Chapter Text
A gentle shake on the shoulder was what pulled Minho into partial consciousness. Still dead tired he tried to simply roll over and continue sleeping but the grip on his shoulder grew stronger.
“Minho, hey, wake up”
Jisung.
“I’m horny,” Jisung announced as if Minho was the only one who could resolve this issue.
“Then go jerk off or something, I’m tired.”
“C’monn, pleaseee.” Jisung whined, tugging away Minho’s blanket despite his protest and climbing on top of him.
Minho groaned in annoyance and shoved a pillow over his face which was also yanked away with force.
“You’re a menace,” Minho muttered, glaring through half-lidded eyes.
“I know. It’s my specialty.”
As Minho became more awake, he became acutely aware of the tent in Jisung’s sweatpants, Jisungs shirtless state and the warm weight pressing onto him. He was tired but he was also just a man. A very, very gay man.
He slid his hands to Jisungs hips and Jisung’s immediate grin showed that he knew he’d won.
Jisung leaned forward. He shifted his hips just enough to make Minho groan, and started pressing damp kisses from Minho’s jaw, down to the curve of neck. Meanwhile Minho let his hand roam across the smooth skin of Jisung’s well-toned back. He’d been working out pretty hard the past few months and it was definitely paying off. Suddenly Jisung backed off, leaning back until he was sitting again.
“Hmm, what’s wrong?” Minho asked.
“I… I’m not being too pushy am I? Like it's totally fine if you’re not in the mood— ”
“Does it seem like I’m not in the mood?” Minho raised his eyebrow, pointedly looking down at where Jisung was definitely feeling his boner press into his ass through the fabric of their clothes. “You’re good,” Minho added, tugging Jisung back down to pull him into a kiss.
Jisung smiled into the kiss, a pleased little hum vibrating against Minho’s lips. Instead of deepening it, however, he pulled back just enough to look Minho in the eye.
“Reassurance tastes good,” he quipped, "Okay, enough of that.” He moved down Minho’s body, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Minho’s sleep shorts and tugging impatiently. It was cute how Jisung went right back to his confident, bratty self after he got Minho’s consent.
Minho let out a laugh. "Damn, okay. Someone's in a hurry this morning."
"You have no idea," Jisung grumbled, successfully yanking the shorts and boxers down to Minho’s knees. He looked up, his eyes dark with lust. "I've been lying in my bed for an hour, awake and horny."
"An hour? And you didn't think to maybe, I don't know, handle it yourself? Some of us were having very important dreams about pudding." In fact, Minho had been in the middle of a dream where he was swimming in a giant pool of pudding when he was rudely woken up.
"And deny you this?" Jisung scoffed. "Please. I'm being generous. This is way better than whatever you were dreaming about." He punctuated the sentence by scrambling off Minho just long enough to shove his own sweatpants down and kick them free. Minho used the time to get off his own tshirt and to fully rid himself of the shorts and boxers that were still annoyingly pooling around his legs.
"Lube," Jisung commanded as he settled back onto Minho's thighs, straddling him expectantly.
"Bossy today, aren't we?" Minho smirked, but he complied, his hand fumbling in the drawer of his nightstand for a moment before closing around the familiar bottle.
Jisung took the bottle from him and squeezed a good amount of lube onto his fingers to ready himself and tossed the bottle onto the bed. Minho watched him, his hands finding their place on Jisung’’s hips again to hold him steady as he worked himself open.
Condom, Minho remembered. He gently pushed Jisung back a little, so he could grab one from the nightstand drawer.
“Hurry up. The night’s not getting any younger.” Jisung was drumming his fingers impatiently on Minho’s thigh.
“It’s literally 7 AM,” Minho deadpanned, but he quickly rolled the condom on. Jisung wasted no time. The moment Minho was done, he grabbed the lube bottle again, squeezing a generous line directly onto Minho before settling back over him.
Jisung took Minho’s cock into one hand and started slowly lowering himself on it, taking every inch with a long, drawn-out hiss. Minho groaned, his head tilting back as he was fully sheathed inside Jisung’s tight heat. They both stilled for a moment, taking in the new feeling.
A pleased sigh escaped the younger’s lips as he started rocking his hips. Minho’s hands tightened on his waist, nails digging into his skin.
"See?" Jisung murmured, his voice low and breathy. He leaned down, putting his hands on either side of Minho's head on the mattress. "Way better than pudding."
