Work Text:
Three bottles of soju relentlessly clink against each other in Jisung’s jittery hand. The sound echoes and bounces against the walls of the narrow hallway to Minho’s bedroom, making Jisung wince hard, his heart rate picking up from how nervous he is of getting caught.
Minho promptly shushes him. “You’ll wake up my dad.” He hisses. Jisung ducks his head in response, sheepish.
“This was a bad idea.” Jisung says through a huff as soon as they had made their way back to the older boy’s room. “Like, we might get in serious trouble for it.”
Minho tosses the bags of chips he was holding onto his bed and follows suit, his body perkily bouncing along the mattress. “You worry too much, Jisung-ah. Now hand me a bottle.” He stretches out his palm and wriggles his fingers urgently. Jisung just stands unresponsive in the middle of the room, the necks of the soju bottles still caught between his fingers. “Jisung.” Minho pointedly calls to him and then reaches over seconds later to steal one from his grip when he doesn’t oblige.
“Hyung. I won’t be legal till next year. Did you forget?” Jisung helplessly mutters while setting down the rest of the bottles on the nearby desk. “I’m still a minor.”
“Well, I’m not. And who told you you had to drink anything?” Minho says with a smile almost sardonic. Jisung’s chest tightens. “Pass me the bottle opener, will you?”
Jisung reluctantly fishes out the item from his pocket and hands it over. “Don’t you think your dad will notice he’s missing a significant amount of soju from his fridge?”
A sharp smell escapes the bottle as soon as Minho uncaps it. Jisung watches as the other boy examines the liquid before taking a sizable gulp of it. He grimaces right after. “Do you know how many of these he drinks in a day? The man is miserable. He’ll be too depressed to notice. I’ll just let him think he drank everything and forgot.” Another swig.
“Hyung, maybe you shouldn’t drink that.”
Minho scoffs. “Maybe my mother shouldn’t have left us out of the blue. But people just can’t help doing things they shouldn’t do, can they?” He tilts his head back again and takes another sip.
“Hyung…”
He grunts softly and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “God, Jisung. Don’t be a baby. It’s just alcohol.”
It’s as if every word that escapes Minho’s lips are pins and needles aimed to prick Jisung’s spirit. He knows Minho doesn’t mean to, not really, but the older boy is probably holding too much pain inside him that one way or the other he’d have to dispense some of it.
He was never like this before. Jisung understands it’s probably his way of coping. Some coping mechanisms tend to stick though, and it breaks his heart to think the once spirited and jovial hyung he’d known and loved would resort to such ill-advised measures. And Jisung has his fair share of alcoholic aunts and uncles in his family to allow him to be at least a little cryptic.
Alright, he’s probably overanalyzing and thinking too far ahead, but he can’t help but worry. He’s never cared about anyone as much as he does for Minho.
“I’m sorry you’re in a lot of pain, hyung. I wish I could take it all away, really.” Jisung softly says as he situates himself next to Minho on the bed.
Minho’s mother had left him and his dad a little over a month ago. But it wasn’t until three weeks into it that he started believing it was permanent.
They’ve never really talked about it beyond surface level before and Jisung had never felt like he had any real opinion on the matter so he didn’t say anything and hoped for Minho’s sake that it was a temporary thing.
It wasn’t, but neither is Jisung.
Minho glances back at him, and he thinks it’s almost surreal how easy it is to tell how much pain the older boy is in. For as long as Jisung has known him, he was terribly hard to read. He’d made most of himself translucent and ambiguous. If Jisung wasn’t as stubborn and diligent as he was, he wouldn’t have stuck around for so long. And even if Minho wouldn’t dare admit it, he’s probably relieved Jisung stayed.
Jisung thinks he’ll always stay.
Minho didn’t like to talk about or show much of what he was feeling, so Jisung thinks that right now the pain is probably so excruciating that he can’t bear to hide it anymore.
That, or the alcohol is messing with his standard Minho wiring. Either way it doesn’t stop Jisung from wrapping his arms around the other. It’s a tentative embrace at first, but when Minho doesn’t show any sign of resistance, he tightens his arms around the older boy’s slightly bigger frame, practically engulfing him.
He’d like to think he’s the only one Minho would share moments like this with. Even though they’re as rare as they come. People tend to misunderstand Minho, but Jisung had always known him to be just a boy who feels too much of everything and never wants to burden anyone else with them.
“You can be sad about it, hyung. You can miss your mom and be angry with her at the same time.” Jisung carefully says, fingers tangled in Minho’s soft hair.
Minho noticeably leans in to his touch and deflates. Then only a few seconds later, his body starts shuddering in Jisung’s hold. He’s crying, and even though Jisung can’t really see, it makes him want to cry too.
They stay like this for a long while, the drink cradled in Minho’s hands growing tepid with each passing minute.
“D-do you want to talk about it?” Jisung cautiously asks.
“No...I’m too tired. But I really needed that…”
“Okay. That’s good enough.” Jisung’s shoulders and arms might be cramping from holding his hyung but it doesn’t really matter as long as he’d given him comfort.
