he catches Minho’s eye. Minho’s put his coffee cup down. He’s resting both his elbows on the table, leaning forward a little, and damn, there’s that heavy look again. He wears a very small, very dangerous smile.
Feeling brave, Jisung pokes his ass out a little further.
Changbin snorts, but who cares. Jisung’s only got eyes for Minho, who’s eyes flash dangerously at this new tilt of Jisung’s hips. His eyes roam slow, leisurely, all over Jisung’s body and it lights Jisung up from the inside. God. Soon, at some point, Jisung will get his hands on Minho again. He’ll have those hands all over him. Minho wants it. He can see it in his face, in the tight line of his shoulders. For a moment, Jisung is transported back in time, to lying under that strong body, taking what he’s given.
And then he falls over.
Changbin promptly loses his shit, giggling and pointing at Jisung, who is now face down in the grass. He lies there for a beat, taking a moment to lament his shitty balance, and brace himself for the veritable ocean of taunts he’s just signed up for. Hyunjin laughs too, although he works a little harder to contain himself.
“I thought you had it!” he says, trying to keep his face straight, failing.
“So did I!” Jisung cries.
When Jisung feels he he’s sulked enough, he pushes himself up from the grass. He glances at Minho – yup, he’s laughing too, although he’s being quieter about it. That dangerous look is gone, replaced by something fond, which maybe unsettles Jisung more than anything heated might’ve. Jisung dusts himself off, gets rid of the grass that’s stuck to his knees, and tries to keep his head high as he marches over to the table.
“Ah, you did a good job, Jisung-ah,” Changbin says, still laughing, but calming himself down. He claps Jisung on the arm as Jisung passes him, and offers him a condescending, consolatory, “I’m proud of you for trying.”
“Shut up,” Jisung says.
That sets Changbin off again.
Jisung slides into the seat next to Minho. He very purposefully lets the full line of his leg rub against Minho as he does, thinks maybe he’s pushing it a little, but no one bats an eye. Changbin has turned his attention to Hyunjin, who has also come to join them. He showers Hyunjin with exuberant compliments, making Hyunjin look very pleased and pink, all while reaching for him with grasping hands.
Minho leans in close. Right by Jisung’s ear, he whispers, “Tease.”
Jisung shifts, pressing his arm against Minho’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mhm,” Minho says. “I’m sure.”
Delicious heat climbs up Jisung’s spine. There are all sorts of promises lingering in Minho’s tone, and every one of them makes Jisung’s belly flutter. God, if they were alone, he’d have climbed into Minho’s lap already. He wanders what Minho would do then. Surely, he’d reach for Jisung’s waist. He seems to like it, like digging his fingers in there. Maybe he’d grope at Jisung’s ass a little. Maybe he’d hold Jisung’s hips steady so that he could grind upwards, use him to get off, and –
Chan swings the back door open. He yells, “Anyone keen for the beach?”
Jisung comes abruptly back to reality. It occurs to him that he probably shouldn’t be fantasising about getting railed while surrounded by some of his closest friends. Changbin, especially, has been known to read him like a book. Thank fuck, he’s distracted. Jisung clears his throat, peeks at Minho, and gets the sense that Minho knows exactly where his mind has wandered, if his amused little grin is anything to go by.
“Yeah,” Jisung holds Minho’s eye, tries not to think about how Minho had looked when he’d been fucking him, even while he calls back to Chan, “Sounds fun!”
He could do with a cool down.
.
Of course, the beach brings a new set of challenges. Honestly, Jisung would like nothing more than to sit on the sand and waste the day away with Minho. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang with the others – on the contrary, it’s a good distraction to dive into the cool water, to play games with Chan and Changbin and take his mind of all the things that have been keeping him preoccupied. No, it’s just, Jisung kinda took it as a given that when he got tired, he’d be able to go back to their heap of towels and keep Minho’s company to himself for a little while. That’s how it’s worked on all their other little beach visits.
Which is why he sulks a little when he tells the others he’d heading back up, and Hyunjin announces that he wants to sunbathe.
Jeongin replies, “Oh, good idea, I want to finish my book, I’ll come with.”
So the three of them trundle back up the sand, instead of just one. Jisung tries not to look too overtly disappointed by this turn of events. He shares a small, commiserating look with Minho as they all get settled on the towels – scraping his fingers over the back of Minho’s hand very briefly as he sits down. It’s not like he was expecting to hook up with Minho here or anything, it’s just – the space would have been nice.
The company means that Jisung spends the afternoon achingly close to Minho, but not nearly close enough. There is no room for touching – or, well, not real touching anyway, because they definitely push their luck on what can be considered friendly and casual – nor is there any space for Jisung to pull Minho aside and talk about all the things he really wants to talk about. He is stuck, sitting benignly at Minho’s side, simply imagining the things that he wants to do to him.
It's torture, quite frankly, and the only solace Jisung has is that Minho is clearly just as frustrated. He holds onto his knees, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach over to Jisung but keeps remembering he can’t. And yeah, maybe Jisung’s being a bit up himself, deciding that he’s the cause of Minho’s frustration but – look, it’s a pretty safe bet, given the way Minho’s been watching him.
This sneaking around thing was a dumb idea, Jisung decides. Who needs privacy anyway?
Eventually, the sun climbs higher in the sky, and stomachs begin to rumble.
Hyunjin’s version of sunbathing is to use his damp towel to cover his body like a blanket. With his dry t-shirt bundled up over his face, leaving just enough room for his nose to stick out, he says, “I’m kinda hungry. What are we doing for lunch?”
“I can go back to the house and make something,” Minho says immediately.
Jisung straightens up. “I can help.”
Jeongin looks up from his book, and gives Jisung a long, flat look. He waits a beat, before letting his eyes flick over to Minho, offering him the same. He lets out a big sigh.
Jisung decides not to read into that too deeply.
He and Minho bundle up their things quickly. It’s – look, it’s maybe not the subtlest thing in the world, but like, Jisung’s not really thinking about that. He’s thinking about getting back to the house, the empty house, where he can finally put his hands on Minho again. And, like, that’s just called having priorities. It’s not like he and Minho are doing anything egregious. They could just be super hungry, right?
Whatever it looks like, Minho seems to care as little as he does.
“We’ll be back soon,” Minho says.
Hyunjin peers out from beneath his t-shirt. He looks Minho up and down, glances at Jisung, then says, “Soon?”
“Yup,” Minho nods decisively. “Soon.”
Hyunjin lets the shirt drop back down. He gives a little sigh of his own – and yeah, Jisung’s gonna ignore that as well – then says, “Okay, we’ll let the others know.”
Minho and Jisung leg it.
As soon as they are out of sight, Jisung reaches his limit. He reaches for Minho with greedy hands and is thoroughly rewarded for his efforts. Minho pulls Jisung in, uses both hands to take a firm grasp of Jisung’s ass, and gives his cheeks a healthy squeeze.
Jisung drags his mouth over Minho’s cheekbone, murmurs, “Fuck,” and kisses him like it’s been years since their last.
They paw at each other for the rest of the journey – which is considerably slowed. Eventually they make it to the house, to the kitchen, where Minho shoves Jisung against the island, only to crowd in after him.
He tucks his hands under Jisung’s jaw, holding him still so he can kiss him, stick his tongue in Jisung’s mouth. He grinds his hips forward, making Jisung whimper, caught between the sharp edge of the counter and the warm, long line of Minho’s body.
“Jesus,” Jisung says.
“Can’t believe you were doing fucking yoga,” Minho says. “That’s fucked. You looked so cute.”
Jisung laughs, albeit a little shakily, distracted by sensation. Cute wasn’t really what he’d been going for. He fists a hand into the fabric of Minho’s t-shirt, tugs him closer, arches up into him. “Shut up, I looked like an idiot.”
“Agree to disagree,” Minho says. He takes a firm grip of Jisung’s waist and hauls him upwards – which, fuck, that’s so hot, the way that Minho moves him so easily. Jisung even gets to feel those arms at work, his fingers pressing right at the spot where Minho’s muscles tense. It’s easy, natural even, to bring his knees up, notch them at Minho’s hips.
“You liked it?” Jisung asks, gasps.
Minho bites at his bottom lip, then uses his tongue to soothe the sting. Jisung’s thoughts go a little fuzzy. He whimpers right into Minho’s mouth, sticks his lip out, hopes Minho might do it again.
“Yeah, I fucking liked it,” Minho says. “And you know it, too, shaking your ass like that.”
Jisung huffs a laugh, urges his hips forward so that Minho can rock against him. They’re both half-hard already, and Jisung thinks this is maybe the hovering point – where they can either be responsible and stop and make lunch, or say fuck it, and maybe fuck right here. Shit, that’s probably not sanitary is it. Does Jisung care? Hard to say.
“Was just – ah – trying to stay balanced,” he says.
“Yeah, yeah,” Minho says. “Sure you were.”
Jisung snickers, then pulls Minho in for another kiss. He runs his palm down Minho’s back, just so he can find the hem of his shirt and tug it up, bare some of that lovely skin for him to feel. He digs his heels into the meat of Minho’s ass, pulling him closer, all while he maps out the dimples of Minho’s lower back. Fuck, even a couple of hours without this was too much, he wants – he needs –
“Oh, shit—”
Minho and Jisung freeze.
At the back door, gaping, so does Chan.
For a beat, everything is quiet. Jisung and Minho stay where they are, completely wrapped up in each other, both staring at Chan like fucking idiots. Jisung can feel Minho’s dick, tucked right by that divot between Jisung’s leg and his groin.
“Oh, my god,” Chan says.
“Oh, my god,” Jisung says.
“Fuck,” Minho says.
Minho, the lucky bastard, is turned mostly away from Chan, and suddenly finds it very easy to bury his face in Jisung’s neck and hide. Jisung doesn’t have that option – or, well, he does, but now that Minho’s got there first, it feels a little more shameless. He has the unique privilege of watching bright red colour climb up Chan’s neck and ears. Chan stares at him until he seems to suddenly remember himself, then he is looking anywhere but at Jisung.
Words spill from him.
“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry, I thought you guys might need help with lunch, I didn’t realise you’d be – uh – I’m so sorry.”
He’s so pink, flustered, more uncomfortable than Jisung has maybe ever seen and it’s – it’s fucking hilarious. Jisung can’t help himself. The first noise that escapes him is a squeak, then he has to clap a hand over his mouth, because he’s laughing, and laughing properly.
“Don’t laugh!!” Chan whines, and he’s so embarrassed, there’s no way Jisung can stop. He keeps shuffling, back and forth, like he wants to run but he also wants to apologise, and he can’t quite decide which is more important. He looks ridiculously close to a flailing cartoon character. “I didn’t mean to – this is – why would you – I was trying to be helpful!”
Jisung gasps for air. He can feel it as Minho starts to laugh too, his shoulders shaking. His hot breath spills in puffs over the skin by Jisung’s neck.
In a break, between giggles, Jisung says, “It’s fine, hyung.”
“I can’t believe – why’re you in the kitchen? This is where we eat. Stop laughing!”
But Jisung can’t. It’s too funny.
“Sorry hyung,” Jisung says.
“M’not,” Minho says.
“Gah!” Chan says.
And he scarpers.
He leaves the backdoor open behind him, which just goes to show how flustered he is, which only makes Jisung laugh harder. Admittedly, doing this in the kitchen was maybe not their smartest idea. He can feel his face burning, but it doesn’t feel that bad, given that he’s still got Minho nice and close. It’s not the end of the world, their being discovered like this. Jisung’s not great at this secrecy stuff, and he’s learning that it’s not really Minho’s strong suit either. He’s surprised by how unbothered he feels, actually. Maybe he should be embarrassed, maybe he should be worried – but he’s not.
He basks in the feeling of Minho giggling, and doing it so close, tucked up against him. He likes Minho’s laugh a lot, and he likes it even more now that it’s pressed right into his skin. Jisung wraps his legs more securely around Minho’s waist, cradles him there.
He says, “So much for our big secret.”
“We’re shit at it anyway,” Minho says.
Jisung laughs, says, “You think everyone already knows?”
Minho sighs. He squeezes Jisung again, presses in close, noses near Jisung’s ear. “If they didn’t before they will now.”
Jisung brings his hands up to scratch his nails through Minho’s hair, and pulls back, just to see the way it makes Minho’s eyes flutter. “Chan’s not a snitch, he won’t tell anyone.”
Minho hums. “Yeah, but he’s got the worst poker face in the world. Felix will take one look at him and figure it out.” He gives Jisung a rueful look, fingers running lightly over the small of Jisung’s back. “Guess I should’ve kept my hands to myself.”
“Not you should not have,” Jisung says, and he clenches his thighs around Minho’s hips, just to prove that point. He is fundamentally opposed to any approach that might put distance between him and Minho’s hands. “They were gonna find out at some point. Might as well be now.”
He says it confidently, without thought, because that’s how it feels to him. It takes him a moment, a beat longer than it should, to notice that Minho isn’t quite as relaxed as Jisung feels. There is a – not quite stiffness to him, but perhaps, a thread of tension, tiny but there. Minho’s face is clear, his smile looks the same as it always has – but – but there’s something, something about it that – doesn’t feel quite right.
Jisung swallows. He searches Minho’s face. “That’s – okay, right?”
Minho nods. “Yeah, of course.”
He dips in, steals Jisung’s mouth before Jisung can say anything else. Jisung’s expecting – well, he’s not sure what he’d expected, perhaps too preoccupied by – by whatever it was that – that threw him off, but he gets a kiss and a half. Minho brings a hand up to cradle the back of Jisung’s head, holding him close as he presses his tongue past Jisung’s lips. Minho’s nose digs into the soft of Jisung’s cheek, and Jisung – yeah, Jisung loses himself a little.
It is a little while before Minho pulls back. The kiss eases, turning slow, soft, until Minho pulls away. He looks all over Jisung’s face, then pecks him once more, twice more, before he steps back, untangling himself from Jisung’s limbs.
“We said we’d make lunch,” he says.
Jisung swallows, feeling dazed. There is still something – unsettled – in him, but he can’t – he doesn’t know what it is, or where it’s come from, or if it’s even really a thing at all. His imagination – it tends to run a little wild. Maybe, maybe he made it up?
“Ah, yeah.” Jisung shifts a little, closing his legs, feeling a little cold without Minho between them. “I forgot.”
Minho smiles. He seems normal, the same Minho as ever, but maybe – maybe not quite? Jisung’s not – he doesn’t know –
“C’mon.” Minho reaches out and takes Jisung’s hands, helps him hop off the counter. It brings him back into Jisung’s orbit, makes it easy for him to press another quick kiss to Jisung’s lips. “What do you feel like? We can make whatever, the others can cope.”
Jisung nods. He’s not – he’s not sure what just happened, but Minho seems fine, right? He’s still holding Jisung. He’s still kissing him. That’s fine, right?
Minho gets busy in the kitchen. Jisung tries to make himself useful, be a good assistant and follow the instructions that Minho gives him. It’s good, having things to do with his hands, because it takes him a little out of his head. He does his best to rid himself of this new – uncomfortable thing. Minho touches him more. He holds Jisung’s hip, swats at Jisung’s ass, presses a kiss to the back of Jisung’s neck. It’s exactly what they’ve been doing, exactly what Minho’s been doing since the day before. Days before that, even, before they’d figured out they both wanted this, although then there was less kissing involved. It’s – it’s all the same, so why does it feel—?
Jisung shakes his head.
“You okay?” Minho checks.
Jisung nods, tries to make his face plain. “Yeah, hyung. I’m all good.”
It’s probably just in Jisung’s head. Surely. He needs to stop doing this – stop reading into every little thing. Minho has said he wants him. Jisung has to trust that. Minho wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it.
When they’re finished cooking, and they have the food in a bunch of Chan’s aunts little plastic containers, stacked in old grocery bags, they trudge back down to the beach. Jisung still feels wrong-footed, but he puts it down to nerves, to not knowing what might be waiting for them back on the sand. When the pile of towels comes into view, Jisung sees that all the guys are out of the water now. He watches as Chan spots them, says something, then all the other heads are turning to look too.
“Worst poker face ever,” Minho grumbles. He glances over at Jisung and offers him a little smile. “How do you wanna do this?”
Jisung sighs. There’s not really anyway to stave off this storm. He braces himself instead, searches Minho’s face for any tangible sign that he doesn’t want to do this and comes up blank. The look on Minho’s face is relaxed, open, and patient.
Jisung takes a deep breath. “I think we just send it.”
Minho smiles, then nods.
When they reach the others, everyone’s attention is on the food. This is good – a nice distraction, gives them enough room to find a place to sit – although Jisung definitely clocks the way that Chan is still pink, still kinda struggling to look in their direction. Just like Minho said, Felix watches this with suspicious, narrowed eyes. Jisung practically watches him put the puzzle pieces together. He looks at Chan, then over to Minho and Jisung.
Jisung’s heart rate kicks up.
Minho drops his hand to Jisung’s knee, casual as anything, and rubs his palm there.
Felix’s eyes go wide. “Wait.”
It grabs everyone’s attention. The guys look at Felix first, confused, then follow his gaze to Minho’s hand. Minho keeps it where it is, munching away at his food, completely unbothered. Jisung, on the other hand, can feel heat rising in his cheeks very quickly.
“Oh, we’re talking about it now?” Hyunjin asks through a mouthful of food.
Jeongin eyes the hand. “God, finally.”
Jisung’s face scrunches up. “What are you—?”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Glee is creeping onto Felix’s face as he puts everything together. He looks elated as he lifts an accusatory finger and points it at Minho and Jisung, waggles it between them. “Wait, is this happening? Since when?”
“Since yesterday,” Jeongin says.
Jisung gasps. He whirls on Seungmin. “You fuck! You told!”
Seungmin rolls his eyes. “I didn’t tell anyone shit. You guys just suck at lying.”
“Hang on.” Changbin doesn’t look surprised in the slightest, but he does fix Jisung with a frowning pout. “How come you told him and not us, huh?”
“He didn’t,” Seungmin says. He watches Jisung coolly, and like a slow-motion disaster, Jisung realises just too late what’s about to happen. “He dropped his condoms when he was trying to sneak out of our room.”
“You fuck!” Jisung says again.
Changbin throws his head back and howls with laughter.
“You can kiss those breakfasts goodbye,” Jisung sneers.
Seungmin looks completely unbothered. He shrugs and returns to his food, and either doesn’t see the vicious glare Jisung is sending his way, or truly does not care. It’s probably the latter, which is really fucking annoying.
Changbin is still laughing. To Jisung, he says, “You packed condoms?”
Jisung’s face flames. “I didn’t pack them, you dick, we went and got some.”
Changbin grins. “You could have just asked for some, Jisung-ie, you didn’t need to be so secretive about it.”
Minho, who looks as steady as ever, calm and collected and all the things Jisung can’t quite manage right now, says, “Nah, that wouldn’t have worked. We need the extra larges.”
That cuts Changbin’s laughter off completely, and of course, sets everyone else off. The outraged look on his face is maybe perfect, and even if Minho’s stretching the truth just a little – Jisung had grabbed the first decent looking box he’d seen, hadn’t given much of a thought to the sizes at all – he still appreciates the support.
Even Hyunjin laughs a little, before he catches himself. He seems to recognise what this slight against Changbin’s manhood implies, then he pipes up very indignantly, “Ya! What are you trying to say, huh?”
“Yeah!” Changbin says, emboldened. “You wanna get them out and compare?”
Minho’s eyes flash at that – so much so that Jisung feels suddenly sure Minho will stand up and drop his shorts then and there – but before he can say anything, rise to the bait, Chan is waving his hands through the air.
“Okay, no! No, everyone chill,” he says, and everyone defers to him, because they always do. He points a very stern finger in Changbin’s direction. “Everyone is fine, no one get their dicks out. I’ve already seen way more than I needed to today.”
Now it’s Jisung’s turn to squawk. “Excuse me, no one’s dick was out.”
At the same time, Felix, elated, says, “You saw what?”
“He saw nothing!” Jisung insists.
“Lots of hands,” Chan says, and he has the audacity to look traumatised, like it was so awful he can’t bear to think about it. “Hands in places they shouldn’t be, especially in the kitchen.”
Seungmin makes a disgusted noise. “The kitchen?”
“Gross, we eat there!” Hyunjin says.
“Name one time we’ve eaten there,” Minho says, which is true, and valid, because they’ve eaten almost all of their meals at the table outside or in the living room. All this outrage feels very misplaced. Jisung’s face is on fire.
“We have coffee there!”
“That’s drinking.”
“Same thing!”
“It’s literally not.”
“Okay!” Chan interrupts again. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned the kitchen thing, it’s fine. They won’t do it again.”
“We might,” Minho grumbles.
Jisung elbows him.
Chan gives Minho a very stern look, then says again, “They won’t do it again. The kitchen is a sacred, hook up free, space. And the pool.”
“Uh,” Jisung says.
Minho smiles sweet, saccharine.
“You horny fucks,” Jeongin says.
Chan looks a little winded by this new discovery, but he perseveres. “Okay, starting now, the kitchen and the pool are – intimacy free. Does everyone understand?”
“Yes, dad,” Minho sighs.
Jisung can’t quite hold in his laugh, despite the incredibly flat look this earns him from Chan. He leans into Minho, bumping against his shoulder, feeling thrilled that he gets to do that now. He glances over at Minho, just to check in, to try and gauge what he’s thinking, and is met with a pleased smile. Minho’s having fun with this, and the feeling is contagious, so Jisung can’t help but beam back at him.
“Oh, gross, you’re going to be like this now,” Hyunjin says.