Minho let out a choked laugh, his own hips lifting instinctively to meet Jisung's next sinking motion. "Just shut up and ride me.”
Jisung only grinned in response but increased his pace, hips moving with stronger, more delibarate motions that sent waves of pleasure through Minho’s system. Minho took in the sight above him: Jisung’s head thrown back, his neck arching beautifully, his chest and stomach that were all slowly starting to be covered by a sheen of sweat that glistened in the few rays of morning sunlight that came through the blinds.
Minho began bucking up his hips to meet each rock of Jisung’s hips, chasing the friction as the pleasure was building up inside him.
"Minho— fuck—" Jisung gasped out, his eyes fluttering shut as his own pace became more frantic. Minho’s hands slid down Jisung’s body. One from his waist, to his hips, to his ass, squeezing and pulling him down hard with every upward thrust. The other to his front, wrapping around his erection and stroking him in rhythm.
Jisung’s hazy eyes flickered open to meet his, a desperate whine catching in his throat. That was all it took. Minho felt his own release coming closer. A groan was ripped from Minho’s throat as he came. He kept slowly grinding into and stroking Jisung until it sent him too over the edge with a sharp, breathy moan.
Jisung collapsed forward, his slick chest plastered against Minho’s, his face buried in the crook of Minho’s neck. For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were their ragged gasps for air while Minho’s hand moved up to stroke soothingly through his sweat-damp hair.
After a minute, Jisung stirred, lifting his head just enough to press a lazy, wet kiss to Minho’s collarbone.
“Okay,” Minho mumbled. “Maybe that was a little better than pudding.”
Jisung snorted, a genuine laugh bubbling up from his chest. "A little?"
"Fine. A lot. Happy now, princess?”
“Ecstatic—wait. Let me check the time.” Jisung reached over to grab Minho’s phone from the nightstand..
“Oh my god, fuck, it’s 7:40 already,” Jisung groaned, climbing off the bed. “Ugh, I wish I didn’t have to go, but I’ve got a meeting at 8:30, and it takes me like half an hour to get there.”
He grabbed his sweats from the floor and darted off —probably to shower. Minho watched him go, gaze shamelessly dropping down to Jisung’s naked ass.
Jisung was studying creative writing at the same university Minho had gone to. Minho had graduated from his digital media and media arts major a little over a year ago while Jisung was now starting his final semester of college which is why he was busier than before, having taken on a final project.
The sex left Minho sleepy again, his body heavy, warm, satisfied. He would’ve loved to curl back up under the blanket and sleep for a few more hours. But alas, he was a working adult now, which meant waking up early and pretending like life made sense. Not to mention he was definitely in need of a shower (once Jisung was done with his own because they only had one bathroom unfortunatly) after that morning activity.
At least he didn’t have to leave the house. As a freelance video editor, he mostly worked from home—in joggers, at his own table, sometimes the couch, sometimes even the bed. One small mercy in the chaos of adulting.
A little while later, Minho stood in the kitchen making coffee. He’d declared that he deserved a 11 a.m. coffee break after sitting through one long, terribly boring meeting that absolutely could’ve been an email.
He was mid-yawn when his phone buzzed. A voice call from Chan.
Weird. Chan never called this early, it must be around 12 over there right now, so just noon and Chan usually only called at night since he was busy working during the day. Also they always video called. Must’ve hit the wrong button, Minho thought as he picked up.
“What’s up? Why are you calling so early?”
Silence.
Minho frowned, pulling the phone from his ear to check if the call had dropped— then finally, Chan’s voice came through.
“She cheated on me.”
His voice was quiet. Cracked in the middle like it physically hurt to say it.
Minho froze. His hand which had been reaching for his coffee, just hung there, suspended in mid-air.
“…What?”
“I found out last night,” Chan said, sounding dazed, like he was still trying to wrap his head around it. “Ran into one of Felicia’s friends, someone I’ve met before, and he was surprised we were still together. Apparently, she slept with some other guy at a party she went to last week.”
“Holy shit.” Minho’s breath hitched sharply.
“I confronted her about it this morning. She basically admitted it.”
“That fucking bitch. I swear, I’m gonna kill her. What the fuck.” Minho clenched his fist tight, rage simmering, but then softened his tone. “Hey, how are you holding up? Where are you right now?”
“I’m still in shock,” Chan said after a long pause. “Just… pacing the apartment. Like if I stop moving, I’ll fall apart.”
