Chapter Text
If Jisung were to be honest with himself, people tended to underestimate him. He never got the credit he deserved. Sure, he could be oblivious at times. Sure, he liked to try and make people laugh. And sure, once he was comfortable with someone he could be a little too loud and boisterous. But he just felt so much so often and needed to get things out before he burst. And those qualities made people assume he was dumb or that he didn’t think things through. That he didn’t know how to plan. Common misconceptions, Jisung thought, that he’d learned how to use in his favor. He shoved a handful of deep purple petals into an empty shoebox, dropping it to the floor and shoving under his bed with a foot, readjusting his covers to make sure nothing looked suspicious to anyone that walked in unannounced. It was the seventh shoebox he had down there, so he probably needed to get rid of the full ones sooner rather than later. One or two boxes under his bed wasn’t too suspicious, especially given his propensity to buying way more pairs of shoes than he would honestly need. The boxes could hold precious memories. Or – to a dirtier mind – some toys. Things that even his nosey group of friends would be uncomfortable trying to dig through without his consent. But seven boxes was a few too many. That was just asking for suspicions if anyone realized they were down there.
He stood, stretching his arms high over his head before smoothing down the wrinkles on his oversized hoodie and strolling as casually as he could from his bedroom. Noise from the living room bombarded him as soon as he left the safety of his bedroom, the chaos of a movie night surrounding him as he adjusted his blue-light glasses on his nose and snuck in, hoping nobody noticed him and asked for his assistance before he could get settled. Changbin was yelling movie recommendations as he bustled back and forth from their kitchen into their living area, bringing in armfuls of snacks and drinks to throw onto the coffee table, spilling over onto the floor. Somewhat quieter, Chan was distributing blankets and pillows, making sure that even the unlucky few who didn’t manage to find a seat on their furniture could make themselves comfortable, humming something Jisung couldn’t quite place under his breath. He made a mental note to ask about that later – it was likely a new song, so Jisung couldn’t wait to get his paws on Chan’s brain regarding it – and dropped down onto the couch next to Hyunjin, who was scrolling through the seemingly never-ending catalogue of movies on Netflix, his lips curled in disgust at each one. Finding something their entire group could agree on was a near impossible task, and one that Jisung wouldn’t have minded taking on himself, if only to deny Hyunjin the satisfaction of deciding first.
As he reached for the remote, trying to be as sneaky as possible, Hyunjin snatched it out of grasp, offering Jisung one of his patented side-eyes. “We’re not having another Ghibli marathon.”
“Damn,” Jisung sighed, resting his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “Fine, then do either of you need any help?”
“Yes,” Changbin called out from the kitchen, knowing full well that Jisung had no real intention of helping out.
“Good,” Jisung replied instead. Chan chuckled in the background as Jisung snuggled further into Hyunjin’s shoulder, his best friend relaxing ever-so-slightly underneath him. “We should watch that one,” he said when Hyunjin’s thumb slipped off the slick, overused remote buttons, causing him to pause on some cliché looking romcom Jisung had never even heard of before.
Hyunjin scoffed and quickly scrolled away. “You have no taste.”
“Which is why I chose you to be my best friend.”
Jisung cried out dramatically as Hyunjin elbowed him lightly in the stomach, Chan and Changbin pausing just long enough to make sure it was just Jisung being Jisung and not something they actually needed to break up before finishing up their own tasks.
“The others should be here any second,” Chan scolded lightly, “so try not to kill each other before then.”
There was a single knock, a courtesy more than anything, before the door swung open and the rest of their little group filed in like they belonged there just as much as the people who actually lived there. Which was more true than Jisung liked to let himself admit at times. He lifted his head from Hyunjin’s shoulder, offering them a tiny, squished smile in lieu of an actual greeting. Felix led the front of the line, probably having earned his spot through the careful use of his puppy eyes, silently begging the others for first choice of seating. Not that a single person in their group would ever try to argue with Felix, even without him turning those eyes on him. They’d always let him sit wherever he wanted, even if that meant he kicked someone out of their seat or ended up in somebody’s lap (Jisung needed to ask Felix to teach him his ways. It could come in handy).