“It’s cute!” Felix says.
“What do you mean now?” Changbin says. “They’ve been like this the whole time.”
“We have not!” Jisung protests.
“We can do worse?” Minho offers.
He drags his hand up, settling it much higher on Jisung’s thigh, and everyone immediately shrieks in protest. Hyunjin has the audacity to cover his eyes, fall into Changbin like he’s been shot, which Jisung thinks is a little much. Still, Jisung bats Minho’s hand away. He’s not super interested in being felt up in front of all of his friends. Minho laughs, pulling away easily, still looking at everyone with a challenge in his eye.
“Okay, okay,” Chan says, settling them, even though he’s been laughing too. He offers Jisung and Minho a kind smile. “We’re all very happy for you both. Just – everyone, let’s remember to respect the people around us, and keep the private stuff, private.”
At Jisung’s side, Minho sighs, and says, “You can say sex, Channie-hyung, we’re all grown.”
“Oh my god,” Chan says. “Fine – sex in bedrooms only.” He glances around the group, sees the obvious joke that Hyunjin, Felix, and Changbin have all clearly thought of, and beats them off at the pass. “Your own bedrooms! Everyone understand?”
There is a chorus of noises made in agreement, some more enthusiastic than others.
“Wait, so you all knew already?” Jisung asks the group at large.
Truly, the only one of them who seems surprised is Felix, and even he is more pleased than he is shocked. Not surprising, given that Jisung had talked his feelings out with Felix a few days ago, but he’d – he hadn’t thought they’d been that obvious.
“You’re like, covered in bruises bro,” Jeongin says.
Jisung gapes at him.
“It’s not just him,” Seungmin says. He waves a lazy hand in Minho’s direction. “He’s got scratches all over his back.”
Hyunjin turns a delighted look in Jisung’s direction. “Ooh, you little freak.”
“When did you see his back?” Jisung demands.
Seungmin shrugs. “His shirt slipped this morning. No offence, but you guys like, barely tried.”
That is – well. Probably fair. But Jisung’s not gonna admit that now.
“Also the walls at the house are really not that solid,” Hyunjin says.
Changbin hums, easy as anything, as if they’re not admitting they totally heard Minho fucking Jisung last night. “Yeah, it’s lucky we sleep with music on, cause that was like – a lot.”
“Oh, my god,” Jisung says. If the sand could open up and suck him underground right now, that would be great. Super, actually.
“Nah, but good for you guys,” Hyunjin goes on. “Sounded like you had fun.”
“Oh, we did,” Minho says.
Jisung buries his face in his hands.
“Well,” Chan says, awkward as anything – the only one who seems as mortified by this conversation as Jisung is. It’s not really a surprise. He’s always erred on the more private side when it comes to relationship shit. As long as everyone is happy and healthy, he likes to mind his business. “I guess I’m glad we slept on the couch last night.”
Felix pouts. “I’m not.” And when that earns him a series of incredulous, kinda weirded-out expressions, he says, “Everyone else knew before I did! That’s so unfair, you guys should’ve put it in the group chat.”
Jeongin snorts.
“No, you should not have!” Jisung says.
“Hey team,” Minho intones, scripting the hypothetical message himself. “Jisung-ie and Minho are fucking right now. FYI.”
“See?” Felix says. “How hard would that have been?”
Jisung covers his face again.
“Okay!” Chan says, loud again. “This is way too much talk about – that – when I’m trying to eat. I’m calling it. We are in polite company.”
“Where?” Minho asks, and he even looks around, a little mystified, just to really help the joke land.
Chan glowers at him.
Minho snickers.
“Enough.” Chan eyes them all for a moment longer, as if daring another of them to continue the conversation. After a beat, he seems satisfied, and nods decisively. “Good. Someone pass me the sauce; I didn’t get any.”
Thankfully, this serves as a neat little end to the Jisung and Minho conversation, reminding everyone there’s food in front of them, waiting to be eaten. Attention shifts, returning to their lunch or their phones or their own little conversations. It gives Jisung a little space to process everything that’s just happened. He’s not – again, it’s not super surprising to learn that the others had seen through his and Minho’s little farce – but that was certainly a lot of information to get at once. Later, probably when he’s trying to sleep tonight, he’s gonna think long and hard about the fact that all his friends have heard his sex noises – but there’s no room for that sort of panic right now.
All things considered it went pretty smoothly. Felix certainly looks pleased, if the little grins he keeps sneaking Jisung’s direction are anything to go back. No one seems bothered, or even really surprised by their little revelation. And yeah, the lack of any real reaction from them is, maybe a little jarring, but it’s not the end of the world.
Jisung gets a little in his head, while they all finish eating. Not in a bad way, not really – just, there’s a lot of thoughts trapped there now, swirling together. He’s not sure what to make of them. So when the food is finished, and Chan says he’s going to have another swim, Jisung decides it’ll be good to get his head underwater again.
He rubs Minho’s leg as he stands, says, “You wanna come with?”
Minho smiles but shakes his head. He settles a hand over Jisung’s ankle, gives it a little squeeze. “I’m alright, but have fun.”
Seungmin and Changbin make retching noises nearby. Jisung shoots them a vicious glare, but it’s Minho’s dangerous smile that ultimately silences them.
“Everyone else coming?” Chan checks.
“I’ll stay,” Hyunjin says. He lies back down on his towel, resettles the other one he’s been using like a blanket so that it covers his legs. Then he settles his t-shirt back over his eyes.
As they trudge down to the water, Felix wastes no time cosying up by Jisung’s side.
“You bitch,” he says. “I can’t believe you tried keeping it a secret.”
Jisung lets out a little whine. “It only happened yesterday, it’s not like I’ve been lying–lying.”
“Still counts.”
Felix loops his hand around Jisung’s elbow and tugs, leaning heavily, leaving half his bodyweight for Jisung to bear. It’s fine, because Felix is tiny, and Jisung has been to the gym at least once or twice in the last year. Probably a little more than that.
“C’mon,” Felix whines. “I want details.”
“No, you don’t,” Changbin chimes helpfully from behind them. Chan and Seungmin are a little way ahead, too far to be eavesdropping, but Changbin certainly isn’t.
Jisung twists to send him a vicious glare. Changbin grins gleefully back at him.
“I’m just glad you got your shit together,” Jeongin says. “Don’t think I’ve ever had to witness so much yearning, it’s crazy.”
Jisung frowns. “It’s been like, barely a week.”
Jeongin rolls his eyes. “Yeah this time.”
Some of that – that light, swirling, unease, creeps into Jisung’s chest. He tries not to let it show too much, but Felix must notice – well, something – because suddenly his big eyes are fixed on Jisung. He keeps a tight hold of Jisung’s arm.
“This time?” asks Jisung.
“Yeah, I mean, I’m talking about the last time we were here too.” Jeongin kicks at the sand before him, distracted, not even really paying attention. His words are casual, simple, like all of this is obvious. Like there is no possible way Jisung might be confused by what he’s saying. “You guys were so obsessed with each other, it was hilarious.”
“It was cute!” Changbin says.
Jisung looks at Felix again. It – it feels like maybe the only safe place to look, because Felix is the only one who has figured out how thrown Jisung is by all of this. There is a concerned crease at his brow, as he scans Jisung’s face.
He says, “Guys, come on, don’t tease him.”
Jeongin relents immediately. “Not teasing! I’m just saying. Minho-hyung drove you like, six hours home, when you only knew each other for a few days. If that isn’t whipped, I don’t know what is.”
“Young love,” Changbin sighs.
And Jisung – shit, Jisung has to use everything he has in him to look normal right now. His heartbeat suddenly thunders in his chest. His breath feels a little unsteady. He – he didn’t – he hasn’t – really? They think this thing with him and Minho was happening all the way back then? But that’s – that’s crazy, because Jisung had been so wrapped up in Chan back then, and sure, they don’t know that, but like – Jisung hadn’t been doing anything with Minho. He’d just – he’d thought Minho was cool, that was all, and then everything had gone wrong, and he’d been so caught up in it that – that –
Jisung’s brain takes him on a crash course, streaming through everything he can remember from that trip. The way Minho had kept him company, the way they’d stayed up late at night, talking and joking and watching cat videos. Minho had always seemed happy for Jisung to occupy his time, to sit near him and chat about music or dancing or the future. He’d been pleased when Jisung had said they should hang out.
And of course, he’d been so kind when Jisung had his little breakdown. He’d been a warm, comforting, steady presence. He’d driven Jisung home, just because Jisung had asked.
Fuck, Jisung thinks. Fuck, it can’t have been that long, can it?
Felix rubs his arm a little. They’ve reached the water, and Chan and Seungmin and Changbin and Jeongin have all started to wade to where it gets deeper. Jisung and Felix linger for a moment, right where the smaller waves can wash over their feet.
“You okay?” Felix checks. “I don’t really need details, I’m just kidding.”
“I’m good,” Jisung says quickly, because – well, what else can he say? He can’t tell Felix what’s really going on in his head. He can’t tell Felix that he is currently rewriting all of his and Minho’s history, that it’s reshaping around this new revelation, and it’s making his heart sink.
He glances back up towards the beach. Hyunjin has emerged from the little towel pile he’d made himself, is sitting at Minho’s side, arms resting easily on his bent knees. He has his head tilted in Minho’s direction, watching him while they talk. They’re too far away for Jisung to catch either of their expressions, but it looks serious. Are they talking about him? They probably are, right? That’s what Jisung’s doing with the others, after all. But then – it’s not like they don’t have other things they could be discussing, they’re best friends, they could be talking about anything, right?
“Don’t worry too much about what the others said,” Felix says, squeezing Jisung’s arm. “You and Minho-hyung can go at your own pace. It’s your business, it’s up to you.”
“Right,” Jisung says, only he doesn’t really believe that at all.
If – if the others are right, and Minho’s been – God, whipped is such an awful word, he doesn’t want to use it – if Minho’s been interested, since all the way back then, what does that mean for Jisung? Jisung who’d taken all of Minho’s kindness, only to repay it by ghosting him, by avoiding him for years?
“Seriously,” Felix says again, because he’s observant like that, and Jisung really isn’t a good liar. “They were just messing around. Don’t let it get to you.”
Jisung has to make it really convincing this time. He braces himself, then gives Felix his nicest smile, the one that says – it’s okay, you’re right, I’m just being silly. He squeezes Felix’s hand and tries hard to put Minho and Hyunjin and whatever conversation they’re having out of his mind. It’s impossible, but hopefully, at least to Felix, it looks as real as he can make it.
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I’m good, I swear.”
“Yeah?” Felix checks.
Jisung nods decisively. “Yeah.”
And Felix seems to accept this. He gives Jisung one last long look before a sunny smile breaks onto his face. He tugs Jisung further into the water, apparently satisfied.
Now Jisung needs to convince his brain the same.
.
Notes:
also these long ass chapters are sending me. we’re at like twice the length of the earlier ones. I can’t manage pacing for the life of me.
oh but speaking of many words, some of u have been apologising for ur big comments and please, let me stress, emphatically, with everything i have - how much i love ur comments. i could read them for the rest of my life prob. i want to hear every single thought that is in ur head. pls never apologise. ur making me so happy.
if u have a mo, i yearn for more. tell me ur fave part of the chap? mine was the banter and minsung being absolutely the worst fucking secret keepers in the world.
can't wait to get the final few chapters to u guys. see u next week xxx
Chapter 16
Notes:
surprise!!!!! i figured while we all wait for rockstar with baited breath, i could maybe share something to keep u occupied x
tw's in this chap for anxiety and also unhealthy use of sex as a coping mechanism. Jisung’s brain is very crowded with thoughts, and they’re definitely not all kind, so proceed with that in mind, and pls take care of urself x
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
When they return from the beach, Jisung sticks pretty close to Minho’s side. This really isn’t that out of the ordinary. It’s like the others have been saying, he and Minho haven’t been that subtle, and this is where he’s found himself most of the time, the past few days – it’s just that he notices it more this time. He doesn’t miss the sly, shrewd looks their friends send them, pointed and pleased. It makes Jisung flush, and he can only hope they read it as a kind of bashful embarrassment, rather than the nervous tangle of emotions that it really is.
At the very least, Minho doesn’t seem to mind. He looks a little surprised when Jisung threads their fingers together, but it passes quickly, transforms into a soft smile. He squeezes Jisung’s hand and lets him cling on as they navigate the yard.
They’re ordering take out for dinner again, only because they really want to do a big barbeque tomorrow, for their last night. The late afternoon air is warm enough for them all to hang outside, so they all stay in their swimmers, not bothering to change in case they decide to head back down to the sand or have a swim in the pool.
Changbin caves first. He steps right up to the edge of the pool and peers in dubiously.
He says, “Can I get confirmation that no – uh, bodily liquids entered the pool?”
Jisung scrunches his face up. “Ew, no, they didn’t.”
“Don’t say ew, you’re not the victim here.” Changbin waves a finger in Jisung’s direction. “You’re the culprit.”
“There were no bodily liquids in the pool,” Jisung sighs.
“We saved them for other places,” Minho says.
Jisung swats at his arm, hissing, while all their other friends groan in disgust. Minho looks impossibly pleased with himself at having stirred such a reaction. He doesn’t even blink when Jisung smacks him, just beams at him sunnily.
Jisung’s tummy flips. Ah, shit, he likes him so much.
Earlier, he would have basked in it, buried in his blissful ignorance. It would have been nice, teasing the others, riling them up, because he and Minho were – they were good, and they’d talked, and everything was okay.
It doesn’t feel that way anymore, and it’s all Jisung’s fault. He is too caught up in his own thoughts, in the revelation that Minho had maybe been interested in him years ago, only for Jisung to treat him like total shit. Because honestly, to Jisung, this changes everything. It – what the hell is Minho doing with him, with someone who’s been so callous with Minho’s feelings? Jisung didn’t even know, and he wouldn’t have, if their friends hadn’t started with their jokes. It’s not like anything has been said cruelly. Jeongin’s just kidding. Changbin’s just kidding. It’s all harmless fun, friends ribbing each other the way they always have. Jisung would probably give them just as much hell if their positions were reversed. He’ll have to think about that, next time, actually. He’s pretty sure his friends would stop if they knew how much the jokes were bothering him – but for them to know, he’d need to tell them, and there’s no chance in hell of him doing that. It would just turn everything awkward, make everyone uncomfortable, so Jisung’s keeping his mouth shut.
Changbin apparently decides he trusts their testimony and leaps into the pool. Hyunjin, Felix, and Chan join him quickly, all of them jumping in and trying to make the biggest splashes they can. It’s a whole lot of shouting and water flying and Jisung decides it’s a bit much for him right now. Minho settles on one of the pool chairs and Jisung thinks, fuck it, the secret’s out, and squishes on next to him. This earns them a chorus of cooing from the others, but Jisung keeps his head high, clings onto Minho’s hand and resolutely ignores them. Jeongin and Seungmin – tonight, in charge of making the food order and going off to collect it – have vanished inside, so at least Jisung doesn’t need to worry about them.
Soon enough, he and Minho are forgotten as their friends continue to muck around. Minho does a little readjusting, shifting his hips so that there’s room for Jisung to sit – to lean back against him. His arm falls naturally down, coming around to frame Jisung’s waist. Jisung lets go of his hand while they get settled, but is quick to snatch it up again when he has a chance. He tangles his fingers with Minho’s, pulls their joined hands into his lap.
Minho hums, light, right near Jisung’s ear. “You good?”
Jisung twists to look at him. Minho is watching him with a curious expression, calm, but a little confused.
Jisung nods quickly. “I’m good. You’re good?”
Minho hums again, nods. Jisung squeezes his fingers, nestles himself a little more deeply in Minho’s embrace. The warmth of him, the firm line of his body, it feels nice – but try as Jisung might, it does nothing to help him relax.
There is just – an unease, that has settled deep in his chest. It echoes out through his limbs, makes them feel stiff, unwieldy, almost not his own. Right beneath his skin, he feels an itch, that insists he can’t sit comfortably. Not when he has treated Minho so poorly – worse than he even knew. And it’s hard to hide it. He can feel how tightly he’s holding onto Minho. He knows some of whatever he’s feeling is bleeding onto his face. But he just – he doesn’t know how to stop it. There’s too much in his head right now. A part of him just wants everything to stop – just pause, just for a second – so he can try and catch up.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow, then?” Felix asks.
Jisung tunes back into the conversation happening around him. Felix has pulled himself mostly out of the pool, sitting on the edge now, dripping water everywhere. Chan hovers close by, still in the water, with one of Felix’s ankles in his hands, holding on to him almost absentmindedly.
He brightens when Felix brings up their plans.
“I was thinking I’d do a grocery run in the morning, if that works?” Chan says. “Just so everything is fresh?”
“Ah, I can’t wait for meat.” Changbin has chilled out a little too, lying in the water, half floating. He drifts into Hyunjin’s space, who looks to be having the time of his life poking him then quickly darting out of Changbin’s reach.
Chan says, “I figured we can write out a list of what we want tonight, or maybe tomorrow morning. That way there’ll be something for everyone.”
“Sounds good, hyung,” Hyunjin says.
“I might clean the grill,” Minho says. He motions to the corner of the yard where Chan’s aunt has her barbeque set up. It looks pretty clean to Jisung, but Minho explains, “It didn’t cook super well last time we used it, I think the grate might have some charcoal stuck in it.”
Jisung doesn’t know how to begin diagnosing such an issue. He’s not even sure it’s a two-person job, but still, he drums his fingers against Minho’s arm and says, “I can help.”
Minho squeezes him.
“Are we doing cake?” Felix asks. “I could make one?”
“Um, yes fucking please,” Hyunjin says.
“God yes,” Changbin says.
“But it’s for your birthday,” Chan says, pouting. “You shouldn’t have to make your own cake.”
Felix reaches over and touches his head, petting his wet hair fondly. “It’s not just for me, baby. And I love making cakes, you know that.” He scratches at Chan’s scalp. “You can help me if you want?”
Chan nods quickly.
Hyunjin and Changbin make jeering noises at the two of them. It’s actually kinda nice, to see them doing it to Chan and Felix, the same as they have done with Jisung and Minho. It’s a good reminder, that this is just how they all are with each other. Jisung’s done exactly the same thing to Changbin and Hyunjin too.
They pass the time until dinner planning for the party tomorrow. It’s technically a celebration for all the September birthdays but it’s blown out now to include the October birthday’s too. It’s difficult to get all of them together at the same place, so it’s unlikely they’ll be able to group up like this in a month’s time, especially with Jeongin in Busan. This just feels easier, and like a nice way to end the trip.
Seungmin and Jeongin return a little while later, food and alcohol in tow, and they all spend the evening by the pool, mostly just chatting shit. Jisung stays with Minho, curled up on the narrow pool chair, through it all. Minho moves around a little – gets them drinks, helps passing out the food – and every time he goes, Jisung’s stomach twists unpleasantly. It’s funny, because a part of him has been wishing for that time to process things, but then, as soon as Minho is too far away from him, the only thing Jisung cares about is him coming back.
It's kinda exhausting, so he’s relieved when, much later in the night, Minho leans in and says, “You wanna go upstairs?”
Jisung nods quickly.
Of course, because their friends are their friends, there is no chance of them making a subtle getaway. They stay where they are for a beat longer, which gives Jisung a moment to brace himself before Minho stands.
“C’mon,” Minho says, and he tugs at Jisung’s hand.
Jisung gets up.
“We’re going to bed,” Minho announces.
Immediately, there is hollering from all sides.
“Yeah, I bet you are,” Hyunjin says.
“Keep the noise down, kids,” Changbin says.
Jisung is so preoccupied glaring at Changbin for this, that he doesn’t notice Minho swing a hand down. He jumps, yelps when Minho slaps his ass, then blushes when the hand lingers, squeezing generously for all of them to see.
Minho leers down at Changbin and says, “No can do.”
“Eugh,” Jeongin says.
Of course, Changbin looks more delighted than annoyed by this response. His giggling follows them as Jisung, a little scandalised but really just turned on, grabs Minho’s hand and drags him inside. He doesn’t release him until they’re safely tucked away in Minho’s bedroom. It’s dark, even with the windows open, moonlight streaming in. Minho switches the lamp on and pulls the curtains shut, all while Jisung shadows him, tugging at Minho’s t-shirt, hassling him until Minho lets out a fond huff and whips the damned thing off.
Jisung doesn’t even try to keep his hands to himself. He runs flat palms over Minho’s chest, his tummy, his waist, hips, back. Everywhere he can reach, he grasps, revelling in the way it makes Minho shiver. Minho trails after Jisung’s hands, distracted, eyes fluttering. When Jisung tugs at a pert nipple, he hisses and finally takes hold of Jisung’s wrists, stilling him.
Jisung whines immediately, earning another fond little laugh.
Minho dips forward, steals a quick kiss, and says, “We should shower.”
Jisung wants to argue – he thinks their first and only priority should be climbing onto that damn bed so that he can climb onto Minho – but the logical part of his brain understands Minho is talking sense. They’re still in the clothes they’d worn to the beach, he can feel sand in his hair and under his clothes, and traces of it on Minho’s skin.
He pouts anyway, because he can, because Minho seems to like it, and gets another kiss for his troubles.
Minho drags him to the bathroom, where he helps Jisung get out of his clothes. Jisung doesn’t make it easy for him, still trying his hardest to keep his hands on Minho, which eventually has Minho batting at him, putting a little distance between them just so he can step out of his shorts. As soon as he is free of them, Jisung gets back in his space, kissing whatever skin he can reach. There is Minho’s neck, his shoulders, his chest – all right there, there for Jisung to take. Minho’s laughs through it all, in a nice way, a pleased way, but Jisung can tell he’s a bit bewildered, sees it in him every time Minho catches his eye.