“Where is she now?”
Minho’s heart ached for his best friend. Him and his girlfriend (or now ex) had just moved in together two months ago. Chan had been so excited, glowing even. He talked about it like it was the beginning of the rest of his life. And now she’d gone and destroyed that.
“She left,” Chan muttered. “Said she ‘needed space’ after I ‘was so aggressive’ on her. Like I was the fucking problem.”
“I’m actually gonna kill her.”
“I just… I really thought she loved me.”
Minho exhaled slowly, steadying himself against the kitchen counter. “I’m so sorry, Chan. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong at all.”
There was a long silence.
“…I don’t think I can stay here, Min. I feel like I can’t breathe in this place.”
Minho didn’t even hesitate.
“Come home. Come now. We’ll figure it out. You don’t have to be there. You don’t have to be alone.”
“Yeah, I think I need to come back,” Chan said quietly. “I just need to take care of a few things first. Give me a few days. Maybe less.”
Another pause.
“…Don’t tell Ji yet, yeah? I need… I need a minute before I tell him.”
“Alright.”
A fragile, almost breaking voice followed: “…Thanks, Minho.”
Minho wanted to tell Chan that telling Jisung would probably do him good, but he knew Chan. He had this older brother thing where he didn’t want to let Jisung, his little brother, see him vulnerable. He wanted to only show his strong side and always be dependable. Minho decided that that was something to talk about another day. He already had enough to deal with right now, so he didn’t want to add anything to that.
They talked a few minutes more, mostly Minho reassuring Chan that he did nothing wrong and that his ex-girlfriend was a bitch. They hung up fairly quickly though, because Chan seemed too tired and drained to talk— he probably needed some time to himself. Still, Minho was filled with rage and pity for his best friend afterward.
That evening, Jisung trudged through the front door, dropped his bag on the floor with a heavy thud, and collapsed face-first onto the couch. He let out a long, drawn-out groan into the cushions.
“I’m dead,” he mumbled.
Minho, who had been slumped in the armchair scrolling through his phone, looked up. He was exhausted from a day packed with editing and his mind just kept flickering to Chan, wondering how his best friend was holding up.
“Rough day?” Minho asked, setting his phone aside.
“My final project is going to be the death of me,” Jisung’s voice was muffled by the sofa. “I spent three hours writing a single paragraph for an essay, and I hate every word. Every. Single. Word.”
He rolled over to glare at the ceiling, looking utterly defeated. “Is it too late to kill myself?”
“Tell me about it,” Minho sighed, stretching his arms over his head. “I had to sit through a two-hour meeting this morning that could have been a single sentence in an email. I think I lost a part of my soul.”
They sat in shared, tired silence for a moment.
“You know what,” Minho said, breaking it. “I think we both deserve a reward for surviving today. I’m not cooking. And I mean you’re definitely not cooking anyway.”
“Hey, just so you know, I actually make great ramyeon.” Despite his protest, Jisung’s head perked up at the mention of a reward. “Sashimi?” he asked, his voice hopeful.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Sashimi, yes! You’ll go get it, right?” Jisung literally started bouncing up and down and clapping in excitement, finally having raised himself to a sitting position.
“Of course. Can’t expect you princess to do it, right?”
“I love you, thank youu,” Jisung said in an exaggerated, high-pitched voice.
Minho rolled his eyes in the same exaggerated manner but couldn’t help the smile from creeping onto his lips.
The sashimi place was the best in the area after trying out several restaurants. Since it wasn’t cheap and didn’t do delivery, they only went or got food from there every once in a while. Minho grabbed his jacket and headed out to pick it up.
While he was on his way, his mind drifted again to Chan. He hoped his friend was managing to hold it together, his earlier call worrying Minho more than he let on.
When he got back, Jisung had already set the table with plates and cutlery for both of them. As soon as the food was set out, Jisung grabbed a piece of sashimi and popped it in his mouth. He let out a moan, one that sounded way too inappropriate in Minho’s ears. Then again, the time for Jisung to be 'appropriate' in front of Minho had long since passed.
They’d been hooking up for what, two? Maybe even 3 months now. Originally, Minho had moved into the apartment with Chan, his best friend from high school. The place belonged to Chan's parents, which made it an easy choice for them to move into when they started university. About a year ago, that changed when Chan left for a year-long traineeship as a sound engineer at a global studio chain in Australia. As it happened, Jisung, Chan's younger brother, was looking to move out of his parents’ house at that time. With a room suddenly free in an apartment his parents already owned, it only made sense to move into the room his brother used before. Just like that, Minho and Jisung became roommates. And well, the hooking up just sort of happened after that.