He couldn’t help the rush of pride he felt when Felix scanned the room, looking for the best possible perch, only to settle on Jisung, face splitting into a grin so bright it rivaled the sun itself as he beelined to the couch and plopped himself into the spot on Jisung’s other side, sandwiching him in. Jisung hummed contentedly as Felix leaned himself against the arm of the couch, slipping one leg behind Jisung’s back before pulling Jisung off Hyunjin’s shoulder to rest on his chest instead, lying between Felix’s spread legs. Changbin handed off a bowl of popcorn to Chan and vaulted over the snack-laden coffee table, nearly knocking the couch over with all of them still on it as he launched himself into the last seat at the other end. Felix laughed like they were on a carnival ride, but Hyunjin shrieked in shock, reaching over and grabbing onto a similarly screaming Jisung’s hips for dear life.
“There’s plenty of room in here. You don’t have to kill people to sit down.” Jisung’s heart skipped a beat at the voice, the same way it had every time he’d been surprised by it for the past five years they’d known each other, since he’d first met Lee Minho upon moving back to Korea at eighteen. His eyes immediately shot up, scream dying in his throat, watching as Minho entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. The disappointed face he was shooting Changbin was only betrayed by the quiet sparkle in his eyes.
“It’s either them or Seungmin and Jeongin so they don’t steal my spot. Who would you rather I take out?” Changbin asked, snuggling into his corner, manhandling Hyunjin so he could slide his legs underneath him.
“I don’t know, I’m kind of fond of them,” Minho drawled, his eyes briefly shooting over to Jisung before he grinned back at Changbin. “And even if the idea of having less roommates does sound good, I think I’d prefer the kids to live, so go ahead and take those three out if you have to.”
“No fair,” Hyunjin whined at the exact same time Seungmin loudly declared “Damn straight,” giving Minho a quick fist bump.
They all settled in, bantering about Hyunjin’s choices in movies as they did. Jisung stretched out, slipping down so his head was lying on Felix’s abdomen, his lower body stretched out across Hyunjin and Changbin’s crossed legs. Seungmin dropped down onto one of the piles of blankets Chan had prepared in front of the couch, leaning against the leather so that Jisung could rake his fingers through his hair, the closest to physical contact Seungmin normally allowed them without a fight. Jeongin laid down next to him, head propped on a pillow next to Seungmin’s thighs as Chan and Minho took up their customary perches in the armchairs on either side of the puppy pile the rest of their friends made in the center of the room. Chan almost always ended up there due to his diligence in letting the others figure out where they wanted to be first. Though sometimes Changbin or Felix or Seungmin would take over, letting him join in the cuddles in their place. But whenever asked, Minho always announced that he didn’t want any unnecessary physical contact. They all knew better, though. Especially Jisung. He paid too-close attention to the way Minho watched them, so careful and fond, sometimes completely losing interest in whatever they were watching or doing in favor of focusing on the rest of them. He just cared so much about all of them that he rarely wanted to be in the center of the action so he could take in everything about them. He was so fond of them. And that fondness was in turn part of the reason Jisung was so fond of him.
They quieted down once the shitty romcom Hyunjin put on (solely because he’d gotten bored of looking) started. But their quiet was nowhere near other people’s quiet, with soft scoffs and yelled insults at stupid miscommunications and terrible decision-making skills echoing the room, heightened by teasing about Jisung and Felix’s failed attempts to cover their tear-induced shaky breathing when the main couple finally got together despite everything they’d been through (“Can we still be friends, at least? Even if you can’t love me?” would echo in Jisung’s brain for at least two business days, mainly because of the crawling feeling it caused in his chest). But Jisung relaxed with each little comment, feeling more at home with his friends yelling at a television than he did even at his own childhood home. He was nearly asleep in Felix’s lap by the time the credits began to roll. Felix’s hands were soft where one had settled on a shoulder and the other on Jisung’s cheek, thumb stroking the honeyed skin there like he was trying to lull Jisung into slumber. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.