If Jisung weren’t so frantic, he might pause, maybe try to explain – but what words are there for something he doesn’t really understand himself? All he can think of is, I want you, I want you, I want you, and that’s not enough – if he said that, Minho might not understand how badly Jisung means it. It’s easier to show Minho, right? Right?
He shuts his eyes, presses up so that he can steal Minho’s mouth, and lets himself be blindly led beneath the water. There, he is no less desperate. Minho makes a valiant effort at running his hands all over Jisung, using the water to brush away the worst of the sand, but Jisung never gives him much room. Of course, Minho doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He is all smiles, tipped back to the ceiling while Jisung bites his neck, huffed against Jisung’s mouth while they kiss.
When they’re clean – or at least, rinsed – Jisung is the one who drags Minho along with him. He pulls him from the shower, towels him dry, then tugs him towards the bed. He pushes at Minho’s chest, manoeuvres him until Minho is sitting in the middle, back leant against the headboard.
Jisung climbs onto his lap. That unbalanced feeling still stretches through every part of him. It’s frantic, the way he settles, grasping at Minho’s shoulders, digging his fingers in.
Minho’s hands come up easily, resting on Jisung’s hips. He rubs his palms there, long, and slow, maybe trying to soothe him. He peers up at Jisung, a small frown on his face.
“You sure you’re alright?”
Jisung nods quickly. He – he doesn’t like feeling like this, but he has no clue how to fix it. He just wants to touch Minho. He’s sure, once he has his hands on him, has him inside, his thoughts will calm down. If there was – if Minho really has wanted him for so long, then the best thing for Jisung to do is make it clear how badly he wants him back, right? Surely that will help.
“M’good.” He tries to slow his movements down a little, hands settling on Minho’s neck. He massages the muscles he can feel there, watching Minho’s face closely while he does. It’s – God, it’s divine, the way his head tips back, his eyes flutter a little. Jisung rocks his hips forward, rubbing his dick right against Minho’s warm belly. He wants – he just wants to be closer, and this is working – having Minho like this, pressed against him so tightly. It’s working. “You’re good?”
Minho nods, hums against his cheek.
Jisung can’t move away from Minho’s mouth. There’s so much more of him to kiss, but still, Jisung stays where he is. He bites and licks and nips at Minho’s lips, and every second he has to pull back for air is too much. He scratches his fingers through Minho’s hair, tugs at his neck, clings to his shoulders.
Eventually, Minho brings a hand up, holds Jisung jaw where it is so that he can put a little distance between them. His eyes are dazed, his lips bitten red, and Jisung feels another heaving wave of want spread through him, just seeing it.
“Fuck,” Minho says, his voice raspy. One of his fingers presses down on Jisung’s bottom lip and Jisung whimpers. It’s easy, so easy, to use his tongue, to pull that finger into his mouth and suck on it. “Fuck.”
Jisung bites very lightly at the fingertip, then pulls back enough to say, “You want to?”
Minho wipes that wet finger over the crown of Jisung’s cheek, holding him still so that he can kiss Jisung again. It lasts perhaps longer than Minho had intended it to, both of them sinking in, greedy. Jisung breathes deeply through his nose, feels it spill out over Minho’s cheek, their lips.
“Yeah,” Minho pants, into another tiny gap between them. “Yeah, course, yes.”
“Where’s the – the lube?” Jisung asks.
“Top drawer,” Minho says.
Jisung scrambles for it. He keeps Minho bracketed between his legs, reaching over, stretching all the way out until he can dig through the draw. Minho holds onto him, keeps grinding up, his hands running along the drawn-out line of Jisung’s torso. Even distracted by this, it doesn’t take Jisung long to grab the lube, and when he’s got it in hand, he returns straight to Minho’s mouth. He fumbles blindly, feeling his way to the top of the little bottle, pouring too much on his fingers, certainly dribbling some down onto Minho’s belly.
“I can do it,” Minho says, hot against his skin.
But Jisung shakes his head. Already he is reaching back, pushing two fingers inside himself, wincing a little at the place he feels tender, worked over. He’d loved the feeling of Minho’s fingers inside him, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stand the long and careful teasing this time. He needs Minho’s dick, and the fastest way to make that happen is if Jisung gets the job done quick.
He jams another finger inside, too fast.
Minho’s hand settles over Jisung’s, holds him still, his fingers prodding carefully where Jisung’s are buried.
He says, “Slow down, it’s okay, there’s no rush.”
There is very much a rush. Jisung feels like he might crawl out of his own skin at any moment. He needs – he needs more than this, and that’s so greedy of him, because this is so good, it’s perfect, how could he ask for more? God, he’s such a piece of shit.
“Want you to fuck me,” Jisung whines.
Minho keeps his hand where it is, guiding Jisung to be a little gentler with himself. “I will, fuck, I’ll fuck you as long as you want.”
Jisung stretches his fingers wide, feels dizzy with it, then pulls them away. That’s enough, he’ll be fine. He tugs Minho’s hand out of the way, reaching for his dick only to remember – shit, he didn’t get a condom.
“Fuck,” Jisung says.
“I’ll get it, one sec,” Minho says.
He takes his hands off Jisung for a few seconds. Too long. In the same way that Minho had just watched Jisung stretch himself out, Jisung watches the lines of Minho’s body move as he twists, still trapped beneath Jisung, reaching for the drawer. He paws at Minho’s chest when he comes back, just keeping himself from rocking down, because that will only make it harder for Minho to get the condom on.
Minho is looking down, trying to focus, but inevitably, Jisung becomes impatient. He tugs Minho’s mouth back to his own, says there, “It’s on?”
Minho huffs, nods. “It’s on.”
Which is all Jisung needs to reach back, take Minho’s cock, and hold it in place. He shuts his eyes as he sinks down, letting that delicious hardness fill him all the way up. Okay, so maybe he didn’t stretch himself quite as much as he should have – but he doesn’t care, even the sting of pain is perfect, it’s exactly what he needs.
He doesn’t bother to keep his voice down. Fuck the others. They’re probably still outside. If not, they can put music on or something. He lets out a blissed-out moan, heat curling in his belly, right near where Minho is pressed. Satisfaction – finally, at finally having Minho inside. Only – now that he’s there, Jisung realises, he still needs more. He needs Minho as deep as he can get him.
Minho clutches at his shoulders, his back. His teeth press into all the plush parts of him – Jisung’s bicep, his chest, the place where his arm meets his pec. Jisung lets his head tilt back, feels every nip and bite, and relishes in the thought of the bruises he might find there later. Minho wants him. Minho wants to mark him.
As he leans back, the angle of Minho’s cock shifts, pressing right where Jisung needs him, making Jisung whimper. He shifts further back, pulling his chest from Minho’s reach, but it’s worth it, because now Jisung can stretch out and balance on Minho’s thighs. He digs his fingers in there, uses the new angle to lift himself up with more purpose, more intention, just so he can drop himself back down.
Minho groans, and what he can’t reach with his mouth, he touches with his hands. His breath has turned ragged, and although they’ve moved on from any sort of coherent conversation, little noises spill out of him, the occasional gasped curse. Jisung drinks in the sight of him, drinking in the sight of Jisung. Minho’s eyes rove all over Jisung’s body and it’s – good, God it’s good, because he can see the desire there, the way Jisung is making him moan, making him bite his lip, making him twitch. He also gets to see the way Minho hastily drags his hand through the mess of lube Jisung has left on his belly, just so that he can fist at Jisung’s cock.
Jisung loses himself completely. With Minho’s tight hand wrapped around him, his cock kicking deep into Jisung’s insides, he lets sensation take hold of him. Fuck his thoughts. Fuck his stupid brain. There’s only this, only Minho, only Minho fucking him. Somehow, even though the only thing he’s thinking about is pleasure, it catches him off guard when he comes. It’s like, there is so much to feel, that he is almost distracted – and when it swells, it feels sudden, out of nowhere. He gives a little cry, bears down on Minho in a way that makes Minho hiss, then comes all over Minho’s stomach. His vision blurs a little with it, his legs turn shaky, and he whimpers, even as he continues to feebly fuck himself on Minho’s dick.
“Jisung-ie,” Minho gasps. He releases Jisung’s cock, grasps tightly at Jisung’s hips again, torn between slowing Jisung’s movements and grinding up into them. “Is it – is it too much?”
“No,” Jisung says quickly, come-dazed. “No, no, no, keep going, keep going.”
Minho hesitates for a beat, then apparently decides to trust Jisung, because his grip on Jisung’s hips turns fierce. He thumps his head back against the headboard while he plants his feet on the mattress, thrusting upward.
Jisung cries out again. Once again, Minho seems to find it incredibly easy to move Jisung around. He holds Jisung in place as he fucks into him and Jisung feels sparks flare behind his eyes, his mouth dropping open as tiny sounds are punched from him.
“Fuck, fuck,” Minho says, right at the end, as everything builds to crescendo. “You’re so hot, you’re so fucking hot.”
Jisung pants, clenches around him, then shudders when he feels Minho come inside. He lets himself be moved, used through it, even though all his limbs feel like they’ve turned to jelly. He feels – really feels – the dig of Minho’s fingers in his flesh. God, there had better be bruises there in the morning. Jisung wants them. He needs them.
When Minho’s dick gives a final, weak kick, they really just collapse where they are. Minho slumps against the headboard, his neck craned in a way that can’t be comfortable. Jisung folds up on top of him, thighs still burning, and buries his face in the dark space by Minho’s neck. He should move, he knows that, but he can’t. He doesn’t have the energy yet. His muscles feel wrung out. His body aches. His skin still itches.
For a little while, they simply pant together. Minho’s breath spills hot over Jisung’s shoulder, while Jisung tucks his nose in close, right by Minho’s neck. Every now and again, Jisung gives Minho’s body a feeble squeeze, just reminding himself that he can – that Minho’s still here. That’s absurd, right? He has Minho’s softening cock tucked inside him. Minho is as here as he can be and Jisung – fuck, Jisung’s head is still such a fucking mess.
Eventually, Jisung finds the energy to roll over. Carefully, he lifts himself away from Minho’s cock – awful, devastating, he wants it back immediately – and presses a kiss to Minho’s shoulder as he lets his weight fall to the side. He keeps his leg tucked high over Minho’s hips, so the condom rubs wetly against the inside of Jisung’s thigh as he goes. Jisung doesn’t care.
Minho’s energy comes back slowly too. When his breathing has returned to normal, when the air around them has cooled a little, Minho shifts. He keeps a close hold of Jisung, so that Jisung moves with him when he slides further down the bed – letting his head rest against the pillows.
Jisung nudges in closer if that’s even possible.
As they lie there, listening to the sounds of their breathing, Jisung finds it harder and harder to ignore the uneasiness that still lingers in him. It’s – God, it sucks, because he should be basking in this, in the feeling of Minho having fucked him so thoroughly, but he can’t. He just can’t switch his thoughts off. Minho tucks his fingers into Jisung’s hair, scratching lightly, reassuringly, and even that doesn’t help soothe him. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why can’t Jisung just – fucking stop?
After a little while, Minho makes a noise. Jisung doesn’t know what to call it – if it’s curious or careful or concerned. He tilts his head, where it lies on Minho’s shoulder, just enough to see Minho’s face.
Minho is already watching him. He keeps his fingers soft in Jisung’s hair.
Jisung watches as some sort of – uncertainty, passes over Minho’s face. He might’ve missed it if he weren’t paying such close attention, and it’s strange, the way Jisung suddenly feels he knows exactly what’s coming. Minho is going to ask him again, if he’s alright, and it’s lovely of him, but it’s also the last thing Jisung wants. He doesn’t want to be checked in on. He doesn’t want Minho to ask him if he’s okay again, because honestly, Jisung doesn’t know what the fuck he is, and he definitely doesn’t know how to explain it to Minho. He’s sick of making himself Minho’s problem. He’s the one who’s treated Minho like shit, not the other way around – why should Minho be the one who needs to constantly check on his wellbeing?
He taps Minho’s mouth, closes it himself, gentle as anything, to buy himself some time.
He’d thought – hoped – that fucking Minho, that having him like this again, might reassure the awful thing that’s seeped into his bones. It hasn’t. But – it’s not like – it’s not all bad. He still feels close to Minho. That’s definitely good. This softness, getting to touch him while he eases his way down from all that pleasure, it’s a privilege. Jisung’s so lucky. He doesn’t deserve any of this.
Minho tugs on him, pulls him in close, moving them both so he can tuck his arm beneath Jisung’s head. He settles them around him, wrapping Jisung up, and Jisung feels – shit, okay, he feels a little trapped, but how dare he, when Minho is being so kind? He’s so fucking ungrateful.
He swallows, tries to settle into the embrace. The quiet that he has forced feels suddenly oppressive, and impulsively, without really thinking at all, Jisung fills it.
“Did you really like me back then?”
There is a pause.
Jisung feels it beneath him, the way that Minho tenses up. His chest stills. Minho holds his breath for a moment, a beat, then lets it out carefully. He doesn’t pull away.
He says, lightly, like perhaps he’s been expecting this, “Ah.”
Jisung’s hand clenches to a fist where it rests against Minho’s sternum. He tries not to let himself panic – but that shit’s hard at the best of times, even with all the tricks his therapist has taught him, he struggles to keep himself in check. Here, feeling raw like this, it’s a thousand times harder. He feels his heart climb into his throat, all while a sinking heavy feeling settles in his chest.
“Shit,” Jisung says.
Minho squeezes him. His fingers dig briefly into the meat of Jisung’s arm before he releases him. He says, quickly, “It’s not – it wasn’t, like – a thing.”
A very real, very vulnerable part of Jisung wants to crawl away from him. It’s like he’s being torn down the middle – half of him desperate to keep a place close by Minho, the other insisting that he run, that he escape whatever this conversation is about to be. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have said something sooner. Shame swells in him, and anger, too – God, how could he have been so oblivious? What does that mean, for what he’s put Minho through these past five years? What does that mean for all the things he made Minho do for him the last time they were here?
Minho shifts, abruptly, displacing Jisung, making his heart lurch.
But Minho keeps a gentle hold of him. He rubs at Jisung’s shoulders even as he moves, ducking his head down to make sure he has Jisung’s eye.
“Jisung-ah. It’s okay. Please don’t – I don’t want to talk all of this out while we’re like this.” He motions down to his belly, sticky, and vaguely in the area of their groins, where they’re slippery and – oh my god, Minho still has the condom on. “Just sit tight, I’ll clean us up. Then I’ll explain, kay?”
Jisung gazes up at him, sees the plea in Minho’s eyes and tries to process it. It’s not good, seeing Minho look like this, and Jisung hates himself for causing it. He can’t – no, he won’t make it worse. He won’t trap Minho here if he needs to move away.
He lets Minho go. Feels cold.
Minho really is very efficient. It takes him no time at all to vanish to the bathroom and return, condom free and cleaned. He swipes the tissue box from the bedside table and uses it to clean Jisung – his stomach, his waist, all the places stray lube has been smeared. Then, careful as anything, he lifts Jisung’s legs, and cleans him there too. Jisung’s face burns, but on top of everything else, there’s not really room for more shame. He feels almost paralysed by it. There is so much guilt and – and anger, at himself – pooling in him, it feels like anything he does now will only make it worse. He stays where he is, lets Minho move him as he needs, and feels awful about that too.
When Minho is finished, he tosses the tissues away from the bed, forgetting them completely as he climbs back to Jisung’s side. Then he hesitates, like doesn’t quite know how to settle – like maybe a part of him wants to wrap Jisung up again, but the rest wants to keep a little distance.
It’s fair. Jisung understands.
He ultimately goes for a sort of compromise. He sits next to Jisung, cross legged, close enough that his knees knock Jisung’s hip and thigh, the tops of his feet pressed against Jisung’s side. Jisung straightens too, moving so he can sit against the headboard, feeling too raw, to open to keep lying there while Minho looks down on him. When he moves, Minho tugs the blanket beneath them free, and uses it to cover them up a little.
Also fair. This probably isn’t the sort of conversation you’re supposed to have with your dick out.
“I wasn’t like, in love with you or anything,” Minho says.
And Jisung –
Jisung feels a swell of all sorts of things – panic, anxiety, but also, shit, what the fuck, disappointment? How dare he feel disappointed? Did he want Minho to have been pining for him this whole time? Is he that shitty a person? No, of course not, this is good, this is right. This means that Minho hasn’t been – what, waiting for Jisung this whole time?
“I mean yeah, I was – interested.” Minho keeps going, looking more at the headboard than looking at Jisung himself. Right as Jisung registers how much he hates that, how unsettled it makes him feel, Minho seems to notice it too. He catches himself, almost, and them like a balm, reaches out and takes Jisung’s hand again. He pulls it into his lap, then taps lightly at each of Jisung’s knuckles. “You were cute, and you were single, so I thought—” he gives a little shrug here, like it’s all very simple. “I don’t know, I thought we got on pretty well, you know?”
He glances at Jisung, but it’s a flighty thing, his gaze jumping all over the place. Eventually, he looks back down to his lap. Jisung feels his stomach tighten again, it’s contents roiling. It can’t be a good sign that Minho is struggling so much to look at him. Jisung’s making him so uncomfortable. What else could it be?
“Then I realised you were into Chan, and it was – fine, I guess. I was kinda bummed, but it wasn’t—” he looks down, looks at their hands, gives a little half smile. “It wasn’t a big deal. I dealt with it.”
“Hyung,” Jisung says. “I’m so sorry.”
Minho shuts his eyes. He tilts his head back, shoulders low, and gives a little, frustrated sigh. It makes Jisung feel awful because, even though sorry is the only thing Jisung wants to say, it’s clearly wrong. He keeps getting it wrong.
“Please don’t apologise,” Minho says. Jisung’s insides twist. “There’s nothing – you don’t need to be sorry for anything, you didn’t even know.”
Jisung keeps fucking this up. He doesn’t know how to have this conversation like a grown up, not when every word out of Minho’s mouth makes it more and more clear what an asshole Jisung is.
He insists, “But that’s the problem, I should have—”
“You shouldn’t have done anything.” Minho bulldozes over him. Emphasises it with another stern squeeze of Jisung’s hand. “You were fine. You weren’t like, obligated to be into me, it’s fine. It’s good you didn’t know. I didn’t want you to.”
And all of that makes sense, it does, but Jisung still feels like shit. He doesn’t know how to stop feeling like this. This is all his fault.
“But I—”
Minho cuts him off again. “Jisung-ah. Seriously.” The tone of his voice is sterner than anything Minho has offered him before. Jisung hates it. It feels like they’re fighting, which is ridiculous, because everything has been so good. But isn’t that worse? Jisung finds out how terribly he’s been treating Minho, this whole fucking time, and he still has the gall to feel sorry for himself? What the fuck is that? “You had other stuff on your mind, it’s fine.”
Jisung takes a deep breath. He tries not to let all the emotions that are swelling in him overwhelm him. He knows he sounds small, defeated, when he says, “But you – you were so nice to me. Why were you so nice?”
Minho’s face twists up, an ugly thing. “Because I’m not a dick?”
Shit. That’s not what Jisung meant.
“I know, I know,” Jisung tries to amend. “I know you’re not, I just—”
“I’m not going to ditch someone cause they’re not interested in me,” Minho says.
“I know, I know you wouldn’t, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” The apology spills out of him, desperate and panicked and Jisung can feel it, the sting of tears behind his eyes. Fuck. Goddamnit.
His urgency must convey the worst of his current mental state because Minho takes a deep breath. Jisung watches as he softens himself, purposefully shaking away his irritation. He sighs – uses one of his hands to scrub at his face, but keeps the other in his lap, holding onto Jisung, firm.
“Sorry. I know you didn’t, I’m just. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jisung says.
“I just mean – you’re worrying over nothing.” Minho rubs his palm all the way over the back of Jisung’s arm. He pulls Jisung closer, pressing the side of Jisung’s wrist right near Minho’s belly – and Jisung, God, a tiny part of him hopes that it means what he thinks it might mean. That Minho still wants to keep him close. Fuck, he’s so selfish. “Everything back then, it’s. It’s so long ago. It doesn’t matter.”
Jisung says, “But I never texted you.”
“So what?” Minho shifts again, his crossed legs twitching against Jisung’s side. It’s the worst, seeing him uncertain like this, because it’s so far from the Minho that Jisung has come to know. “You didn’t have to. We barely knew each other.”
Jisung looks at him sadly. He’s so disappointed with himself. Jeongin and Changbin were onto something, they were right. He is oblivious. His lack of care, his selfishness; it hurts the people around him. Fuck. He just keeps picturing that car ride home. Long, deep into the night, the sounds of Minho’s podcast playing because Jisung didn’t even have it in him to talk to him, even though Minho was doing everything for him.
“I can’t believe I did that to you,” Jisung says.
Minho lets out another frustrated little noise. It’s not angry – not quite – but it’s certainly – it’s something unhappy. He drops Jisung’s hand abruptly – and the only reason Jisung doesn’t lose himself completely to panic, is that Minho reaches over to cradle Jisung’s head with his palm.
He thumbs at Jisung’s jaw. “Jisung-ah, I’m serious. I need you to understand, I – I’m fucking this up. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But—”
“Just listen, okay?”
Jisung takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Minho moves his hand away from Jisung’s face, lets it rest heavy on Jisung’s shoulder instead. It feels kinda awkward, and Jisung wants to snatch it up, cling onto it again, but he doesn’t. He keeps pushing himself on Minho. He’s got to stop. “It’s just – I don’t want you to think that I’ve spent like, the past five years pining for you, or something. Okay?”