They ate quickly, mostly in comfortable silence that was only filled by the soft clicks of their chopsticks against the ceramic bowls.
When they were done, Jisung started gathering the empty containers. They moved around each other in the small kitchen with an easy, practiced rhythm. When the kitchen was finally clean, Jisung leaned back against the counter and let out a huge yawn, stretching his arms high above his head.
"Brain finally shutting down?" Minho teased, drying his hands on a towel.
"Mmhmm. Completely melted," Jisung mumbled, his eyes already half-closed. "My stupid project can wait until tomorrow. I'm done."
"Good call," Minho agreed, feeling his own exhaustion settle deep in his bones. "I feel like I’m gonna pass out right away if I lay down now too."
"Alright, well, I'm gonna go do that then," Jisung said, already moving down the hall. "G'night, Minho."
"Night," Minho replied, watching him go. He switched off the kitchen light and also headed to his own room.
The following day, Jisung met with Felix and Hyunjin for their lunch break as usual. They had declared a table with two benches in one peaceful corner of the campus their own, as no one else was ever there.
Hyunjin was already sitting on one of the benches when Jisung arrived, his sketchbook lying open in front of him and one hand clutching his forehead.
“Don’t look at me,” he mumbled with closed eyes. “I am a hollowed-out vessel of creative despair.”
“Aren’t we all?” Jisung muttered as he dropped onto the bench on the opposite side of the table.
“Professor Jung has sucked the very marrow from my artistic bones.” Hyunjin continued.
“Let me guess. He hated the color palette of your painting.”
“He basically called it ugly, not in those words of course but that was the sentiment.”
Just then, Felix got there in that moment with a tray of three iced Americanos in hand. He slid one in front of each of them with a sunny smile.
“You’re an angel, Felix.” Hyunjin said, taking a grateful sip of his coffee.
“He just suggested you add more contrast, Hyunjin,” Felix said, settling in next to Jisung. “I was there. It’s not that serious.” He turned his attention to Jisung, who was already inhaling the kimbap he brought. “And you look tired. Not sleep well?”
“No,” Jisung grumbled. “I’ve just been agonizing over a poem about the metaphorical significance of a goddamn wilting flower for the past 2 hours for this assignment. I think I’d rather wrestle a bear than try to come up with any more interpretations.”
“Speaking of wrestling,” Felix said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “How are things with the hot roommate?”
“Minho’s fine. The sex is still happening, so yeah. It’s good.”
Hyunjin leaned forward. “This whole friends with benefits thing seems to be going pretty well for you, huh? Your aura is less ‘sexually depraved tortured writer’ and more ‘well-fucked tortured writer’ nowadays.”
Felix choked on a laugh, and Jisung threw a napkin at Hyunjin. “You’re telling me I basically have the number of times I have sex in a month written on my forehead?.”
“I’m just saying, you look less stressed,” Hyunjin shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee. “It’s a good look for you.”
“I am very stressed!” Jisung insisted, though his protest was weak. He couldn't deny that his arrangement with Minho was a very effective, very pleasant stress reliever. “Though I’ll admit that our…arrangment…is pretty convenient.”
“I still can’t believe you’re sleeping with your brother’s best friend and neither you nor Minho have told him,” Hyunjin said. “If there’s anything I’ve learnt from shitty cliché romance novels and fanfics, it’s that you won’t be able to keep it hidden forever.”
“I mean, he’s not here right now, is he?” Jisung retorted, waving a dismissive hand. “As long as he’s in Australia, who cares? Anyway, it’s none of his business who me or Minho hook up with, is it?”
“Logically? No. But the drama potential is off the charts,” Hyunjin sighed, leaning back on his hands. “Still, I’m jealous. My love and sex life are basically non-existent. I tried going on a date with a guy I met off a dating app last week and he spent twenty minutes explaining the stock market to me. I’ve never been more turned off by a guy that looked so hot, should’ve never let him open his mouth for real.”
Felix giggled and reached over to pat Hyunjin’s hand on the table sympathetically. “See? That’s why I’ve given up on apps. I’m all about the old-fashioned approach: pining over a stranger at the gym and never actually speaking to them.”
