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Jisung would like to be surprised, but he isn’t the slightest bit. It was expected, he says for himself inside his head. The words echo, again and again, following him just to pester him.
It was expected.
It was expected.
It was expected.
He swallows the big lump forming in his throat, attempting to subdue the precipitous urge to cry at the realization of his—not quite unexpected—feelings. He doesn’t want to burst into tears just like a crybaby, he is stronger than that.
Quietly, Jisung sits on the edge of the bed. It doesn't belong to him, yet he has been there so many times that it has become so, so familiar. Sometimes, Jisung likes to pretend that he is also the owner of that bed, but that is all: pretend.
He props his elbows on his thighs, rubs the palms of his hands against his face, and then runs his fingers through his hair. He is weary and jittery, knowing all too well that this realization isn’t good.
Jisung hears the bed sheets rustling and a soft hum, the edges of his heart shatter a little when he looks back and watches those sleepy, half-lidded eyes already looking at him, dishevelled purple hair sticking out in whatever direction, a little smile tugging at those pretty, plump lips.
Jisung knows too damn well that sight. He has gotten used to it at his point.
If it was any other day, Jisung’s heart would have swelled with pride at the sight of Minho looking so breathless and just like a mess. He made him look like that. Jisung should be proud to be the one right there with him, making him shudder and whisper sweet nonsense, but his heart is a second away from bursting out of his chest.
Minho speaks when Jisung gets up to gather his clothes and get dressed. “Are you leaving?” His voice sounds weak, intimate, and with a tint of surprise.
Jisung understands where the surprise is coming from. He has never left Minho alone before, it is the first time that he leaves the bed and gathers his clothes to head out of his home.
He sighs. “Yes,” he replies, a bitter taste blooming on his tongue as the words roll off. Jisung avoids glancing at Minho, knowing that solely one look will be enough to go back to bed and wrap his arms around Minho’s body to sleep together for the rest of the night.
Jisung wants to leave that flaming flat as soon as possible. He wants to leave behind that familiar scent, sweet lips, and soft hands. He wants to leave his feelings behind and go back to the very beginning where everything was fun and lighthearted.
He quells the annoying voice in his head telling him to look back before walking out of the room, or at least force a smile at Minho or say a simple goodbye.
He doesn’t say a single thing, but Minho calls for him.
“Jisung,” Minho whispers loud enough for him to hear.
Reluctantly, he looks back. The need to go back to bed and wrap Minho tightly in his arms pricks beneath his skin by just looking at him—there, so incredibly gorgeous with a sheen of sweat covering his smooth skin.
Jisung shoves his hands in his pockets and arches one of his brows, curious and anticipating. “Yeah?”
Minho takes a deep, shaky breath before pressing his lips into a thin line. “Be careful on your way back home,” he says.
Jisung forces the curves of his lips to twitch up the slightest bit, only a small, weak smile to assure Minho. “Don’t worry,” he answers before leaving him.
A heavy blanket of sadness wraps around his heart with each step that gets him further away from that home, from Minho’s warm side. It gets heavier and heavier, almost unbearable, as he thinks about Minho.
Minho and his sweets kisses, words, touches. The way Minho behaves in front of his friends. The way he calls him, so sickenly dulcet. The way he takes care of him, as if Jisung was his to protect and love.
Perhaps, Jisung shouldn’t be walking toward his place. Perhaps, it would be better to take the bus and avoid the wintry wind that blushes bright red on his cheeks and nose. But, the thoughts mingling in his head don’t let him think straight. Jisung wants to stop his growing love for Minho, maybe the icy weather numbs his heart.
The realization has hit him like a truck, it hurts too much, but… Jisung knows it was meant to happen, doesn’t he?
How could it not have happened if Minho is so… Minho? Sweet, thoughtful, caring, whimsical, meek yet dominant—soft smiles and harsh eyes, mellifluous words and rough touches. Minho is bittersweet, just like Jisung likes it.
Jisung was doomed to fall in love with Minho, even if he had attempted his best to avoid the calamitous situation.
What does he do now with a head brimmed with chaotic thoughts and a heart full of love?
← ← ←
The very first glance feels like a sudden brief burst of bright flame igniting in Jisung’s cheeks, Jisung’s heart, and Jisung’s tummy—in Jisung’s life. Never in his life, he thought a pair of eyes would transmit so much, would tell him the deepest desires and secrets, yet there is Minho. He dances on the stage as if his life depends on it and almost never breaks eye contact with Jisung, causing him to shudder inevitably.
It’s surprising. Jisung seldom can hold eye contact, his bashfulness crawling up to him and holding him back from looking at someone’s eyes for too much time, but it would be a waste to avert his eyes or thoughts from Minho. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he lost a single second of Minho’s wonderful and sexy performance.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Jisung blinks once, twice, thrice at his friend’s voice taking him out of his haze. Jisung curses inwardly at Changbin for making him look away and faces his smile and twinkling eyes. “I told you Minho is crazy on stage, he’s the best dancer here.”
Jisung’s gaze falls on Minho again. There he is, moving around the pole so skillfully and showing off his skittish grin. Fuck , Jisung thinks. Minho looks like the personification of his worst thoughts and desires. It should be prohibited the way his gaze is so sultry, or the way his hips (his whole body) sway so alluringly, or the way his silver hair falls before his eyes and make them look extra attractive.
Jisung can’t escape the thought that Minho would look good even if he is a mess, even better under him.
“Yeah, he’s good,” he replies breathlessly. “Tell me again how you got close to him.”
Changbin giggles, sipping his drink and clicking his tongue after. “We got to know each other through a mutual friend and we were roommates a few years ago.”
Jisung hums, once again hypnotized by Minho’s movements and just everything about him. The sly smile, shimmering eyes with overflowing impishness, the tight clothes showing the curves of his body and open in the right places to show his skin. Everything about Minho is eye-catching and stunning.
Jisung wonders if this Minho guy, Changbin’s friend and former roommate, is real or a figment of his foolish, desperate imagination. He wonders if the situation itself is real. If Changbin truthfully invited him to a strip club to watch one of his close friend’s performances, if he said yes albeit slightly unconfident, if he surely has been staring at Minho since he got the stage and pole all for himself.
“Don’t let him flatter you too much with his smile and dancing, he’s a total menace off stage.” Changbin giggles, shaking his head a little as if he is reminiscing some anecdotes about him and Minho.
Jisung wishes he wouldn’t have let himself be flattered, but it has been an impossible mission from the very beginning. It is worse when Minho has left the stage and approaches them with an easy, shiny smile. He glimmers under the multi-coloured lights and stretches his lips so much that wrinkles appear in the corners of his eyes. Soft giggles leave his mouth when Changbin begins showering him with compliments.
“Oh, shut up. You’re complimenting me just because you want your green hoodie back. Bad news for you, I won’t give it back,” he says in a jest and shoves Changbin a little to sit with them in the booth. Those small, cute eyes travel to Jisung and stare at him with a lifted, curious eyebrow. “Who’s the cutie with you?” he asks Changbin.
The flame gets wilder on Jisung, blazing his cheeks and the tips of his ears, embarrassment wrapping around him tightly. He attempts to answer, or at least say something because he doesn’t want Changbin to reply, but it appears to be that his delay makes Minho giggle and Changbin answers for him.
“He’s Jisung, a friend and coworker—a really good music producer and songwriter,” Changbin says with an entertained smile tugging at his lips.
Minho draws an interesting smile on his face, the shimmer in his eyes getting stronger as he says, “Well, he isn’t very good with words for a songwriter, is he?” A roguish lilt laces his words, emphasizing that he is only poking fun at him, and Jisung feels the need to show him that he is good with words.
He could be the best with words if only Minho let him show it.
That’s why he desperately says, “You were perfect on stage, it was an impressive performance.” The crimson shade on Jisung’s cheeks doesn’t leave him, instead, the colour deepens when his voice suddenly breaks at the end. He has just embarrassed himself in front of this sexy man, hasn’t he? God, Minho will think he is behaving like a teenager.
A mocking giggle slips past Changbin’s lips, but he attempts to repress it with his hand pressed against his lips. Minho follows Changbin, giggling openly at his face until his soft laughter turns into an uproar sound. He is laughing right in Jisung’s face, laughing at him, but Jisung couldn’t care less. The only thought that runs through his head is that he wants to keep making Minho laugh so maniacally. He wants to be the reason behind Minho’s bunny teeth showing beneath his wide-stretched lips and crinkling, twinkling eyes filled with pure elation.
“God, Jisung. You’re so funny and cute”—he is interrupted by a giggle bubbling from the back of his throat—“I want to keep you around forever,” Minho continues, wiping the tiny, happy tears escaping from the rims of his eyes. “Thank you for the compliment, I appreciate it from you because I don’t have anything that’s yours,” he says, smiling with a tint of mischievousness in the curves of his lips when he adds, “yet.”
Those playful eyes have Jisung lingering his gaze on Minho’s face, just wanting to capture every small detail. Jisung wishes Minho’s words are full of meaning and not just a light joke—he wishes Minho frankly wants to keep him around forever.
Changbin whistles, breaking their intense eye contact with a huff. “Okay, okay. I feel like a third wheel.”
Minho giggles and scratches Changbin under his chin. “Don’t say that, big baby. Let me look for my belongings and we can go somewhere else.” Minho winks—or tries to ( he’s so cute, Jisung thinks)—at Jisung and leaves them alone with a promise of coming back swiftly.
The flame that initially ignited when Minho’s eyes were linked with Jisung’s while he was dancing on stage—all dolled up and moving with a sensuality not seen before—doesn’t die throughout the whole night. It happens the total opposite. Jisung feels the warm blush accompanying him all night long, and he is smart enough to acknowledge that Minho pressed beside him in the bar has something to do with it.
Minho has his undivided attention the whole night. Jisung just can’t stop glancing at him, appreciating stealthily how his Adam apple bobs with every sip of his fruity cocktail, how his eyes crinkle with every laugh, how his gaze turns sleepy and half-lidded when it begins to get deeper into the night.
Jisung watches him attentively the instant Minho opens his pretty lips to say something and steal a bashful laugh from him. He is fidgeting with his fingers and hoping his hitching breath isn’t noticeable when Minho pats his thigh.
“Are you having fun, Jisung?” Minho questions the moment they are alone, Changbin has gone to the bathroom and hasn’t come back in the last ten minutes (which were brimmed with a comfortable silence between them).
“Oh?” Jisung shapes his lips in a tiny O, a little surprised at the unforeseen question. “Hm, yes?”
The edges of Minho’s lips twitch up scarcely. “You don’t sound so sure.”
Jisung shakes his head vehemently. “No, no. I’m having a good time, I just don’t understand where the question is coming from.”
Minho shrugs, one of his arms sliding over Jisung’s shoulders and squeezing them softly. There is something strange between them—a weird sense of comfort lingering in their gazes and furtive touches (Minho’s pats on Jisung’s thigh, their arms touching, their fingers brushing when Minho hands Jisung a drink) that neither of them knows where is it coming from. They have known each other for a couple of hours, but both feel quite comfortable and something more under that layer of casual affinity.
“I’m having a good time with you, ”Minho says and smiles drowsily later, “and Changbin. He’s a good mate, but… It’s our first meeting and I’m enjoying having you here, I'd like to know if you feel the same.”
Jisung already knows that Minho’s eyes are intense, but right now there are balls of fire in his irises, burning Jisung as he looks at him with a strong something in them.
Unintentionally, Jisung’s eyes fall to Minho’s lips and sees the way his tongue darts out to wet them rapidly. Jisung thinks of himself as a collected man, but he is also aware of his instant attraction to Minho. At this exact moment, he is afraid he might let himself be dragged by his desires and press his mouth against Minho’s.
“I’m having a good time too,” he answers and gives him a closed-lipped smile.
Minho keeps a serious expression for a whole second, staring at Jisung’s face with an unreadable confession in his eyes and under his tongue. Jisung knows only a thing or two about Minho so far, but he is so crystal clear that Jisung knows that there is something on the tip of his tongue—something he doesn’t know if he should say or not, something he doesn’t know if he should do or not.
Whatever it is, Jisung wants Minho to say it or do it.
Minho only nods and smiles behind his drink, lips wrapping around the heart straw. “I’m glad, then. I hope I see you around more.”
Before Changbin comes back, Minho squeezes his knee beneath the table. Jisung looks at him and grins softly, promising silently that they will meet each other again some other time.
→ → →
The weight of realizing his feelings for Minho is overly heavy on Jisung’s shoulders and heart. He just wants to vanish those sappy thoughts about Minho, wants to forget about what he causes him and his stupid heart. But, it is a completely difficult task when Minho is all around him, even when he isn’t physically around him.
It is now, after four months of knowing Minho, three of them fooling around with Minho (sharing playful nights and mornings with him), that Jisung realizes that Minho is all scattered around in his place and follows him everywhere.
It would happen accidentally.
Jisung would take a shower and wash his hair with the shampoo Minho left there by accident and never took it home, then spend the whole day with the same scent Minho always has. Jisung would look for clothes and find a sweater that doesn’t look like something he would personally buy (spoiler: it belongs to Minho), or unwittingly put on something that belongs to Minho (he wore Minho’s leather jacket to work last Monday and slept a few nights wearing one of his hoodies).
It hasn’t been something they talked about, but Jisung woke up one morning and noticed that there isn’t only one toothbrush but two in his bathroom—the pink one is his and the green one is Minho’s. Also, Jisung isn’t the type of person that puts on body lotions or creams, but there are a couple of those standing proudly on the nightstand where Minho usually sleeps, and which Jisung uses from time to time after the habit got him because Minho told him so many times that he should use them. (“I love your skin, but I know it’d feel better if you used them. Give them a try, baby,” Minho had told him one night. They were naked, sweaty, and lying on the younger’s bed.)
It isn’t something Jisung put too much thought into, it just… happened over the past months. There is a drawer of Minho’s things at his place as well as there is one of Jisung’s at Minho’s place. They spend nights together, kissing each other’s bodies with a hint of softness between so much roughness, memorizing their weak spots and shuddering against each other. Giggling, whispering secrets, and learning about each other.
Minho listens attentively to Jisung repeating the same anecdotes and doesn’t comment on it—just nods, asks the same questions over and over again, giggles, and pokes fun at him as always. He caresses Jisung’s ears, brushes his fingers through his hair, kisses his cheeks good morning, rubs his tummy, and cooks the dishes he knows Jisung loves. All of that is just because he knows what Jisung likes.
Jisung hates to acknowledge this, but Minho’s presence is even in his own studio. He has been pounding his head with the realization of everything, extremely weary of all this, just to groan tiredly when he opens the door of his workplace and finds Minho’s bunny slippers there.
“What the fuck are Minho’s slippers doing here?” he says, pressing the heel of his hands against his eyes.
Changbin looks up from where he is sitting, eyebrows pinched together. “I think he came with you a few days ago and forgot them. Why does he go around with his slippers?”
Jisung plops down on the small couch and then lies down, hiding his eyes with his forearm.
“I don’t know, he likes them because they’re comfy and carries them everywhere,” he replies.
“I’m not surprised, he’s a bit weird,” Changbin mutters under his breath, going back to his laptop.
They are in silence for a few minutes, the sound of Changbin typing on his keyboard and humming are the only things filling the studio until Jisung's phone begins ringing and he already knows who it is calling. Fuck, he even put on a special ringtone for Minho. (Isn’t he already too deep into this messy thing?)
He sighs before accepting the call. “Hi,” he says barely above a murmur.
“Jisungie!” Minho’s cheery voice makes a warm, unwitting feeling spread across his chest. Jisung hates that he can’t control that. “Haven’t you seen my bunny slippers? I want to take them to the studio, but I can’t find them.”
Jisung looks at the bunny slippers. “Hm, yeah. I’m seeing them right now, dummy. You left them in my studio by accident, probably the last time you came.”
“Oh, thank God. I thought I had lost them.” Jisung hears the soft hum of Minho’s coffee pot. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if I had lost a precious gift from my precious Jisungie,” he says with a playful tone. Jisung can picture him wearing a fake pout and batting his eyelashes—Minho is annoying.
“You should be more careful with the things that people give you, alright? You won’t receive more presents from me from now on,” Jisung replies, following Minho’s game because he knows that will make him laugh a little.
As expected, Minho giggles lively. “Can you bring them here, pretty please? We could meet after my shift and come to my place. Y’know, I have brand-new lingerie and I’d like to know what my baby thinks about it.”