“I hate the way soju tastes.” Minho tells him through a frown. It’s hardly there but Jisung sees it anyway. He lets out a tentative chuckle and pries the bottle off the other boy’s hand before placing it on the desk with the others.
“It smelled really bad, hyung. I don’t know why you still drank it.”
Minho smiles, small and laced with alcohol but genuine. “My dad.” He starts, his expression quickly replaced by concern. “He needs help, doesn’t he?”
Jisung worries his lower lip and nods.
Minho tears himself away so he can crawl deeper into his bed and slip under the covers. Jisung follows him with his gaze and lingers for a moment before ultimately inviting himself over and sidling up next to his hyung.
“I’m sorry for making you steal soju with me and calling you a baby.” Minho mumbles as he turns to face Jisung. “Or for just being an overall asshole.”
“It’s fine. I’m not mad.”
“I know. I just wanted you to know I was sorry.” Minho’s lips curl into a small smile. He looks so pretty, Jisung thinks, even when his eyes are a little swollen and his face is flushed from the combination of tears and soju.
Their noses are merely a few inches apart, Minho’s soft breath fanning gently over his face. It smells like soju with a hint of toothpaste and it’s not the most pleasant thing, but Jisung might be too far gone to really care.
He moves slightly to press the gentlest kiss on Minho’s eyelid, eliciting a tiny chuckle from the older male. The reaction is laced with alcohol, Jisung knows, but things like this are almost second nature to them.
And they don’t mean anything. Well, they shouldn’t . However just as Minho had said, people often do things they shouldn’t do. In the same vein, they feel things they shouldn’t feel.
What shouldn’t Jisung feel?
A lot of things.
He probably shouldn’t feel his toes tingling or his stomach fluttering from the sheer proximity of Minho’s face to his. He shouldn’t have the strongest urge to cup Minho’s cheeks with the palm of his hands and bring him even closer. He shouldn’t feel an overwhelming desire to expose his bleeding heart. Not right now. Maybe not ever.
No.
He really shouldn—
“I think I’m in love with you, hyung.” He blurts out, his eyes shut tight as he quickly shuffles to face the other direction.
His heart is beating so loud, almost unbearable, and he can hardly hear anything else because of it. Minho isn’t saying anything, and the dread from his untimely confession washes over him like a gigantic wave.
Oh God you’ve done it now, Han Jisung. Stupid idiot.
“Hyung? Say something.” He pleads, voice quivering in his throat.
When there’s still no response, he finally gathers the courage to turn back around.
The sight that greets him is Minho’s eyes peacefully closed, his entire face relieved of any tension. His shoulders move in a steady rhythm, the complete opposite of Jisung’s much more ragged breathing.
He’s asleep.
Jisung wants to laugh, wondering if the older boy had even heard him before passing out. He shakes his head to himself, actually relieved.
Maybe that was for the best.
—
Minho isn’t next to him when he wakes up.
He untangles himself from the mess of blankets and hurriedly shuffles to the bathroom so he can quickly wash his face.
“Good morning.”
Jisung is mid-wash when he flinches into his wet palms at the sudden greeting.
“Hyung, what the hell, you scared me.” He exclaims, half-blindly reaching for a towel.
“Sorry.” He sees Minho smile through the mirror. Last night’s events flashing before his eyes in vivid color.
“Uhm…”
“So, listen.” Minho clears his throat and leans against the doorframe. “I had the weirdest dream last night.”
“W-What dream?”
“I dreamt you told me you were in love with me...or something.” The older boy says casually, and Jisung swears his heart stops. It’s over. He heard him. Dear God please let the floor swallow Jisung whole.
It’s fine. He can probably go with it and hopefully remain unscathed. If only his heart would stop drumming incessantly loud in his ears.
“O-Oh.” Jisung lets out a strained laugh. “That is weird.”
“Uh huh.”
He purses his lips. “What did you say to this weird dream version of me?”
“It’s not much of what I said. More of what I did really.” Minho shrugs before taking a step closer.
And then, not a second longer, before Jisung can absorb or dissect whatever it is that’s going on, Minho’s lips are already pressed against his.
It’s a soft, fleeting kiss, physically barely even there. Silly as it may sound, it really almost feels like they’re in a dream. But it’s everything Jisung could ever want from his first kiss. It’s Minho, and the way his hands are firmly on Jisung’s waist is more than enough to keep him steady in reality.
When they pull away, Jisung doesn’t fail to notice the way Minho’s cheeks are glowing pink. He looks shy and embarrassed, despite how smooth he’d been just seconds ago. Jisung rarely ever gets to see this side of the other boy so he revels in it.
“What was that?”
“A kiss?”
“That’s how you kiss?” Jisung teases.
“Shut up. I didn’t want to scare you.” Minho reasons.
“Hyung…” He sighs and leans back in to kiss Minho again, this time with a little more fervor. It doesn’t take long though, before the older boy is taking the lead.
“My dream was super vivid.” Minho comments after they’ve pulled back for the second time.
Jisung tries not to keel over and die from how giddy he is. “Hyung—“
“Do you want to have breakfast downstairs?” Minho offers a hand.
“Okay.” Jisung smiles and takes the older boy’s hand in his.
People always leave, but not you. Never you.