“That was stupid,” Minho muttered, breaking through Jisung’s quiet reverie just by existing. “You’ve lost your movie-picking privileges. Gimme the remote.” Hyunjin relented with little more than an overdramatic rolling of his eyes, jostling Jisung as he leaned over Changbin to hand off the remote as directed. Everyone began talking quietly amongst themselves as Minho scrolled through Netflix’s catalogue and Jisung began drifting off again, the adrenaline rush that was Lee Minho’s voice already wearing off. Until he heard a quiet “Jisung, what do you think about this one?”
His eyes flew open, fluttering in surprise when Minho spoke directly to him. He turned his eyes from the TV over to Minho, who was staring at him with dark eyes, careful and calm and completely unreadable in the way he liked to be. He’d leaned back in his seat, head cocked slightly to one side, arms draped over the sides of the chair with the remote dangling loose from his fingers and his legs spread slightly. Everything about him in that moment exuded power, like he wanted to command Jisung to reply. Jisung swallowed hard, clenching his jaw shut to keep it from dropping open at the sight, and turned back to the TV, desperate to do whatever Minho wanted from him.
Ah.
That was why he’d been so insistent. Why he’d settled into that position. It had nothing to do with Jisung at all.
Still, Jisung couldn’t help but laugh. “You want to watch It? In a Stephen King mood? Let’s do it.”
Felix whined low in his throat, hands tightening on Jisung. “Please no. Not again.”
Minho snickered, letting his head roll to the side as he smirked and continued scrolling on, willing to give Felix a brief respite for playing along.
Jisung didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he’d been dragged into playing along as well, just to mess with Felix for a few seconds. It had nothing to do with him. Nothing at all. He could close his eyes, ignore the world around him, and pretend he was special all he wanted. Pretend that Minho’s eyes lingered on him just a bit longer than they did on the others. That he looked at Jisung differently than he did them. That he treated him specially, gave him certain privileges the others could only hope for. But as soon as he opened his eyes again, reality would settle back in on his shoulders. Yes, Minho cared about him. He’d even go so far as to say Minho loved him. But it was the same affection he had towards every other member of their group, he just showed it in different ways. And that harrowing little realization Jisung had nearly every single day of his life hurt. It hurt so much more than he’d bring himself to admit.
His throat burned, a scrambling, itching feeling down into his esophagus as the flowers in his lungs crept upwards, catching all his attempts at breathing.
Not here, he thought. Not in front of them.
He sat up almost violently, trying to ignore the way Felix watched him in concern, hands hovering over his lap like he was trying to gauge if Jisung was going to lie back down or if he needed any form of comfort. All eyes were on him. His friends’ stares were prickling against his skin uncomfortably, like he’d suddenly started having an allergic reaction to attention. He could feel them all watching with curious, bated breath to see what had caused such an intense reaction from him, could see the way the cursor on the TV stilled as Minho’s attention was stolen away. It was a feat that almost had Jisung brimming with an arrogant sense of pride, if it wasn’t for the choking slithering in his chest.
“Bathroom,” he croaked out as normally as he could, grateful for the way Seungmin deftly dodged out of the way to let him climb down from the couch. “I really gotta piss out of nowhere,” he added in an attempt to explain the ferocity he’d had getting up.
“Were the details really necessary?” Jeongin whined after him as he scurried towards the bathroom.
“Yes,” he called back, tense laughter echoing behind him.
He dove into the bathroom as soon as it came into view, nudging the door shut with a foot before dropping to his knees in front of the toilet. He’d gotten good at this part. Despite the heaving of his breaths, he’d had two years to master the art of covering his coughs, keeping them quiet enough that no one would be able to hear him from the living room, especially not with how loud his friends could get. And even if they did hear him, they’d likely assume he was just clearing his throat or that his clumsy ass had choked on air. He could get away with it again. Nobody had to know. Nobody could know. He spit out the flowers as they fought their way up his throat, gasping for breath the moment his airway was cleared. The nearly black petals stared back up at him from the toilet bowl, taunting him with spots of red liquid, trying to remind him that he could bleed his life out for Minho and still get nothing in return.