Jisung’s head spins. He is unfazed by the pet name (he has grown used to them and even likes to be called sweet names). It is the mere thought of Minho wearing lingerie that makes him dizzy and dries his mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time that Jisung watches him wearing something like that, but Minho always has a way of looking even more gorgeous than the last time. He even wants to ask if the outfit comes with kitty ears.
Jisung is about to reply, but as always, he is late with his response and Changbin beats him.
“My fucking God, have some respect! I’m here, Minho. Shut your big mouth, I don’t want to know what you have for Jisung.” Jisung can’t fight the giggle bubbling in his chest, laughing along with Minho while Changbin shakes his head and frowns. “I’m tired of you two, I shouldn’t have introduced you.”
Jisung giggles a little more yet less buoyant, Changbin’s words plastering in his head.
“Shut up, Changbin! I don’t care about what you have to say.” Minho answers, raising his voice so much that Jisung puts his phone away from his ear.
Changbin continues shaking his head, typing on his keyboard. “I hate him,” he whispers.
“Okay, Sungie. Put your attention on me, baby. What do you think of meeting me this evening, hm?”
Jisung tugs at his bottom lip with his fingers. “Hm, yeah. I’ll pick you up from work and then we can go to your place.”
He hears the smile on Minho’s words. “I like that, babe. See you later, alright?”
“Yeah, see you,” is the only thing he says before hanging up and sighing.
Jisung’s eyes are glued to the ceiling, his head full of uncertainties. “I think you shouldn’t have introduced us,” he murmurs more to himself than for someone else to hear, yet Changbin hears him and looks at him over his shoulder with a questioning gaze.
“What are you talking about?”
Jisung sighs once again, curling up on the couch and putting his hands between his thighs to keep them warm. Changbin’s eyes are still fixed on him, waiting for his answer. Frankly, Jisung isn’t sure if he should confess his feelings or not. He knows it would lessen the heavy weight on his heart and shoulders, especially because Changbin has the deserved reputation of being good at listening to people and giving advice, but… Changbin isn’t only friends with him, he is also a friend of Minho.
“Jisung?” Changbin pushes, now completely turned over and looking at him directly. “Has something happened? Minho sounded good through the phone, very good from my point of view.” He tries to joke, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking, but the expression of smugness fades into a worried expression when Jisung doesn’t say anything and just sighs sadly.
“I’m in love with Minho,” he blurts out in a whisper.
Changbin blinks a few times, frowning and pouting slightly without realizing it. “Isn’t…” He clears his throat before continuing. “Isn’t that something good? You haven’t been in a relationship in a long time and I know that you and Minho are a good match.” He clears his throat. “I mean, I know Minho isn’t the best supporter of relationships, but with you—”
Jisung sighs exasperated and cuts Changbin off. “No, it isn’t good. We’re a good match in bed, not for loving each other. Besides, he doesn’t want to be in a relationship and I’m––I’m so fucking scared. I’ll mess everything up if I say something about my feelings.” He takes a second to take a deep breath. “I feel like I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. I can’t live with my feelings bottled up, my heart feels as if it was being ripped out, but I can’t tell him I’m in love with him and ruin the… the friendship, or whatever, that we’ve built together.” He chokes out a sob, biting his bottom lip to stop it from trembling.
Changbin takes a deep breath, straightening up his posture and blinking again. He looks a little taken aback after listening to the confession, what he doesn’t know is that Jisung would keep talking ceaselessly if it wasn’t for the dull ache in his heart.
“Okay, buddy. You had a lot to unpack, didn't you?” His lips twitch up a little. “Firstly, I don’t believe that you and Minho are only good at… whatever you do in bed. You two have built an incredible relationship with your stupid inside jokes and all the knowledge you have about the other.
Secondly, I honestly don’t think that you will ruin your relationship if you decide to speak up about what you feel for him. I always thought that you two would have a good romantic relationship if you ever tried something seriously.” Changbin smiles, dimples appearing on his cheeks.
Jisung hugs himself. He supposedly came to the studio to work on a few songs, the idea of ending up leaving his heart bare in front of his best friend and confessing his feelings never crossed his mind. But, here he is—almost everything has been said and now Changbin is making him think about a future possibility.
However, Jisung shakes his head and closes his eyes. “You don’t understand, Changbin. You haven’t been there—and I’m glad you haven’t,” he says and Changbin giggles lightheartedly.
“I’m also glad I haven’t watched you two having sex,” he replies between uncontrolled giggles. “Except for that time—”
“Shut up!” Jisung laughs a little, shaking his head and feeling how a very, very small part of the weight on his heart lifts. “I mean, you haven’t talked with him about this—well, maybe you had, I don’t know. But, I’ve been listening to him talking about why love is a fucking waste of time, about why would he bother finding someone if it won’t last. He’s so sure about what we have now, it’s convenient for him.”
Jisung gulps down the sudden urge to cry his eyes out and adds, “Minho only wants a friends-with-benefits relationship and I’ll give him that if that’s what he wants.” He tries to sound certain about what he is saying, yet his voice falters here and there.
“And do you think that it will be good for you to keep this relationship with someone you’ve fallen in love with?” Changbin inquiries.
Jisung has thought about that a few times. He has thought about his well-being and that he should protect his brittle heart, but he always takes those conclusions out of his head and acts as if nothing has happened.
“I don’t care about myself, Changbin. I’m good now,” he replies, a little embarrassed to say that. “I’d rather keep him like this than lose him.”
Changbin presses his lips together, thinking hard about his next words until he decides to say, “I hope you put yourself first. I don’t want you and Minho to stop meeting each other. Even if I make comments about hating you two, it’s a lie. I’m happy that you two have connected so well, but I’d like you to think about yourself first. If you have to put distance between you two, then you should do it.”
Jisung sighs, nodding at Changbin’s words. “I’m gonna work a little, that’s why I came here in the first place.”
Changbin shows him a sweet smile. “Good, put that brain into making good music.”
Jisung giggles, getting up from the couch and approaching his laptop. Fortunately, his shoulders and heart feel less heavy and some peace of mind comes to him throughout his time at the studio. However, a few Minho-shaped thoughts appear wildly in his mind and he doesn’t have the strength to vanish them.
Jisung has never been good at fading Minho away from his head, to be honest.
In the evening, Jisung gets off of work to pick Minho up from his workplace—his bunny slippers waiting for him in the back seat. Minho doesn’t only work in Sweet Fantasy (which is more of a sporadic job than an actual job), where the two of them met months ago, he also works as a dance instructor in a well-known studio.
When Jisung turns the corner in his car, Minho is already waiting for him on the sidewalk, with a tender smile painted on his face. Jisung’s heart aches, but he attempts to forget the truth beneath his feelings and just enjoy Minho’s company.
“Hi, baby,” he greets Jisung when he gets on the passenger seat and kisses his lips quickly. Minho puts his bag on the back seat and his smile gets wider when he sees the bunny slippers.
“Hi,” Jisung replies, a small smile making its way onto his face at the sight of Minho—messy and sweaty after his shift.
Minho beams at him. “How was work today?”
Jisung shrugs, driving through the busy streets. “A little boring, to be honest. Changbin got angry because he couldn’t finish a song and accidentally spilled coffee on his laptop. Chan calmed him down with honey sweets and helped him to find someone good enough to fix his laptop quickly. Y’know, the same as always.” Minho giggles. “What about yours, hm?”
“Y’know, the same as always too.” Minho looks at him and, even if Jisung doesn’t look back (since he is driving), he already knows that Minho has his lips shaped into a smug grin and his eyes are twinkling mischievously. He confirms it when Minho curls his fingers around his thigh and squeezes the flesh softly. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you, pup.”
Jisung closes his thighs. He rolls his eyes and chuckles, trying to play dumb, but his breath hitches when Minho squeezes his thigh one more time and his fingers make a short trace to his crotch.
He coughs and says, “I can imagine it, you must have messed up so many dance steps because all you had in your mind was me.”
Minho smacks his thigh, pulling his hand away. “Shut up, I never mess up any dance steps.”
Jisung takes advantage of the red light to look at Minho and kiss his pout away in a swift motion, giggles bubbling from them both.
“You’re right, darling,” he says with a sickly sweet tone, earning another smack on his arm and making him laugh lively. “Want to buy dinner before getting home?”
Minho nods tiredly. “Yes, I don’t have enough energy to cook something today.”
Jisung lifts an eyebrow. “You’re making me look as if I never cook.” Minho pulls a faux astonished expression that gives Jisung away. “Oh, okay. I don’t cook as much as you, but I make a meal here and there, don’t I?” Jisung glances at Minho with hopeful eyes.
“If you say so, baby…” Minho looks away, stifling his laughter when Jisung looks at him again but this time with a frown. “Okay, you’re right. You’re a good cook.”
Jisung smiles. “Awesome. What do you feel like eating?”
Minho cracks a smile, pointing at Jisung with his index finger. “You.”
“Okay, we’re having pizza.” Minho groans and crosses his arms over his chest, ignoring Jisung when he asks for a kiss. “Okay, tell me what you wanna eat, then!”
“I already told you!” Minho replies, suppressing his giggles.
Jisung rolls his eyes. “Oh my God, you’re insufferable.” Silence washes over them for a minute until Jisung sighs and speaks again when he stops at another red light. “What do you think about having pizza as a main dish and then I’m the dessert?” He smiles cheekily at Minho, reaching over him to plant a light kiss on his cheek.
The curves of Minho’s lips curl up tenderly, so widely until a giggle is slipping out of them easily. “Now you’re speaking my language,” he says.
Jisung looks at him. His heart aches for this man that is grinning at him with those glittering eyes that stare at him in a way that seems to be so… so lovingly. Jisung almost falls into the trap of thinking that Minho might also be in love with him.
“That’s my baby,” Jisung says.
Minho giggles at his comment, nodding excitedly and clapping like a little child. Jisung wants to stop driving and get on his lap, kiss him with his whole heart and leave their lips raw and swollen. Make him his right there, fill his senses of Minho, Minho, Minho, Minho, and more Minho—look at him, taste him, touch him, smell his familiar scent, listen to each moan and whimper and make all of that a single song for themselves.
But, he only nods and turns around the corner to get to their usual pizza place. Jisung can’t fight back the smile blooming on his face when Minho kisses his lips and smiles at him happily before getting out of his car, but the smile begins to fade away when, once again, he realizes the domesticity of this. Picking Minho up from work, buying food on the way home, having Minho’s arms wrapped around his waist as they wait for their food, feeling Minho’s mouth pressed against his as soon as they get to his place.
Minho starts to take his jacket off without detaching his lips from Jisung’s. “Wanna take a shower with me?” he murmurs between soft kisses. “No funny business, just a shower so we can eat.”
Jisung giggles and cups Minho’s warm cheeks, squeezing them sweetly. “Okay, let’s take a quick shower before the food gets cold,” he answers and plants one last kiss on the corner of Minho’s mouth.
← ← ←
Meeting with Minho for the second time happens more quickly than expected. Jisung wouldn’t be surprised if it was thanks to Changbin since he is their mutual friend, but it happens at Jisung’s favourite bakery.
One morning, he makes a quick walk to buy his sweet pastries, and just like the scene in a film, he opens the door and his eyes meet Minho’s sleepy ones with the morning sunlight making them shine most beautifully ever, watching his messy silver hair bounce a little, and how his bewildered expression slowly breaks into a cute, huge smile.
Jisung approaches the counter and Minho nudges his shoulder with his own, a feeling of comfort flourishing in the centre of his heart.
“Missing me already?” Minho quirks an eyebrow.
Jisung chuckles, a little abashed. “Yeah, couldn’t wait to meet you again,” he replies.
The other giggles, pinching one of Jisung’s cheeks softly. “I guess you got better at answering my stupid comments.”
Jisung’s heart feels as if it might burst out of his chest, pounding so loud in his ears. “Two weeks are enough to make up fast replies.”
Minho shows Jisung a pleased smile, nodding and winking at him. Two weeks are enough to come up with fast replies, but it seems little time for Minho to learn how to wink. He giggles at the thought and Minho nudges his shoulder again.
Jisung loves how Minho is clearly comfortable around him.
“Do you live near here?” Minho questions, he already has his order yet he hasn’t left.
Jisung shakes his head, replying after asking kindly for his pastries. “My workplace is nearby, but my flat is a little bit farther away. You?”
“My flat is a few blocks away.”
Jisung only nods, noticing how Minho doesn’t leave and waits for him. Sweet , he thinks.
They don’t say anything as Jisung receives his order and then just leave the place together, walking down the street shoulder to shoulder. Their destination places must be located in the same direction.
“Won’t you visit me again at Sweet Fantasy?” Minho says out of nowhere.
Jisung glances at Minho, the morning sun casts a soft, beautiful glow over his drowsy features.
“Oh, yes—I mean, if you want me to go, I will.” He smiles hesitantly, not sure about going back to the strip club and watching Minho perform again—he doesn’t know if it would be good for his health. But, Jisung isn’t stupid to waste the opportunity to meet him again. “Tell me when and I’ll go,” he adds.
Minho stops in his tracks and Jisung follows him. The two of them are in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at each other. “I just remembered something.” Jisung tilts his head. “I haven’t got your number the last time,” Minho says and takes his phone out of his pocket. “Put it there, I’ll text you to let you know my next workday. I don’t work regularly there, so my workdays aren’t set.”
A little smile tugs at Jisung’s chapped lips, he tries to hide his excitement as he puts his contact on Minho’s phone. They smile at each other one last time, the same intensity of their first meeting surrounds them yet this time is less suffocating.
Jisung is the one breaking the silence. “I need to go back or Changbin will kill me, but… see you around?”
Minho nods, chuckling softly. “Yes, I’ll text you soon. Have a good day, Jisungie,” he says, leaving a warm feeling spreading across Jisung’s chest and cheeks.
Jisung can’t shake Minho out of his head throughout the whole day, only thinking about the way he looked so comfy in his baggy clothes and with the sunlight hitting his face at all the right angles, or the way his voice sounded so raspy yet mellow. (Maybe, just maybe, Jisung writes a few lines about soft-looking features that cause turmoil in his tummy and makes him smile out of the blue.)
The curves of Jisung’s lips curl up excitedly when a text of an unknown number pops up in his notifications. He doesn’t have to read what it says to know who it is, the edges of his heart already getting warm.
Unknown number:
hi jisungie, you looked very cute today
i’m minho, ready to sweep you off your feet
hehe jk
Just those silly first texts are enough for Minho and Jisung to develop a sort of habit, a routine where the two of them text each other almost all day, sending stupid things or photos of them pulling funny faces. It becomes something typical between them, the texts duplicating the days they meet each other at Sweet Fantasy or make a quick run to the bakery at the same time to see each other just for a couple of minutes.
Strangely (yet not so much) their relationship grows swiftly and thoughtlessly. Jisung doesn’t think about the meaning of anything—he doesn’t dwell on their texts, flirty comments, furtive glances, and soft smiles.
Jisung likes to believe that he doesn’t have to put too much thought into their growing relationship because everything with Minho is easy. It is easy to sit pressed against him, talking nonsense and giggling with their whole hearts, brushing their fingers and feeling electricity running through their veins.
Being with Minho is so fucking effortless, Jisung loves every second with him.
→ → →
Jisung’s lips part widely and a loud moan falls off them, his face scrunches up in pleasure while his heart’s edges shatter at the sight of Minho’s clear smirk and skin covered in a sheen of sweat.
Minho is hovering over him, looking at him so attentively and with his shimmering, bleary-eyed gaze. Their soggy skin touches each other as their bodies press against each other with nothing more than lust and desire of reaching the highest point of pleasure.
“You look so pretty like this,” Minho breathes out, suffocated. The dim room is completely silent except for the constant, sloppy slap of skin against skin, their heavy breathing, and sweet praises that slip out of Minho’s mouth. “Always the prettiest for me, darling.”
Jisung arches his back and a high-pitched moan bubbles from his chest at the saccharine praise. Each corner of his mind is cloudy and brimmed with incoherent words that can’t form a full, meaningful sentence. He can only think of Minho, his senses are covered by him. Minho’s lips pressed against his neck, cheeks, lips, forehead, and chest, and caught between them is his nipple to suck it. Minho’s heavy breathing grazes his blazing skin and makes him squirm even more. The tip of his nose nuzzles softly on his skin as he kisses him. His tongue draws wet and hot patterns on his collarbones and jaw.
Jisung is covered by Minho. He is like ocean waves crashing on the shore.