Jisung nods, feeling shaky. He – he categorically refuses to allow himself to feel disappointed by this. It’s fucked. There is an awful mix of relief and disheartenment swirling in him. He doesn’t want Minho to have pined for him. That would be awful. But – at the same time, he doesn’t like the way Minho says it. Like it’s a ridiculous thought. Isn’t that shitty of him?
He refuses to burden Minho with any of that, so he just says, “Okay.”
Minho looks partially satisfied with this. He is still a little wary. His fingers drum lightly at the nape of Jisung’s neck. He settles his other hand on Jisung’s thigh.
“Okay. Good.” Minho bites his bottom lip as he seems to think for a moment, perhaps mulling over what he’s going to say next. He struggles to get started. “It’s – I mean… Shit. Now it sounds like I’m not into you – I am.” He taps at Jisung’s thigh. “I clearly am. I just – back then, it was so long ago, and we only knew each other for a super short time. I was – not stoked, when you didn’t want to see me after, but that was more because – I thought I’d done something to like, make you uncomfortable, you know?”
“You didn’t,” Jisung says immediately.
Minho tilts his head a little. He is perhaps still a little frustrated, but his eyes are soft. “I know.”
“You really didn’t.” Jisung needs him to understand.
Minho rubs at his neck again. “Jisung-ie, I know. I promise. You told me.”
“Okay.” For now, Jisung will have to be content with that. It’s not like he can just keep saying it, keep insisting it, until he sees something in Minho that tells him he really understands. What would that even look like? “Sorry. I just wanted to – be sure.”
“Thank you,” Minho says. He ducks forward, and presses a light kiss to Jisung’s mouth. It startles Jisung – he blinks – doesn’t even have a chance to push into it before Minho pulls away. When he does, he doesn’t put quite as much distance between them as there had been before. “I really don’t want this to, like, get in the way of what’s happening now.” Minho’s fingers slip through the short hairs at the back of Jisung’s neck, making him shiver. Minho seems to like that, cause he does it again. “I like what’s happening now.”
Jisung swallows. “Me too.”
Minho smiles. “It’s fun.”
Jisung’s stomach lurches.
It’s – he’s – he’s not sure why, but there’s something in him that doesn’t like that at all. Jisung fights to keep it from his face, the way the word ‘fun’ cuts through him. He – he just hadn’t been expecting it, is the thing. He’d thought – there were maybe other words that he’d have used, before picking that one.
But that’s ridiculous of him, right? It’s not – it’s not like what they’re doing isn’t fun. Of course it is, it’s heaps of fun. He’s even – he’s been so pleased, privately, to himself, at how fun he’s found it, being with Minho, so to be – to be anything but happy would be crazy hypocritical of him. Jisung’s just – Jisung’s just being silly.
“Right,” Jisung says.
There’s a moment, there, where Jisung thinks Minho might see right through him. His gaze skips across Jisung’s face, his brow dips for just a moment – but then the expression clears. He smiles, dips in and kisses Jisung again. It takes Jisung perhaps a beat to remember to kiss back. Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine!
This time, when Minho pulls away, Jisung clears his throat, shakes his head a little, like that might help him kick his thoughts into the right places. Ha. As if.
He says, “But you – you were, um…”
“Interested?” Minho guesses.
“Yeah.”
“Course I was.” Minho shrugs again. He scratches at Jisung’s neck and it’s nice, it’s intimate, but for some reason, it doesn’t reassure Jisung like it had before. What’s different, though? God, Jisung’s head is so fucked. “You’re hot, Jisung-ie. I would have totally gone there if you’d wanted to.”
It would make sense for a compliment like that to lift Jisung up. That’s how any normal person would react? The smart, clever person who’s he’s been hooking up with thinks he’s hot. It’s not the first time Minho’s said it, even, he’s said it heaps. He said it earlier, when they were fucking, and Jisung had liked it then – when Minho had gasped the word, hands roaming, digging at Jisung’s skin. So why does it make something sink in him now?
“I’m sorry,” he says, because he can’t think of anything else, because he is so sorry.
“What did we say about apologising?” Minho asks.
“Sorry,” Jisung says again.
“Oh, my god.”
And everything just feels like it’s slipping out of Jisung’s control again. “I’m just worried!” Worried isn’t the best word for what he’s feeling right now – not big enough yet somehow far too broad – but it’s all Jisung’s got. “I feel like this is the sort of thing I’m supposed to know, if I’d known I wouldn’t have asked you to do everything you did, I can’t believe you—”
“That’s why I didn’t say anything.” Minho rocks him a little, using the hand by Jisung’s neck to shake him gently. “Would it have been better if you’d just been miserable and stuck with us?”
“Yes!” Jisung takes a hold of Minho’s forearm, worked up enough that his first impulse is to push him away. Of course, the impulse that immediately follows is to hold on tight, never let him go – so the result is a frenetic little burst of energy that goes nowhere. He holds onto the spot right below Minho’s elbow. Minho’s hand stays where it is. “Better than me dragging you across the country because I couldn’t – couldn’t handle my own shit!”
Minho huffs. He sounds annoyed again, and Jisung hates that, but he just can’t get himself to shut up. Even – even having talked it out like this, like they’re supposed to, like grown-ups do – it doesn’t feel fixed. The awful pit swirling in Jisung’s stomach only picks up pace.
“We talked about this already,” Minho says. “I wanted to help. I’m glad I could help. This really isn’t as big a deal as you think it is.”
“But—” God, why can’t Jisung just shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up! “I’m such an asshole, hyung.”
“You’re not,” Minho says firmly. He squeezes Jisung’s nape. “Don’t say that. I was – there was no point where I was – upset with you for not being into me. That shit, it’s just life. It happens. I thought – ugh, I don’t know. I just thought there was something there. I was curious, you know? I wanted to know, like – where it might go. But that’s all it was. I guess, I – I always thought of you as a – a what if.”
Jisung swallows, something thick lodged in his throat, and suddenly can’t stand the thought of being – of sitting all open, naked like this. He needs, he needs to be smaller. He’s not sure why. He brings his knees up, a little restricted given the blanket he’s under is wrapped over Minho too. It catches his legs, he struggles with it a bit, but ultimately, he is able to tuck his legs in close to his chest.
Carefully, keeping his voice as clear as he can, he says, “A what if?”
There is something very delicate building in him now. He has no clue what it is, what to call it, but he – he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like those words either. Curious. Fun.
Minho is perhaps too caught up in his own head, too preoccupied or worked up about making himself clear, to notice. And that’s fine. It’s not like he’s a psychic. How is he supposed to know that Jisung’s – God, what even is Jisung? How is Minho supposed to read him if Jisung still can’t figure out what the fuck is going on inside his own head?
Minho is looking back down at his lap anyway. “Yeah, you know, like. Sometimes I’d wonder what it would’ve been like if you weren’t into Chan, or if you didn’t fuck up your ankle, or if we had kept in touch.” He looks up quickly, says, “Not! That it’s a problem that we didn’t, you know – or, at least, I understand why you didn’t. The shittiest part was thinking I was – too pushy, or something.”
Jisung says, “You weren’t. You really weren’t.”
“You said.”
“I’ll say it again,” Jisung says. This part, at least, he already knows. The words have already been said and – Minho seems to mean it, seems to understand that Jisung means it too.
Minho reaches over to rub at Jisung’s knees. It seems like maybe he’s noticed the way Jisung has curled up now, but he looks a little lost himself, like he’s treading on unsteady ground. He moves his hand all the way to Jisung’s ankle, gives it a little squeeze through the blanket, then runs it back up his shin.
“But you get what I mean, right?” Minho says. “Like, that I wasn’t waiting for you, or anything?”
Jisung nods. He understands – he does – he sees what Minho is trying to say. What is less within his grasp is the meaning of it all, the implication of what’s going on between them, if all Minho has been trying to do is sate his curiosity.
“Yeah,” he says, “Yeah, I get you. I, uh – I’m glad.”
And he is – kind of, in a way. It is good that Minho hasn’t been like – waiting for Jisung this whole time. And he’s right. Given that they only knew each other really for a couple of days, the thought that Minho feels anything more than a passing interest is pretty unrealistic. Honestly, even with this second trip, this new intimacy they’ve found – the scale of things makes Jisung feel like a fucking idiot. They’ve been here for what, ten days? And Jisung had only been around for four days the first time they’d visited. That means, all up, he’s really only known Minho for around two weeks.
Which is – it’s fine. It’s fine.
“Good.” Minho rocks Jisung’s knee again, grabbing his attention, making sure Jisung is looking when he gives a warm smile. “And hey, it all worked out, didn’t it?”
He motions between them, to the bed, to their nakedness, to the ways they’re still touching. He has lost some of that unsteadiness. He seems pleased that Jisung has listened, that he seems to understand what Minho’s been trying to say. None of this is as serious as Jisung’s been thinking it might be. He’s making a big deal out of nothing.
Jisung nods. He swallows, throat dry, and tries to copy Minho’s smile. “Yeah. Yeah, exactly.”
Minho keeps rubbing at his leg. His hand is more insistent than it has been before, urgent, but in a different way to the way he is when they’re fucking. He’s moving a bit more too. Kinda rocking, barely, but moving back and forth. It strikes Jisung like maybe he wants to move. Maybe he wants to be done talking about this.
“Besides—” he says, a touch too loud, “I got my answer, didn’t I?”
Another squeeze at Jisung’s knee.
Jisung swallows. “Ha. Yeah, uh. I guess you did.”
“And I was right,” Minho goes on. “There is something, isn’t there? Like, who knew we’d have such great – you know…” He motions between himself and Jisung again, trails off, like the gesture is more than enough to explain what he means. Jisung supposes it is. They do have good sex. It feels electric when they touch. Minho’s dancing hand settles, touching Jisung’s hip. “And you’re having fun, right?”
Fun. There’s that word again.
“Yeah,” Jisung says.
It’s not a lie. He has been having fun – there’s no question, and it would be – it would be ridiculous of Jisung to expect it to be more than that. It’s only been two weeks. Just two weeks. Of course it’s just fun.
Minho laughs, and it sounds maybe a little off, but Jisung’s not in the best place to be listening right now. He is almost completely back in his head. He’s finding it hard enough to answer Minho’s questions with any sense of coherency. He kinda – he wants to be alone, maybe, but – but that would be stupid too, right? If he and Minho are just – if they’ve only got this trip, the next two nights for Minho to finish with his – his questions, then Jisung would be an idiot to waste it, wouldn’t he?
“A whole lot more fun than talking,” Minho goes on, with another strange, off colour laugh. Jisung tries to smile, tries to laugh along with him, cause that’s what he’s supposed to do. Maybe it doesn’t work. He’s not sure. “Sorry,” Minho says. He fucking squeezes Jisung’s knee again. “I didn’t mean for this to get so complicated. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“No, that’s okay.” Jisung starts nodding, long before Minho is finished talking. He thinks about the way Minho had turned strange in the kitchen earlier. It makes sense now, that he didn’t want the others to know. Why would he if he was only – only dipping his toe in the water? Better to keep it private, settle his curiosities away from prying eyes.
“It is?” Minho checks.
Jisung wonders what expression he has, but isn’t brave enough to look. Just nods his head again, finds a spot on the wall near Minho’s face instead.
“Yeah, of course.”
Minho’s not an idiot. He doesn’t seem – well, fully convinced by Jisung’s little show, but maybe he thinks he’s asked enough, or said everything he can say, because he doesn’t push it any further. He gives Jisung a slightly shaken, soft smile.
“Good,” he says quietly. “Okay, I’m glad. Sorry if I freaked you out.”
Jisung glances quickly at Minho, because if he doesn’t, Minho’s going to see right through him. As quickly, he looks away. He shakes his head. “No, it—” He can’t exactly say it didn’t, because it's obvious to the both of them that it did. "It's okay.”
Minho sighs again. He scootches in close, unbending his legs so he can sit more neatly at Jisung’s side. Then he shuffles, adjusting the blankets, dropping his head to their pile of pillows. Jisung, still almost completely in his head, does the same. He stretches out his legs, even though it makes him feel too open, too exposed. What else can he do? He doesn’t – he can’t burden Minho with everything that’s racing through his head. Minho’s had enough of talking. All Jisung can do is follow his lead.
He’s being so silly. Minho said, he said, it’s not as serious as Jisung has been making it out to be. Of course it isn’t. Jisung has no right to feel as rattled as he does. If he’d just used his common fucking sense, he wouldn’t be here. He’d have already figured out what this is to Minho – and he – well, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten so – so invested.
Fuck.
“You want to sleep?” Minho asks carefully, as Jisung settles by his side. He holds an arm out, motions to it, a tentative offer.
Jisung takes it. He inches over, shuffling so that he can rest his head where Minho wants him. It’s good, he thinks. It’s fine. It’s fun, even, to get to have Minho like this – even if it’s only brief. Even if Jisung maybe let himself get a bit carried away.
Minho switches off the lamp on the bedside table, then pulls Jisung in, wrapping his arms around him. He sighs quietly, the sound sleepy, but doesn’t say anything else. Together, they lie there, in the dark, just breathing.
Jisung’s not sure exactly when Minho falls asleep. His chest rises and falls evenly from the start, and his body feels relaxed enough. Perhaps he has been reassured by their conversation. Maybe it’s made him feel a little better.
Jisung doesn’t sleep for a long time.
But that’s fine.
.
Jisung wakes up to find himself just as tangled up in Minho as he’d been the morning prior. His thigh has slipped between both of Minho’s, he’s still tucked neatly beneath Minho’s arm, and fuck, he’s even drooled a little on Minho’s chest. It’s warm and comfortable under the blanket, pressed up against Minho’s hot skin, and a part of Jisung wants badly to sink back into it, but he can’t. The itch has already returned, teasing under his skin. His thoughts grow more coherent with every second that he’s awake, and they are especially unkind in the light of day.
He can’t stop thinking about what Minho said last night. A what if. That’s what he’d called Jisung, and he’d said it with a smile, like it was obvious or simple or something Jisung would understand right away. It doesn’t feel like any of those things to Jisung.
But Jisung should have expected that, right? He should’ve – he should’ve known, because all of this is so new, what else would it be? This isn’t one of those scenarios where they’ve, like, confessed or anything. That would be crazy. And sure, it’s technically been years, but Minho’s right, they’ve really only known each other for a very short time. It’s probably weirder to be thinking about their – them – as something serious right now, compared to something casual. Jisung’s always felt things, well, intensely. It happens all the time. He falls in headfirst, very often loses himself, and emerges the other side like stepping out of a daze. This thing with Minho is no different. It’s just lucky, maybe, that Minho has set him straight before Jisung had the chance to embarrass himself.
Minho hasn’t been pining for him all this time. He’s just been pondering the possibility. He’s just been curious. That’s what he’d said.
Jisung swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. He feels a very real urge to pull away from Minho completely – Minho who is still asleep, blissfully unaware of the turmoil bubbling hot in Jisung’s chest. Maybe he should make a run for it. Space might be good, right? Maybe it’ll give Jisung a chance to sort himself out in private.
Despite the impulse, Jisung forces himself to keep still. His friends are right – he can be pretty oblivious about a lot of things – but he’s not so stupid as to think that sneaking out on someone is a decent thing to do. It doesn’t matter if Minho has maybe hurt Jisung a little, by not wanting exactly the things Jisung wants. Jisung’s not going to pay him back for something Minho didn’t know he was doing. And Minho had been unsettled last night too. Jisung’s already been so terrible to him. He can only imagine the damage he’d do it he crept away now and left Minho to wake up on his own.
He eases a little way away from Minho though. He does it slowly, carefully, pulling his limbs back to himself. He uses the edge of the sheet to clean his spit off Minho’s chest – gross – then settles into the pillow at Minho’s side. His phone is somewhere – where? Jisung retraces their steps. Ah, in the pocket of his shorts, which are on the floor of the bathroom he’s pretty sure. Minho’s sleeping pretty heavily. Jisung could probably slip out of bed, collect it, and return, no harm done. He doesn’t. He stays where he is, feeling maybe too fragile to get out of bed just yet.
He wants to be near and away from Minho in equal measure. It’s an awful feeling, one that clenches at his insides, makes his stomach tight.
Luckily, or maybe not luckily at all, it doesn’t take long for Minho to begin to stir. He’d closed the curtains a little haphazardly the night prior, so the bright light from outside streams into through a gap they hadn’t noticed when they were – otherwise occupied. Eventually, it reaches to the pillow where Minho’s head rests, and when it touches his eyes, he scrunches his face up and rolls instinctively away.
It puts him closer to Jisung again. It means that when he blinks open dazed eyes, Jisung is the first thing he sees.
Jisung should have thought to pretend to sleep. The thought occurs to him too late. He’s already holding Minho’s eye.
He swallows around a dry throat, but his voice is still hoarse, a little small, when he says, “Hey.”
Minho blinks a few times. He’s still in that barely awake stage, registering everything in parts. Jisung watches as he wets his lips, looks around a little. He glances over at the bright slip of light between the curtains, then back to the bed, to the space that Jisung’s put between them. When a small frown creases his brow, Jisung thinks that Minho might be remembering everything they’d talked about the night before.
“Morning.” Minho pulls a hand free from the blankets so he can rub at his eyes. His voice is a little scratchy too. “Um. You slept okay?”
Jisung nods quickly, a lie, but surely a harmless one. “Yeah. You?”
Minho nods too.
“We should probably get up soon,” Jisung says. The quiet of the room feels like too much, oppressive somehow. Leaving it to fester only makes Jisung feel more antsy. “Sounds like the others are already up.”
From behind the bedroom door, sounds of life echo vaguely up the stairs. Jisung’s sure Changbin is up – can hear him, talking loudly, although he’s not sure about what. That means Hyunjin is probably up too. And he thinks he heard Seungmin and Felix laughing earlier. They’ve probably already made a pot of coffee and Jisung thinks a mug might help, just to wake him up some more. It might even help him shuffle through his tangled thoughts.
“Yeah,” Minho says. He clears his throat, and sounds a little more awake afterward. “Sounds good.”
He glances down at Jisung’s mouth – Jisung sees it happen almost in slow time – and Jisung very quickly realises he can’t do that right now. He – maybe he’ll figure it out, how to have this intimacy while also treating it like a casual thing, the way Minho wants – but he doesn’t have it in him right now.
Jisung pushes himself up abruptly, avoiding Minho’s eye as he does. He says, just for the sake of saying something, “I think I left my phone in the bathroom last night. Hope it’s not dead.”
He doesn’t look back as he scrambles off the bed and makes a beeline for his shorts. He doesn’t want to know all the ways Minho can probably see through him.
“You can borrow my charger if you need,” Minho says.
Jisung pulls his clothes on hastily. He whips his phone out to find the battery is low, but not gone altogether. He makes sure he’s smiling when he comes back out of the bathroom.
“Twelve percent left.” He shakes the phone, like Minho might not know what he’s talking about. God, this is so awkward. What is he doing? “Thanks though.”
Minho’s in the middle of getting dressed himself. He’s pulled some trackpants on, and has crouched down by his suitcase, seemingly searching for a shirt. His back is relatively unscathed, clear of new marks, but Jisung can see a few bruises littered over his shoulders and arms. God, he’d really been desperate last night, hadn’t he? How embarrassing.
It feels weird to just stand there and wait for Minho to finish changing.
“I’m gonna head down,” Jisung says. “Um. Do you want a coffee?”
Minho pauses digging through his clothes. “Uh, sure. Yeah, that’d be great.”
“Great. See you, uh, down there.”
Jisung scarpers.
He berates himself as soon as Minho’s door is shut behind him. Fuck. Fuck, what is he doing? He’s supposed to be – being normal. He told Minho last night he was all good, but there is no doubt in his mind that Minho can tell by now he was lying. Jisung wishes, for maybe the thousandth time in his life, that he could be better at keeping his private shit private. Minho doesn’t need to be hassled like this. God, he must be exhausted by it.
When Jisung gets downstairs, he’s met by Chan and Felix who are both standing by the kitchen island. Felix has an apron on, and a mixing bowl before him, filled with creamy looking cake batter. They both glance up at the sound of Jisung’s approach, looking relaxed, but do a small double take at the sight of him.
Shit.
Jisung does his best to fix whatever his face is doing, tries to copy the easy smiles they’d both been wearing before he’d arrived.
“Hey,” he says, and maybe he sounds a little rushed, a little unsettled – but it’s still friendly, right? “Coffee?”
Chan and Felix exchange a quick glance.
“Morning,” Felix says. “The pots here, should still be hot.”
“Cool, great,” Jisung says.
Chan waits a beat, then says, “You good?”
Jisung is so sick of being asked that question. He makes a direct line for the mug cupboard, where he can occupy himself and also hide his face. Then he looks for the coffee pot, keeping his gaze away from the others.
“Fine,” he says. “How’d you guys sleep?”
Sounding playful, maybe trying to lift the mood, Felix says, “Pretty good, after the noise died down.”
And again – it’s the sort of thing Jisung would say to any of them, especially if he’d heard them fucking in the middle of the night. It’s funny, and it’s the sort of joke that they’ve all clearly established is just in good fun. Logically, Jisung knows Felix is just playing around.
It doesn’t stop him from flinching. He knows he was loud last night – hadn’t cared in his desperation to soothe the awful feelings that had tugged at him – but in the harsh light of day, it’s a very different story. They must’ve all heard how desperate he was, all the pathetic noises he hadn’t been able to keep in. What would they think when tomorrow, when they all went home, and he and Minho went their separate ways? Maybe they’d talk about it with Minho one day, and Minho would tell them the truth, that he was just – testing a theory – and Jisung took it too far, like he always did.