But at least that particular attack was over. He could go back to his friends and pretend to be fine for a few more minutes and deal with this later.
“Wow,” a voice drawled behind him. Jisung startled and turned to find Seungmin standing in the doorway, arms crossed as he watched Jisung with an inscrutable expression. As if he could read the confusion on Jisung’s face (he probably could – Jisung knew he was terrible at trying to hide what he was thinking), Seungmin nodded his head towards the open bathroom door. “You looked like you were about to puke, so I thought I’d check on you. Next time you might want to make sure the door’s closed. If you really don’t want to get found out.”
Jisung heaved a sigh, leaning his head on the cool cabinets next to the toilet, flushing the offending flowers into the abyss as he did. Seungmin sidled into the bathroom, the door clicking closed as he sank to the floor next to Jisung. “So, our little Hannie fell in love, huh?” Despite his teasing tone, he reached out, hands gentle as he brushed dark strands of hair from Jisung’s forehead. His fingers lingered there for just a second, like he was checking for a fever. Jisung leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering as he nearly purred at the comfort of human contact. “How long has it been?”
He could make a joke. Try and diffuse the situation by turning it into a laughing matter. That’s what he always did, what he was comfortable with. It was probably what Seungmin was expecting. Instead he shifted so he could lean against Seungmin’s shoulder, taking the opportunity he was given. “How long have I had Hanahaki?” Seungmin nodded against the top of his head. “About two years, now.”
He looked up to find Seungmin’s brows furrowed in an expression somewhere between disbelief and disapproval, his hand coming up to rest in the overgrown hairs at the base of Jisung’s neck. He really needed to get a haircut soon, he thought. “You’ve been hiding this for two years?”
For a second, he froze. Deep down, he knew that Seungmin wasn’t accusing him of anything. But it still felt like it nonetheless. He just hadn’t wanted anybody to ask any questions. And he knew they would have. It wasn’t like he felt guilt for falling in love with one of his friends in particular. They were all a little bit in love with each other, after all. Some were more in love with others, he thought, thinking of Changbin and Hyunjin and Felix. But to actually admit to any of them that he was so helplessly and unrequitedly in love with Minho that it was quite literally stealing his breath away was terrifying. But it wasn’t like he didn’t trust them. He just…didn’t trust himself. He knew that if any of them were to try and interrogate him about his Hanahaki, he would absolutely break and spill everything. There was a decent chance that if he told any of them, they’d accidentally slip up and tell Minho. And then everything would be ruined. Minho would hate him. Or be disgusted by him. Or at the very least feel like he had to walk on eggshells around him to keep him from falling any deeper. And then the entire group would be affected and he couldn’t risk losing them.
Apparently he’d stayed quiet for long enough, because Seungmin exhaled loudly and leaned his head back against the counter. “I have to admit that’s pretty impressive. Have you at least gone to a doctor?”
“Of course not,” Jisung scoffed. “It’s just some flowers. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Seungmin’s hand tightened in his hair just enough that Jisung could feel it before relaxing again. “You are aware that Hanahaki can be fatal, right?”
A cold shot of fear raced down Jisung’s spine, remembering the red dots on his latest round of flowers. “If it gets to that point, then I’ll go to the doctor?”
“After it kills you?”
“Doctors die, too. I’m sure there are ghost doctors out there somewhere that can help me out.”
Seungmin huffed a laugh and shifted Jisung off of him so he could stand. “Did you get it all out?” Jisung nodded, taking the hand Seungmin offered him, letting his friend leverage him to his feet. “So, I’m guessing you want me to keep this secret from everyone?”
“That’s exactly what I was hoping for.”
Seungmin gave him a dark look before sighing and swinging the door open. “Fine. This will stay between us for now. But if it gets any worse and you don’t go to a doctor, I’m telling all of them one-by-one and letting them decide an appropriate punishment.”
Jisung bumped him with a shoulder on his way out, taking Seungmin’s hand in his own, a spark of hope flaring in his chest. “This is why you’re my favorite.”