Minho’s arms are caging Jisung, palms pressed against the mattress and between them is Jisung’s head with his mussed hair, lips meeting each other hungrily in endless, open-mouthed kisses. Jisung can’t let him go, his shivering legs holding Minho by his hips and keeping him close although Minho gets away a little so he can give hard, little thrusts into him over and over again.
Jisung doesn’t know what to do with his hands, closing his fingers into fists and then letting them go. He curls his fingers around Minho’s shoulders and presses them strongly so tiny, half-crescents are drawn on Minho’s skin. He scratches Minho’s back every time he prods his sweet spot, painting crimson lines across his skin. The reedy sound of his voice makes Minho’s grin get wider and more arrogant—he loves knowing that Jisung is so dazed and unruly just by him and the things he does to his body.
“Minho,” he says breathlessly and with a dull pain in his chest. Eyes filled with tears that aren’t so much for all the overwhelming pleasure, but for other things that make Jisung’s heart heavy and sad. He closes his eyes and salty droplets fall from the rim of his eyes, Minho doesn’t stop the swift pounding of his hips against Jisung’s yet he makes sure of kissing Jisung’s tears away.
He hopes that Minho believes his tears are only caused by the strong waves of pleasure crushing him, hopes that he doesn’t notice the way he grips Minho’s purple hair and hugs him close when Minho has spilled into the condom with a loud groan.
Jisung hopes that his growing love for Minho isn’t as palpable as it seems to be, he hopes that Minho can’t smell the sadness and hopelessness hanging in the air of his stuffy room.
“Jisung,” Minho whispers, face placed in the crook of Jisung’s sweaty neck. He puffs, worn-out. He hasn’t let Minho go yet, his arms still wrapped tightly around his neck and legs around his hips to keep him close. “Baby, let me go. I want to make you come in my mouth,” he says in a low voice.
Jisung’s mind hasn’t cleared yet, still foggy with all the high libido and deep woe. He shakes his head, refusing to let Minho go an inch away from him. He only wants Minho close and yearns for him and his love.
Jisung is afraid that the tears will come back once Minho's eyes are on him, staring at him with what looks like a glimpse of glimmering love in his irises. Jisung knows better, though. He knows that his mind likes playing with him, tricking him into believing impossible futures, he craves Minho's love so much to the point of imagining that it could happen.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Minho questions, a little worried after he tried to separate his body from Jisung’s and the latter didn’t let him. “Jisung?”
“It's—it's okay,” he stammers. “I just want you close.”
Minho sighs, whispering a weak “okay” and leaving his body on top of Jisung’s shaky one. It is a bit uncomfortable, the two of them are all covered in sweat and the filled condom is still between them. Jisung knows that it would be better if they take a shower, but he feels so feeble and overloaded with emotions that he doesn’t think he would be able to stand on his own.
His whole self feels like floating emotions, not like a real person. It is completely overwhelming.
Jisung just wants to hide under the blankets with Minho for months, hug each other closely and forget about what keeps him awake at night and alert whenever he is around Minho.
They stay silent for a little while, not uttering a single word or sound except for soft sighs. After the silence seems to be choking them, a rare and awkward atmosphere around them, Jisung speaks up.
“Can you, hm, take me to the bathroom? I think I—I can’t stand on my own,” he says weakly.
Jisung avoids meeting Minho’s eyes, knowing all too well that they have lost their twinkle. He hates making Minho worry about him, especially when it is something he can’t say out loud because it will ruin everything between them.
Minho smiles a little and detaches their bodies from each other. The warmth of their glued bodies dissipates and makes both of them shiver.
“Of course, babe. Let me get everything ready for the shower and I’ll take you, okay?” He plants a soft kiss on the tip of Jisung’s nose, then another on his forehead, and finally kisses his lips swiftly. “Wait for me here.”
Jisung sighs, curling himself up and scrunching his nose in pain when his lower back aches—everything aches, from the physical part to the emotional one. He is trying to make up excuses. If he breaks down crying once again, the excuse of overworking himself could be believable since he has been staying up late and working non-stop for days.
He clutches the bedsheets and takes a shuddering breath, hoping he won’t have another breakdown once Minho is holding him.
“Hi,” Minho says tenderly and grins tiredly at him once he has come back. “C’mere, big baby. Let’s get you clean and ready for bed.” Minho’s voice sounds so sweet and soft, keeping the tone low and with a little of its usual raspiness.
Even the way he holds Jisung is sweet and delicate, he is extremely careful with the placement of his hands and tries to not press them hard on Jisung’s sensitive skin. Jisung sees a light of concern flashing in his irises and his heart squeezes at that sight.
Minho waits patiently for him to get in the shower.
“You’re doing great, love,” he praises Jisung when he starts lathering himself, a little clumsy and tired. “Let me help you.”
Minho gets on helping Jisung, touching him gently and with endless warmth. Jisung stays silent throughout the whole bath, only listening to Minho’s praises and the droplets of hot water hitting the titles, or glancing at Minho’s syrupy smile and worried eyes. The two of them take their sweet time in the shower, getting clean and ready for bed.
Minho gets Jisung dressed in an oversized hoodie which belongs to him (despite having some shirts and hoodies which are Jisung’s) and helps him put on his underwear and some fluffy socks because he knows that Jisung will complain about his cold feet at night. Then, he takes him in his arms to put him again on the bed and tells him to wait for him there. Jisung does exactly that, he waits for Minho patiently—as always.
“Time to eat,” Minho says while stepping into the room again. The curves of his lips twitch up, a delighted smile tugging at them, and his hands full of snacks and a hot coffee for Jisung.
Jisung takes his time getting comfortable on the bed with Minho’s help, some soft pillows are placed behind his back and underneath him, and his eyebrows pinch together when a light wave of pain flashes through his lower back again.
Minho presses his lips together as he hands Jisung the cup of coffee and opens one of the bags of snacks. Jisung might be tired and overwhelmed, but he is capable of noticing the hesitation brimming Minho’s eyes and the way he opens his mouth and then closes it again.
“Did I… Did I hurt you?” he finally questions, anxiety palpable on his features.
Jisung’s heart thuds to the floor and he shakes his head quickly. “No, no. Don’t think that. You didn’t hurt me, don’t worry.”
A sigh of relief slips past Minho’s lips and he looks down. “I—I thought I had hurt you, fuck. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I had done it.”
Jisung takes Minho’s hand, squeezing it softly to assure him. Their eyes meet and Jisung’s breath hitches at the miserable expression washing over Minho’s face. He is thinking about the possibility of hurting him, but Jisung knows that it is impossible to even imagine that scenario.
“No, Minho. You didn’t hurt me, and”—he licks his lips, not quite sure about his next words, but he lets them out nevertheless—“if you had hurt me, I know you wouldn’t have done it on purpose. My body is okay so don’t worry, it's just… it’s been a while since I was the one bottoming, so yeah, y’know.” He giggles and Minho follows him, intertwining their fingers in a warm clasp.
It hurts Jisung to be lying to Minho, look at him giggling at his stupid lie and make him believe that it is true. Jisung knows that it wasn't that, he knows that he had been extremely tense since they started playing with each other that evening. And he already knew that he wouldn't feel great or comfortable with his own body after being so strained.
“I think you’ll have to bottom more often, then,” he says jokingly and both of them chuckle together. Then, he adds much quieter, “I promise I'll prep you better next time. I'm sorry.”
Jisung shakes his head, pressing his lips together and murmuring, “don't worry.” He feels guilty for saying that—Minho is always so careful with him, and makes sure that he is comfortable and ready for the next step.
Jisung tastes the bittersweet, hot coffee, and sighs in approval, trying not to dwell on the fact that Minho knows exactly how he likes his coffee and has a lot of bags of his favourite snacks only for him.
Goddammit.
Jisung wants to cry suddenly. He didn’t even have to dwell on anything, just the mere thought of this domesticity that doesn’t mean anything and will disappear someday is enough to make his world and momentary happiness crumble down.
He takes another sip of his coffee and closes his eyes to control himself.
“Jisung…” Minho murmurs and calls his attention.
He opens his eyes, eyebrows raised questioningly. “Yes?”
Minho wets his lips and carefully asks, “Is there… is there something wrong?”
Jisung gulps down. He knows that he has been acting weird lately, and of course, Minho has also noticed that. He isn’t the slightest bit surprised. It was obvious that Minho would notice his sudden urgency of staying up late in the studio, cancelling plans out of nowhere, brief and lack of replies, and now… this.
This stupid and overtaken rush of emotions made him break down crying in the middle of them having sex. Jisung had already been afraid of collapsing in the middle of stupid situations with Minho—having breakfast together, meeting him quickly in their bakery, watching a film while cuddling, feeling Minho’s hand unconsciously slipping under his shirt at night while he’s fast asleep—but this is an extreme situation.
What will someone think of their fuck buddy if they have a sudden breakdown while they are having sex?
Jisung is glad that Minho is soft and understanding with him. He is glad that Minho held him tightly and helped him in the shower and get dressed. He wouldn’t survive if Minho looked at him with harsh eyes, or if Minho rolled his eyes at him, or something painful like that.
The light squeeze that Minho gives to Jisung's hand snaps him hastily out of his thoughts. Jisung looks at him, getting lost for a second in the soft edges of Minho’s lips that are shaped in a tight line.
“Jisung?”
“I’m… yeah, I’m, erm.” He begins babbling. Jisung clears his throat and takes another sip of coffee before sighing and getting ready to reply. “Don’t worry, Min. I’m fine, everything… everything’s fine.” He forces himself to smile, attempting to look sure of his words.
Minho doesn’t believe him. The mere line of his lips and faint frown gives him away, and Jisung’s heart sinks into the ocean of sorrow without something to keep it on the surface.
“Okay… if you say so,” Minho replies hesitantly. “But, you can talk to me about whatever is happening, y’know?”
About whatever is happening. Yes, Minho isn’t dumb. He is already sure that something is happening to him.
Jisung’s gaze drops to the half-empty cup in his lap, nodding slowly and embarrassed. “Yeah, thank you.”
Minho smiles a little. “Finish that and eat something so I can brush your teeth and we can sleep, lovely.” He kisses Jisung’s crown tenderly and goes to the bathroom to take the necessary things to brush Jisung’s teeth on the bed.
Jisung can't sleep a wink throughout the whole night. He spends hours thinking about what will happen next with the two of them, and that is what he hates the most about their relationship. Jisung hates the uncertainty of their… thing.
What will happen the following day or in the next few months? Will Minho find another partner to have this friends-with-benefits relationship and let him go, or maybe will tell him that he is fucking with someone new and nothing more, expecting Jisung to share him? After all, they hadn’t set boundaries or any exclusivity since their thing just happened one day and they kept doing that till today without any talking.
Jisung thinks about the possibility of sitting down with Minho and conversing with him about them, asking him about what their relationship means for him and if he would like to take things further, but that implicates that Jisung will have to explain why he is asking for a possible more between them, and why he wants to know this so suddenly. That means that Jisung will have to open his little, brimmed box called ‘my hopeless, romantic feelings for Minho’ and leave it bare open in front of him.
Honestly, he would rather stop seeing Minho than tell him the truth, but he won’t do that because he is too weak and selfishly wants to have Minho by his side for as long as possible.
After a couple of hours of staying wide awake, Minho wakes up and nuzzles his nose in Jisung’s nape, planting brief kisses on the skin there.
“Can’t sleep, baby?” he questions in a husky voice. Jisung only hums, sighing happily when Minho’s fingers slip under his hoodie and caress the soft flesh of his tummy. “Let me caress you a little, it might help.”
It does help. Jisung falls asleep a while after Minho has been caressing his tummy and kissing the back of his neck, and Jisung says thank you in the morning with tender kisses on Minho’s lips and quick, lazy morning sex. He doesn’t cry this time, but he thinks it might be because his back is pressed against Minho’s chest and he isn’t looking at him.
← ← ←
One month has almost been since they have known each other and Jisung feels like Minho could be his soulmate. Minho might be the friend that best understands him, too. They match so well, a simple glance is enough to understand each other and know what the other is thinking. Jisung loves the simplicity of their relationship.
On Thursday morning, Jisung arrives at his workplace and expects to find Chan or Changbin sitting on the couch or working in front of their laptop, but he strangely finds Minho sipping coffee and scrolling through his phone. Jisung pinches his eyebrows together, a little taken aback yet happy at the sight of him, and Minho gazes up at him and smiles.
“Hey, Jisungie,” Minho says with a lilt in his voice. “Chan let me stay here.”
“Hi, Minho.” He smiles back at him, sitting on the chair and turning his laptop on. “What are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet at the bakery as usual.”
“Oh, yes. Now that you’ve mentioned it.” He takes a small paper bag and hands it to Jisung, who frowns again and chuckles when he sees his favourite pastries there.
“Thanks, Min.”
“I’m here to invite you somewhere,” Minho replies to the previous question while Jisung opens the file with a recording he has been working on lately. He turns around to look at Minho, lifting one eyebrow. “So… One of my cousins is getting married, which I think is a misfortune, but whatever. She told me to bring a plus-one to her wedding aaaaand I was thinking that you could go with me–if you want, obviously.”
The edges of Jisung’s pink lips curl up, nodding excitedly and a little bit curious about Minho’s anxiety appearing between the spaces of his words. Was he nervous about Jisung’s answer? Jisung doesn’t understand, but he likes seeing Minho nervous—a soft shade of red spreads across his apple cheeks, which is very cute.
“Yes, I want to go with you. I’ll never say no to free food and dolling myself up,” he answers with an easy smile painting his lips. “I like weddings, especially the decorations and food.”
Minho scrunches up his nose. “The decorations are usually good and the food is fantastic, yes.”
“And why do you think your cousin getting married is a misfortune?” Jisung arches an eyebrow.
Minho shrugs, sipping his drink again. “I don’t know, marriage is just a waste of money and time.”
Jisung nods, eyes fixed on the screen of his laptop. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. I mean, if you love someone I don’t think that marriage will change anything. I’d rather spend that money on travelling with my significant other than feeding other people.” The two of them laugh together.
Jisung hears Minho moving behind him, he looks over his shoulder and finds him laying on the couch. The empty cup of coffee on the floor, eyes glued on the ceiling, hand rubbing his belly, and his other hand brushing his fingers through his silver hair.
“You’re right,” he says absentmindedly
“Is there another reason for your belief?” Jisung questions. He isn’t sure if he is crossing their boundaries, even though it seems as if there weren’t any between them sometimes, but he likes to think that, although they met a little time ago, Minho would like to open up to him.
Minho tugs at his earlobe and clears his throat before replying. “My parents got divorced when I was a child, around eight or nine years old,” Minho starts saying. Jisung feels like he needs to pay attention to Minho, so he turns over completely in his swivel chair to look at him. “It was fucking hell, y’know? I didn’t understand romantic relationships quite well––I still don’t understand them and I’m twenty-six.”
Jisung giggles. “I’m sorry for laughing, but look at us. I look like a fucking therapist.” Minho gazes at him and laughs loudly, his characteristic laughter rumbling off the walls. Jisung intertwines his fingers on top of his stomach, wears a serious expression, and says, “Tell me more about it, Minho.”
Minho bursts into a flurry of lively giggles. Jisung loves the sound, it is like a fresh gust of wind on a torrid day. “God, we’ll need around five years to unpack everything.”
“Why do you say you don’t understand relationships?” Jisung asks now, inquisitive.
“It’s just… odd for me. I don’t understand how you can love someone so much, have a beautiful relationship with them and then… everything vanishes and gets complicated. You used to love them, but now you hate them. How is it possible?” he whispers the question, more to himself than to Jisung’s ears. “I remember my parents used to love each other so much, always looking at the other with eyes full of love, and then one of them fucked everything up and I was in the middle watching them fight all the time. Now my cousin is getting married and she saw how bad it was for me, isn’t she scared?”
Jisung takes a deep breath, fingers clutching his hoodie. “I think sometimes people love with so much intensity that they’re capable of risking everything, even facing their fears. And, I don’t know, you don’t always end up hating the person who gave you so much and you spent a lot of time of your life with them.”
Minho chuckles drily. “I think I might be a big coward, then,” he mutters under his breath.
“So…” Jisung wets his lips. They have never talked about things related to romantic territory, and he is just highly curious about Minho and his past. “Have you ever been in love, or in a relationship?”
Minho looks at him, mischievousness swimming in his chocolate irises. “Make a guess, cutie.”
Jisung feels warmth spreading across his cheeks at the pet name. It isn’t weird to be called those things by Minho—he does it pretty often, even calls Changbin ‘big baby’ and all—but sometimes the atmosphere feels muggy and airless between them and Minho calling him by sweet names doesn’t help at all.