“Ah.” Far too slowly, Jisung coughs an awkward laugh. “Yeah, shit. Sorry about that.”
He glances at them quickly, just to get a gauge on how badly he’s managing this mess, and catches the tail end of another look between them. It’s fast, over in an instant, but even then, Jisung gets the very real sense that Chan and Felix are communicating somehow.
Felix turns contrite immediately. “Oh, don’t apologise! I was just messing with you.”
Jisung hates it when Felix feels guilty. He does his best to smile, like it’s nothing, but feels it when the resulting expression is tight on his face, unconvincing.
“It’s fine,” Jisung says again.
He only remembers his offer to make Minho coffee when he hears footsteps on the floor. He whirls around, puts his back to them, and busies himself with the coffee pot again as Minho draws near. His heart is running far too quickly in his chest. He registers, vaguely, that he’s on the edge of real panic here, and fights very hard to calm himself down. He pours Minho a cup with shaky hands.
“Morning,” Minho says from somewhere close behind him. He sounds – God, how does he sound? Jisung can’t tell. Not – not super happy, but he just woke up, so that’s to be expected right?
“Hey,” Chan says.
“Morning,” Felix says.
Both of them sound off too. Distracted. That itch stings beneath Jisung’s skin again. He is absolutely sure that when he turns around, all three of them will be staring at him. He’s being too weird, right? They must all be able to see right through him.
Suddenly, not knowing is worse than knowing, so Jisung turns around – Minho’s coffee in hand. But – no one’s looking at him. Chan and Felix are smiling at Minho, and yeah, they’re not quite as at ease as they had been when Jisung had arrived, but they still seem pretty normal. Chan’s smiling at Minho, Felix is glancing between them both.
“Uh,” Jisung says. “Here’s your coffee.”
Minho steps around the island. He takes the mug. “Thanks.”
Jisung ducks his head. Searches for his own mug, just so he has something to do with his hands. “It’s all good.”
There is a beat. A short silence takes hold of the kitchen.
Chan clears his throat. “Hey, uh, I was going to ask. Are you sure you’re happy to clean the grill for tonight? I’m happy to do it, I’m sure I’m the one who didn’t clean it properly last time.”
Minho shakes his head. “You’re going on the grocery run, right?”
Chan nods. “Yeah, but I could do both, I’m sure there’s time.”
“You’re not doing both, hyung,” Minho says, scoffing at just the suggestion. “Don’t be stupid. I’ll do it, it’s fine.”
Chan frowns, but before he can argue, Felix pipes up. He reaches over and rubs at Chan’s forearm. “Shopping might take longer than you think, babe. I think the guys are still working on the list, who knows what they’re putting down.” He nods his head towards the large kitchen window, where Jisung sees the others all huddled around the table outside. Felix continues, looking at Minho and Jisung. “If you want anything special you better tell them now.”
Jisung’s not sure what he could come up with that Changbin won’t have written down already, but he nods, because it’s easy. He takes another sip of coffee so he doesn’t have to say anything, then glances at Minho, only to find he’s already being watched.
Minho looks quickly away when their eyes meet – but Jisung didn’t miss it, the confusion on his face, the hesitancy. Minho clears his throat, as if that will conceal the truths Jisung’s just seen, and says, “Yeah, cool. I’ll go see what they’ve got.”
And this time it’s Minho who runs away.
Jisung’s stomach roils once more as he watches Minho’s retreat into the yard. It’s incredibly unfair of him. He just did the same to Minho, after all. What right does he have to feel stung at being left alone?
Shit. He can feel the way that everything is unravelling. He knows it’s going wrong – he’s literally in the middle of fucking this up, but he – he can’t stop it. He doesn’t know how.
He’s supposed to be being chill. That’s what Minho wants. Maybe if Jisung were cooler, if he weren’t so prone to losing his shit like this, Minho might take his curiosity and turn it into something real. Maybe that was an option, before last night, before today, before Jisung started ruining things.
Felix appears at his side. Jisung’s not sure when he moved, only that he has, and he’s suddenly wrapped in clinging arms.
“I’m fine,” Jisung says, too fast, too abrupt, too out of nowhere.
Felix says, “I know. I just wanted to hug you.”
He rocks Jisung back and forth a little, but not too long. He pulls back, ducks his head so he can make sure Jisung’s looking at him, and says, “Do you want to come to the shops with us?”
Jisung blinks. “What? Aren’t you making the cake?”
“I’m doing both, so Channie-hyung has some help. We could use another pair of hands.” Felix shrugs, shares another damn look with Chan, but keeps his expression relaxed. He says it like it’s simple, just a pragmatic option really. “And – I don’t know. We could talk if you want.”
It feels – in a way – like clouds parting.
All of Jisung’s frantic thoughts, it’s like they pause, presented with this new option. He – he needs space, right? He just needs to figure out what he’s doing, and leaving the house, that will probably help. If he can just – straighten out everything in his head, he might be able to fix this. And God, who better to help him than Chan and Felix? Two of the most compassionate people he knows, who have always been there for him, even in the worst of times.
He feels something ease in him as a plan crystalises. Chan and Felix will surely know how he can fix this. He just needs to explain it all to them, and they’ll be able to tell him what to do next.
He lets out a shaky breath, nodding.
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
Felix smiles, and sure, he still looks a little worried, but he seems pleased. Of course he is. Felix likes to help people – he is, after all, practically a bottomless font of empathy. Jesus, Jisung should have thought of this ages ago.
“I just need to put the batter in the fridge,” Felix says. “I’ll bake it properly when we get back.”
“We’re aiming to leave in around fifteen,” Chan says. “Does that work for you?”
“Sure,” Jisung says.
“Alright then,” Chan says.
The back door slides open. Changbin comes inside; Hyunjin and Minho following close behind. Minho’s eyes skate over Jisung quickly again, like he wants to look but also doesn’t want to. Jisung fucking hates that. In a way, it emboldens him. Fuck. The sooner he talks this out with the others, the sooner he figures out what he’s got to do to solve this problem he’s caused, the better.
Changbin passes the list over to Chan like it’s a precious heirloom or something, and says, very seriously, “We’re trusting you, hyung.”
Chan takes the note, equally as solemn. “I’ll make you proud.”
“Losers,” Hyunjin says.
Everyone huffs a laugh at that, even Jisung, who is mostly just functioning on adrenalin and auto-pilot at this point. Minho comes around the kitchen island – ah, he’s finished with his coffee already. He puts the mug in the sink, then crouches down, opening the cupboards beneath the skin. He digs around there for a little bit, searching for something, until he pulls out an apron and a pair of plastic gloves. Then he picks up some steel wool, and a bottle of detergent from next to the sink.
He looks at Jisung, and says quietly, “Do you still want to help?”
Jisung – shit, Jisung forgot about that.
Hyunjin and Felix have started talking about something – Jisung’s not sure, he isn’t paying them any attention, nor are they paying any attention to him – but Chan is clearly close enough to have heard Minho. He looks quickly between Jisung and Minho before he clears his throat again.
“Actually, Jisung said he might come with me and Felix, just to help get everything?”
And because Jisung’s not even talking, because he’s suddenly become a sort of bystander, letting Chan do it for him – Jisung gets to see all the small ways Minho reacts to that.
Minho looks at Chan, surprised to start with, then seems to almost – freeze with it.
He’s smiling – and the smile stays there, Jisung can see it, it’s right in front of him – but it’s wrong. God, it’s so wrong. Minho blinks, quick, a few times. Then he swallows. Looks back at Jisung.
“Right,” he says.
Jisung’s belly plunges to the floor.
“Sure.” Minho keeps smiling. There’s nothing behind it. His eyes are open, sure, but they’re shut off. Whatever he’s feeling, he doesn’t want Jisung to know about it. He holds his cleaning supplies close to his chest. His fingers looked strained around them, which doesn’t match at all, the easy way he shrugs. “Sure, of course.”
It’s maybe the worst thing Jisung’s ever seen.
“Cool,” Minho says. “Have fun.”
.
Notes:
ahhh, these poor boys
as you guys know by now, I’m a big advocate for characters feeling real and feeling human. communication as a trope in fic is so funny to me because it feels like often it falls into good communication, where everything is perfect and all is resolved, and bad communication, where things feel wildly misunderstood and blow up. I like remembering where there’s a middle ground, and that sometimes you can try your hardest to talk to someone and still fuck it up, especially when something feels very new.
i have another surprise for u too! this chap and the next one really feel like they can't be parted, so i'll be posting that one too. I would still love, love, love ur thoughts on the events of this chap so if u have a mo before u click the 'next chap' button, it'd mean the world if u dropped a lil message below.
see ya in the next one! xx
Chapter Text
.
It is, of course, immediately clear that Jisung has fucked up again.
The wrongness of it all slams into Jisung like something physical. He feels winded by it, by the sudden quiet left in the kitchen as Minho turns and heads back outside. Chan is watching Jisung. So are Felix and Hyunjin. Jisung knows for sure this time, because he can see it in his peripheral vision, their faces all turned in his direction.
But Jisung’s only looking at Minho.
His thoughts are an ocean; stormy, swirling, every one of them threatening to rise up high and engulf the others. His heart is pounding in his throat and – and his limbs feel too heavy for him, like they’re not his own – but, but. He can’t stop looking at Minho. At Minho’s retreating back. At Minho as he walks away.
A heavy, hulking thing – dread, sinks into his bones, and his breath quickens.
“Shit,” he says – and it’s maybe too much to say in front of the others, but he can’t keep it in, it’s not possible. They’re all watching, in real time, as Jisung ruins this completely. “Shit.”
Adrenalin sings through him, though, and it makes his sunken body feel frantic. His thoughts, they’re still all jumbled up, spinning and heaving and banging at the inside of his skull – but even then, there is one far louder than the rest.
Fix it.
He won’t get another chance.
He moves – awkward, jumpy – turning to face Chan for one awful, too long second. It feels wrong to have his eyes off Minho. What if he vanishes while Jisung’s not looking? What if he slips completely out of reach?
“Hyung, I changed my mind,” Jisung says. “Go without me.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He doesn’t want to know what his friends all think of him right now. He just – he needs Minho, he needs to talk to Minho. He can’t let Minho go.
He races out the back door, completely ignores Seungmin and Jeongin, who are sitting by the pool. All he can see is Minho, so that’s where he goes – making a beeline straight for him. Minho’s already by the barbeque. He’s crouched down, close to the grill, like maybe he’s trying to figure out the best way to scrub it. His shoulders are stiff.
When Jisung reaches him, Minho doesn’t look up. He keeps his attention on the grate of the grill.
Jisung takes a deep breath, maybe gasps a little.
“Hyung.”
“Hey,” Minho says lightly. He’s surely heard Jisung’s approach, even if he hasn’t turned around to investigate. Whatever he’s feeling, he has it locked in steel. His expression is blithe, pleasant, nothing at all like it had been inside. “You’re leaving?”
“I changed my mind,” Jisung says.
Minho looks down at the grill before him. It gives Jisung the chance to stare at him unapologetically. He catalogues every tiny little thing that passes over Minho’s face. The corners of his eyes tighten. The apple of his throat bobs as he swallows. At his brow, the smallest of creases appears.
“It’s okay, Jisung-ah.” Minho pulls one of the gloves on and uses the detergent to wet the steel wool. When he drags it over the grate, it makes a sharp, scraping noise. “It’s a pretty shit job. You don’t have to stay.”
Jisung says quickly, “I want to.”
Minho’s lips tick downward, just for a moment. Jisung watches him swallow again. He looks from the grill to the ground, then back to the grill. “Um. Actually, I’m not sure there’s enough to do here for two people. You should go.”
Jisung stays right where he is. “Will you come with me somewhere?”
He has no idea what he’s doing. Just that he needs to do it. He has to – he has to do something.
Whatever Minho had been expecting him to say, Jisung can hazard a guess it wasn’t that. The tiny frown on Minho’s brow becomes abruptly more pronounced, bewildered, and he looks up at Jisung without seeming to mean to.
“What?”
“Um.” Yeah, Jisung can admit that was kind of a random way to start off, but fuck it. It’s out there now. He can’t take it back. He really doesn’t want to do this here, with Seungmin and Jeongin just a few feet away, surely overhearing them, even if they don’t want to. “Just – can we go somewhere? Just for a sec. I need to talk to you.”
Minho sighs. He stops scrubbing the grill, bundling the steel wool up in one hand and then bracing his elbows on his knees. “Jisung-ah, I don’t think—”
“Please,” Jisung says. Then, because he interrupted, “Sorry. Just – please.”
Minho looks at him for a long moment.
It leaves the sort of silence between them that Jisung usually aches to fill. He’s not good at waiting, he knows that, but this time, Jisung forces himself to weather it. He tries to keep his face as open as possible. He’s not sure what might be spilling out of him. Urgency, for sure. Desperation, yeah, that too. But hopefully – also, maybe earnestness. It’s so fucking obvious, all of a sudden. He still has no idea how he’s going to fix this shit, but he knows – he knows – that asking someone else how to do it is the absolute worst choice of them all.
As nice as it would be, as comfortable as it would be, to drive away with Chan and Felix, and to let everything out, to unload on his closest friends – Jisung doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to leave Minho like this, disappointed and trying to hide it. He doesn’t want his – his issues with Minho to be resolved just because Chan told him how to do it. It had been such a reassuring possibility, only moments ago, but now the thought makes Jisung recoil. If his friends fix this for him, if Jisung lets himself run away and hide in his comfort zone again – then what the hell is Jisung going to end up with? A conversation that he wasn’t brave enough to have on his own?
No, he thinks – and it’s crystal clear, that thought, that no.
It’s up to him.
He wants this. It’s not just that he wants Minho, although he does, and badly. He wants them to talk. He tried last night, and he fucked it up, but he wants another shot.
Because he is watching so closely, he sees when Minho gives in. His shoulders slump a little, although they are still taut, and his face is still wary.
“Okay,” he says.
Jisung doesn’t let his hopes climb even as Minho stands up, takes the gloves off, throws them on the ground with the steel wool. This is – good, it’s good, Minho’s going to listen, but it doesn’t mean anything yet. The hard part is still ahead of him. Jisung can’t lose his momentum. He’s got to keep being fucking brave.
“Okay,” Jisung says. He glances around the yard – at the pool, where Seungmin and Jeongin are very pointedly not looking their way – then his gaze snags on the path to the beach. It’s private, and it’s away from everyone in the house, who will surely be wanting to know what’s going on. It’s not like Jisung’s been fucking subtle about this. “Um. This way?”
He wants to reach out and take Minho’s hand, but he can tell from the way Minho is keeping his distance, that’s not at all welcome right now. Jisung’s nerves spike at that too, but he tries hard to ignore them. It’s good enough that Minho is coming with him – that Minho’s willing to listen to him again, even after Jisung’s fucked it up again, even if Jisung has no idea what he’s going to say.
He walks about halfway down the path, checking constantly that Minho is still with him. At any given moment, Minho could decide enough is enough. He could just turn around and walk away and Jisung – Jisung can’t let him do that, not until he’s said what he actually needs to say.
And that is, it turns out,
“I don’t want to be a what if.”
Minho frowns. This one is not hidden – no, it’s so pronounced that it’s obvious Jisung has caught him off guard. He stops walking, and Jisung realises that they’re going to have this out here, halfway between the house and the beach.
“What?” Minho says.
Jisung doesn’t let himself stop. If he loses this, he loses his chance.
“This.” Jisung motions between them, to the space there, that he desperately wants to close. It occurs to him, belatedly, that this is maybe the most pathetic he’s been. Maybe that’s the whole point. “You said – it’s a what if, but I don’t – I want it to be real.”
Minho gapes at him.
When he says nothing, Jisung can’t help himself. He fills the silence again.
“Sorry.” Maybe he should have led with that. It annoys Minho when he apologises all the time, but he can’t care about that now. It needs to be said. “It’s okay – if you don’t want that. You don’t have to. But I just – I want you to know. I don’t see it like that.”
Minho blinks. Every part of him is tense now – his neck, his shoulders, his arms. It’s like he is trying so hard to figure out what Jisung’s saying, that he’s forgotten everything else. Finally, it seems to overwhelm him. He shakes his head, like maybe he’s got thoughts up there that need rattling too.
“What are you talking about?”
Jisung swallows. Oh, damn, his heart feels like it’s really about to crawl out of his mouth.
“You said – you wanted this to be casual,” Jisung says.
Minho’s eyes flare wide. He stares at Jisung some more, motionless, speechless, at least until he says, “When did I say that?”
This is – not what Jisung had expected. Fuck, not that he has had time to expect anything, actually, because this is all happening very quickly. But none of this is what Jisung’s thoughts had insisted Minho would say. He’s been bracing himself for a rejection, not for – for questions.
“Last night,” Jisung says, and some of his urgency fades as uncertainty rears its damn head once more. His stomach flips over itself. He fights the urge to scratch at his own hands. “You – you said it’s just for fun.”
Minho looks – he looks appalled.
“Jisung-ah,” he says, and it escapes him like a breath. His eyes, which have been so confused, go impossibly wide, impossibly soft. “I said it is fun.”
Jisung feels maybe a little wobbly on his feet. “That’s the – same thing?”
Minho makes an aborted little move. He takes a step, stops. Lifts a hand – like maybe he’s going to reach for Jisung, only to catch it, and drag it through his hair instead.
“No, it’s not,” he says.
Jisung stops, thinks, tries to figure out what that means. Okay, so maybe Jisung got the words mixed up, but it’s one word. Just fun. Is fun. Yeah, those are different things, but that’s not what Minho said. He said just fun, right? Right?
“But I thought,” Jisung starts, pauses, tries to remember the other things Minho said the night before. “You said it wasn’t that serious.”
Minho makes a weird noise, strangled, a mix of all sorts of things. Shock, annoyance. Incredulity.
“I didn’t say that,” he says.
It feels like Jisung’s missed a step, walking down the stairs, or gone to take a step only to find there isn’t one there. He’d – God, he hasn’t even had the semblance of a plan coming out here, but even with the frantic drive he does have – he hadn’t – he didn’t think he’d get stopped at the start.
“You said—” Jisung grasps for it, for the exact words, shuffling through his memory. He’s surprised to find it’s hazy. He’d been tired last night, sure, and panicked, and he didn’t sleep very well, so maybe that’s – that’s why he’s struggling. “It’s not a big deal, that’s what you said.”
“I meant the – my thing, back then,” Minho says, and his voice is suddenly emphatic. “Not – not us, I meant me being into you back then.”
Jisung heart thunders in his chest. He doesn’t – he can’t keep up. That can’t be right. He feels, as has become his habit in conversations like this, very close to tears.
“I don’t understand,” Jisung says.
This time, when Minho moves, he doesn’t catch himself as quickly. He steps, well, maybe not all the way into Jisung’s space, but a damn sight closer than he had been. He keeps his hands to himself, but just barely. They hover, almost awkwardly, in the air around them. Like Minho doesn’t know what to do with them.
“Last night,” Minho says. “I didn’t – I wasn’t saying that you were making a big deal about us. I said that – you stressing about me being interested in you back then – that’s what wasn’t a big deal. I meant – you don’t need to worry about that.”
Jisung stares at him. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Minho says, abrasive, so quick it’s like he can’t help it. He runs a hand through his hair again. It fluffs it all up, sends it in all sorts of directions. “And me saying this is fun, it’s not – that doesn’t mean that’s all it is. It just means, I don’t know – I’m – I was having a good time with you.”
There is one word that snags.
“Was?” Jisung asks.
Minho sighs. He deflates, only a little, but enough that the edge seeps from his tone. He sounds much gentler when he says, “I am. I just – this morning’s been weird.”
“I know,” Jisung says quickly. “I’m sorry, I just—”
Minho touches Jisung’s shoulder, and it steals the breath, any words, away from Jisung instantly.
“It wasn’t just you,” says Minho.
“It was a lot me,” Jisung says.
Minho scoffs, but it’s small, and not at all unkind. He smiles a little, and it’s the first one to feel real all day.
“I didn’t mean to confuse you,” Minho says. His fingers tighten on Jisung’s shoulder, all while he searches Jisung’s face, looking for something. A little hesitant, he moves his hand to Jisung’s neck. His thumb rubs the skin there. “When I said you were a what if, I – I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.”
“What did you mean?” Jisung asks.
Minho swallows. “It’s like – I don’t know. It felt like, to me, we had all this potential and it just – didn’t go anywhere. And that was fine, but I – I thought about it, every now and again, like – what it could have been.” He moves his hand again, a little jerky, abrupt enough that it startles Jisung. Minho touches him softly, like an apology, his fingers skating beneath Jisung’s chin. “It’s a good thing. I – liked thinking about it.”
“Oh,” Jisung says again.
Minho is gentler here, too. He lets out a little breath, barely anything, yet somehow still a laugh. He tugs at Jisung’s chin a little, glances down at his lips, then –
Then he seems to remember himself. And just like that, he closes up again. He shuts his mouth, his frown reappears. Jisung has no idea what thought has just occurred to him, but he doesn’t like it. He wants it to go away.
Minho pulls away. He takes a step back.
He says, “What was that, just now? With Chan?”
Oh, fuck.
Jisung feels another swooping wave of anxiety flood through him. He takes a shaky breath – he’d been so caught up in this abrupt turn, this change to their conversation that he hadn’t expected – that he’d forgotten why he’d chased after Minho to begin with.