Jisung’s head snapped toward him. “Wait a second. You’ve been going to the gym? I thought you didn’t go after the one time we went together. I’ve been begging you to be my gym buddy for months and you kept saying you’re busy!”
“I am busy when you go,” Felix retorted, unfazed. “You go at, like, ten o’clock at night. I prefer to see the sun when I sweat, thank you very much.”
“It’s the best time, it’s always pretty empty that’s why,” Jisung whined. He turned his head to look from Felix to Hyunjin. “But if you’re going regularly now, then you should too, Hyunjin. I swear it makes such a difference!”
“Oh, you totally should, Jinnie!” Felix chimed in. “Come with me in the mornings. It would be fun to go together! You know, it could even help with your creative block.”
“The gym? Me? Absolutely not.”
“Come on, think of the inspiration,” Jisung pressed, wiggling his eyebrows. “All those sweaty, muscular bodies. It’s a goldmine for your ‘artistic reference’.”
Hyunjin paused, tapping a finger on his chin as if genuinely considering it. “Hmm. A live study of the human form in athletic motion… No, still sounds like too much effort. I’ll stick to the internet for my references.”
“Your loss. More eye candy for us,” Jisung sniffed. He then turned back to Felix. “Now, speaking of, since you’re at the gym so often, has ‘Mr. Watermelon-Thighs’ made another appearance?”
Jisung and Hyunjin have been teasing Felix ever since he tried to describe a guy's legs as being the ‘size of a watermelon’— which, knowing Felix, they were sure was a massive exaggeration. It had happened the one time Jisung and Felix were at the gym together, but Jisung arrived just after the guy left, so Felix was the only witness unfortunately.
“He has a name!” Felix protested, his cheeks turning pink.
“Which is?”
“...I don’t know his actual name,” Felix admitted sheepishly. “But he was there yesterday afternoon, and he wore this white tank top that should definitely be illegal. I almost fell off my bike.”
“You have to talk to him, Lix. Your sexual frustration is starting to affect my own artistic aura.” Hyunjin said.
“The fuck does that even mean?” Felix exclaimed. “Anyway, I can’t just go up to him! What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’ve been staring at your huge arms and legs for three weeks, I think we’re in love’?”
“Yes!” Jisung and Hyunjin said in unison, immediately cracking up and high-fiving each other at their synchronization.
Felix just groaned and hid his face in his hands, which only made them laugh harder.
“But speaking of men who look good in minimal clothing, did you see Chan’s latest Instagram story?” Felix glanced at Jisung with a grin while he said that, obviously enjoying taking the annoyer role and not the annoyee (was this even a word?).
“The shirtless one from the beach, you mean? He looked so fine in that one.” “Righttt,” Hyunjin said, unnecessarily stretching the word. “I may have screenshotted it. For artistic reference, of course.”
‘You guys know he’s a taken man, right?” Jisung reminded them, rolling his eyes.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate the beauty of his anatomy.” Felix replied primly. Felix had met Chan exactly once and had a tiny crush on him ever since.
Before anyone could say anything else, Jisung’s phone started buzzing on the table. He glanced down at the screen, his eyes widening in surprise. Chan.
“Speaking of the devil,” Hyunjin muttered under his breath.
Jisung’s face lit up as he answered, putting the phone on speaker. “Hyung! What’s up?”
A crackle of static came through before Chan’s voice, there was a strange echo to it, and the muffled sound of an announcement in English in the background. “Hey, Ji.”
“Hey, where are you? It sounds loud.”
“I’m at the airport.”
“The airport?” Jisung sat up straighter, exchanging a confused look with Felix. “Are you going somewhere for the traineeship? Or vacation?”
There was a pause, long enough for a knot to form in Jisung’s stomach. “No. I’m… I’m coming home.”
“Home? Like, back to Seoul?” The confusion in Jisung’s voice was quickly replaced by a surge of excitement. “Wait, really? Is your program done early? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Something came up,” Chan said. Could he have been any more vague?
“What came up? Is everything okay? You sound weird.”
“Jisung, I can’t get into it right now,” Chan said, his voice strained and less warm than usual. “We’ll talk when I get there, okay?”
“No, not okay!” Jisung was starting to get frustrated, he hated being treated like a kid who couldn’t handle bad news. “Just tell me what’s wrong. Is it grandma? Are mom and dad okay?”