“I’d say you have never been in a relationship, but…”
One of Minho’s eyebrows quirks up. “But?”
Jisung feels hot, really hot. The studio feels stuffy and it seems like he can’t breathe properly.
“I mean, hm, you’re really… y’know.” He coughs, embarrassed and completely red.
“I am what, Jisungie? I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” he responds. The slight tilt of his head and half, smug smile give him away. He is just playing with Jisung, like always.
Jisung rolls his eyes. “You’re really pretty, that’s what I meant. From what you’ve been telling me, I don’t think you have ever wanted to be in a relationship, but you’re so gorgeous that I believe a lot of people have asked you on a date or whatever.”
Minho giggles, he is now with his stomach pressed against the couch and his chin propped in the palm of his hand. A delicate blush adorning his cheeks and his teeth gnawing at his lower lip to fight back the huge, abashed smile tugging at his lips.
“You’re right, Sungie. I have never dated anyone, even when I was a teenager. What about you?”
Jisung shrugs. He is a little sheepish. “I have had a few girlfriends and boyfriends,” he says and scratches the back of his warm neck.
Minho kicks his feet and shrieks, giggling like a child. “Tell me everything about it!” Jisung groans. He is bashful about his love life, specifically the ones he had in his teenage years. “C’mon, c’mon! I wanna know about Jisungie’s love life.”
“ Okaaay , shut up now.” Minho claps cheerily and Jisung presses the heel of his hands against his eyes, then looks at Minho and pouts. “For your information, I’m not the biggest heart-throb of the decade. I’m pretty sensitive and diffident. Please, don’t laugh at me.”
“I would never laugh at you, darling,” Minho says, but Jisung doesn't believe him. “C’mon, tell me. I have never experienced this, I need to know my friends’ experiences so I can know how it feels to be in love,” he jokes.
“I had my first girlfriend when I was thirteen, I think. I don’t know if it counts, we’d just hold each other’s hand when we were alone and…” Jisung's cheeks blaze, Minho notices the blush and giggles behind his hands.
“What?”
“I gave her roses one day at one of the school breaks. It was a gift. I…” He clears his throat. “I remembered watching Shrek and this scene where he gives Fiona a sunflower. He thought of her because it was pretty—well, he doesn’t like it, but he believes she’s going to like it since she’s also pretty, and I gave her the roses with the same thought. It was really silly—”
“No! That’s fucking adorable,” Minho says, more giggles slipping out of his mouth.
“She didn’t think the same, though. Our “relationship” was a secret. Her friends didn’t know we were together and she got furious at me. Oh, she also told her friends that I was lying and that she’d never date someone like me,” he says, feeling shy.
Minho frowns. “What?”
Jisung rolls his eyes and shrugs, downplaying it. “I understand her, though. I was pretty chubby, my cheeks were really big, and had to wear ugly spectacles. So, yeah, I don’t blame her.” He chuckles, embarrassed.
The frown keeps plastered on Minho’s face. “What the fuck, Jisung? I don’t care how you looked back when you were thirteen, she acted like a bitch.”
“I don’t care now. I was pretty sad when it happened, I cried in my mom’s arms and everything, but I don’t care now.” Jisung shrugs it off. “I had another girlfriend when I was fifteen, she was my best friend and neighbour. That relationship was too sweet. She was super amicable and laughed at every joke I made, but it was just as short as it was sweet. She left the country and it was difficult to keep in touch because of the different time zones, so we called it off.”
Minho smiles widely, truly engaged in all these small stories. “She sounds like a good person.”
“Yes! Heejin was a good friend, I would've liked to keep in touch with her.” He smiles, remembering her with a warm heart. He thinks about his next relationship for a minute before speaking. “I had my first boyfriend when I was seventeen, it was chaotic. I hadn’t come out yet and he was openly gay, so it was difficult for both of us. I cried a lot, even more than the first one. I felt bad because I knew he didn’t want to hide our relationship, but I didn’t feel ready to come out. He was understanding and knew it wasn’t easy to just say I’m gay and live peacefully, especially since we were living in a small town.”
Minho scrunches up his nose. “Small towns are always the worst.”
“Yeah, they have their disadvantages. We ended our relationship because I didn’t feel good hiding us, but I also didn’t feel ready to come out. I knew he had hidden for a long time, so I didn’t want him to keep hiding because of me now that he was out of the closet. I left town a couple of months after that and we bumped into each other here, hooked up for a while and that’s all.”
“Someone else you’ve been with?” Minho asks.
“My last relationship. I dated a girl when I was twenty, then a boy joined us—”
Minho’s eyes are wide-open, surprised. “You were in a polyamorous relationship?”
Jisung chuckles. “Yeah. To be honest, I accepted because I was really in love with her and I thought she’d end our relationship if I didn’t agree on letting him join us. He turned out to be a great guy, though. The three of us had a cute relationship, mind-blowing sex, and a great connection. The two of them were always so sweet with me, never leaving me out. I really liked them, but… I just didn’t feel completely comfortable. I respect polyamorous relationships, but they aren't for me.”
“Wow,” Minho only says, making Jisung giggle. “I never thought you’d have been in a relationship like that. We’re completely the opposite, I’ve never been in a relationship and you’ve been with two people at the same time.” The two of them laugh, high-spirited and blatantly.
“So, you came here to invite me to a wedding and both of us ended up ranting about our life.”
Minho shrugs. “I really like getting to know more about you. You’re interesting, Han Jisung.”
“You too, Lee Minho. I might like to be around you a little too much.” He gives Minho a small smile.
“I don’t blame you, I know I’m the greatest companion, but as much as I’d like to be here all day I have to work,” he says, looking at his phone and getting up from the couch. “The wedding is this Saturday, by the way. I’ll send you the details, okay?” He grabs the cup from the floor and ruffles Jisung’s hair on his way to the door. “Don’t miss me too much, little boy.”
“I won’t, don’t worry.” Jisung smiles like a child at Minho, happy and twinkling.
→ → →
Changbin sips his coffee and encourages Jisung to do the same, he does it and sighs at the good taste. They had decided to go for something sweet to drink and eat after a meeting with their boss and an artist. It had gone really well yet something about the fussy personality of the artist made them need a break.
“I think he believes that we’re working for him,” Changbin says, still irritated by the artist's last comments and the way he was looking at them. “Who the fuck he thinks he is? If he wants the songs so quickly, then he should write them himself.”
Jisung chuckles, agreeing with him with a nod. “He’s very fussy, I can’t stand him.”
“I think it’s funny that you can’t control your facial expressions, you were frowning and all while he was speaking.” Changbin laughs.
“It’s impossible to control my expressions with people like him,” he says and rolls his eyes. “Where’s Chan, by the way?”
“I think he had a meeting with someone, I don't know.” Changbin shrugs. “He’s been working a lot on Entropy’s new album—they’re experimenting and you know that Chan loves working on projects like that.”
Jisung nods, not replying and sipping his coffee while he eats the cheesecake Changbin bought for him as a recompense for putting up with their boss and the artist’s nitpicking attitude.
“So, hm…” Changbin starts. Jisung gazes up at him, curious. However, when he sees him he already knows where he will be going. “Have you talked with Minho lately?”
Jisung fixes his eyes on the cheesecake. “I haven’t got the time to talk to him, to be honest. Been pretty busy with work and that.”
Changbin sighs. “You don’t have to lie to me, Jisung.”
“I know.”
“Well, then? Tell me the truth, please. I won’t push you, but I think it’ll be better if you open up a little.” Jisung lets out a tired sigh, rubbing his face. “I don’t think I’m the only one worried about you and your weird attitude lately… Minho’s been asking about you, too.”
Jisung’s hands fall to his lap, lips opening in surprise. “What?”
“Yeah, he’s been texting me to ask about you. He’s wondering if I have also noticed your odd behaviour and if I know something. He’s really worried.”
A lump forms in Jisung’s throat, making it difficult to breathe, and he just gulps it down to speak. “I had”—he clears his throat—“I had a heavy breakdown the last time we were together,” he says and hopes Changbin understands what he is implying. “I started crying, all of my body was in pain, and I couldn't sleep almost throughout the whole night. It was horrible and embarrassing. I don’t dare to face him.”
“Jisung…”
“I hate making him worry about me, okay? But I don’t know what to do at the same time.” Jisung grips his hair, exhausted. “The worst thing about all this is that he’s so sweet and understanding, why can’t he be mean?”
Changbin giggles. “Minho is the most heart-warming person I’ve ever met.”
“Tell me about it.” Jisung squishes his cheek against the palm of his hand, pouting. “The night I had a breakdown he helped me so much while taking a shower and getting dressed, then made coffee for me and gave me my favourite snacks, and ended up cuddling me until I fell asleep. I wish he had something, the smallest thing, to hate him.” A crease paints between his brows.
Changbin shifts in his seat, looking studiously at Jisung with his small, deep brown eyes. His tongue peeks out to wet his lips, then he presses them together, and Jisung knows that something is hanging on the tip of his tongue. He wants to say something but doesn’t know if it is correct.
Jisung exhales tiredly. “What do you wanna say, Changbin?”
Changbin puts his hands on the wooden table, getting closer to Jisung. “Don’t you think… that maybe Minho is in love with you too?”
Jisung instantly frowns deeply, his heart ringing deafeningly in his ears, and a fire sensation making its way onto the pit of his belly. “What are you saying?” he says, a little bit hostile.
“Let me explain, Jisung. I think the signs are there and it’s impossible to ignore them. Minho had never been so sweet with someone before, only with you. It’s also the first time he’s hooking up with someone for so long, his past hook-ups were usually a one-night stand or people he saw a couple of times before calling it off quickly. And you and him have been seeing each other for…?”
“Three months.”
“Three fucking months, are you kidding me?” Jisung’s heart becomes small, more brittle and angsty than ever. “The two of you act all lovey-dovey as if you already were a couple of years. A married couple, even.” Changbin makes sure he stresses his words clearly, emphasizing his message. “Dude, look—”
“No,” Jisung says suddenly. Glassy eyes and rosy cheeks, a dreary throb in his chest. “Stop this, Changbin. I don’t want to listen to you anymore.”
“Jisung, please—”
“No, Changbin, just don’t do this to me.” He pleads, lips trembling and gaze looking away from Changbin’s eyes. “I know Minho very well and I know what he wants, don’t make me hope for something that won't happen between us. Please, just… shut up.”
Changbin presses his lips together, nodding and sitting again with his back against the backrest of his chair. “Alright, I won’t say anything else.”
Jisung releases a sigh he didn’t know he was holding, shrinking in his seat and fidgeting with his fingers. A long silence stretches between them, the chattering crowd as a background noise that keeps Jisung distracted, but not enough to not feel regretful for snapping at Changbin so rudely.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers after a while. Maybe Changbin didn’t hear him because of the soft murmur and giggles of the people surrounding them, but Jisung notices that he has heard him because he squints his eyes at him. “I’ve been acting so sensitive and tetchy lately that people have to walk on eggshells around me. I’m sorry for that and for snapping at you.”
“It’s okay, buddy—”
“No, it’s not okay. I’m tired of this. I think I need a fucking break of everything, even of myself,” he lets the words out harshly.
A weak smile hangs on Changbin's lips. “A break might be good for you.”
Jisung nods, agreeing with him. Their conversation doesn’t continue focusing on Minho, going from one trifling topic to another, until the two of them get bored and go back to their studio. Jisung promises to himself that he will finish a song that has been causing him a dull headache and go home. That damn song keeps him locked in the studio until the sun has set and only the stars, the moon, and the low hum of his laptop accompany him.
“Don’t stay up too late,” Chan tells him before leaving.
“I won’t,” Jisung replies without glancing at Chan.
He ignores his phone chiming, knowing damn too well who is the person texting him non-stop. Jisung doesn’t even glance at his phone once he has finished the song and is going back home, walking lethargically through the deserted streets of the big, shiny city to drag out even more the haul to his empty home.
He gets to his building and the floor of his flat, and his heart thuds to the floor and is trampled down once he opens the white door of his flat and finds Minho there, wearing a bright flush on his cheeks, Jisung’s clothes (Jisung notices that the oversized hoodie and grey sweatpants belong to him), and his bunny slippers.
“What––what are you doing here?” he asks, curious and with his heart throbbing painfully. He hadn’t invited Minho over and wasn't expecting to find him there either. Jisung takes his jacket off and throws it on the couch. The delicious smell of homemade food envelopes him. “Are you cooking?” he says when Minho hasn’t replied yet.
The kitchen isn’t a complete mess yet is full of vegetables, meat, and more—something is in the oven, Jisung realizes. He looks at the chopped vegetables on a pot and then lands his gaze on Minho when he hears him clearing his throat.
“I’m sorry for coming here without your permission,” Minho says. He shifts his feet, playing with the hem of Jisung’s hoodie. “I just…” The words hang in the air.
“Don’t be sorry, I gave you a spare key for a reason.” Jisung appreciates how the hoodie hides his small hands and averts his gaze swiftly. “I didn’t expect you here, that’s all.”
“I sent you a couple of messages telling you I’ll be here, but you didn’t see them.” Minho’s voice doesn’t sound reprehensible and it makes Jisung feel more embarrassed.
Jisung feels his cheeks getting warm, mortified. “Oh, yes, I’m sorry for that. I haven't had the time to check my messages, work’s been rather hectic lately.”
Minho smiles softly, a genuine smile that breaks Jisung’s heart.
“Yeah, I noticed that, so I thought that maybe…” He looks at the kitchen, the blush on his cheeks getting more prominent. “I thought that I could come here and cook you some food and help you relax, y’know,” he says shyly.
Warmth spreads across Jisung’s chest and wraps around his heart delicately. Minho has him in the palm of his hand, right? Just this mere, sweet gesture has Jisung melting right on the spot. Jisung thinks about getting Minho to sit on the couch with him, hold his hands gently, and ask him if they could teeter the edge and be something more—put an official label on them, tell everyone that he, sweet and perfect Minho, is his boyfriend , even take him to Christmas celebrations with his family and let his mother show him his baby pictures.
“Oh, that’s sweet. Thanks,” Jisung answers with a smile.
Minho tugs at his earlobe, a habit that Jisung has come to learn that appears when he is abashed. He loves learning those small, silly habits of Minho. Loves knowing that he is the only one that knows those things.
“Why don’t you take a shower and get comfortable? Food is almost ready.”
Jisung nods, whispering a weak “yes,” and then kissing Minho’s warm cheek on his way to his bedroom. Jisung takes a long, hot shower and puts on his comfiest clothes, his slightly damp hair sticks to his forehead, and his fluffy socks keep his feet warm as always.
It is funny to think that he has been avoiding Minho for the last few days, only to find him in his own home—waiting for him with a warm meal, gentle eyes that look at him softly, and open arms to hug him and invite him to snuggle on the couch once has left the bathroom.
Minho kisses his temple and hugs his middle, Jisung’s legs are sprawled on his lap. “The food is too hot. It’ll be better if we wait for a little while to eat,” he says.
“Okay,” Jisung replies weakly. He rubs Minho’s stomach out of habit, loving how the chubby flesh feels under his hand. “I’m sorry for being so MIA these past few days.”
Minho squeezes his waist comfortingly. “Don’t worry, Jisungie. I understand that you’ve been working so much, but you should take a break.”
Jisung sighs. He has created a big web of lies that Minho believes are true. It makes Jisung hate himself a little, but he hasn’t other option than to keep lying and lying. What is he going to do, confess his feelings and wait for the inevitable end? Jisung doesn’t think that he will survive that.
If he tells Minho the truth and leaves his heart unclad, showing the deepest secret he has been keeping locked, Minho will leave him and break his fragile heart. If he doesn’t say anything and puts under his tongue what has been threatening to slip out of his mouth, it will destroy him in the long run. He doesn’t have any other option that would make everything easy and bright, moreover, the only option that looks good enough yet will demolish him nonetheless is saying goodbye to Minho.
“Let’s eat, baby.” Minho kisses his forehead and helps him to get up, holding his hand while they walk towards the kitchen. “Would you like to drink wine to loosen up?”
“Yeah, sounds good.” Jisung nods.
Both the food and wine are mouthwatering, Jisung feels like a person again after filling his tummy and a smile draws easily on his face thanks to the wine. He isn’t squiffy, just an itsy-bitsy lightheaded. It might get him to kiss Minho’s lips the whole night.
“Can you come here?” Jisung asks once their plates are free of food and their glasses empty, his cheeks undeniable red and warm. He pats his thighs.