“It wasn’t anything,” Jisung says, and even as he does, he knows he’s picked the wrong words. He sees the way it makes Minho’s expressions shutter. “I mean – I was – Felix saw I was panicking. He wanted to help. He said I should come.”
“Right,” Minho says.
Jisung says, “I thought I could ask them what I should… him and Chan, they always know how to calm me down. I didn’t know – I thought you wanted like – just fun. And I thought – if I explained, they’d be able to, um, help me – figure out what to say to you.”
It’s clumsy, not at all the clear explanation that Minho deserves. Minho is still tense, still lingering a little way out of Jisung’s reach, and there is an awful, heavy, wary look in his eye.
“So why didn’t you?” Minho asks.
Jisung clears his throat. “I guess I just figured it out myself.”
Minho watches him for a beat. He folds his arms across his chest and – Jisung hasn’t seen him do that before, not like this. It’s what Jisung does sometimes, a self-comforting gesture that Jisung’s therapist says helps him build a little safe space, when he feels like he needs one. Seeing Minho do it, looking unsteady like he does – it’s selfish, but it makes Jisung’s heart give a little kick. It’s not the sort of thing he’d expect from someone who wanted – nothing. It – is it that Minho might be invested in this like Jisung is?
It makes Jisung a little braver. “I, um. I realised I don’t need their advice. All they were gonna say is that I should talk to you, so – I just – skipped them. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said I’d go with them at all.”
Minho eyes him. He keeps himself wrapped up, protected.
“I was scared,” Jisung says, and it feels easier to admit, when he thinks Minho might be a little scared too. “I – don’t want to fix it with them, though.” Alright Jisung. Time to be fucking brave. “I want to fix it with you.”
Minho lets out a long breath, through his nose. After that, there is another silence. Another pause that every part of Jisung itches to fill, to occupy, so that he isn’t left alone with his own thoughts. It’s out there now. How badly he wants Minho. How badly he wants this to work. He can’t take it back and – and he doesn’t want to. He wants to give this – this vulnerability to Minho, so Minho can see that he means it.
And if – if Minho doesn’t want it, then – then Jisung will just have to cope. It’ll be awful – it might be the worst thing in the world – but at least Jisung will be able to say that he tried. That he gave it a shot. That he didn’t run away for once.
“I don’t want just fun,” Minho says.
Jisung doesn’t know if he can trust his ears. “You don’t?”
Minho shakes his head, jerky, his arms still keeping him safe. “I just. You were freaking out last night. I didn’t – I know I was – a lot, last time. I thought that was happening again, so I just. I don’t know. I was trying to be less – intense, I guess.”
“You’re not intense,” Jisung says – and maybe it’s a lie, if they use the broad sense of the term, but it’s not to Jisung. Maybe other people would call him that, but that’s just because they’re too stupid to understand a good thing when they see it. Sure, Minho’s loud and he’s weird, but Jisung likes those things. He likes them so much.
Minho gives him an anguished look. “I am, though. You keep saying – how much I was, back then. Like, how I did all those things when we barely knew each other.”
“That’s not – those are good things, hyung!” Another flood of anxiety sweeps through Jisung’s body. Okay – yes, he has said that a lot – but only because Jisung didn’t deserve that sort of kindness. Only because Minho gave him too much, and Jisung took it, selfish, like he always does.
“It freaked you out,” Minho says.
“No, it didn’t!”
“Jisung,” Minho says. “You ignored me for five years.”
And –
Shit. There are the tears.
They sting hot at Jisung’s eyes, so fast that he doesn’t even have a chance to fight them. They are suddenly dribbling down his cheeks, and Jisung thinks, shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Minho looks very sorry to have caused them, but he doesn’t say anything. He looks – God, for all that he was hiding himself earlier, now every emotion bleeds onto his face. He looks hurt, vulnerable, even a little small.
Jisung did that.
He takes a miserable, rattling breath. “I told you, that was – that was all me, hyung.”
Minho lets out a wet scoff. He isn’t crying, but maybe, maybe he’s working quite hard to keep it that way. “I know.” And he squeezes his eyes shut now, scrubs at them with the heels of his palms. “I know, you said, but – fuck.”
“I was being selfish,” Jisung says. “I – I felt like you did—” He almost says ‘so much’ again, catches himself right at the last second. “You were so nice to me. I didn’t deserve it.”
“I thought you – I thought I made you uncomfortable.” Minho keeps his hands pressed hard against his eyes. “Cause you realised, that I was—”
“I didn’t,” Jisung says. “It was just – my shit, hyung. It was all my shit.”
Minho lets out a shuddering breath. For a moment, it’s just the two of them breathing, on a narrow path, surrounded by trees. Jisung wipes hastily at the tears on his face. After a moment, Minho pulls his hands away.
His face is blotchy, but he still isn’t crying. Not properly, but it doesn’t matter. He’s upset. He’s so upset, and Jisung doesn’t even think about it, he takes a step, but he catches himself – cause – shit, Minho might not want him to touch him right now, but –
Minho takes a step too.
They fall into each other. Before he knows it, Jisung is clinging to Minho’s shoulders, his back, all while Minho wraps his arms around Jisung’s neck – and buries his head in Jisung’s hair. Jisung finds himself with a face full of Minho’s t-shirt, which shit, he’s getting wet, even while he heaves in a breath, hauls in all the Minho smells that he can get.
“Fuck,” Minho says, wet, just by Jisung’s ear.
Jisung nods, which wipes his face all over Minho’s chest. Hopefully Minho doesn’t mind. Then he turns his head, just so he can still breathe, so he can say, “It was all me. Please. You have to trust me.”
“I do,” Minho says, and he says it faster than Jisung had expected, like maybe he means it. “I do, I just. I thought one thing for like, years. It’s hard.”
“I’m sorry,” Jisung says.
“It’s not your fault,” Minho says.
Jisung wants to say, it is, it is, it is, but truly – he doesn’t think that will help. He doesn’t want them to keep going around in circles. He just presses closer, urging his body into Minho’s space, even though there’s no space left for him to claim. He squeezes Minho tight.
“I was trying to be more chill, this time,” Minho admits, the words a little shaken. “I thought – if I was less – less, then it wouldn’t like, scare you off.”
Jisung shakes his head. “You wouldn’t scare me off.”
“I don’t want casual,” Minho says. “Or like, fun, or whatever. I want – I don’t know. More than that.”
“Me too,” Jisung says. “Please don’t be less anything. I like you now.”
And Minho huffs a laugh, one that kicks into Jisung’s hair, sends it up in a little puff. Jisung shivers at the feeling, keeps clinging onto him.
Minho says, still sounding choked, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jisung says. “Yeah, don’t you dare change. I’ll cry.”
Rich of him, given the current circumstances, but it makes Minho laugh again – so it’s a fucking victory in Jisung’s book. Minho unwraps his arms from around Jisung’s neck – he doesn’t go far, because Jisung’s still holding on with everything he’s got, but it seems like he doesn’t want to. He makes just enough room for him to lean back a little, cradle Jisung’s jaw with both his hands – all so he can dip down and press his mouth to Jisung’s.
Their kiss is wet, and a little snotty, and maybe the best kiss of Jisung’s entire life.
Minho sniffs when he pulls back. His eyes are red, but his tears remain valiantly unspilled. By contrast, Jisung knows his face is a blotchy and wet and puffy mess. Minho uses his thumb to wipe away some of the tears.
He says, “Can’t have that.”
Jisung laughs, still very shaky himself. “No. We can’t.”
Minho kisses him again. It’s a short thing, over quickly, only so that Minho can hug Jisung even tighter. Jisung’s not sure how long they stand there, almost rocking with the force of their embrace, both of them sniffling. Jisung feels rattled down to his bones, but he also feels – better, lighter, good – because, because this is good. He’d gotten it wrong. He’s never felt so pleased to have gotten something wrong in his life. Relief floods through him, and it feels daring, but in Minho’s arms like this, being daring feels more within his reach. Minho is holding him tight. Minho doesn’t seem to want to let him go.
Eventually, Jisung finds himself calming down. Again, it’s easier given the way he’s wrapped up, almost in a little Minho cushion that’s protecting him from the rest of the world. Or perhaps, it’s because he has Minho wrapped up too, his body a blanket, or armour that will keep Minho as safe as he keeps Jisung. He feels a little dizzy, a little winded by everything that’s happened. It’s – he’d known he’d been on edge, stressed, since the afternoon prior – but the weight of it only truly hits him now. His knees feel a little weak as the heaviness lifts, as his breathing evens out, as his heartrate slows down. He thinks there’s a chance Minho is feeling something similar. He feels it when Minho’s shoulders sag a little, when some of his weight rests against Jisung’s body, trusting him to keep him up. The desperate clutch of Jisung’s hands turns to something gentler. He rubs his open palm across Minho’s back.
“I’m sorry,” Jisung says, after a little while has passed.
“I didn’t mean to confuse you,” Minho says.
“I think—” The ground feels a little sturdier beneath Jisung’s feet. “I think I confused myself, a bit.”
“I said the wrong thing,” Minho says.
“That happens,” Jisung says. “I confused you too.”
Minho gives a little laugh. “Ha. Go team.”
Jisung laughs at that too.
“I know this is all – really new,” Minho says. “But it’s good. I like it. I want to see where it goes.”
“I do too,” Jisung says. God, the words are so much easier when they’re shared. When they’re both on the same page. “I don’t care that it’s fast. I want to – when we’re back home, I want to see you still. I know I fucked it up last time but—”
“Last time doesn’t matter.”
Jisung takes a deep breath. He pulls away a little, so he can tilt his head back and catch Minho’s eye. His face is open, and a little tired, and vulnerable too.
Jisung says, carefully, “It matters to me, hyung. I – I’m so sorry I did that to you. I want – I don’t want to forget how badly I fucked up. I don’t want to pretend it’s okay.”
Minho bites his bottom lip. His thumb taps at Jisung’s jaw. “I’m not pretending.”
“I know,” Jisung says – and he does, he trusts that Minho means it. He doesn’t think that’s a good enough reason for him to forget about it though. “I just mean – for me, I don’t want to act like it didn’t happen. I want to do better this time.”
And then, because Minho looks so pleased, and because his mouth looks so plush, Jisung kisses him again. This one lasts a little while longer. Minho gives him his tongue and Jisung, God, Jisung drinks that in because he’d thought – earlier, that maybe he’d never get to taste him again.
They part with a wet sound.
Minho nudges his nose against Jisung’s. “I want to see you when we’re home too.”
Jisung glows with it, feels warm everywhere. Warm and maybe still a bit fragile, unbalanced but only in the way that comes when you finally get your feet back on firm ground. He doesn’t feel adrift anymore. Minho anchors him, holds him close.
They kiss some more, maybe just remembering that they can. It’s soft, indulgent, and reassuring. It doesn’t feel casual, or just fun, or any of the things that had caused such a stir in Jisung’s head. It feels – well, still new, still delicate – but significant, too.
After a little while, Jisung pulls back enough to say, “We should probably go back soon.”
Minho hums, looks over Jisung’s face. “They’re gonna be able to tell we were crying.”
‘We’ is very generous of him. His handsome face has mostly cleared of its earlier emotion. He still looks a little fatigued but mostly he has returned to normal. The depth of his emotion is in his eyes, which are perhaps still a little red, but mostly overflowing with all sorts of gentleness that keep Jisung feeling warm. Jisung is sure, by contrast, his face is in much worse condition. He’s always been an ugly crier, and it often takes hours to settle once he’s been set off. His eyes feel tender, his cheeks feel puffy, and he even has a little headache, from the tears.
“That’s okay,” Jisung says. There’s nothing they can do about it now. And it’s not like everyone back at the house doesn’t know something’s up already. They were all witnesses to the tension, to Jisung dragging Minho away. There’s no chance of he and Minho returning and pretending nothing’s happened. None of them work that way. Jisung wouldn’t let any of them get away with that either. “They all know I’m a crier.”
Minho hums again. He soothes his thumbs beneath Jisung’s eyes, like that might help soothe the skin there.
He presses a kiss to Jisung’s nose. “I’m sorry I made you cry.”
Jisung shrugs. “I made me cry, not you.”
“We can go inside, freshen up a little,” Minho says. “They won’t care.”
Jisung’s heartrate kicks back up as they return towards the house, but Minho threads his fingers through Jisung’s, and holds on tight their entire journey. When they emerge into the yard, Seungmin and Jeongin are no longer by the pool. They must have gone inside. Jisung can see movement through the kitchen window, but the glare from the sun prevents him from making out any details. He must hesitate or something, because Minho squeezes his hand, encouraging, almost reminding him they’re in this together.
It helps, especially when they step inside.
Everyone is milling about, spread across the kitchen and the living room. Hyunjin and Seungmin are playing video games, Jeongin sitting on the nearest couch, watching. Felix is in the kitchen, cake batter bowl in hand. Changbin and Chan are sitting at the kitchen island. All of them, terrible at minding their business, turn to look when the door opens.
Jisung clears his throat. He clings to Minho’s hand.
Chan’s fingers are drumming against the benchtop. Of all of them, he is the least settled. He shoots Changbin, then Felix, a quick look before looking back at Minho and Jisung.
He clears his throat, says, “You guys good?”
Jisung nods quickly.
Minho says, “Yeah. Sorry.”
“We’re good now,” Jisung says.
And blessedly, thankfully, that’s all everyone needs. There is an almost unified sigh of relief. Tension seeps out of Chan, and behind him – Changbin slumps a little too. Felix smiles. The three in the living room return to their game, maybe trying to make it look like they weren’t watching as attentively as the rest.
Jisung and Minho inch a little further into the kitchen. Jisung glances quickly at the clock on the oven. Chan was definitely supposed to be at the shops by now.
“Sorry,” he says. “We didn’t mean to, uh, hold everyone up.”
“You haven’t at all,” Felix says quickly. He sets the cake batter aside. It looks pretty much identical to how it had looked earlier – and Jisung feels vaguely suspicious that stirring it was more for Felix’s benefit than the cake’s.
“Yeah, don’t even worry about that,” Chan says. He looks nervously between Minho and Jisung. “We just, uh. Wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Jisung glances at Minho. He’s not checking – not really – but it’s nice, to quickly remind himself that Minho is with him. Minho catches the gaze offered and gives him a gentle smile, squeezes his hand again.
Jisung turns back to Chan with a smile. It’s kinda bursting out of him, actually.
“It is,” Jisung says.
Changbin makes a very funny noise.
“Cute,” he coos.
“Shut up,” Jisung says.
He doesn’t mind it really, though. Honestly, privately, he thinks they’re pretty cute too.
.
With all their plans for the evening, the afternoon moves quickly. Minho and Jisung get some time alone, upstairs, to quickly shower and soothe their tired faces. Yes, they are a little handsy, but for the most part they contain themselves. Minho helps Jisung wash his hair. Jisung has the absolute privilege of washing Minho’s shoulders, his back, the globes of his ass. But they don’t linger too long. They have a barbeque to clean, after all.
It really isn’t a two-person job. Jisung helps anyway. He spends most of the time bracing the grill while Minho scrubs at it. They find a bucket, fill it with water that Minho can use to rinse the steel wool, and that Jisung can occasionally use to splash water in Minho’s direction. It makes Jisung feel very, very warm when he watches Minho put up with it, huffing fondly. Maybe that’s because every time he does it, Jisung follows it up with a ruffle of Minho’s hair.
By the time Chan gets back from the grocery store, their friends are well and truly sick of them.
Changbin even says, “Ah, I can’t take it. You’re being too sweet. Hyunjin-ah, come here, we can’t let them win.”
Hyunjin is already right beside him, so Changbin wraps him up in clingy arms then presses a very wet kiss against Hyunjin neck. Hyunjin shrieks, but drapes his arms around Changbin’s shoulders. Despite his noise, looks delighted.
The air feels easy, relaxed, exactly the way they’d all wanted for their final evening here. Jisung even feels a little grateful for his and Minho’s blip this morning, because without it, he wouldn’t feel nearly as steady. Every time he glances at Minho, he remembers that Minho wants him – wants to keep him – and it makes him so happy he could almost burst.
Chan proudly ferries his grocery haul inside. Minho and Jisung finish with the barbeque and head in to help start prepping the food. Felix puts his cake in the oven. Seungmin and Hyunjin and Jeongin and Changbin put up the decorations from their shopping list, just so tonight can feel properly special. Then they come in and help cook too.
The afternoon passes with all eight of them, all working together, getting everything ready. Soon enough, they crack open the drinks. The alcohol makes everything feel easy, makes Minho and Changbin and Hyunjin loud the way it always does. Felix and Jeongin start icing the cake, while Chan and Jisung watch attentively, not daring to help, because they’re strong suit is in music making, not decorating baked goods, and they know they’ll probably cause more harm than good. Eventually Felix tells them their time might be better spent curating a playlist for the evening, a job which Jisung and Chan treat with the utmost importance for the following hour.
Minho doesn’t keep close to Jisung the entire time – there’s too much for them to do to stay stuck together – but he does make sure to check in. Every now and again, when they’ve been apart for a little too long, he swings back past, just to touch Jisung’s waist or pat his ass. Jisung does the same. He rubs Minho’s arm when he goes past him, drums his fingers against the small of Minho’s back, and then, when he’s feeling especially brave, presses a quick kiss to the back of Minho’s neck.
Seungmin boos, throws a chip at him.
Jisung pokes out his tongue.
Soon, the food is ready, and it’s late enough in the evening to start eating. They gather at the table outside, and it’s loud there too, loud exactly the way it’s supposed to be. Jisung sits at Minho’s side, rubs at his leg just because he can, and basks in the company of his favourite people. Fuck. He’s so fucking lucky. It’s insane.
They talk for a little while about the plan for tomorrow. Jeongin has to leave the earliest – at least by eleven – so that he can get home and rest before a work event in the evening. Chan and Felix are going to have lunch with Chan’s aunt before they return to Seoul, and she returns to the house. This means that, before they go, they’re hoping to have all the linen washed and the house tidied for her – which everyone quickly and easily agrees to. Hyunjin and Changbin want to get on the road relatively early too – apparently Changbin’s mother has some things she’d like them to pick up from her place that afternoon if possible – which means Jisung is going to lose Minho far sooner than he’d have liked. Not that there is any time he’d have liked, honestly. It’s just funny because of everyone, Jisung and Seungmin are the only ones without a real deadline to meet. Jisung figures they’ll be there to make sure everything is left in good order for Chan’s aunt, then hit the road when everyone else heads off. The ultimate take away is that there won’t be any leisurely sleeping in the following day, no matter how nice it might sound. There’s quite a lot to clean and to make sure no one is late, it’s better to have more time to get it done than less.
“Ugh, what a downer,” Changbin huffs.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin says. “Let’s worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. We all know what time we’ve got to get up. Tonight, let’s just enjoy being here, right?”
Everyone agrees very enthusiastically.
Soon after, Felix brings out the cake. They make a big song and dance of singing happy birthday to each other, because this has somehow turned into a fake birthday for everyone. They even do a little chant, which Felix and Chan have coached them through many times before, an Australian ‘hip – hip – hooray!’ This is Minho’s first experience with the ritual, and he laughs his head off as it happens. The cake looks incredible – Felix and Jeongin have done a wonderful job with the icing – and it tastes just as good. Felix turns pink from all the praise they heap on him, which only makes everyone coo, which only makes his blush stain darker.
When the cake is completely gone, and everyone turns the kind of lazy that comes with a full belly and good company, they all spread out across the yard. Chan and Felix jump into the pool. Changbin gets control of the speakers, while Seungmin calls out songs that simply must be added to the queue. Hyunjin and Jeongin start to dance.
Jisung sits in the grass, watches it all, with Minho right at his side.
He feels a little sleepy – from the initial stress of the morning, his poor sleep the night prior, sure – but also just from how nice and soft the evening has become. He fights his drooping eyes with everything he has in him. It’s too nice out here to leave just yet; the air warm and soupy, Minho a steady presence beside him, surrounded by the silly antics of all their friends.
He drinks it all in, then sighs, lets his head drop to Minho’s shoulder.
“Ah, I can’t believe it’s the last night,” Jisung says.
Minho hums. “You’re sad?”
Jisung rubs at Minho’s arm, leans against him more heavily. “Kinda,” he admits. “Don’t really wanna go back to everything yet.”
When they return to Seoul, there is a lot of work to be done. His boss had been happy to give them the time off, a little celebration at their track being picked up, but he’d specifically told them they’d need to have their head in the game when they came back. Jisung’s looking forward to it – he is, it’s an opportunity they’ve never had before – but he’s also nervous. It’s so nice here. They won’t get to do this again for a while.
“Not only sad, though,” he says, squeezing Minho’s bicep. He tilts his head, makes sure Minho’s looking at him, and smiles. “M’ excited too.”
Minho smiles and bites his lip. He looks deliciously pleased. Jisung wants to taste him.
He glances around. Their friends are all too distracted to pay them much mind. Chan and Felix are half swimming, half cuddling in the pool. Felix is tapping at Chan’s nose, his eyes big and round, looking very in love. Changbin and Hyunjin aren’t that much better. Changbin has joined in on the dancing now – and no fucking way, so has Seungmin. He and Jeongin are dancing, laughing, mucking around, while Hyunjin and Changbin are a little cheesier, teasing each other, doing some sort of up-tempo waltz.
It is impossibly easy for Jisung to duck in and steal a kiss. Minho’s eyes flutter when he does, and he smiles against Jisung’s lips, his ears turning a lovely shade of pink.
“Feels like it’s gone super quickly,” Minho says quietly.
“Mhm,” Jisung says. “I guess a lot has happened.”