“Everyone’s fine. It’s… it’s nothing like that,” Chan sighed, and he sounded utterly exhausted. Another boarding announcement, louder this time, drowned out his next words. “—have to go. They’re calling my flight. I land there around 11:30pm, so I’ll arrive at the apartment around 1am probably.”
“Chan, wait—”
“I’ll text you when I land. I gotta go, Ji. Bye.”
The line went dead.
Jisung stared at his phone, he felt a confusing mix of anger and worry inside him.
“What the hell was that?” Hyunjin asked, breaking the silence.
“I have no idea,” Jisung said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “He sounded awful.”
“Maybe it’s a good surprise?” Felix offered, though he didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe he got a job offer back home or something?”
Jisung shook his head. It definitely didn’t sound like a good situation and he hated how vague Chan had been.
“So Chan’s arriving later?”
Minho looked up from his laptop, pulling off his headphones at Jisung’s intrusion into his room. “So he told you?”
“He called me earlier,” Jisung confirmed. “And he already told you?”
“Yeah, he texted me this morning actually.”
Jisung’s shoulders slumped a little, his initial frustration from the phone call giving way to a more pressing worry. “So, do you know what’s going on? He was so vague, I just… I don’t get it.”
“He did tell me a bit more but if he hasn’t told you himself yet…” Minho paused. “I’m sure he’ll explain everything to you when he gets here.”
“So he told you the details, but I have to wait? That’s great.”
“Hey, he didn’t tell me much either. I don’t know how long he’ll stay or anything really. Just try to cut him some slack until he gets here.”
“Fine. Whatever,” he muttered, already turning to leave. He paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Wait, how are we gonna handle the sleeping situation?”
The apartment consisted of two bedrooms: Jisung’s one (formerly Chan’s) and Minho’s one, that each had a single bed. There was also the pull-out couch in the living room, which was technically broader and more spacious than their beds, but it was harder and less comfortable. Plus, Chan had back problems (that old man), so he would definitely not be the one to sleep on the hard couch.
“I mean, I could sleep on the couch and Chan can take my bed,” Minho offered. “I don’t mind.”
“Definitely not, my bed is basically Chan’s bed anyway, so he can sleep there and I’ll take the couch for tonight. We can figure out the rest after, if Chan is kind enough to tell us how long he’s staying.”
It was already past 1AM. Chan had texted Jisung and Minho updates of when he landed, when he got his baggage and when he took an uber and his eta. The final minutes of waiting for Chan to arrive felt strangely nervous. Jisung really had no reason to be nervous, but it’d been a few months since he’s seen CHan last. Just as Jisung was about to ask Minho for the time again, Minho’s phone lit up on the coffee table.
Chan: I’m downstairs
Jisung was at the intercom before Minho even stood up. He pressed the button, “Hey, you’re here.”
Chan’s voice came through the speaker. “Yeah, hey. Buzz me in.”
Jisung pressed the door release, meanwhile Minho made a move for the door, presumably to go down and help, but Chan’s voice crackled through the intercom again.
“Hey, don't worry about coming down. It's just one suitcase. I'm fine."
"You sure?" Jisung asked, his hand hovering over the 'talk' button.
"Yeah, man. See you in a sec."
Minho gave Jisung a small encouraging smile and pulled the front door wide open. They stood there together in the doorway, waiting, peering down the empty, dimly lit hallway towards the elevators.
After a minute, the elevator dinged. The metal doors slid open, and Chan stepped out.
He looked how you’d expect someone to look after a 15 hour travel, or well, maybe a little worse. Tired face, dark circles under his eyes, which were a little puffy, but the moment he saw them standing in the doorway, his entire face broke into a wide, genuine smile.
"Hyung!" Jisung’s nervous energy instantly transformed into pure joy. He closed the distance in a few quick steps and threw his arms around his brother, burying his face in Chan’s neck.
Chan laughed and hugged him back just as tightly, his hand coming up to ruffle Jisung's hair. "Hey, Ji. God, I missed you."
When they separated, Minho was right there, a broad, relieved smile on his own face. He pulled Chan into his own tight hug, clapping him firmly on the back.
"Welcome home, man," Minho said, his voice thick with genuine emotion.
"It's good to be home," Chan replied, pulling back to look at them both, his smile still in place. He gestured to the dark grey hard-shell suitcase he’d been pulling. "See? Told you it was just the one."