“Of course,” Minho replies with a small, lazy smile. He gets up and gets closer to Jisung, plopping down on his lap and hugging his neck. Minho puts his cheek against Jisung’s flushed one, rubbing them together and giggling. “You’re all warm.”
Jisung looks at Minho’s eyes once he has distanced their cheeks, smiling dopily. “It’s because of you,” he mutters. “The food was really tasty, thanks.”
Now Minho’s face is adorned with a sweet, attractive ruby. He cups Jisung’s roly-poly cheeks and squeezes them softly, making him pout inadvertently, and whispers while grazing their lips, “Kiss,” before diving into a slow, mawkish kiss.
Jisung lets his lids close and sighs into the kiss, content and finally finding peace of mind. He tastes the wine on Minho’s tongue and lips, so sweet and good. Minho caresses his cheeks daintily and kisses him like never before—so extremely delicate and lovingly. Their lips have already met a hundred times before, but never like this.
Jisung kind of feels… loved, cared for, held. Minho kisses his lips with softness, dragging his lips down to Jisung’s jaw, and then up to his cheeks and forehead.
“I missed you,” Minho says against Jisung’s lips now. It feels like a vulnerable moment, one that Jisung wants to treasure forever. Minho brushes his fingers through Jisung’s hair, so gently as he presses flying kisses on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. “I was getting crazy without you,” he murmurs as he kisses Jisung’s neck and shifts on his lap.
Suddenly, a strong blue wave crushes Jisung’s heart. He now understands where Minho is going with all this. He sighs, uncomfortable, and his hands twitch on Minho’s waist. He thinks he can stay silent for a while, and let the other kiss him a little more, but Minho’s lips against his collarbones make him pull him away.
Minho blinks, stunned. He looks at Jisung through his long lashes. The two of them are flushed and breathless.
“I’m sorry,” Jisung says, abashed. “I don’t feel like fucking today.”
Minho blinks a little more. Then, his features morph into a frown and a tight line draws on his lips.
“I wasn’t thinking about that,” he replies, the tone of his voice sounding on the edge and harsh. “What the fuck, Jisung?”
Now Jisung is confused. Where was Minho going with the meal, wine, and kissing, then? Minho huffs, getting up from Jisung’s lap and looking at him angrily. Jisung blinks, lost and completely befuddled.
“Did you really think that I made all this just to get into your pants? I just—” he huffs again and shakes his head, eyes looking away to avoid meeting Jisung’s wide-eyed gaze. “I thought it’d be nice to see you and help you to relax a bit. I never thought of fucking tonight, just that spending time together would be fine and you could take your mind out of work.”
Jisung’s heart shrieks painfully.
“I’m sorry, I thought…” Jisung rubs the back of his neck. What did he think, that Minho prepared all this just to fuck him? (Yes, he actually thought that.)
Jisung is at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to say.
Then, Minho drops the big question. “Do you really think that I’m around you only to have someone to fuck regularly?”
Jisung gasps. Does he think that? Well, that is what their relationship is for, right? It has been three months, or maybe already a little more since they have focused their relationship on fucking with each other. So… that is what their relationship is for, isn’t it? Why would it be bad if Jisung thinks that Minho is around him for that exact reason?
“Do you…” Minho starts, incredulity and hurt filling his eyes. “Are you with me only to have someone to fuck, Jisung?”
No. The answer comes quickly to Jisung’s mind. Jisung believes that Minho is his whole world or at least a piece of the world where he can be himself and feel some kind of untrue love and candid warmth. I’m with you because I love you. The answer is there, on the tip of his tongue, but it doesn’t come out. Jisung is afraid that, once he opens his mouth to reply, the complete love confession will fall off his lips.
He doesn’t reply and Minho’s expression says everything. Jisung prepares himself for the worst. Minho looks at him with hurt washing all over his face now, his eyes brimming with sadness and disbelief.
Jisung’s heart is in deep pain watching him like this.
“I think I should go,” Minho says and leaves the kitchen. A minute later, where Jisung is already tearing up and clenching his fists, the door opens and closes with a thud.
Jisung’s heart is made of glass, shattered into a million pieces on the floor.
← ← ←
Jisung wears a buttoned-up slick black shirt, a sapphire suit jacket with a belt around his lissome waist, black pants embracing his legs, and simple, shiny shoes. In the morning, he went to the hair salon and let them style his hair and do his makeup pretty yet subdued. He thought they were going to slick back his hair, just a common hairstyle for these kinds of occasions, but they had curled lightly his hair and let the long, curly strands fall before his forehead.
Jisung doesn’t tell anyone, but he really wants to look pretty for Minho’s cousin’s wedding. In a certain way, he knows that he wants to impress Minho.
In the early afternoon, Jisung is waiting for Minho to pick him up. He waits patiently on the sidewalk, a little nervous about what Minho will think about him. Then, he sees Minho’s familiar car turning around the corner of the street, getting closer and closer, and a smile appears on his lips accidentally.
He doesn’t expect Minho to get out of the car, but he does nonetheless, and, surprisingly, he has a small, cute bouquet of jasmine clasped between his hands. Jisung looks at it fascinated.
“Is it for your cousin?” he asks, receiving it and smelling them. He loves flowers so much.
Minho chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s for you, dummy,” he replies and looks away.
Jisung opens his mouth in bewilderment, not understanding where the gesture is coming from, but loving it anyway.
“Oh… thank you, Min. I love it,” he says with flushed cheeks.
They get in the car quickly. Jisung takes the passenger seat, the bouquet still in his hands and the blush colouring his cheeks. Jisung is so confused. They stay silent for a while with the soft music streaming through the speakers and a soft hum coming from Minho. The sunlight glistens in every right angle of Minho’s face, Jisung doesn’t dwell on Minho’s looks, a question threatening to slip past his lips.
“Do you want to say something?” Minho asks out of nowhere.
“Huh?” Jisung arches his eyebrows.
“You’re unusually quiet, do you want to say something?” he repeats.
“Erm…” Jisung rubs the back of his neck and gazes down at the flowers. Then, he looks up at Minho again. “What is the bouquet for? I don’t understand that,” he says with a frown. He loves the gesture, and maybe it is just a token of appreciation, but he needs to know nevertheless.
Minho smiles, a little hesitant. “I just… wanted to give you flowers.” He shrugs.
Jisung’s pink cheeks squish up his shimmering eyes as a soft, shy smile paints on his lips.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. He thinks that maybe Minho gave him those pretty flowers for that little story of the girl that was his ‘girlfriend’ and who got furious when Jisung gave her flowers.
His stomach flips over and his heart flutters stupidly… Minho makes his insides all mushy.
Silent takes over them again, a comfortable one. Jisung spends a while looking through the window, enjoying how the city looks like a blur before his eyes. Then, he looks at Minho and pays his whole attention to him. He looks unfairly gorgeous today. Jisung already knows that Minho is pretty, probably the most good-looking man he has ever laid his eyes on, but today he looks dizzyingly beautiful, and Jisung is staring at him shamelessly.
“You’re staring, Jisungie,” Minho says with a lilt in his voice. He glances at Jisung, smiling bewitchingly at him. “A picture will last longer, sweetie.”
With blazing cheeks, Jisung replies, “Shut up.”
Minho giggles. “Cute.”
“Duh, I know that.”
Minho glances at Jisung once again, looking at his face and clothes. “You look gorgeous today. You weren’t lying when you said you like dolling yourself up.”
The warmth persists on Jisung’s face, reaching the tips of his ears. He likes hearing he looks good, but something swims in Minho’s irises which makes him feel timid.
“Where are we going, by the way?” Jisung questions.
Minho snorts. “Didn’t you read the details I sent you?”
“Yes, I did.” He rolls his eyes. “But I was so into dolling myself up that I didn’t pay too much attention, now tell me.”
Minho sighs. “My family owns a chain of hotels, Jisung. Yena asked for a hotel to celebrate, one a little farther away from the city but not too much, just forty-five minutes drive. She wants complete silence and to have everyone wrapped around her finger.”
Jisung shapes his mouth in a tiny O. “A hotel only for her wedding?”
Minho chuckles. “Yes, only for her wedding. You can see that she’s an only child, so fucking spoiled.”
Jisung smacks his thigh. “You’re also an only child!”
“But I’m not spoiled like her!”
“Are you sure about that?” Jisung says, squinting at Minho and pinching his cheek.
Minho rolls his eyes. “Yena’s fiancé has his family overseas so a hotel was the best option. The majority of his family will stay in the hotel for the weekend.”
“She’s a genius, I guess that she’s the one with brain cells between you two.” Jisung giggles when Minho glares at him. “Should I know something about your family before meeting them?” Jisung asks, a little anxious.
“Hmm, let me think. My aunt Sooyoung might want to get into your pants, she’s a little… crazy, let’s say. My cousin Mingyu is dating our cousin’s ex-girlfriend, it’s a bit weird because they will probably tell you about it. I don’t understand why they’re so proud of that.” Minho wrinkles his nose and Jisung chuckles. “My grandmother will most likely want to kiss your cheeks, so you’ll have to hold her hands while she talks to you. She has this habit of holding your cheeks and kissing them, so it’ll be better if you grab her hands.”
Jisung laughs, cheeks squishing up his round eyes. “She sounds cute, though!”
“Well, if you want to have red lipstick all over your cheeks, then don’t hold her hands and let her kiss you,” Minho answers and shrugs.
“And, does your family know that you’re a part-time stripper?” Jisung asks, honest curiosity rolling off his tongue.
Minho shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t want them to know either. It’s just something I do for fun because I like dancing on stage.”
“So, if they ask us how we met, I’m gonna avoid the part of the strip club.” Jisung chuckles and Minho follows him. “And what about your mother? I want to give her a good first impression,” Jisung adds a little later.
Minho smiles, his bunny teeth appearing beneath his glossy lips. “Don’t worry about her, Jisungie. My mom will love you.”
Jisung squints at him. “Why are you so sure? What if she thinks I’m a bad influence or something like that?”
Minho puffs. “Baby, please. I’m twenty-six, and I don’t think my mother cares too much about bad influences now. Plus, you’re such a homebody. You’re either at your home or studio all day, what type of bad influence is that?”
Jisung crosses his arms over his chest, pouting. “I could be forcing you into something bad, y’know?”
Minho chortles, pulling his hand away from the steering wheel and placing it on Jisung’s thigh. He squeezes the flesh softly from time to time while he drives and hums along with the songs filling the silence, Jisung isn’t capable of uttering a single word with Minho’s hand burning his skin. He gives a soft caress while he parks and, once he has parked and turned off the engine, he looks at Jisung and clutches his thigh one last time.
“The only bad thing about you is how pretty you are today,” he says and gets out of the car, leaving Jisung astonished and flushed scarlet.
Jisung watches Minho open the passenger door for him, extending his hand towards him to take it. Before getting out of the car, Jisung takes one of the jasmines and puts it in the pocket of his suit jacket—the white, soft petals peeking out and giving a beautiful detail to his outfit—then he gets out of the vehicle and interlaces their fingers warmly.
He squeezes Minho’s hand once the people come into their view, all of them wearing smart clothes and sophisticated smiles. Jisung feels a bit nervous and anxious, but Minho’s firm yet delicate hold keeps him grounded.
“Don’t be intimidated, love. They’re just silly people,” Minho murmurs once they have approached them. He wears a fake smile and Jisung follows him, although his smile looks a little more edgy than artificial. “Let’s greet some people and go to the main room quickly.”
The place, at first sight, is immense and, just like Jisung thought, beautifully decorated. He can’t take his eyes off the pretty details of the place, enamoured by the wonderful colours and all. Jisung smiles at Minho’s family, introducing himself with a well-acted easy smile hanging on his lips, and he giggles when Minho lets his hand go to hold his grandmother’s hands. Jisung decides to do the same once he looks at the angry red lipstick painting her lips, opting for keeping his cheeks clean of any colour.
“Minho!” A short woman with jet-black hair, cat-like eyes, and a soft smile, says as she approaches them. She beams at Jisung, kind and amicably. She hugs Minho and tries to kiss his cheek but Minho doesn’t let her.
“The lipstick, mom,” he says with a playful smile dancing on his lips and pointing at her lips.
She rolls her eyes and then her gaze falls on Jisung. “You must be Jisungie, right? Minho’s always talking about you whenever we’re chatting.”
Jisung blinks hopefully at Minho, giggling when Minho frowns and shakes his head, murmuring that his mother is making that up. He can’t help himself from thinking that Minho is very, very cute.
“Yes, I’m Jisungie ,” he replies humorously, eyes fixed on the flushed man as he giggles with Minho’s mother. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He is surprised when she envelops him in a warm hug, but he melts in the touch a second later.
“It’s my pleasure to finally meet you,” she says warmly.
Minho’s mother walks them to the main room and can’t stop grinning at Jisung, complimenting him and the way he styled himself for the occasion. Minho sends him a reassuring smile and takes his hand again, he feels comfortable and safe right there. Jisung looks attentively at Minho’s mother once they have taken a seat in the reception and finds some similarities between them; he wonders which features Minho shares with his father. She talks with them for a while, giggling with Jisung and siding with him to annoy Minho to make him blush harder. Then, someone calls for her and they are left alone once again.
“I told you she’d love you, didn’t I?” Minho says, smiling and tucking a stray strand behind Jisung’s ear.
“Yeah, you did, dumbass.” Jisung giggles, loving how Minho’s fingers brush against the shell of his ear.
“I think my whole family already loves you more than they love me.”
Jisung shrugs, smiling cheekily. “I don’t blame them,” he answers and chuckles when Minho pinches his cheek.
Out of nowhere, three small girls approach them with curious eyes and glamorous dresses. The three of them smile widely at Minho, attempting to get his attention swiftly, and then looking down at their hands together.
“Is he your boyfriend, Minnie?” One of three young girls, around eight or nine years old, asks and looks at Jisung curiously.
The three of them look at Minho anticipatedly, waiting for his answer. Jisung feels his cheeks getting hot and averts his gaze.
“No, darling. He’s just my friend,” Minho replies.
“And why are you holding hands, then?” One of them, with freckles sprinkled across her chubby cheeks, says.
Minho huffs, Jisung notices the light pinkish shade colouring his ears. “Sometimes friends hold each other’s hands, Yujin.”
“Do you also kiss?” Another girl asks, the three of them erupting in a flurry of giggles.
Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, Lia. We don’t kiss.”
Though Jisung would like to kiss him, to be honest.
The girls stop their questions once their parents call for them, running quickly to them and leaving Jisung and Minho alone.
“I’m sorry for that,” Minho says, embarrassed. He then looks at the flower in Jisung's pocket and grins. “It looks cute there.”
“Thanks, a pretty man gave me that one,” he attempts to flirt.
“Oh?” Minho arches his eyebrow, smirking at him. “Might that man have a chance with you tonight?”
They have been doing this for a while. Flirting and making eyes at each other. Minho always leaves Jisung with a dangerous fire pooling in his cheeks and the pit of his stomach, his heartbeat accelerating, and hundreds of scenarios of the two of them together popping up in his mind. He never knows if Minho means what he says, but he hopes that today something will happen between them.
As always, Jisung follows in the footsteps of Minho’s game. “I might let him have a taste of me tonight, but only if he behaves well.”
Minho's tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Jisung can only think that it would be better if his tongue was wetting those pretty lips.
Everyone in the room begins to shuffle and get on their seats once it is announced that the wedding processional will start, happy smiles plastered on their faces, yet the one with the brightest smile is the man at the altar—waiting for the lovely bride-to-be and fidgeting nervously.
While Yena is walking down the aisle, with an elated smile and watery eyes, Jisung’s breath hitches when Minho’s plump fingers curl around his thigh. He glances at him with warning eyes, but Minho isn’t looking back at him—he is giving that closed-mouth smile at the sight of his cousin giggling with her future husband.
Jisung shrinks in his seat, his heart pounding loudly in his throat and the tips of his ears getting warm as Minho’s fingertips caress his inner thigh softly. They are the type of getting touchy and flirty, but Minho has never laid a finger on him so intensely, burning him so much.
Jisung hopes that this part of the wedding doesn’t take too long, but it unfortunately does. He feels his heart is going to burst out of his chest with how speedy his heartbeat is, ringing in his ears to the point that he ignores Minho’s smirk and the soft glance he sends his way.
Once the groom and bride kiss briefly and lovingly and everyone is applauding happily at them, Minho lets his thigh go and Jisung releases a sigh of relief. His skin isn’t burning anymore, but it tingles anyways.
Minho smiles at him, giggling at his flushed cheeks and wide-open eyes. He extends a hand toward Jisung and says, “Let’s go to the reception. The food is waiting for me.”