Minho huffs a laugh. “That’s a word for it.”
“It’ll be nice, though, when we’re back,” Jisung says. “My place isn’t too far from yours. There’s only, like, three stops between us.”
“Oh yeah,” Minho says. He straightens up, like a thought has occurred to him. “I almost forgot, give me your phone.”
Frowning, Jisung shifts a bit so he can pull it from his pocket. He looks down quickly to unlock it, then hands it over. “What for?”
“Gotta give you my number,” Minho says and starts navigating through Jisung’s phone.
Jisung says, “Oh, has it changed?”
Minho frowns, a little distracted, still tapping at the screen. He says, “No, but—oh.”
And he stops, because as he’s started typing his number in, the phone has finished the rest of the job, and located the contact that is already saved there.
The little screen reads, minho-hyung 😸 😸.
Jisung can still remember when he’d put it in his phone. He’d done it a few days after Minho had delivered him safely back to Seoul. He’d been too worried about that little slip of paper and how easy it would have been to lose. He’d still been freaking out about what to do with it, if he should message Minho, even though the thought sent embarrassment searing through him – but he’d wanted to keep it safe. The cat emojis, he’d added thinking about the little videos they’d watched that first night together. When he’d broken that phone a couple of years earlier, he’d been careful to migrate all the contacts over. He can remember panicking, worrying he might have lost it in the data transfer, but feeling relieved when it was still there. Minho was in Japan by then. Jisung had assumed the number probably wouldn’t even work, but even then, hadn’t been able to bring himself to delete it.
Minho blinks down at the screen, very quickly.
Jisung says, a little cautiously, “Hyung?”
“You still have it,” Minho says.
Jisung blushes. He’s not sure if this is better or worse, given that he’d never been brave enough to use it.
“Sorry,” he says. “I wanted to – I don’t know. Keep it, even if—”
Minho pushes him down into the grass. For the next few moments, Jisung is thoroughly kissed. Minho threads his fingers through Jisung’s hair, tilts his head back so Jisung’s mouth moves right where Minho wants it. Then Minho just – drinks him in, devours him. Jisung makes a happy noise.
Then someone throws a paper plate at them.
“Oi, ya animals, none of that!” Changbin shouts.
“What did I say about polite company?” Chan whines.
“Ooh, get it Jisung-ah,” Felix calls. Distantly, Jisung hears him snickering while Chan scolds him.
Minho pulls back, but only so he can turn and glare at their friends. “Do you mind?”
“Yeah,” Hyunjin says. “Get a room!”
“I’m comfy right here,” Minho says, just to be contrary.
Jisung pauses. He shifts his hips a little, thinks the grass is nice but not as nice as it could be. They do have a very comfortable bed available to them upstairs. A bed that would demand far less clothing than they’re wearing now.
He tugs on Minho’s sleeve, looks at him with big eyes and says quietly, “Uh. Actually…”
“We’re going to bed,” Minho says abruptly.
As both of them scramble up, Jisung suddenly feeling far more awake than he had moments prior, they are met with a round of uproarious laughter and all sorts of jeers. Neither of them gives a shit. Minho giggles as they rush inside, and it’s contagious, so Jisung joins in, running after him up the stairs, anticipation building in him. It feels – he had Minho last night, he’s been kissing him all day – but once again, it feels like it’s been far too long. And the last time, last night, Jisung had felt so unsettled, so worried.
He feels the opposite now. Minho wants him. And Jisung wants him knowing that, knowing that Minho intends to stick around, to keep wanting him even when they return home.
Once they are safely tucked away in Minho’s bedroom, Jisung feels especially lucky that he’s allowed to press him up against the door when it shuts behind them. Minho lets out a contented sigh, right into Jisung’s mouth, as he drapes his arms over Jisung’s shoulders.
“We – we forgot to help everyone clean,” Minho says.
“Whoops,” Jisung says. He feels a little guilty, sure, but that doesn’t stop him from leaning his weight against Minho’s body, stealing a few more kisses. “They’ll forgive us. We can get up early tomorrow, make up for it then.”
He occupies Minho’s mouth after that, prevents him from really replying. It’s kinda thrilling holding Minho here like this. Sure, they’ve had their hands on each other before, but this time Jisung feels so much surer of them. He has Minho’s number in his phone – and better than that, he has Minho’s express permission to use it again. They’re leaving this house in the morning, but all that means is one day soon, Jisung will get to have Minho like this in his own space. Maybe Minho’s space too – when he finds a place for himself in the city. The thought thrills through him and he licks at Minho’s bottom lip, gives it a little nip, because he knows he’ll get to kiss the plump result in the morning.
Minho tucks his thumbs into the small space behind Jisung’s ears. He hisses a little at the bite, but then really only deepens their kiss, so Jisung considers himself forgiven. Minho moves Jisung’s head where he wants it, tilting it a little so he can press in even closer, his fingertips scratching at the short hairs at the top of Jisung’s neck. Jisung’s eyelids flutter. The thought of letting Minho move him some more is as tempting as always – but it’s offset, by the way Jisung can’t give him an inch, can only keep pressing forward, like if he tries very hard, he’ll be able to climb inside him somehow.
He can feel Minho thickening up against his hip. As soon as he is aware of it, he glides a hand down Minho’s front so he can grope him through his pants. Minho gives a hot huff of a moan against Jisung’s lips, his hips kicking forward as Jisung feels him up greedily.
“I wanna blow you,” Jisung says, scraping his teeth over the hinge of Minho’s jaw. “S’that alright?”
Minho lets out a breathless little laugh. His pupils are blown, and his hair is all mussed up, from where Jisung has clenched his hands.
“Yeah,” he says. “Holy shit, yeah, that’s alright.”
Jisung fumbles with the waistband of Minho’s shorts – his t-shirt is a long one, so the hem hangs in his way and he has to fight with it for a little bit. His hands turn frantic enough – he is still kissing Minho, doesn’t want to pull away, so he can’t really see what he’s doing – that Minho laughs and decides to take pity on him. He tugs his shirt up, holds it out of the way, so that when Jisung does pull back, he’s presented with the image of Minho; ruffled, lips bitten, leant against the door, with his exposed abs heaving as he catches his breath, and his dick tenting the front of his pants.
The desire that surges through Jisung is a hot, guttural thing.
Jisung drops to his knees. He grabs the legs of Minho’s shorts as he goes, yanking them down his legs, his underwear too. His dick catches briefly, then bobs up, right in front of Jisung’s face. Jisung doesn’t waste a second, dipping his face in close, right at Minho’s groin, where he smells earthy and sweaty and almost raw.
“Fuck,” Minho says.
Jisung hums his agreement. He runs his hands up Minho’s legs, feels the rasp of Minho’s leg hair against his palms, then presses his forehead to Minho’s hip. He mouths wetly at the skin there, dragging his lips closer and closer to Minho’s cock.
Minho grasps and tugs at his hair, seeming torn between pulling Jisung closer and letting Jisung move at his own pace. He knocks his head back against the wood at the door and the resulting thump is loud, probably echoes down the corridor. Jisung smirks against Minho’s thigh, right before he opens his mouth and gets it around Minho’s cock.
Minho lets out a wonderful noise, and his fingers clench in Jisung’s hair. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to guide Jisung in any particular direction. Jisung can’t help but look up at him, even with his mouth full. When he does, he finds Minho’s eye immediately. Minho is watching him now, with his jaw hanging a little open, like he’s not even aware of it, his eyelids fluttering. There is pink on his cheeks, and on his neck, and he’s still holding his shirt up – even though it seems like he's maybe forgotten about that too. His hand is relaxed, his fingers jumping every couple of seconds, the fabric of his t-shirt close to slipping free. Of course, it’s hard to watch this and pay attention to the task at hand, to Jisung forces himself to return to his main focus. His dips his head down lower, checks how much of Minho he can take. He closes his hand around the parts he can’t, fists him while he pulls back, just to suckle at the end.
Minho lets out another long, low moan. Jisung has to press a hand to his own dick, just for a little relief, hearing the sound. The little gasps, and moans, that escape him seem completely out of his control. When Jisung hollows out his cheeks, sucks hard, those divine hips jump again, and it makes Jisung hum, pleased. He runs his tongue over the slit of him, and Minho tugs at his hair again. Fuck.
“Can you—?” Minho starts, then cuts himself off with a gasp.
Jisung pulls back, let’s the tip of Minho’s dick bounce against the outside of his cheek. “Can I what?”
He feels a dribble of pre-come smear across his skin, doesn’t care in the slightest, but very much enjoys the way it steals words from Minho’s mouth. For a second he simply stares, like his thoughts are lost. Then he drags his thumb through the mess on Jisung’s face.
“Uh,” Minho says.
Jisung grins, preens, feels impossibly proud of himself. He scratches at Minho’s thigh, playfully, and says, “Hyung. Jagiya,” and fuck, shit, maybe it’s too soon to say that, but – but it’s out there now. Minho’s eyes look blown. “What were you going to say?”
When Minho goes to answer again, Jisung flattens out his tongue, drags it up the long line of Minho’s dick.
“Shit.” Minho’s hand, the one in Jisung’s hair, clenches hard. Jisung basks in the sting of pain that brings, which lasts a second, maybe two, before Minho remembers himself and eases his grip. “Can you – can you fuck me, after this?”
And then it’s Jisung’s turn to lose his grip a little, because boy, oh boy, does that send his brain to flatline. Holy shit.
He digs his fingers into the meat of Minho’s thighs. “You want me to?”
Minho nods, head still resting against the door, eyes still locked on Jisung’s. There is perhaps something nervous in his expression, but he is still soft, when he says, “Yeah. Yeah, please.”
If Jisung’s brain whites out a little, he thinks that’s very reasonable. He hadn’t – it’s not that he’d decided Minho was strictly into topping or anything, but he had just sort of thought things would progress as they had the last few times. If he got Minho off with his mouth, he’d guessed they’d spend some time on the bed, maybe with Minho fingering him long and slow again, until he got it back up. This – now that he knows this is an option, he suddenly wants it more than anything else in the world, maybe. And Minho’s little please, his quiet little voice – holy fuck, it lights Jisung up from the inside.
Overwhelmed, he presses his face into Minho’s hip once more, lets out a low groan. His hands, almost moving of their own accord, glide around and over Minho’s ass cheeks. He gropes at them, pulls them apart, lets his fingertip skate over the centre of him, and basks in the whimper he stirs.
“Oh my god,” Jisung says, pressing more firmly this time, electricity running through him as Minho’s hips squirm, uncontrolled. “Fuck yeah, yes. I’ll fuck you.”
And then he can’t go another second without getting that dick in his mouth again, so he sucks Minho back down. Minho gives a little cry, not expecting it, and thumps his head against the door again.
Jisung eases off with a long suck, one that makes Minho’s legs tremble, and says, “Bed?”
Minho nods, eyes shut. “Yeah, yes, bed.”
Jisung’s knees ache a little as he stands, just by virtue of how hard the floor is. He ignores the twinge of pain, in favour of drinking in the sight before him, Minho shedding his clothes almost frantically. His muscles – the ones in his arms, his back, his chest – they stretch deliciously as he moves, throwing his clothes away, forgetting them immediately. Then he is pawing at Jisung, looking almost annoyed that Jisung hasn’t kept his pace.
Jisung laughs, lets himself be manhandled, feels impossibly warm. Minho tugs him to the bed, keeps a hold of him while he falls onto his back, tugging Jisung down with him. Jisung just barely catches himself before they collide.
Seeing Minho spread his legs for him feels somewhat akin to a religious experience. Or, well, Jisung’s never had one of those – but surely they feel like this, like everything on earth has come together just in the right way, so that Jisung can be here, now, watching this perfect man offer himself up. The muscles his thighs stretch like cords beneath his skin, dusted with golden hair that Jisung wants to rub his face against. Everything about him feels too good to be true. His knees, the knobs of his ankles, his toes. Jisung feels a very real, very jarring need to get his mouth on it all – because it’s all Minho, and he wants all of Minho, he wants him to be his.
Once they are settled, Jisung kisses Minho a little, before he crawls back down and returns to his original task. It’s easier to move with Minho on offer like this, so he has fun with it. He lets his mouth drag all over Minho’s dick, wrapping a hand around him and jerking him off, while he lets the tip bump against his tongue and the inside of his cheek. Minho keeps making such delicious sounds. Then Jisung remembers he can use his hands too, so he fondles at Minho’s balls a little, earns another whimper, before pushing further backwards. His fingertip is dry, too dry to do anything more than to press at Minho’s opening, but even that seems enough. Minho’s hips kick forward, then rock back, like he can’t decide where he wants the pressure more. He grows more frantic with every moment, and when Jisung sinks low again, feels the head of him tucked right at the back of his throat – it’s like he tenses all over. Jisung has just enough time to make a decision – not even a decision, really, he’s moving without thinking – sucking hard then pulling back just as Minho starts to come.
The bulk of his release dribbles up over Minho’s abs, but some of it flies high, spatters across Jisung’s cheek. It’s exactly what he’s wanted, what he didn’t know he wanted until that exact moment. It spurts over Jisung’s face, and Jisung opens his mouth, moves so he can catch some of it.
When the movement of Minho’s hips eases, when his dick gives a final, feeble twitch, Minho lets out a low, exhausted noise. His fingers, soft in Jisung’s hair, tug lightly.
He says, “Holy fuck.”
Jisung leans up, so Minho can see his face, see what he’s put there, and grins. “Good?”
Minho’s eyes bulge when he sees the come on Jisung’s face. Worry passes quickly over his features, like maybe he’s concerned Jisung will be cross with him, but it goes quickly when Jisung’s tongue darts out to lick up the come he can reach. It’s kinda gross, the way come always is, but Jisung doesn’t give a shit about the taste. It’s not about that, it’s about having Minho, in every way he can get him. He crawls up Minho’s body, settles himself right between those legs and doesn’t give a second thought to the mess that smears between their stomachs. He just noses in close so they can kiss again.
Minho lets him, hums, tired, then pulls back so he can wipe the rest of himself off Jisung’s skin.
“Can’t believe you came on my face,” Jisung says, grinning, right before he kisses Minho again. Into his mouth, he says, “That’s kinda gross, hyung.”
Minho huffs, maybe a little petulant. “Didn’t look like you thought it was gross.”
That’s fair. Jisung’s not sure what he looked like exactly, but if he had to hazard a guess, it was probably a mixture of blissed out and incredibly smug. Neither of those things would suggest he didn’t enjoy it.
He sinks further down, pressing belly to belly, hip to hip. His cock rests against the thatch of Minho’s wiry hair, hard and heavy, the perfect contrast to where Minho’s cock is wet and spent.
“You need a minute, or can I finger you?
Minho lets out another weak groan. “Finger me.”
Jisung laughs against Minho’s throat, then bites there just because he can. If he sends Minho home with more marks than less, who’s gonna care? Their friends have already had the time of their lives marking fun of him. When he’s finished with his hickey – a fine job, if he does say so himself – he inches over so that he can collect the condoms and lube from the bedside table.
“How’d you wanna do this?” Jisung asks when he returns.
Minho leans up to kiss him, this one quick, before he drops back to the mattress and rolls his hips. He lifts a knee up, bending it away from Jisung, so that all Jisung can see is the twist of his abdomen, the crease of his skin as his waist turns into the high swell of Minho’s ass. Jisung can’t help himself – he gets his hands all over it immediately, almost forgetting the lube he is so eager. He shuffles forward, so he can press his body against the line of Minho’s. His dick falls, almost naturally, to rest on the plush of Minho’s stretched out thigh.
“Shit, I can’t believe this is happening,” Jisung murmurs, mouth already moving over the peak of Minho’s pec.
“Could be happening faster,” Minho says.
Jisung snorts. “Fucking rich, coming from you.”
Minho brings his knee up even higher, which only makes his cheeks look rounder, opens him up wider. Jisung swears again, fights the urge to tuck his dick in there immediately. He uses his hands instead, gliding them over the globe of Minho’s ass, digging his fingers into soft flesh. He has to pause briefly, just to grab and uncap the lube. Then, because they’re dirty enough already, he simply pours it between Minho’s thighs. Minho hisses – yeah, it’s probably a little cold – but then groans when Jisung pushes his hand through the wet mess he’s made, coating his fingers in it all while spreading the lube everywhere he can reach. He presses some of it right behind Minho’s balls, just to make him mewl, before he returns to his main objective.
He prods carefully at Minho, waits for Minho to moan, push his hips back, asking for more – before easing his way in. Jisung, who’s face is pressed against Minho’s chest, who’s teeth are right by Minho’s nipple, lets out a wet moan as he feels Minho from the inside. He is hot, and wet with Jisung’s finger, and impossibly tight. Jisung feels dizzy, a little bit, just discovering it. He would crawl all the way inside if he could.
He has to twist his hand a little to get the right angle, so that he can start searching for Minho’s prostate. He’s not too bad at this part – he’s practiced a lot on himself, to be fair – but everybody is a little different. He keeps his touch gentle, no clue how long it’s been since Minho did this, but not wanting to hurt him, and in just a few minutes, he –
Minho shouts when Jisung finds what he’s been searching for. His bent leg gives a little kick, like it’s completely out of his control, and Jisung just has to bite him for that, too overwhelmed to do anything else.
Minho moans at that too.
Jisung grins against his skin, flicks his tongue over Minho’s nipple. He pulls his finger away, only so he can mop up more of the lube on Minho’s legs and return with two.
“Good?” he checks.
“Shut the fuck up,” Minho says.
Jisung bites him again. “God, you’re mouthy.”
“You’d be fucking begging by now if it was you.”
Minho reaches a hand down, grabs the spot right beneath his knee and tugs it up, like his muscles aren’t enough to keep him spread, so he’s got to do it manually. His head is pressed all the way back into the pillow, while his hips move a little desperately, humping down on Jisung’s hand.
Jisung presses at him with two fingers, revels in the way it makes Minho’s entire body jerk.
“You don’t think I could make you beg?” Jisung asks.
Minho is conspicuously silent at that, which is incredibly intriguing to Jisung. He likes this – again, he wouldn’t have thought he’d find himself here, teasing Minho and feeling so confident about it. Especially this morning when things had been so wrong. But the ground still feels so steady. Minho’s touch feels so welcome, and he seems to welcome Jisung’s touch in exactly the same way. They both want to be here. They both want to do this again, and again, and again.
So Jisung lets Minho get away with it, just this time. He already knows, one day, he’ll have Minho like this somewhere else. Maybe then, he’ll see if he can make him cry.
He tucks a third finger inside Minho, and earns a bitten off shout for it. It’s so hot, Jisung just has to bite at Minho’s nipple again. There’s no other choice.
“You think you’re ready?” Jisung asks.
“Yes, yep, uh-huh.” It’s maybe a testament to how worked up he is that Minho admits this so easily. Jisung had been expecting another sharp comment maybe. This is better. It makes Jisung feel warm all over. “C’mon, fuck me.”
Jisung pulls his fingers away – and he doesn’t intend to be gone for long, but he’d underestimated, when he got himself so messy, how hard it is to make a condom work when your hand is drenched in lube. Minho lets him fumble for a bit, comes back to himself a little and watches with a smirk, before letting out a long-suffering sigh. He lowers his knee, rolls back until his hips are flat again – and yeah, the sheets are gonna be so gross after this – so he can snatch the condom from Jisung’s hand and rip it open himself.
He rolls it on Jisung’s cock and gives him a leisurely squeeze, jerking him in a way that makes Jisung’s eyes flutter.
“Hopeless,” Minho says.
Jisung’s too far gone to care. “Good thing you’re here to take care of me, huh?”
And God, do Minho’s ear flush red at that. Jisung drinks in the sight, elated, even while Minho immediately tries to dodge his gaze. Jisung grabs his chin before he can – he uses his clean hand for that, because he’s not sure he’d get away with smearing the other all over Minho’s face – and steers it back where he wants it.
“You like that?” He teases, gaze roving Minho’s face, drinking it all in. “Looking after me?”
Minho bats his hand away, and says, “Shut up.”
Jisung cackles.
“Aren’t you the one who’s gonna take care of me?” Minho says, and it’s a little petulant again. A little sulky. “I thought I was gonna get fucked, but you don’t seem very interested.”
Crazy, that, given how hard Jisung is – and how firmly that hardness is pressing against Minho’s cheeks.
“Oh, I’m interested,” Jisung says, and he reaches down, takes a firm grip of Minho’s hip and grinds into him, just to prove it. “I’ll show you how interested I am.”
“Finally,” Minho sighs.
Wow, turns out he’s a bit of a brat too. Who knew?
“You wanna do it like this?” Minho asks. He rolls all the way onto his front, lifts his hips so his ass is sticking out. Then, when he likes whatever expression it is that takes hold of Jisung’s face, he pulls his knees up beneath him, spreads them a little. The arch of his back is fucking sinful. The curve of his ass, lifted high, atop stretched, thick thighs – well, Jisung thinks that should probably be illegal. “Or like this?”
And yeah, Jisung’s thoughts are completely incoherent, and his brain goes a little offline – but he manages to pull himself back together. He glides a greedy hand down Minho’s back, up over the soft give of his ass before he gets a healthy handful, squeezes tight.
He watches Minho’s eyelids flutter, then says, “Can we do it like this next time?”
Minho’s eyes flicker open, maybe a little confused.
Jisung feels his face go hot. Now he’s the one avoiding Minho’s eye, when he says, more to the sheets, “I, uh. I want to look at you.”