“You say that to all of us.”
“Because you’re all my favorites.” Jisung pouted at him. “It would be rude of me to deny any of you the pleasure of being my one and only favorite, so I don’t choose.”
“Sure you don’t,” Seungmin drawled, using their joined hands to drag Jisung back into the living room.
By the time they made it back, the seating arrangements had changed. Felix had shifted over so that he was lying against Hyunjin’s side, with Hyunjin’s arms thrown over his and Changbin’s shoulders. Chan had moved (probably convinced by Felix) into the vacated spot on the couch, legs under Felix’s and head thrown back so he could talk to Jeongin, who had taken up residence in the armchair. Seungmin continued to drag Jisung into the room, despite his whining about being kicked to the floor in his moment of need.
Hyunjin glanced up at them as they entered, his brows slightly drawn in the way they tended to be when he was trying not to voice his concern. “You good?”
“Fine,” Seungmin replied quickly, letting go of Jisung’s hand so he could drop back down into his pile of blankets and pillows. “I managed to keep him from falling in.”
Chan laughed, swatting at Jisung’s ass as he passed by the couch. “Someone has to.”
“Hyung,” Jisung whined out. “First you steal my seat and now you insult me? I’m wounded.”
“It’s all out of love,” Chan replied, smiling at him in a way that made Jisung wholeheartedly believe it.
“You should know better than to leave in the middle of movie night anyway,” Hyunjin said as Jisung stepped over Seungmin’s legs.
Jisung was just about to plop down onto the floor when Minho leaned forward in his chair, tilting his head to get Jisung’s attention, waving his fingers to call him over. “Sungie. C’mere.”
His traitorous heart skipped a beat at Minho’s soft smile and fond eyes. But he shuffled over anyway. Minho’s hands were gentle when they found his hips, turning him around and pulling him down into his lap, arranging him until they were both comfortable. Minho’s arms were wrapped around Jisung’s waist loosely, his chin resting on Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung’s heart was racing in his chest like a captured rabbit, pounding loud enough that he was worried Minho could feel it where they were pressed chest-to-back, but he pretended he couldn’t, snuggling back into Minho as he pouted at the others.
“At least Minho still loves me,” he joked. He ignored Seungmin’s pointed look and turned to the TV, almost able to forget where he was sitting. But the warmth of Minho’s breath against the back of his neck, the familiar weight of his arms drooping around his waist and towards his hips kept him grounded. He’d normally appreciate it, but all he wanted was to forget himself, to drift off and become somebody else until he could be alone in the quiet darkness of his bedroom and not have to worry about somebody finding a petal stuck to his lips. Minho’s fingers grazed a bit too close to Jisung’s crotch, sending warmth and chills cascading down Jisung’s body in waves. He shifted, sliding down in Minho’s lap until his fingers were at Jisung’s stomach instead. Minho didn’t even blink at the movement, only setting his chin on top of Jisung’s head in return.
Minho finally convinced them to put on a horror movie, all of them staying much more quiet than they had been during Hyunjin’s romcom, until one particular jumpscare caught them by surprise, leaving Felix hiding in Hyunjin’s side and sending Jisung flying from Minho’s lap, landing ass first on the floor. Minho burst into laughter at it, Jisung joining in as he leaned back against Minho’s legs, head tipped back, looking directly into Minho’s bright eyes as he leaned over him. Minho seemed to enjoy it, leaning further over him, their faces coming closer and closer, only stopping when they were close enough that Jisung could feel Minho’s warm breaths fanning across his heated cheeks. Minho’s laughter faded, his lips still parted in the last remnants of a smile, his cheeks and nose dappled pink. He was beautiful, and Jisung was all too aware of Minho’s hands braced on the edges of his chair’s armrests, his muscles rippling as he kept himself from tumbling forward onto Jisung. They were eye to eye, close enough that Jisung could surge forward and kiss him if he chose to. Everything faded besides the two of them, only white noise and his own heartbeat pounding in Jisung’s ears until Minho spoke quietly, just for Jisung to hear. “Are you okay down there alone? Or should I join you?”
