Work Text:
It’s nothing.
That’s what Minho decides on when he thinks back on what happened between him and Jisung two days before he left for university. It’s not a lie — that’s what they agreed on — so it shouldn’t make him feel as wrong as it does.
The day they kissed; when Minho asked for the simple favour out of pure curiosity. It was meant to be nothing, just a wonder come true and a want for something new sated, and that’s what it was in the end. Minho left that evening feeling satisfied with a new experience.
Jisung grips tightly onto his arms as they kiss, the phantom touch warming Minho even long after he leaves the town. He looks at him with wide, pleading eyes right when they part for air and right before Minho’s chest squeezes painfully and he lets out the words. “It’s nothing.”
It’s the truth anyway.
Minho spends the entire ride to another state thinking back on that evening — or at least a good portion anyway, when he’s not sleeping and rewatching the video he took of his family cat, Pong, to keep him company — and ultimately, that’s all he comes out with.
It’s nothing. He wanted to know what it feels like to be kissed. He wanted to know what it feels like to kiss Jisung and his cute plump lips that can never stay shut for too long. Maybe he even wondered what it would be like if Jisung wrapped his arms around him as they kissed (he didn’t, but Minho isn’t sure if he’s really disappointed).
What he found out is that it’s nice, to be kissed — to be kissed by Jisung specifically, maybe, or that might have just been the magic of the moment. But that’s all that it was — nice.
So, ultimately, it really is nothing.
A few months into being a university student, Minho feels the craving to repeat the experiment. He finds a random stranger at a house party that doesn’t look at all bothered with the idea of getting closer and experiences what it feels like to kiss again.
It feels like nothing, nothing at all.
Minho honestly isn’t sure what to think about that — so he doesn’t think about it at all. He faintly remembers the sensation of his first kiss, the one he shared with Jisung, and wonders if it really only felt good because he knew what he was getting.
The disappointing acknowledgement doesn’t discourage him to try again, though. A different stranger, a different classmate. It doesn’t take too long to realise girls don’t spark joy at all, and only a little more to bitterly accept that guys neither.
And then Minho finds himself at the end of the tunnel, expecting to already find an answer by how far he’s gotten with his research , but all he finds is a solid wall instead. There’s nothing.
Except there is some light coming from the sidetrack — with the approaching holidays, he realises the opportunity of seeing Jisung again. And even though he wouldn’t admit to it, he can’t help but wonder if the initial spark would still be there when he returns.
If it wasn’t his imagination, after all.
It isn’t. Jisung proves that right away when they collapse on the bed and they’re not even kissing yet but Minho already feels all giddy. They fall into a comfortable silence, and even though Minho really wants to jump right to where they left off, he lets the evening progress.
They talk about school, and Minho has to admit that it’s nothing thrilling — after all, aside from introducing himself to a few new people and the fruitless kissing spree, there is nothing to brag about. It’s calm and Minho likes it that way.
But it’s also lonely. Minho hadn’t realised that, even though he did often think of Jisung when he found himself alone in the dorm, his roommate Changbin stuck at the filming studios until late at night. He hadn’t realised just how much he missed the laugh of his best friend. The warmth of him beside Minho as they fit two bodies onto one bed. The simple acknowledgement of being together and feeling so carefree.
He can’t help but let all of his feelings out through his laughter, and the blooming feeling in his chest only grows when Jisung follows suit.
They fall into another comfortable silence — that had always been normal for them when neither really felt the need to talk and knew the other understood him perfectly through the silence. It feels just like the old days — it’s perfect.
Minho watches attentively as Jisung levels out his breathing and turns his head to cast a hopeful look at him. “Hey, can we kiss now?”
His voice sounds bold and confident, almost eager to proceed with the suggested action. He seems equally as determined as startled by his own words, but Minho knows him well enough to be sure he means it. It’s a request — a bold challenge that Minho isn’t going to pass up on.
Minho wonders if he really wants it for a brief moment, but decides that there’s no way he will be disappointed. Not this time. And so, he takes a deep breath and in what he hopes is a stoic voice, he replies with his confirmation. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Jisung breathes out an echo of his words, voice soaked with poorly contained glee, before he surges forward and meets Minho halfway as they connect their lips.