“So, how was the flight?" Minho asked, easily lifting the suitcase and carrying it inside before closing the door.
"Long," Chan groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. "And I'm pretty sure the airline seats were designed by someone who hates the human spine. My back hurts."
"I think that’s just your old age is finally catching up to you," Jisung chimed in with a grin.
Chan swatted at him playfully, the gesture tired but fond. "Shut up. Just wait until you turn 24."
For the next half an hour, they settled in the living room, catching up on the small things; Jisung complaining about uni and his final project, Minho and Chan talking about their work and Chan sharing some stuff about Australia.
When the conversation slowed and there was a moment of silence, Chan looked between his brother and his best friend, his expression turning serious. "Hey, I'm sorry for just showing up like this. For being so last minute."
"Don't be stupid," Minho said immediately. "You're always welcome here."
"He's right," Jisung added, even if the lack of information bothered him, he loved his brother to death. "This is your home, too. Now go take a shower. You stink of airport."
Chan managed a real laugh at that. "Alright, alright. I feel kinda gross anyway."
Minho and Jisung still sat on the living room couch when the sound of the shower started. "Well," Minho said, clapping his hands together. "Let's get your five-star accommodation ready."
Jisung groaned as he stood up from the couch and tried to find the handle to well, pull-out the pull-out couch between the cushions. He found it and pulled but nothing budged.
"Why are these things so impossible?" he grumbled, giving it another yank— without success.
Minho watched, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Having trouble there, princess?"
"It's stuck!" Jisung insisted, his face flushed. "This couch is defective, clearly."
"Sure it is," Minho chuckled. He stepped forward. "Move over." He grabbed the handle, braced himself, and with one smooth, strong pull, the couch unfolded itself to a bed (more or less).
"Okay," Jisung said once they were done setting up the bedding. "I'm just gonna go tidy up my— I mean, Chan's? Not sure how we’re doing this —room a bit."
Some time later, Chan emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, drying his hair with a towel. He was dressed only in a pair of boxers, Chan's long-held belief in 'clothing freedom' apparently still going strong, a misfortune for Jisung’s eyes. He stuck his head into Minho’s room to murmur a quick 'good night' before heading down the hall.
Jisung was cleaning up the mess that was his desk when Chan walked in.
“Looks different in here,” Chan observed, leaning against the doorframe as he took in the familiar space. “Definitely infinitely messier than when it was my room.”
“Wow, okay, fuck you too,” Jisung retorted, spinning around from the desk. “Where’s the gratitude? The ‘Oh, Jisung, my savior, the best brother anyone could ever wish for, thank you for graciously giving up your bed for my weary, old bones’?”
Chan gigged at that, and Jisung had to admit that maybe he had missed that sound just a tiny little bit.
“Thank you, Jisung” Chan said a bit more seriously.
Jisung sat on the edge of the desk chair. "Of course." He hesitated for a moment before asking the question that had been lingering in his mind the whole day. "So... are you gonna tell me what happened?"
Chan let out a heavy sigh, and came to sit on the edge of the bed. He stared at his hands, avoiding Jisung's gaze. "Felicia and I. We, uh… we broke up."
"Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry. What happened?"
Chan shook his head, a muscle tightening in his jaw. "I don't really want to get into the details. It just... it didn't work out. It got bad and I couldn’t stay there anymore."
Jisung’s face was filled with compassion. He had really wanted to know why Chan came back so suddenly, but now that he knew, he really didn’t want to to press for details. He stood up and walked over, placing a comforting hand on Chan's shoulder. "Okay," he said softly. "You don't have to say anything else. Get some rest. We can talk whenever you're ready."
Chan nodded, his shoulders slumping in relief. "Thanks, Ji."
"Good night, hyung."
“Good night, Sungie.”
Jisung gave his shoulder a final squeeze before quietly leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
He padded back out to the living room and collapsed onto the pull-out couch, the apartment was silent for a long time. Just as he was starting to drift off, he heard the soft click of another door. Minho appeared, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. On his way back, he paused by the couch.
"You good?" Minho whispered.
"Yeah," Jisung whispered back into the darkness. "He told me they broke up."
Minho nodded slowly, "Get some sleep, Ji."
"You too. Good night."
Minho disappeared back into his room, and the apartment fell into its final silence. With both his brother and his roommate tucked away in their respective rooms, Jisung finally closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion of the long day and night take over.