Jisung gulps and nods, taking Minho’s hand. He feels a sharp, tingly sensation running through his spine the moment Minho looks back at him and grins at him, the curves of his lips keeping a secret that Jisung dies to know.
Jisung is also dying to know how Minho would feel pressed against him—the two of them in the raw and sharing their warmth.
The reception is as well-decorated as the rest of the main room. Here, the lights are dimmer and the space is bigger with tables, chairs, and a large dance floor in the centre. Everyone has a specific seat to get comfortable and a table full of food to help themselves. The bride and groom have a special, long table for them and their closest relatives where the huge, beautiful cake is placed. After the main characters of the night and some other people give brief speeches (where Minho rolled his eyes and whispered silly things in Jisung’s ear), the music turns on and the people start eating and dancing freely.
Jisung and Minho’s hands stay glued throughout the rest of the night. Minho puts his chair right next to Jisung’s, thighs pressed together and hands on his lap, and sometimes he rests his head on Jisung’s shoulder. They munch and hum in approval at the great taste, looking at each other and giggling at the crumbs in the corner of their lips. Jisung feeds Minho a few times, chuckling and forcing him to return the gesture.
“Thanks, lovely,” Jisung says after Minho has fed him a roll of sushi.
“I hope you choke on the sushi,” Minho replies with red cheeks, glancing around just to realize that the three young girls are pointing at him and laughing—not so—secretly.
Some people approach them and make some small talk, looking curiously at them, more specifically at their closeness. It is one of Minho’s aunts, Sooyoung, that dares to ask Minho what everyone seems to want to know.
“Are you finally dating a cute boy, Minnie? I thought you were going to follow my steps,” she says, an entertained smile hanging on her vinous lips.
Minho chuckles and shakes his head, giving Jisung’s hand a light squeeze. “He’s only my friend, aunt.” Her eyes sparkle under the dim lights. “But he’s taken for tonight,” he adds.
Sooyoung purses her lips and clicks her tongue. “What a pity,” she says jokingly (or Jisung hopes she does). Then, she gets up from the chair and tells Minho, “You should take him for more than tonight.”
Jisung feels embarrassed and bashful. He has never had a woman in her early forties wanting him. For Minho, however, it seems to be hilarious and worthy of a hysterical laugh once his aunt has left them alone.
“Damn, Jisungie. You’re winning all the girls tonight,” he keeps laughing, his shoulders shaking and eyes crinkling in the cutest way.
Jisung smacks his shoulder. “Shut up, please. It was just your aunt.”
Minho stops laughing and arches one eyebrow. “Don’t be silly, baby. Haven’t you noticed the rest of the girls making sheep’s eyes at you?”
Jisung frowns. No, he hasn't noticed anyone else looking at him.
Well…
Perhaps because he was too focused on Minho’s fingers on his thigh, Minho’s head on his shoulder, Minho’s wonderful smile and glistening eyes, Minho’s hand clasped with his. But, he truthfully hasn't seen any girl glancing his way.
“No?” he replies, unsure. Then, his befuddled expression breaks into a half, smug grin. “That’s why you’re so touchy today?” He scrunches up his nose, mockingly. “I didn’t know you were the jealous type, Minnie.” Minho presses his lips together and rolls his eyes. Jisung giggles and scratches his chin, his face inches closer to the other. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m all yours for tonight.”
Once those final words have slipped out of Jisung’s mouth, there is a shift in Minho's eyes—the chocolate irises have a glimpse of fire, of want (is that or Jisung is hallucinating things?), and Jisung melts right under his gaze. He feels like a bundle of nerves. Has he gone too far saying that?
Minho averts his gaze and glances at the dance floor, hand still pressed against Jisung’s, and then says, “Would you like to dance?”
The song that is playing is for a fucking slow dance.
Jisung gulps, his heart skipping a couple of beats. “Yes.”
Jisung has attended more than a handful of weddings, he knows that slow songs are a must, but… did Minho have to invite him to slow dance with him?
He should have said no. He feels all jittery, dazed and with his mouth dry. It gets worse the instant Minho wraps his hands around his waist and pulls him closer until their chests are pressed together. Jisung's trembling hands find a safe place around Minho’s neck, helping him to stay grounded as they begin to sway their bodies to the rhythm of the soft music.
“Relax a bit,” Minho murmurs over the music and laughter of the people around them. He caresses Jisung’s waist gently, making him close his eyes and open his mouth the slightest bit inadvertently. “Yeah, just like that.”
Jisung flutters open his eyes and sees right through Minho, and finds right there, in front of him, the chemistry between them blowing up.
This isn’t just another simple, silly game, Jisung realizes.
Minho isn’t looking at him with the same lighthearted gaze as always, instead with eyes brimmed with passion and—now Jisung is sure—want. The tension between them is so thick and tangible that it can be cut with a knife, and both Jisung and Minho are aware of that.
“Jisung,” Minho calls for him. He doesn’t reply—he doesn’t need to, Minho already knows that his attention is on him. “Do you want to go back to your place tonight?”
What?
A faint frown paints on Jisung’s face.
Then, the pieces fall into place.
“No,” he answers breathlessly and prepares himself for the best.
Minho doesn’t mutter a single word, just grabs his hand and quickly springs out of the reception. Hand in hand, confused and lost, Jisung lets Minho guide him wherever he is going.
They take an elevator and Minho desperately presses the last floor. While the platform is taking them to the highest point, Minho cups Jisung’s cheeks and fulfils his most desired wish—he puts his mouth on Jisung’s, kissing him hungrily and open-mouthed.
Jisung’s mind explodes like fireworks, his heartbeat stutters, and the chattering crowd goes silent. He clutches Minho’s navy jacket suit and moans right into his mouth when his hands place on Jisung’s lower back and press him harder to glue their bodies.
Minho’s lips are soft and fit perfectly with his own as if they were meant to find each other in a famished kiss. Funny enough, Minho’s superior lip is fuller whilst Jisung’s lower lip is plumper—like two puzzle pieces fitting flawlessly. Despite Minho’s lips being tender, the kiss is completely the opposite. They are kissing feverishly, letting out the want that has been pricking underneath their skin since the very first moment.
One of Minho’s hands travels to Jisung’s perfectly styled hair to grasp the strands and presses his lower back even more. Jisung parts his lips out of instinct, a moan bubbling from the back of his throat at the exact moment that Minho’s tongue licks his lips and teeth.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” Minho murmurs.
The elevator beeps and opens its door, announcing they have arrived at the awaited last floor. Minho takes Jisung’s hand and drags him across the dimmed corridor, Jisung misses his warmth instantly.
He laughs breathlessly and childishly when Minho begins to run. He feels like a teenager, reckless and immature. “Where are we gonna go, Minho?”
“Just wait,” he replies and giggles.
Soon enough, they are in front of a wooden door which Minho opens easily with a code. Jisung doesn’t understand yet, but he doesn’t care. He isn’t going to ask any questions, just let himself be dragged wherever Minho wants to go.
Minho turns on the lights and grabs Jisung by his waist once again, pressing their lips together one more time. Jisung tastes the champagne in his mouth with every lick of his tongue in the corners of Minho’s mouth, it is bittersweet and addicting. Each touch of Minho’s hands on his body leaves a tingly sensation running through his spine and makes him whimper, his mind dizzy and clouded.
What started as a fragile little flame is now burning deeply inside Jisung’s chest, it feels like pins and needles. It is even worse when Minho isn’t touching him over his clothes, instead brushing his prickly fingertips against the bare skin of his waist, tummy, and chest, and skirting the waistband of his pants. They don’t put their lips an inch away from each other even as they take their jacket suits off—kissing, biting, and licking desperately.
“Bedroom,” Minho manages to breathe out.
They rush through a dark, narrow corridor and Minho opens another door, letting a huge bedroom be seen before Jisung’s red eyes. They don't even reach the bed, though. Jisung feels too needy and impatient, pinning Minho against the wall and planting soft, wet kisses on the column of his neck as he roams his clothed chest.
“Don’t take it easy, baby,” Minho whispers and lets out a playful chuckle.
Those mere words are enough for Jisung to dig his teeth in Minho’s neck and collarbones while he unfastens the buttons of Minho’s dress shirt. Quickly, he has the most precious chest he has ever seen in front of him—honeyed skin, hard nipples, squashy stomach.
God, Jisung loves the idea of getting on his knees and planting tender, possessive kisses on Minho’s supple skin, and he does it. He just doesn’t care about anything now, freeing all those tiny things he wants to do at this moment with Minho like this for him.
He does whatever he wants with Minho. Kisses, bites, sucks until pinkish crimson marks bloom. Jisung undoes Minho’s pants and pulls them down along with his underwear, but he doesn’t pay any mind to Minho’s hard, wet cock.
“Fuck you,” Minho mutters under his breath when Jisung attaches his lips to his thighs and caresses the back of them with his fingertips, dragging his nails down to his knees and up to the beginning of his cheeks.
He breathes out a strained giggle when Minho grunts and tangles his hands on his messy hair. A burning sensation settles in the pit of Jisung’s stomach at the sound of Minho’s complaints bubbling from the back of his throat.
Jisung looks up, the room has a huge glass window with gauzy curtains that let the moon cast a constant light over Minho’s features, and Jisung can see clearly the way his eyebrows are knitted together and lips are open to let out low grumbles. Jisung decides he would like to see and cause another expression on Minho, a blissed one, so he takes Minho’s dick between his soft hands and gives an unexpected kitten lick to the angry red tip.
“Oh.” Minho gasps, his knees almost buckling.
Jisung chuckles, amazed by Minho’s reaction. He is so sensitive that Jisung wants to keep making him squirm with light kitten licks and the faint squeeze of his hands. He licks one, twice, thrice, and then puts the tip on his mouth to suck. The sight of Minho’s blissed-out expression is a sight to hold onto forever. He could do this all night—watch Minho falling apart just with his mouth on him—but Minho isn’t having any of that, he forces Jisung to stand up and kisses him madly.
“I don’t want to come in your mouth,” Minho says after taking his pants, underwear, and shoes off. He forces Jisung to walk backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed and lies down. “Maybe another day,” he adds.
Jisung’s belly flips over. The promise of doing this again gets him dizzier and crazier. He stays on the bed, elbows propped on the mattress to support himself, and he stares at Minho intently. He is completely naked now and looking so fucking gorgeous. Minho has his silver hair dishevelled, his shoulders and chest are firm and broad, and the lines of the muscles of his arms are easily seen, but his stomach is soft and painted with reddish marks promising to be purple tomorrow. Jisung gazes down and smirks at his hard-on, dropping his eyes a little more and watching his muscular thighs (he undeniably thinks about getting off on them).
“Enjoying the sight, darling?” Minho smiles at him, tilting his head mockingly.
“A lot,” Jisung answers shamelessly. “Are you going to dance for me?” One corner of his mouth twitches the slightest bit.
Minho gets on the bed and crawls to Jisung’s lap. “A private show is really expensive.” He begins to unbutton Jisung’s shirt, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips which Jisung kisses swiftly.
“I don’t care,” he says while Minho takes his shirt off. Now he can feel Minho’s dick pressed against his slightly toned stomach. Jisung burns with the desire to feel more and more.
Minho touches his collarbones with the tip of his index finger. “I will dance for you another day too, but for now… I want to kiss you a lot .”
Minho does as he says. He kisses every inch of Jisung’s skin while he undresses and praises him, and Jisung can only moan and arch his back at the sensation of Minho’s lips against his skin and sweet praises filling his numb mind. He adores this moment where he is lying naked on the bed and Minho kisses his body, even more than the thought of fucking Minho.
Shuddering breaths leave Jisung’s mouth when Minho wraps his pretty lips around his dick, bobbing his head up and down in a slow yet eager motion—torturing him yet taking him to heaven. Minho caresses his thighs and tummy, plays with his balls, and tongues the tip of his cock while looking up at him.
Jisung is panting once Minho takes his dick out of his warm mouth, hands clenching the bedsheets and legs threatening to close with the strong sensitivity he is feeling right now. He gulps loudly. Minho has his head resting on Jisung’s shaky thigh, a hazed gaze and drools dripping down his chin, while one of his hands slowly jerks Jisung off.
“Would you like to continue?” he asks.
Jisung gazes at him—bad, bad idea. Minho looks sinful and heavenly beautiful like this. He fixes his eyes on the ceiling again, it is better this way.
“Yes,” he responds without a second thought.
Minho gives a sudden, long lick to his dick, starting from the very bottom to the tip, and earns a choked moan from Jisung.
Minho will be the cause of his death tonight.
“Do you want to top or bottom?”
Jisung rubs his face, frustrated. He was a second away from coming, but Minho had stopped when he was reaching and about to pass the line.
“I don’t fucking care, I just want to feel you,” Jisung answers, desperate.
Minho giggles lightheartedly. He shifts on the bed until his mouth is against Jisung’s, his hand still moving up and down his dripping cock. Jisung can taste the first drops of his precum on Minho’s mouth and moans both at the knowledge of that and the squeeze the other gives him.
“I want you to fuck me,” Minho whispers in a sultry tone and licks Jisung's lower lip. He knows what he is doing with Jisung.
Jisung whines and nods desperately. “Yeah, yeah. That’s okay, super okay—”
Minho interrupts his rambling. “Would you like to watch me open myself up for you, baby?”
Jisung’s brain has melted. He has melted and turned into an insignificant puddle. Just like the first time meeting Minho, he wonders if this is happening, but yes, this is real . Minho grabbing lube and condoms from the drawer is real . Minho popping the can open, getting on fours on the bed and displaying his ass for Jisung, filling his plump fingers with cold lube and rubbing them together to warm them, then pressing his cheek against the mattress and staring dazedly at Jisung. Everything is real .
Jisung presses his back on the headboard, his hand lazily pumping his dick, droplets of sweat slowly tailing down from his hairline, and eyes intensely fixed on the dreamlike sight in front of him. Minho has one of his fingers inside him and whimpers, it is most likely because of the new, stingy stretching sensation. But then, in a blur of minutes where he has been moaning and gradually feeling more comfortable, he adds another finger—always making sure that they are extremely lubed.
The room is brimmed with the sticky sound of Minho’s fingers slipping in and out of his ass and his low whimpers and whines. Jisung tries to not hurry the movement of his hand around his cock, but it gets more and more difficult because Minho is now feeling quite used to the sensation so he adds another finger and fucks himself silly with the three.
Minho is enjoying himself—lips wide open and breathy whines slipping past them, his free hand clutching the bedsheets strongly while his hips move back and forth to fuck himself. Jisung whimpers at the sight and gnaws his lower lip. He needs to let Minho know how pretty he looks.
“You’re beautiful,” Jisung murmurs loud enough so Minho can hear him. The tiniest cocky smile draws on his lips at the sound of Minho’s blatant moan. It encourages him to say more. “The prettiest man ever. You're so needy, aren't you, baby?”
Minho sounds totally out of breath when he speaks. “Do you want to help me?” Jisung doesn’t have to think twice, getting on his knees behind Minho and grabbing, squeezing, and spreading his cheeks to look at Minho’s fingers slipping inside his open hole. “Fuck,” he cries out when Jisung kisses his skin and bites softly.
“Let me help you, baby.” Jisung lubes his fingers, rubs them together, and then slides the tip of one of them across his rim along with Minho's. He chuckles at the complaint sounds that come out of Minho’s mouth.
Then, he puts two fingers at once together with Minho’s and feels his cock twitching at the wetness and warmth of Minho’s tight walls. After a couple of minutes, he takes Minho’s wrist and gets his fingers out of him, so he can be the only one feeling his inside and prodding his prostate. Jisung fingers him delicately and with the right amount of roughness, making sure to kiss Minho’s skin and massage the back of his thighs.
It is after a while of fingering him and murmuring sweet words that Minho can’t contain himself anymore, shuddering and drooling on the bedsheets. He wraps his fingers around Jisung’s wrist and says, “Please, stop, please. Fuck me now.”
Jisung takes his fingers out of Minho and presses one last kiss on his lower back. “Whatever my baby wants, he gets it.” Jisung puts on the condom and lubes himself, even more, he adjusts his position behind Minho and lines himself up. “Are you comfortable?” he inquires just to make sure that Minho is feeling well.
“Yes, yes. Stop talking and fuck me already,” he replies and Jisung giggles. His voice sounds muffled since he has his face buried on the mattress, elbows supporting himself, back perfectly arched, and legs wide open to let Jisung in.