Very quickly, he has the strong line of dancer pressing down over him. Minho pushes Jisung down on his back, crawls on top of him so that he can straddle Jisung’s thighs, and kisses him fucking silly. He catches Jisung’s rubbered up cock in the spot between his thigh and his groin and grinds down, all while he breathes in Jisung’s mouth.
“You’re so fucking cute,” he says.
“Hyung,” Jisung whines.
Minho rolls off of him, but he keeps his legs tight around Jisung’s hips, so he pulls him with him as he goes. As Jisung is hauled over Minho’s body, he continues to be kissed, on his lips, on his cheeks, his chin, his eyes.
“C’mon,” Minho says, and he arches upwards, so Jisung’s dick slips between his ass cheeks. “C’mon, fuck me while you look at me.”
Jisung doesn’t need to be told fucking twice.
He reaches down, gets his dick where they both want it, then whines, kinda pathetic, as he begins to sink inside. He feels the flutter of Minho’s muscles around him, divine heat, and it’s like the air is punched out of him. He has to shut his eyes, because suddenly all he has is this, is the feeling of being inside Minho. Of having him completely.
Minho grasps at his shoulders. His thighs notch up by Jisung’s hips and there is a sharp press against Jisung’s ass – ah, the heels of his feet digging in hard.
“Oh fuck,” Jisung says, somewhere near Minho’s neck, near his shoulder. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“You – you too,” Minho says. “Ah, fuck, Jisung-ie, you’re filling me up so well.”
Jisung whines a bit at that too. His hips kick forward and Minho hisses. Jisung worries that perhaps he has moved too quickly, but then Minho is pulling at Jisung’s waist, his hips, urging him to keep going. They are quickly wordless once more, the only sounds in the room their panting, their gasping, and the wet place where they fuck. There is the sound of their mouths, too, pressing clumsily at any skin they can reach. Jisung breathes hot, tongues at the lobe of Minho’s ear. Minho bites at the meat of Jisung’s shoulder.
Minho shifts a little, moving his hips so that when Jisung moves, he slides in a little differently. Jisung knows exactly why when the air is punched from Minho like something physical, and he groans, long and low. That’s the angle then. Jisung memorises it, rutting forward, making everything faster, harder. This is going to be over embarrassingly quickly, he thinks. How could it not, when Minho feels the way he does, when this is only the first time of many that Jisung will get to have him like this. It might be fucking cheesy of him, or whatever, but Jisung feels even more electrified by that thought. This is just his first class in Minho. He is going to make sure he studies and studies until he knows this body like one of his tracks, until he can work it as well as he works music.
Given his desperation, it only makes sense that he ought to try and get Minho over the edge before he loses himself. It’s clumsy, and it interrupts their rhythm, but it’s worth it, getting a hand around Minho’s dick again. He’s filled back up, although he hisses when Jisung touches him, still sensitive from earlier. Jisung is relentless. He gets the tempo, the angle back and this time, he fists at Minho’s cock while he does.
The noise he earns is exquisite, a moan that is high, and uncontrolled, and like nothing he’s coaxed out of Minho yet. Minho’s entire body twitches, and he starts to swear, almost incoherent. Then he is squeezing around Jisung like a vice, his hips kicking up feebly as he comes for a second time, adds to the mess already covering his belly.
It’s the release Jisung has been waiting for. He lets Minho’s cock go, in favour of grasping his gorgeous waist, then gives Minho everything he has left. He shoves forward, feels the plush of those thighs wrapped high on his hips, the tight clench around his dick. When he comes, he does so with a low, grumble of a moan, pressed right into the meat of Minho’s shoulder. He goes dizzy with it, loses thinking altogether. All he registers is the clamp of Minho around him, and the softness of his hands as they glide over Jisung’s back, easing him through it.
When it’s over, he slumps, dropping all of his weight into Minho’s body. He pants, open mouthed and exhausted, against Minho’s skin.
Minho threads his fingers through Jisung’s hair.
“Jesus,” he says.
“Can we do that again?” Jisung asks.
They both flinch when Minho’s laugh tugs at the place they’re still connected. Minho scratches at Jisung’s scalp and says, “Give me a fucking minute.”
Jisung tilts his head up, just so he can pout. It works in his favour. Minho kisses him fiercely. He kisses him fiercely for a long while, actually. Long enough that Jisung eventually has to tilt his hips, pull out of Minho, just so he can rid himself of the condom, crawl a little higher, and put himself in better reach. Minho keeps his legs wrapped around him the whole time, only grumbling a little when they separate, but making up for it by keeping his tongue behind Jisung’s teeth.
“We’re so good at that,” he says, after a little while.
“It’s crazy,” Jisung agrees. He’s never had sex like this, that feels so good, so comfortable, so quickly. “We should never stop.”
“Deal,” Minho says.
Of course, they do not live in a world where they can fuck endlessly, as nice as it would be. Eventually Jisung’s lips feel bitten and raw in a way that isn’t the nicest – and he can tell Minho feels it too, given the way he slows. They use tissues again, to clean themselves up. Minho points out the condom, where it has landed on the hardwood floor, and laughs until Jisung bashfully gets up to dispose of it properly. Minho has his arms open, waiting for him, when he returns – so Jisung slips into them quickly, and cosies right up.
When he has his cheek resting against Minho’s chest, he admits to the one not-blissful feeling that lingers within him.
“I don’t want to leave tomorrow.”
He doesn’t really mean leaving the house itself. He feels okay about that if he’s honest. Like he said, he’s happy that he and Minho will get to try this in their own environments – when it doesn’t feel like their real lives are on pause. What he means is Minho himself. He doesn’t want to go to sleep tonight, because that means he’ll have to wake up in the morning and clean, just to watch Minho climb into a car with people that aren’t Jisung.
It's all very unfair.
Minho hums, presses his nose into Jisung’s hair. “Don’t think Chan’s aunt will love it if we stick around.”
Jisung lets out an aggrieved sigh. “Mean of her.”
Minho laughs.
Then he says, “C’mon, it’ll be fine. It’s – it’s like we said, right? We’ll be like this at home?”
He sounds pretty confident, but there is perhaps a note of uncertainty in him that Jisung doesn’t like at all. He pushes up, so he can look Minho in the eye, very seriously, and say, “We’d better be.”
A lovely little smile blooms.
Jisung has to kiss it. He simply has no other choice.
“Okay then,” Minho says when they part, looking reassured. “See? It’ll be fine. Just different. Still good.”
Jisung nods decisively. “You’re right.” He slumps back down, drops himself on Minho again, tucks himself in closer. “Ugh, can’t believe how early we’ve got to get up.”
His phone is in his clothes on the ground again, but Minho has his on the bedside table. He picks it up, opens his clock app, then lifts a brow at Jisung.
“If we set it for four, you could fuck me again before we get up?”
“Yes.” Jisung says it before Minho’s even really finished, and it brings an absolutely lovely grin onto Minho’s face. “Yep, do that.”
He watches as Minho does, then starts kissing his neck again, while Minho stretches to plug his phone in to charge. When he returns, he slips back into Jisung’s embrace like he belongs there, like he’s at home there. He rubs his cheek against the crown of Jisung’s head, humming a little, and Jisung feels the vibration of it against his lips. There is a terrific swoop in Jisung’s belly, and sure, there are still nerves that linger in him, but they feel almost wrapped in cotton wool. He feels sure, really sure, that things will be okay.
He and Minho will figure it out.
That’s all he needs.
.
Notes:
ahhh holy shit, i can't believe we've almost made it. epilogue to follow u guys, and I think i'll get that up on the weekend, probably saturday arvo my time (aus)
i'm actually so sad to be saying goodbye to this fic. it means a lot to me, as do all of you who've been following along chapter by chapter on this journey. i love y'all to the moon and back.
please, please, if you have a mo share ur thoughts with me below. writing this soft little ending for them filled me with such joy, i hope some of that translated to you guys too. i'd love to know ur favourite parts, or lines, or even just if you enjoyed it.
as always, tysm for reading xx
Chapter 18
Notes:
LMAAOOO i lied. i really was going to save this for saturday, but now i'm like, why not just send it and post the ending all together?
this epilogue is one of the scenes i've had in my head since day dot. it feels absolutely bonkers that we've made it here.
i hope u enjoy the ending, even though she's only short x
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
.
In the morning, when Minho’s alarm goes off and stirs the two of them from sleep, they do exactly as they’d planned. Minho paws blindly for the lube, pushes it into Jisung’s hands, then tilts his hips – an offering. Jisung takes it, tucks himself nice and close behind Minho as he slips his fingers inside. Minho is still a little open from the night before, so it doesn’t take long before Jisung is sliding home once more. He tries to keep quiet; he really does. He bites at Minho’s shoulders, his neck, his back – trying hard to muffle his noises in Minho’s skin. Minho buries his face in the pillow, giving his noises a muted sound, that feels somehow more desperate than if he were unrestrained.
The grumpy glares they receive a little while later, when their friends come sleepily down the stairs, suggests their tactics might not have been so successful.
Changbin, simmering over the top of his fresh coffee, says, “Shameless bastards.”
Jisung shrugs.
Minho says, “Aren’t you happy I’m staying on your couch?”
Changbin’s eyes go wide, horrified, and he quickly points a very stern finger at both of them. “Don’t you even think about it.”
Privately, Jisung knows he and Minho will not be fucking on Changbin and Hyunjin’s couch. Minho likes to joke, but he also respects them both a lot, and would never be the guy to take their kindness and throw it in their face. Still, it’s pretty fun to mess with them, so Jisung just wiggles his brows.
Changbin eyes them both suspiciously.
“We weren’t nearly this bad,” Hyunjin huffs.
“Hard disagree,” Chan and Jisung chime.
Seungmin and Jeongin are the last to join them. The sun is only just starting to rise as everyone finishes their first cup of coffee. They raid the fridge for any food that they won’t be able to take back to Seoul with them – the things that need refrigerating or can’t be carried in a car for that long – and take that outside for breakfast. It’s cold, watching the sun climb the sky, so everyone ends up huddled together, clutching at their hot coffee mugs – refilled, because they’ll need the fuel to make sure they can clean properly.
It's clear, just looking at the yard, that the others had also decided to save the work for that morning. All the decorations from the night prior are still up, so when Chan rallies them all, this is where Jisung and Minho start. A little apology for leaving first last night, and for maybe, potentially, being a little too loud too early in the morning.
After that, the next order of the day is stripping the sheets from their bed and throwing them all into Chan’s aunts industrial sized washing machine. All the expected jokes come out, especially where the couples are concerned, and Minho and Jisung get the worst of it. They weather it bravely, mostly because they have been pretty shameless this trip, and their friends have been very patient. Once the laundry is on its way, Jisung and Minho end up in charge of cleaning the kitchen, mostly because Minho has become so familiar with where everything belongs that he can instruct Jisung very efficiently. Jisung also empties the fridge, shouting out the items that are good to be taken home, so someone can claim them. They all end up with a bit of a bundle of goods each. Chan and Felix take care of cleaning the living room, sweeping the floors – and discovering quite a bit of stray popcorn when they do. Changbin and Hyunjin tidy outside, while Seungmin and Jeongin tackle the downstairs bathroom.
Jisung gets a little clingy while they clean. When he’s done with the food, but Minho is still scrubbing at the dishes, he tucks himself in close against Minho’s back and wraps his arms around his waist. There, he sulks a little.
Minho puts up with him for a while. Then he whips a tea-towel over his shoulder, smacks Jisung in the face with it.
“You can’t get out of work by being cute,” he says sternly.
“Mean,” Jisung grumbles. Then he plucks up the tea-towel and gets to drying.
When the main rooms are all done, their rooms are their own to manage. Minho vanishes off to clean his, and Jisung promises to follow to help him with the ensuite. First, he needs to pack his shit up, so Seungmin doesn’t get annoyed by all his stuff being in the way. It isn’t too hard – Jisung hasn’t slept in this room for the last few nights, and hasn’t really made anything too chaotic. He checks, then triple checks that he’s got everything he brought with him – his phone charger, specifically – then zips his bag up.
Seungmin does the same, but surprises Jisung at the very end, when he holds out – his car keys?
“Uh,” Jisung says. “Don’t you want to drive?”
Seungmin is like, famously possessive of his car. It’s also one of his favourite jokes in the world to make fun of Jisung’s driving, so this turn of events is surprising on many levels.
But Seungmin just shrugs. “I need you to take my car home.”
Jisung blinks at him. “What?”
Seungmin says, “I’m gonna go to Busan for the rest of the week, stay with Jeonginnie.”
“What?” Jisung says again.
“Yeah.” Seungmin looks casual as ever, almost bored, completely oblivious to the way that Jisung’s head is exploding. “I already talked to my thesis advisor, moved our catch up to next week. You happy to take the car, or what?”
Hmm. Maybe Jisung hasn’t made himself clear.
“What the fuck is happening right now?”
Seungmin looks at him like he’s dumb. “I’m going to Busan,” he says slowly, making every word very clear. “To stay with Jeongin. I need you to drive the car home.”
Jisung is silent for a beat.
Then he shrieks, “You and Jeongin?”
Seungmin rolls his eyes. He huffs, like even having to explain this to Jisung is annoying, and nods.
“Since when?” Jisung’s voice is incredibly shrill, but he doesn’t care. The whole house can hear him – and they should. Was he the only one who didn’t know about this?
“Since like, the third day we got here,” Seungmin says.
“What?”
A few heads appear at the door. Minho is there, looking very amused, and Chan and Felix too – both of them looking slightly more concerned.
“What’s going on?” Chan asks.
Jisung points an accusatory finger at Seungmin. Right on time, when Jisung is still gaping, Jeongin appears behind Felix – so Jisung points at him to.
“They – they – they’ve been hooking up this whole time?”
He feels very vindicated when Chan’s eyes practically bug out of his skull. Felix’s jaw drops open, and he swings around, fixing Jeongin with an absolutely thrilled look.
Jeongin sighs. “I thought you were gonna tell him quietly.”
Seungmin shrugs, offers him a gentle smile, which is disgusting, before he returns to Jisung and fixes him with an aggrieved look. “I tried.”
“To be fair,” Felix says, “It’s hard to get Jisung-ie to be quiet about anything.”
Minho hums and says, “Oh, I know.”
Chan smacks him on the arm.
When Hyunjin and Changbin come up to investigate what’s happening, they are similarly flabbergasted. Hyunjin shrieks and Changbin giggles, over the moon, completely elated. Jeongin and Seungmin look at them all like they’re the crazy ones, because apparently this has been going on for almost the entire trip – and no one fucking noticed.
When they all bring this up, equal parts horrified and thrilled and amazed, Seungmin gives another of his shrugs.
Jeongin says, “Some of us know how to keep a secret.”
Which is rude.
Minho scrubs viciously at Jeongin’s hair in payback; Jeongin is the one who shrieks then, tries to escape, and fails. Jisung watches it all go down without a word, feeling incredibly smug at what he considers their mutual victory. He and Minho are a team now, after all.
“I’ll be getting the details later,” Jisung says, when he finally takes Seungmin’s keys.
Seungmin rolls his eyes and huffs, like he doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t deny it though, because they both know better, and though Seungmin maintains a fairly unassuming position on personal drama, he secretly loves a bit of a debrief. Especially if he can somehow pretend he’s above it all.
In the end, it works quite nicely for Jisung, because he is now in possession of a very empty car, with very available seats up for grabs.
Minho tilts his head, looks intrigued when Jisung shows him the keys.
“Ah, can’t have you drive home by yourself, can we?”
“No, you cannot,” Jisung says. “Also, it seems I now have an apartment to myself for the next week.”
Minho looks thoughtful. “Hmm. No, I don’t think you do?”
And he smiles so beautifully that Jisung just has to kiss him. It’s literally the only thing he can do. He’s helpless to resist.
Soon enough, they are hissed at as the work continues. They have to shift all the bedding to the dryer, everyone brings their bags down from upstairs and piles them up near the door, and Chan gives the bedrooms all a final once over checking no one has left anything behind. They take their rubbish out; they make sure everything has been put back where it belongs.
Then they turn their attention to goodbyes.
Felix and Jisung hug everyone they can get their hands on.
Changbin frowns when Jisung wraps him up in a clingy hug, even though he returns it with confusion. He pats at Jisung’s head a little clumsily, and says, “We’re going to see each other like, tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but it won’t be here,” Felix says.
“That’s at work,” Jisung says with a grimace. “Work doesn’t count.”
Changbin wisely lets it go.
And sure, Jisung is going to see them all again very soon. He’s got work with Chan and Changbin. He’ll, at some point, deposit Minho back at Changbin and Hyunjin’s place. And next weekend, they’ve organised to have dinner at Chan and Felix’s apartment. Even Jeongin, all the way in Busan, feels abruptly more available now – given his entanglement with Jisung’s housemate.
But it still feels like a little goodbye, and Jisung is sad to be leaving this house, where so much as happened. Thankfully, his friends weather his embrace bravely.
Jeongin and Seungmin are the first to leave, by virtue of Jeongin’s car being the only one not parked in. Watching them navigate one another has taken on an entirely new meaning, and Jisung realises, fuck, he really is oblivious. There is a lot in the way they look at each other – not as overt as others might be, but still gentle and fond and soft all the same. They are both smiling happily as they climb into the car, as they wave through the windows, as they drive off. It’s nice, and even though Jisung is still a little winded by this new discovery, he can admit he’s very pleased for him. They make a good pair, honestly.
Next is Chan and Felix – Chan looking quietly sad at their holiday ending, and Felix looking the same but more loudly. His eyes are a little red – like Jisung, he tends to cry quickly, and it’s almost enough to set Jisung off himself. Minho rubs at Jisung’s back, like he knows it, and Jisung bravely manages to stave them off by thinking about the good things. He gets to take Minho home after this. That’s more than enough to keep his spirits high.
Next it is their turn. Minho waves an easy goodbye to Changbin and Hyunjin, says he’ll see them soon although no one knows exactly when, then helps Jisung get their shit into the trunk. Once that is done, he holds out his hand, like an offer.
“Want me to drive?”
Jisung clings onto the keys. He shakes his head, feeling stubborn. It feels like a bit of a full circle moment, to have this chance to drive Minho all the way back to Seoul. It’s not under the same circumstances, sure, but he wants to do it anyway. Minho’s done it for him once before. Now it’s Jisung’s turn.
Minho rolls his eyes when Jisung explains, but looks very fond as he does. They climb into the car with a final goodbye to the others. It feels a little hectic getting the navigation started, moving around the town’s windy streets, but once they are on the main road, it all becomes very easy.
Minho chooses some music for them to listen to, then asks for Jisung’s favourites, so he can add them to the queue. Jisung settles in for the drive, making himself comfortable – he’ll be sitting there for a while.
Of course, it’s only when they hit the freeway that he realises – ah, his secret plan for today has been rather efficiently diverted.
He has Minho’s number in his phone, where it’s been all this time, but he still hasn’t had an excuse to use it. They’ve barely left each other’s company since sorting everything out so there’s been no point in texting him, given Jisung could just use his words instead. Still, he had a vague plan, to send him something today, just something small – so Minho knows Jisung isn’t going to bail out this time.
With both his hands on the wheel, it’s a bit of a harder task.
He peers dubiously at the smart screen of Seungmin’s car.
“Hey Siri,” he says.
Minho frowns, peers over at him curiously. “Do you need me to do something?”
He’d set up the map for Jisung, he’s been picking the songs for them to listen to, and he’s done it all with Jisung’s phone – which is the one plugged in. It is, admittedly, a little strange for Jisung to suddenly be skipping the middleman.
Jisung shushes him anyway.
He tries again. “Hey Siri?”
Finally, the car responds. There is a chime. Siri is listening.
“Jisung-ie, what—”
“Send text to Minho-hyung,” Jisung says.
Minho goes quiet.
“Got it. Sending text to Minho-hyung – cat emoji – cat emoji. What would you like to say?”
Jisung waits for the car to chime again.
Minho is looking at him with a very soft smile on his lips.
“Hey Minho-hyung. It’s Jisung. I had a great time this weekend. I can’t wait to see you again.”
Siri reads the message back to them.
Minho says, “You’re such a dork.”
“Would you like to send the message?” Siri asks.
“Yes,” Jisung says.
It takes a moment, the car thinking before it beeps again. Then, sure enough, on his lap, Minho’s phone chimes. He flips it over, humouring them both, and turns a lovely shade of pink as he reads the message.
“So lame,” he says.
“You like it,” Jisung says.
Minho sighs. He reaches over, settles his hand on Jisung’s thigh, and squeezes there gently. Jisung glances quickly over at him again – he can’t take his eyes off the road for too long, but the temptation is so strong – and sees a lovely, lovely soft smile on his face.
“I do,” Minho says.
Jisung grins, returns his eyes front. He wonders how pleased he looks – because it feels like it’s spilling out of him now, his contentedness, his hope. He thinks maybe he’s beaming with it.
“Cool,” he says. “I like you too.”
Minho huffs. He squeezes Jisung’s leg again. “Cool.”
.
Notes:
i just wanna say, thank you from the very bottom of my heart, to all of you who read and commented and kudoses along with me every chapter. i would not have finished this fic if it weren't for you and your support and your kind words. thank you so so much.
i have a few things brewing, and a changjin aside to share with you - so this definitely won't be the last. this week, i get to watch my baby brother marry one of my best friends (also a stay, slay), so love is in the air and all that.
and please, one last time, let me say that it would mean the world to me if you could leave your thoughts below. your comments have been the very best part of this experience for me and I cannot wait to hear what you all think of the fic as a finished thing.
i have a twt and am slowly getting the hang of using it. pls feel incredibly free to come and say hello.
see you again in the future!! x
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