He thought about saying yes. Just to see what Minho would do. Would he sit on the floor with him? How would they? With Minho against the chair, Jisung between his legs and pressed against his chest? Or would Minho refuse to give up the comfort of the chair, manhandling Jisung up into the chair with him, keeping him in his lap again?
The moment was broken as a loud screech filled the room. Felix screamed at the jumpscare, hiding his face in Hyunjin’s shoulder. The entire couch was laughing at him, Chan rubbing a hand comfortingly over his back. Minho chuckled gently, leaning back in the chair, ending the moment between them as quickly as he’d started it.
“Hannie,” Felix whined, glancing up from his hiding spot, brows furrowed, mouth pressed into a small frown as he reached out, making grabby hands in Jisung’s direction. “I don’t wanna watch this anymore. Will you come make snacks with me?”
It wasn’t like Felix needed Jisung’s help to make snacks. The man was a baking machine and wasn’t bad with other forms of cooking either. And it wasn’t like they needed more snacks, he thought with a glance at their still overloaded coffee table. But he knew the way Felix worked. He had trouble being alone after horror movies and Jisung was, at times, his favorite form of comfort. So who was he to deny Felix, of all people, his company? So he didn’t put up any fight when Felix pulled him up from the floor and dragged him into the kitchen. They settled into a familiar routine – Jisung sitting on one of the counters, singing loud enough to drown out the resulting horror movie noises filtering in from the living room as Felix bustled about pulling ingredients they kept around just for him out of cabinets. Based on the noises from the other room, the group had decided to put on another horror movie, knowing they’d be gone for a little while. So Jisung sang louder and more annoyingly to drown it out as Felix chattered away about something and mixed up brownie batter. Once they were in the pan, he handed the spoon over to Jisung to lick, another familiar routine. It was easy and quiet, beautiful in a domestic sort of way that made his heart warm as a summer’s day. That was, until Felix sidled up beside him and reminded him that despite his innocent expression, he was always a cunning little thing.
“So did you appreciate me getting Chan and Jeongin to move?”
Jisung choked around a mouthful of brownie batter, Felix innocently patting his back through it. “Yeah, I love being demoted to the floor. Thanks.”
Felix laughed off his attempts at anger, taking the spoon from him to wash it. “Minho wouldn’t let that happen. That was the whole point.”
Jisung tried not to think too hard about that. Or the fact that Felix admitted to scheming to get him in Minho’s lap. For all his attempts, though, he couldn’t help but consider telling Felix the truth – about his Hanahaki, his feelings for Minho. But that was only asking for more schemes. And though Jisung knew he could outsmart some of his friends because they would absolutely assume he couldn’t, there was no chance of him out-cunning Felix.
“Really, though, are you okay?” Felix asked as he finished washing the dishes and set them in the dishwasher to dry. When Jisung turned towards him, Felix’s brows were furrowed, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that spoke to his own discomfort. “You didn’t look too great when you ran to the bathroom, and then you and Seungmin were gone for a while. I was starting to get worried.”
“I’m fine.” The lie spilled from his lips as easy as breathing. “We started talking when I was done and I didn’t want to interrupt if you guys had chosen another movie already.”
It didn’t quite look like Felix believed him, but he dropped the subject anyway, instead asking Jisung about any songs he’d been working on. The conversation flowed easily until the oven beeped that the brownies were done and the smell of freshly baked Felix treats herded the rest of the group into the kitchen, standing around chatting about this and that until the brownies had cooled enough to eat. The night went out with the last of the brownies, with the stragglers who didn’t live in their little townhouse heading back to their own beds. Jeongin and Felix were out first, Minho taking a quick second on his way to the door to bump his shoulder against Jisung’s, a smirk on his face as he whispered a quick little ‘dream of me tonight.’ Jisung flushed bright red as he grabbed one of the plastic cups from the counter behind him, throwing it after Minho’s laughing form disappearing from the kitchen. Seungmin was the last one out, giving Jisung one last pointed look – one that sank under his skin and would stick with him as long as Minho’s little quip.