Minho feels his whole body melt at the sensation — a brief reminiscence of their first kiss flashes through his mind, feeling as vivid as the one happening right now. And there’s no doubt. It feels like something.
The usual numbness is gone and for the first time since Minho can remember, he’s not focusing on the slightly disturbing taste of spit as he willingly invites himself in with his tongue, and he’s not painfully aware of the too warm puffs of breath exhaled against him.
Both sensations are there, but frankly, Minho doesn’t mind them — they get lost in the wave of ecstasy of... being so close to Jisung. The warmth of his body, the ghost of his touch just under the hem of Minho’s shirt, the quiet gasps leaving his mouth. It’s all Jisung.
It doesn’t mean anything — just that he’s finally back where he belongs, under the hands of the person he treasures the most. Under the hands of someone who doesn’t feel like nothing.
And yet, when they part and Jisung lets out the question — What are we doing? — there are no other words left on Minho’s tongue. “Nothing.”
Because that’s what it is, even if it feels like something. It doesn’t have a meaning, after all.
Does Minho want it to have a meaning? No.
For now, he’s content with the newfound reassurance that there is something to be felt. That’s all he was hoping for, anyway. So he lets himself be pulled into a kiss after kiss, building up a pattern during the last few days of Minho’s stay until it feels like second nature.
Things settle down again when Minho arrives back at the university.
He doesn’t initiate any more hook ups and focuses on his studies instead, giving all of his time and energy to studying and his part time job as a dance teacher at the campus. It keeps him busy and occupied, and he likes it that way.
It occurs to him that a lot of people talk about relationships — his own mother tends to bring the topic up much more often than he’d like to listen to it when they videocall on weekends. With a pang of guilt, he reaffirms that he’s too busy to think about such.
It would be too much of a bother to tell her that he doesn’t like it — the affection so common in relationships, the feeling of kissing. She wouldn’t understand. It’s not like he understands either.
He doesn’t understand what makes Jisung’s kisses so special. He wants to know why the kisses he shares with his best friend are so pleasant as opposed to everyone else. Now with the experience of having kissed countless strangers, he can tell with ease that it’s not because the younger is a good kisser (he is anything but).
(But he did get better at it, Minho notes bitterly. He wonders if Jisung is seeking out kisses and touches when Minho is away, eager to gain experience. He hates it.)
The last chance Minho gives to his experiments is when he — although begrudgingly — opens up about his strange lack of interest for intimacy to his roommate. It takes everything he has to not close the topic as soon as it’s presented on the table, the weird guilty feeling overtaking his mind once again, but he figures out there’s nothing to lose. It’s what it is — kissing is weird, relationships are weird, and yet there’s one person who all of this feels more than okay with. One person that makes Minho feel things.
One person who isn’t here to make it all make sense and with who Minho wouldn’t want to waste time on unnecessary questions when they can just do what feels the best. It only bothers him when Jisung isn’t there, after all.
Changbin suggests to just see where things lead when Minho doesn’t bother elaborating on what he feels with Jisung; he promises to take it easy on Minho.
Kissing Changbin is actually nice — comfortable — good. Not there yet but a close call to what Minho was hoping for. Even though that by the end of the night Minho figures out he wouldn’t want things to escalate, he must admit that he likes the outcome.
And… maybe that’s it. The answer to his unspoken question.
Yet, the memory of Jisung never leaves the back of his mind.
As expected, it doesn’t compare to when Minho finally tastes Jisung’s lips again on Christmas. It feels so easy to pull Jisung into his arms and kiss him like there’s no tomorrow.
It only takes one exchange of glances to know that they both want it. They fall onto the bed and pick up from where they left off a month ago — it just feels so natural.
Jisung feels like home and everything familiar and warm despite the slight chill of his room. He smiles like Minho hadn’t been away for a single day and kisses him like he’d craved his lips for years. And Minho gives in, pleasantly overwhelmed.
They kiss for what feels like hours and Minho doesn’t get tired. It’s a little scary. But it’s what he wanted so he doesn’t question it, too busy enjoying what he has right under his palms.