Jisung looks down and digs his teeth in his lower lip. He has Minho at his mercy, open and ready for him, crying out to take his cock. He plays just a little more with Minho to drag out the moment, grazing the tip of his dick and slapping it in the other’s open rim just to tease him. Then, he gets the head in and starts to slowly thrust in and out. With every thrust, he gets deeper and deeper.
“Fucking God—” Minho breathes out.
Jisung giggles breathlessly, his hands placed on Minho’s hips to steady the slight sway of his hips, and says, “Yeah, I’m fucking God.”
Between the moans and sloppy sounds, Minho lets out a soft giggle and whispers something like, “Shut up, idiot.”
Jisung chuckles and picks up the pace of his hips, beginning to pound into Minho swiftly and roughly, digging his fingers strongly on the soft flesh of his hips and leaving promising bruises. He whimpers and fills the room with breathy moans, while Minho sounds a little more high-pitched and vulnerable. Jisung loves the sound he elicits from him, it makes his heart swell with pride and arrogance.
Jisung looks down and sees Minho’s ass jiggling the slightest bit as Minho rocks his hips back and forth to meet Jisung’s movements. Jisung’s palms tingle with the need of spanking the skin just a little, but he doesn’t know if Minho would like that so he gulps down and keeps thrusting into him harshly. The building need is so strong that Jisung bites his bottom lip and lets the words out.
“Can I spank you?”
Minho moans loudly, and Jisung sees the white of his half-lidded eyes. “Yes–fuck, yes.”
Jisung smiles a little and gives the soft skin a sharp slap, watching how it jiggles and quickly turns into a red shade. Minho unconsciously tilts his hips, searching for more.
“You look so pretty, Minho,” he whispers and spanks him one more time. “So beautiful, my kitten.” He gives more and more slaps.
The highest whine rumbles off the walls of the bedroom and Jisung feels proud for causing that.
“Yours,” Minho pants.
Jisung’s heart might explode with the enormous pride filling it. “Yes? Are you only mine, kitten?”
Minho fucks himself into Jisung’s hard, twitching cock while he nods desperately. “Yes, yes, yes,” he says.
Jisung feels a burning sensation twisting in his stomach and the sudden urge to look at Minho’s face. “I want to look at you,” he says without stopping the constant back and forth of his hips to prod Minho’s bundle of nerves.
“Let me ride you,” Minho replies and quickly puts them in the position.
Jisung has his back pressed against the mattress, head on the pillows, and a racy heart. Minho smirks at Jisung, getting on his lap and grabbing his dick to put it inside himself—a frown appearing between his eyebrows and mouth wide open once he lowers himself on his hard-on.
“Fuck, baby. You fill me up so, so good.”
Jisung stares at him, so incredibly amazed at the sight. Minho’s hair is very messy, he is pink-faced and sweaty, lips full of spit and swollen. He already knew that Minho gets easily flushed, but he is unbelievably red right now. The tips of his ears, cheeks, neck, and chest. So, so red. Jisung loves it, and he wants Minho to feel extremely good, to always remember this night with him, so he bends his legs and grabs Minho’s cheeks to fuck him good and hard.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Minho chants mindlessly. Minho’s mind is numb, clouded with lust, just like Jisung’s. The two of them just want to chase after their release. While Jisung bucks his hips up quickly and roughly, Minho reaches to touch himself. “Jisung,” he moans and throws his head back. “I’m so close, baby,” he says in a reedy and breathy voice.
Jisung also feels like he is almost reaching the most pleasurable point, doing his best to not break down into a shaky, whiny mess and just keep fucking Minho and making both of them feel good.
It takes a few more thrusts for Minho to spill on Jisung’s stomach with a loud groan. Jisung thinks about getting his cock out of Minho’s hole and just jerking himself off because of the oversensitivity Minho must be feeling, but Minho presses their mouths together and continues riding and clenching around him until the condom is filled.
“Minho—” he moans against Minho’s open mouth, bucking his hips up for the last time and pressing his fingers in his hips.
Minho throws himself on top of Jisung, the two of them panting and full of sweat and cum. Jisung feels so exhausted, his whole body warm and gradually starting to ache, his mind still dizzy. He carefully takes his dick out of Minho’s inside and moves his body to place himself right next to him, takes the condom off and with wobbly legs walks to the trash can. Once he is back on the bed, he caresses Minho’s sweaty back.
“I’m so fucking worn-out,” Minho murmurs.
Jisung brushes the hair off his eyes, looking at him attentively. Minho is more beautiful now than before, looking so natural and vulnerable. Jisung isn’t the type to cuddle with his one-night stands, but he doesn’t think that Minho is just a touch-and-go. But, even with the desire to embrace Minho—like this, naked, with sweat clinging to his body, still panting a little, and very messy—he doesn’t know what the other is expecting, so he just stays there. Their bodies are touching slightly, sparks hanging in the air where their skin touches, but neither of them reaches for the other.
“We missed part of my cousin’s wedding,” Minho adds and giggles.
Jisung chuckles. “You brought me here.”
Minho shrugs. After a brief pause, he speaks again. “I know we’re all sweaty and gross, but… would you mind taking a shower tomorrow?” Jisung makes a sound of disgust in the back of his throat, and Minho opens his lids and huffs. “I’m really tired, you’ll have to lather me and all.”
A soft laugh leaves Jisung’s mouth. “Okay, I will do it. Just tell me where the towels are, I’ll help you.”
They spend the next half an hour or so taking a bath, talking in a soft voice since the silence offers them the opportunity to do it. Minho has his back pressed against Jisung’s firm chest, eyes closed and body completely relaxed as Jisung washes him carefully.
They don’t mention a single word about what just happened, which Jisung is grateful for. Honestly, he doesn’t know what it means, yet he doesn't care at the same time, preferring this to be something insouciant. Somehow, he thinks that it was meant to happen since their friendship has always had a pinch of coquetry from the very first moment.
“Would you like to go back to the wedding? I’m sure they’re all dancing and having good fun right now,” Minho asks once they have finished and are back in bed.
Jisung has dried Minho’s body delicately and now is drying himself up. The two of them are naked, the clothes they were wearing for the wedding scattered on the floor.
Jisung shakes his head. “Honestly? No, I don’t want to go back. I’m good here and I want to rest. What about you?”
Minho curls up in the bed, making himself look smaller. “No, I don’t want to go back either.”
Jisung puts the towels on a chair and picks up their clothes to put them on a couch placed in the corner of the bedroom. He doesn’t feel ashamed of being naked, Minho’s eyes on him don’t make him the slightest bit uncomfortable.
Minho pats the mattress, looking up at Jisung with weary eyes. “Do you want to cuddle?”
“Oh?” Jisung arches an eyebrow while putting Minho’s pants on top of the small pile of clothes. He smiles. “Yeah, obviously. Do you want your underwear back?” Jisung picks up their underwear and giggles.
“Yeah, bring that and your cute, lil butt here,” Minho replies with a weak smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Jisung puts on his underwear and helps Minho put on his, then grabs the duvet from the end of the bed to cover them and spoons him. He runs his fingers through Minho’s messy and damp hair, being soft and careful. It is cute seeing Minho so worn-out and fragile, letting himself be caressed like a little cat and listening to him hum happily, especially after watching him so out of hand and needy.
“I had fun with you,” Jisung says out of the blue, his cheeks getting warm quickly.
Minho snorts, nuzzling Jisung’s arm which is under his head. “Me too.”
“Are we going to spend the night here?”
“Yeah.”
“Are we allowed to do that?”
“Jisungie, my family owns this place. They won’t mind it.”
“Okay,” Jisung whispers and snuggles Minho even more—legs tangled, skin against skin warmly, Jisung’s lips grazing Minho’s shoulder.
“Tomorrow I’ll drive you to your flat, don’t worry.” Minho’s voice sounds husky and one inch away from falling asleep.
“Alright. Sleep well, Minho.”
“Sweet dreams, Sungie.”
Jisung kisses Minho's shoulder and keeps running his fingers through his hair until his breath has evened out, he chuckles when Minho starts drooling on his forearm. It shouldn’t be adorable, but it is nonetheless. He hugs Minho’s middle and lets himself fall asleep too.
→ → →
Jisung doesn’t know how to approach Minho after the last time he saw him (where he sprung out of his home after their small argument—well, Jisung doesn’t know if what they had was an argument). He is speechless, even though he has a lot of words hidden under his tongue, but they aren’t the needed words to work out their problem, so he doesn’t approach Minho and lets the days go by while he carries a heavy, angsty heart like a necklace.
The worst thing about this situation is that he can't use this opportunity to forget Minho, it is impossible because he follows him everywhere. Jisung wants to put all his belongings (Minho’s clothes mingled with his own, his special mug next to Jisung’s, his body lotions) in a box and leave it in front of his door, but he knows that it won’t work. Minho hasn’t only left his belongings in his home, but he also has left a deep, golden mark in Jisung’s heart.
Jisung doesn’t make those quick runs to the bakery anymore, wasting perhaps the only opportunity to meet Minho and say sorry.
Sorry.
Does he have something to say sorry for? Truthfully, he doesn’t know. Does he have to say sorry for thinking that Minho sees him only as his fuck buddy when their relationship is based on that? They have indeed built a good friendship, Minho makes Jisung feel comfortable and safe, but… the sexual tension has always been there between them. It blew up the night of Minho’s cousin’s wedding, only to grow even more and wordlessly start from there a friends-with-benefits relationship.
Jisung doesn’t know what to do, so he does what he knows he is the best at writing lyrics and composing. He locks himself up in the studio for hours, ignoring the rest of the world with his headphones perched on his head and eyes fixed on the screen of his laptop. His sight starts to sting from time to time because of spending so many hours in front of the laptop, so he takes brief naps on the couch of the studio.
One evening, someone shakes Jisung to wake him up in the middle of his nap. He grumbles and scrunches up his nose, annoyed.
“What?” he says without opening his eyes.
“Let’s have dinner,” he hears Chan’s familiar and soft voice saying.
Jisung blinks lazily at him, attempting to get used to the dim light of the studio, and wets his dry lips. “I haven’t finished a song yet.”
“I don’t care, you can finish it tomorrow.” Chan squeezes his arm. “You haven’t eaten for hours, let’s go.”
Jisung grouses under his breath about being woken up, but gets up and puts on his shoes and jacket. Before getting out of the company, he goes to the toilet to wash his face and style his hair the best he can, and then leaves with Chan and Changbin in the latter’s car. Jisung doesn’t pay attention to their conversation about buying groceries for Sunday’s lunch with their families, too focused on watching the bustling city full of lights.
“Where are we going?” suddenly he asks.
“Oh, a new restaurant opened a few days ago and Chan’s been wanting to go,” Changbin replies, sending him a glance from the rear mirror.
Jisung huffs. “I don’t look good enough to go to a restaurant.”
Chan giggles. “Don’t worry, it’s a small restaurant and we can ask for a private booth.”
Jisung crosses his arms over his chest, not completely satisfied. Couldn’t they stay in the studio and ask for takeout as always? He huffs again, but after a while, he chuckles at the thought that it looks like he is their stubborn child.
Soon enough, they arrive at the restaurant and, just like Chan said, it is pretty small and also uncrowded. Changbin asks for a private booth and they get comfortable; Jisung sits in front of them and begins skimming the menu right away.
“What would you like to eat, Jisung?” Chan asks, reading carefully the menu.
“What do you think about meat?” Changbin chimes in and Chan looks at Jisung, who shrugs and nods.
It isn’t weird that they are having dinner together, especially now that Jisung has been spending so much time inside the studio and, pitifully, hasn’t taken good care of himself, but… Jisung senses that there is something more behind this dinner.
He stares at them, squinting his eyes and hoping to find something off about them, yet he doesn’t find anything out of place—Changbin makes a silly joke about the name of a sophisticated dish and Chan bursts into laughter with his eyes wrinkling and dimples appearing on his cheeks, giving Changbin’s chest a soft swat.
Jisung must have been looking at them for quite a long minute because Changbin looks at him with an arched eyebrow. “Do you want to say something, Jisung?”
He squints his eyes. “I don’t know why, but I feel that you have something to tell me.”
Chan and Changbin share a long glance, eyes brimmed with nervousness and hesitation, and then look at Jisung. There is something off.
“Actually…” Chan starts, rubbing the back of his neck. His pale cheeks possess an angry red shade. “We wanted to wait until the food arrived, but since you’ve noticed already…”
“What is it? You’re acting so mysterious,” Jisung says impatiently.
Changbin exhales.“We’re dating.”
Jisung opens his eyes in the shape of full moons, taken aback. What the actual fuck?
“What?” He shifts his gaze between Changbin and Chan, surprised.
“We’ve been dating for two weeks.” Chan smiles lovingly at Changbin, pretty eyes twinkling under the lights of the restaurant and fingers caressing Changbin’s shoulder.
“Two weeks?” Jisung echoes. “Why am I knowing this just now? I’m literally with you all the time!”
Changbin rolls his eyes. “If you weren’t so caught up in your shit…” he whispers loud enough to be heard.
Chan frowns at him and smacks his arm. “Don’t be rude to him.”
Jisung sighs, shaking his head. “It’s okay, he’s right.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Erm– congratulations? I’m surprised but very happy for you.”
Chan smiles sweetly. “Thanks,” he says, abashed. “We’ve been dancing around each other for a while, to be honest. I didn’t know if Changbin felt the same about me.”
“And I didn’t know if he felt the same about me, I’ve been pining since last year,” Changbin confesses.
When Jisung is about to open his mouth to say something more, the waiter arrives with their food and they thank him after that Jisung finally speaks.
“Since last year?”
Changbin starts grilling the meat and Chan helps him with that. “Yeah, when our boss threw a small party for the company’s anniversary. Chan and I spent almost all night together talking shit and, yeah, he’s just easy to like.”
Jisung scrunches his nose, but then his features morph into a sweet smile when he sees Chan caressing Changbin’s hair lovingly.
“Wow, you’ve been pining for a long time.” Changbin giggles shyly and nods, his cheeks getting red when Chan kisses one of them.
“But we’re finally together, so it doesn’t matter anymore. Right, Channie?” Chan nods with a big smile painted on his lips. “Now, we also wanted to ask you about what the fuck happened between you and Minho.” Chan smacks Changbin’s arm again. “What?! You also want to know why he’s so depressed!”
“Yes, but you should be more careful with your words.” He shakes his head, looking at Jisung with a soft smile. “Would you like to tell us about what happened?”
Jisung swallows with difficulty the piece of chewed meat in his mouth. “Nothing happened.”
Changbin lifts one eyebrow. “Nothing happened? Then, why are the two of you so depressed? You’ve been living in the studio and Minho hasn’t replied to any of my texts. I had to call Felix to know what’s happening and he told me that Minho didn’t tell him anything either, that he’s acting like a robot—goes to work and then back home, nothing more.”
Jisung sighs and pouts. The edges of his heart shattered at the mention of his name, guilt wrapping around himself, but he can’t exactly identify what he has done wrong.
“We argued, just that,” he replies.
Chan presses his lips together, clearly a little hesitant about pushing again.“Hmm… would you like to tell us what the argument was about?”
Jisung scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Not really… because I don’t know what I did wrong in the first place, but I’ll think about it.”
Changbin sighs and ruffles his hair. “Okay, you can talk with us whenever you want. Please, try to talk this out with Minho so you two can act like normal people again.”
Jisung chuckles dryly and nods. At the end of their dinner, he is grateful that Chan ‘forced’ him to go out with them—his tummy is filled with good food and his heart is a little lighter than before after spending time with them. He sees that Chan and Changbin match really well and act just like a married couple, which makes Jisung laugh lightheartedly and feel content for his friends. He also feels kind of dumb for not seeing this coming before, his friends look at each other with hearty eyes and smile softly whenever their eyes meet.
“Thanks for taking me with you to dinner,” Jisung says when Changbin parks in front of his building. Honestly, he doesn’t want to be at home—alone and reminiscing about Minho—but Chan insisted that he has to rest well and not only take short naps on the couch of the studio. “And congratulations, I’m really happy for you. I’m your child now, you can’t leave me behind!”
Changbin groans. “I don’t want a fucking nuisance as a son.”
Chan and Jisung giggle. Jisung sticks out his tongue at Changbin, appreciating this brief happiness and childish moment.
“Shut up, I’m the best child you’ll ever have. See you tomorrow, Channie!”
“Night, baby! Sleep well.” Chan smiles widely at him, cute dimples showing and small eyes shimmering. Jisung might like him better than Changbin.