He missed this.
Even though they part for the day, things don’t end just there. Minho and Jisung find each other on every moment presented to them, soft lips moving against each other and gentle hands exploring each other’s bodies. Minho is aware of how new it feels — he’s done these things but never quite like this. It never felt like this.
With Jisung, he feels something and not nothing like how he’d been with everyone else.
He had always felt things with Jisung, felt connected to him — but that was only natural in the foreign environment, he found the one person that felt the same. And then it made even more sense, the two of them staying close-knit together and letting a deep frienship bloom.
Maybe kissing Jisung doesn’t feel good because they’re kissing — it’s special because it’s one more connection with the person he trusts the most. It’s the bond they formed over the years that makes him want to see how far they take things when he dares to get intimate.
It’s all the years they spent together as best friends, as soulmates (as Jisung liked to call them when they were a little younger) that makes it so easy, so desirable.
Those are the thoughts that lead Minho to take a step even further. It’s New Years Eve and the two of them are sitting on the back porch, counting minutes until midnight. At least Jisung is counting quietly under his breath, while Minho’s mind runs mile a minute.
He doesn’t like thinking about things this much — if it were on him, he would have just jumped Jisung the moment their parents disappeared somewhere upstairs. But there’s something lingering at the back of his mind and he honestly just wants to come out with it.
“I love you,” he lets out, simple and easy, as if it wasn’t causing his stomach to do sommersaults. It’s the truth whether he admits that it means fluttering hearts and longing for kisses or takes the easier route out.
Jisung smiles when he hears the words, and that gives Minho an ounce of strength to continue even when the younger cracks up into a gentle laugh. “You’re my oldest friend Han Jisung, and that means a lot. I love you.”
And it does, it means more than just something, it means so much.
It explains why Minho can’t stop thinking about him in a way that is nowhere near platonic, and it also provides an answer to why it’s Jisung and no one else. It couldn’t be anyone else.
Jisung takes a moment to process before he laughs again, this time showing his own nervousness. “Really?”
“I… I think so,” he admits. “It feels awful to be kissed if it’s not you.”
“What does that mean?”
Minho would like to know the answer, too.
It means that when they’re together, Minho feels the familiar surge of warmth and that he craves being close, close, closer to Jisung and the kisses feel heavenly and for some reason, Jisung is the only one it feels that way with. Minho wishes he could articulate all of that. Instead, he shrugs. “Something, I guess.”
“Well… if it’s my turn,” Jisung leans in and places a tentative hand on Minho’s thigh. “I love you, too.” It sounds so easy. “And… I want to do more with you than just kiss, if you’re ready.”
Deep down, Minho knows he wants to take it, so he should just say yes but for a reason, the word gets stuck in his throat. There are still a million questions running through his head — Would that feel good too if it’s Jisung? What if he hurts him by not responding at all?
“I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s scary.”
“That’s okay,” Jisung reassures him. He doesn’t back away nor stop touching him, and Minho can sense the slight impatience in the subtle twitch of his fingers. It’s cute.
“Really?” he asks even though he doesn’t have to. Jisung had always been easy to read, and he hadn’t given him any sign of ever not being sincere. He knows Jisung means it.
It still feels nice to hear the confirmation out loud.
“The world isn’t black and white, hyung,” Jisung says in a comforting voice. He looks at Minho so softly as if the older could break under his gaze — he reads the insecurity in his eyes like second nature. How does Jisung make everything look so easy?
The thought makes Minho’s stomach flutter. “What should I do, then?”
Jisung smiles. It’s a gentle smile in its very core, but with a little sparkle of exhilaration that sets Minho's own heart aflame. “Why not enjoy it?”
“Okay. So, can I still kiss you?” Minho asks tentatively, internally cooing at the apparent joy that overtakes Jisung’s features as the younger leans into his space and chases after his lips.
“Always,” the younger murmurs against his mouth, just before he dives in to connect them. It feels like a warm blanket on the chilly night out, like a soft cushion to lose himself in, and like the comfort of returning home after a long winter. It feels like every new experience with Jisung by his side, even though it’s not new at all, and like every sweet memory of him.
It means
everything.