He gets out of the car and waves at them from the entrance of the building, giggling at the flying kisses Chan sends him and the middle finger Changbin shows him. Once he is alone in his silent flat, Jisung decides to spend the rest of the night cleaning up his place since he hasn’t taken care of it for a couple of days (since Minho left) and it is pretty untidy, so he puts on one of his playlists and lets the chill melodies accompany him.
When the clock strikes half past 2 am, Jisung goes to his bed after taking a quick shower. He grabs his phone and presses Minho’s chat. The last messages are from a week ago, they were talking about a cute video Minho had sent of a cat. The pads of his thumbs tingle with the sudden urge of texting him, tell him how sorry he is and perhaps let his love confession slip, but Jisung only sighs tiredly and ruffles his hair. He should sleep now, not do something that will most likely cause more damage.
The next day goes by rather quickly. Jisung tries to keep his phone shoved in the pocket of his jacket and spends as much time with Changbin and Chan as possible to keep his mind out of Minho, although from time to time his thoughts stray to the guy with cat-like eyes and a cute mole on the tip of his nose.
It has been a week since he last saw Minho and his heart aches for him, but he still doesn’t have an answer to the question swimming in his head. He wishes he could ask Minho things without giving his true feelings away, but he guesses that he will have to make up an excuse to see Minho again without revealing what has been hiding in a corner of his heart for so long.
That day, Jisung goes back to his flat when the sun is setting and paints the sky in pretty shades of pastel colours. He follows the same routine of the last few days—take a shower, look for a good film on Netflix, and munch on his takeout while he watches it. He raises the volume of the film just to avoid the absence of sound and giggles of the person he is missing right now.
He has been keeping this routine for the last three days, watching films, avoiding using the kitchen for too much time because everything there reminds him of Minho, hoping to find answers in the empty spaces of his routine, writing lines of longing and aching hearts. What keeps him more distracted than anything are animated films, Jisung finds comfort in the simple stories, fantastic animation and colourful representations.
When the animated film is halfway through, three familiar knocks sound over the sound. Jisung’s heartbeat suddenly picks up, blood running cold at the meaning behind those knocks.
Even before opening the door, he already knows who will be there. He is swiftly wearing his heart on his sleeve.
“Minho,” he says, mouth dry.
Minho is right there. He is wearing his usual baggy, simple clothes, and a beanie with some purple strands straying under it. He looks tired as if he had been losing sleep for days with those dark bags beneath his eyes—the ones that used to twinkle so prettily—and the edges of his lips unnaturally curving downwards.
“Jisung,” he breathes out as if he has been running a marathon or keeping those words to let them out at this moment. After a heartbeat, he closes the distance between them and cups Jisung’s cheeks, his lips meeting Jisung’s ones in a surprising, hungry kiss.
Minho kisses Jisung like a madman, desperately and brutally.
Jisung places his shaky hands on Minho’s shoulders and squeezes them. “Minho, Min. Wait, I—”
I’m in love with you.
The words are there, on the tip of his tongue, ready to finally come out of his mouth and hang in the air until the world blows up and vanishes.
Minho shakes his head, he puts a slight distance between their lips and locks their eyes. Jisung sees his eyes shimmering, but not in their usual elated way.
“Don’t say anything, please,” he says in a wavering voice, then shakes his head again and presses his forehead against Jisung’s. “Please, don’t say anything,” he practically pleads.
Jisung squeezes his shoulder again, he can hear, in the distance, his heart suffering another shatter.
“Okay,” Jisung whispers, giving up.
I’m in love with you. The words resonate only in his head, locked away once again.
Minho catches his lips one more time in an endless, flaming kiss while they walk blindly to the couch. Neither of them wastes time, taking their hoodies and Minho’s beanie off and getting on the couch with Minho on Jisung’s lap, and kissing, kissing, and kissing. Jisung caresses Minho’s back; he presses his fingers against the smooth skin, grips his hair, and swallows a breathy moan that leaves Minho’s mouth.
Their bulges glide and make Jisung buck his hips up, chasing the sensation over and over again, and just like that they start to grind against each other. Minho curses under his breath as he keeps grinding continuously, throwing his head back the moment Jisung grabs him by the hips and puts more pressure between their twitching cocks.
“Fuck,” Minho moans and attaches his lips to Jisung’s to dive into a deep kiss. He clutches Jisung’s shoulders and moves his hips briskly to meet Jisung’s hard-on. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cries out when Jisung leaves his mouth and trails down his lips to bite his neck and collarbones.
The familiar burning sensation comes back as powerful waves crush him and his senses. Jisung isn’t the slightest bit ashamed of the wet, warm patch that appears on his sweatpants a couple of minutes later because Minho has also come on his pants just like a horny, desperate teenager. The two of them share a glance and Minho cups his cheeks again, kissing him slowly and moving his hips softly to provoke a featherlight rub.
“Take me to your bedroom,” Minho says in a low voice.
Jisung grabs him by the back of his thighs and Minho wraps his legs around his hips while he kisses down the column of Jisung’s neck, pressing his hot lips and digging his teeth tenderly. Jisung puts him softly on the huge bed, a knot tidying in the pit of his stomach, and Minho’s watery eyes looking at him.
“Fuck me,” Minho murmurs against Jisung’s open mouth.
Jisung presses his lips together while Minho kisses his cheek, and then says, “Okay.”
He opens Minho up with delicacy, eating him out and caressing his supple skin in the process. Minho’s mellow whines and cries echo in his head and the walls of his bedroom, a sweet-sounding melody that scratches Jisung’s brain in the most pleasant yet painful way. He tongues Minho’s rim teasingly and rubs his velvety walls with his slick-lubed fingers, presses kisses on his lower back and murmurs sweet praises to alleviate the first sting sensation.
“So good, always so good for me,” Jisung says barely above a whisper.
When Jisung has Minho’s legs wrapped around his waist and he is pounding into him easily and roughly, he starts to wonder—what does this mean? It isn’t the first time that Minho arrives at his place unpromptedly and wants to fuck right away. They have done this a hundred times before as a way of relieving stress when work got hectic or whatever. But, after their small argument, what does this mean? Is it a way of making up? Is it a way of forgetting what happened and going back to normal?
Jisung’s heart aches painfully. He doesn’t like this. Regret crawls up and squeezes his heart. He isn’t fond of the idea of just fucking to make up and not talk it out, but Jisung is aware that it is because he got romantic feelings mixed up with a relationship that doesn’t have anything to do with that.
He gulps down the big lump in his throat and hopes that Minho doesn’t see the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He hovers over Minho, palms pressed against the mattress, and his lips itching with the urge to kiss Minho silly. He stares at the man beneath him, writhing and clutching the bedsheets, lips open as dulcet and breathy moans fall off them, and eyes clouded with tears and ardour. Minho is so, so gorgeous. Jisung wants to hold onto him forever.
Minho arches his back and closes his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks and a weak sob escaping from his lips. “You feel so good, baby.”
“Don’t call me baby,” Jisung breathes out and thrusts into him more harshly, his sight blurred because of the tears.
Minho’s Adam’s apple bobs and he nods, glassy and red eyes staring dazedly at Jisung. “O-okay,” he replies, voice broken.
Is this the only thing that he will always get? It isn’t unpleasant to have Minho like this—so vulnerable and at his mercy. On the contrary, a small part of Jisung’s heart fills with pride and contentment at the sight of what he causes and does to Minho, but it isn’t enough. This isn’t enough when he is so in love with him. He doesn’t feel good nor comfortable pretending that Minho is his in these heated situations, because the reality is completely different.
“Jisung, fuck.” Minho’s nails dig in the skin of his back. He scratches him when one of Jisung’s hands wraps around his leaking cock and strokes him at the same rhythm as the snap of his hips. He places his face in the crook of Jisung’s neck and cries there, sobbing softly, his thighs shaking and nails digging deeper. “I’m close, so fucking close.”
“Me too,” he mutters and bites his lower lip strongly once he has come in the condom and Minho has his tummy full of his cum.
Minutes later, the two of them are out of breath and disgustingly sweaty. Jisung and Minho have their half-lidded eyes glued to the ceiling, chests raising and falling quickly, and thighs slightly shaky. The bed seems to be on fire, burning Jisung’s skin and reaching his heart. He can’t keep up with this anymore. Jisung gets up and heads to the bathroom to take wet towels and clean Minho’s stomach.
“Thanks,” Minho says with a slight smile dancing on his lips and his sleepy eyes wrinkling a little, letting Jisung clean him up.
Jisung smiles with his lips pressed together and shakes his head to shrug the gesture off. Minho will probably fall asleep, the drowsiness creeping up on him, and meanwhile, Jisung can pick up the pieces of his heart scattered around the room.
This is a never-ending pattern, isn’t it? It seems to be impossible to walk away from Minho’s side.
That night, Jisung doesn’t sleep next to Minho. He spends the night on the couch with the TV turned on yet he isn’t paying attention, only sinking into the couch and wishing he could become one with it. He can’t share the bed with Minho when his feelings are so raw, so close to the surface. It is a risk to be so intimate with Minho even after finishing their usual thing, he could spill the confession accidentally and watch everything fall apart before his eyes.
← ← ←
Over the following months, they continue fucking every once in a while. At first, it is something that happens when they are slightly tipsy, pressing their bodies against each other in a stuffy club, and inching their lips closer and closer until they finally meet in a flaming kiss. The first time they share a kiss in a bustling club, Jisung takes Minho to the restroom and gets on his knees to suck him off; he swallows every drop of his cum and then catches Minho’s lips in a wet, messy kiss.
Their first nights clubbing together always end up in blowjobs and handjobs in a somewhat grimy restroom, until one-night Jisung gathers enough courage and invites Minho over after making out in a corner of the crowded place. After that first night together in Jisung’s place—where the two of them were much more comfortable and free to do whatever they wanted—they started to leave early to end up naked and sweaty at one of the houses.
Usually, the neediness for each other would surge at a nightclub, but one day the situation doesn't unfold in a buzzy club and they are pretty much sober and conscious of their actions. To Jisung’s dismay, it happened in Minho’s living room and in the most ridiculous way.
(They are watching a film and Jisung’s cheeks burst in flames when a sex scene pops and he gets pathetically hard. He feels embarrassed, for fuck’s sake, he is twenty-four and getting hard for a stupid sex scene in a stupid film. Swiftly, he grabs one of the cushions and puts it on top of his lap to cover himself. Minho is on the other end of the couch and he might not notice his growing problem, but whatever.
The film keeps going on without any problem for a couple of minutes more. Jisung is relaxed and sure that Minho won’t notice anything until he isn’t relaxed anymore and his breath gets caught in his throat the moment Minho puts one of his feet on his lap. Damn . He is feeling Jisung’s hard-on and moving his foot on purpose.
“Do you need help with that, Jisungie?” he says once the film has finished, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and eyes glimmering naughtily. He nudges Jisung’s cock with his feet and giggles when Jisung whimpers and nods desperately.
It takes just a couple of strokes, sweet words whispered in Jisung’s ears, wet touches in all the right places, and steamy kisses for Jisung to turn into a shaky, weeping mess beneath Minho. He is torn between asking Minho to stop touching him because he can’t take it anymore—which Minho kindly does and takes those fleeting moments to kiss Jisung’s tears away—but then practically begging to be touched again.)
After that evening, it becomes a common phenomenon to meet in each other’s houses to fuck and spend the rest of the night cuddling on the bed. Jisung wasn’t sure about the cuddling part at first. He isn’t exactly the type to snuggle with his casual fuck buddies, but Minho has become a constant in his life and spending the rest of his nights with Minho’s strong arms wrapped tightly around his figure is better than loneliness.
Sometimes, they even turn down Changbin’s invitation to go clubbing for staying the night together having fun. One night when they have declined their friend’s offer to go out, Jisung arrives at Minho’s flat and finds him all dolled up—tiny, latex shorts, a filmy shirt with the first two buttons undone, and wonderful make-up. Jisung will always remember that night as one of the best of his life since he met Minho.
(“Oh.” Jisung frowns as soon as he gets a glimpse of Minho from the threshold. He takes his jacket and shoes off, eyes fixed on Minho's thighs, so muscular and pretty. “I didn’t know you had work tonight. Do you want me to give you a lift?”
Jisung glances at his jacket he recently hung on the coat rack and tries to not pout. He has been waiting for this night with Minho for the last few days, more specifically since work got more hectic with countless, tedious meetings. He wanted to unwind with Minho by his side.
The frown is still plastered between his brows, though. He is a little confused because he thought Minho didn’t work at Sweet Fantasy on Sundays, and they also had already arranged to spend the night together.
Minho smiles beautifully and approaches Jisung, his fingers lacing Jisung’s messy hair while Jisung presses a gentle kiss on his mouth as a greeting. As always, Jisung’s hands find a steady place in Minho’s hips and he hums as they kiss softly and briefly.
“You look gorgeous, baby,” Jisung whispers against Minho’s wet mouth. The pet name slips out of his mouth easily and without a second thought. “So, do you have work tonight? I could give you a lift and stay there until you finish so we can come back here.”
Jisung won’t give up, he truly wants to become small and let himself be embraced warmly.
Minho giggles, his teeth gnawing his lower lip and gazing up at Jisung with glistening eyes. He rocks back and forth on his feet like a naughty child attempting to keep a secret. Jisung beams and kisses the corner of Minho’s mouth, guessing that his lips might already be glossy and red because of the lipstick on the other.
“No, I don’t have work today,” he replies with a funny tone and caresses Jisung’s earlobe, just the way he knows Jisung likes it.
“Are we going to the club with Changbin, then?” He arches his eyebrows, curious. His hands go down until he is grabbing a handful of Minho’s ass and squeezing the flesh, loving how the latex shorts make his ass look plumper than usual.
“Nop, honey.” Minho’s fingers brush Jisung’s curly hair off his forehead. “I thought that after the last time you ate me out so good, I should reward you. What do you think?”
Jisung’s lips part thoughtlessly and he squeezes Minho’s ass stronger than before. He is dumbstruck, but it is nothing new. Minho has always had this power to leave him tongue-tied, and do you know what is the worst? Minho knows that he has Jisung wrapped around his finger and takes advantage of it, and here he is, pouting cutely and batting his long lashes innocently.
“Hm? What do you think, baby? Don’t you deserve a private show, one that no one ever saw nor will ever see?” Minho’s voice is sweet-sounding, like honey dripping and covering Jisung’s senses.
The mere idea of having Minho dancing for him like no one has ever seen nor will have the opportunity to see him makes Jisung’s pulse throb and his head spin.
“Yes,” he answers, getting the wind knocked out of his lungs at Minho’s sultry voice, Minho’s sensual gaze, Minho’s stunning body.
Minho cups his cheeks and kisses him gently and shortly, leaving him wanting more.
“You’re always such a good boy, Jisungie. I think you deserve more than a private show, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he repeats and Minho giggles, looking at him with soft, mocking eyes.
“Dumb pup, you’re out of words.” Minho giggles and kisses him deeply.
Jisung can’t hold back the moan that bubbles from the back of his throat. Dumb pup . It is the first time that Minho calls him something like that, his way of calling him has always been sweet and heart-fluttering. However, this kind of ‘pet name’ also drips sweetness from the edges of the letters and makes his belly squeeze.
Minho keeps kissing his lips and gripping his hair, Jisung’s hands too busy grasping and kneading the meat of Minho’s butt. The moment their glossy lips separate, Minho looks at him filthily and smiles.
“I hope you fuck me so good later than I also end up speechless,” he says and laughs contemptuously. He takes Jisung’s hand and the two of them make their way to Minho’s bedroom.
Jisung is shaking and sobbing so hard when Minho finishes with him that night. Minho doesn’t stop clenching around Jisung’s cock once both of them have come undone, caressing his hair tenderly and laughing fondly at the broken moans that leave his mouth at the sensitivity that is crushing him.
“You were such a good pup for me, baby,” Minho says before sealing their lips in the gentlest kiss ever.)
They don’t talk about the meaning of their nights together, rather just let the saccharinity of their minutes pressed against each other cocoon them. Jisung likes Minho, clearly not romantically, but they fit so well that it is impossible not to want to be around him. They have a lot of similarities in various aspects. Food. Films. Personality traits. Jokes. Some way of thinking. Hobbies. And, what they like the most, sex.
Jisung can’t believe how good they match once they are in bed, naked and chasing after their release. Minho is good at dirty talking when he gets in the role, he likes being kissed and spanked. He almost always has control of the situation even though he is bottoming and falling apart, although Jisung knows how much Minho loves being embraced and taken care of. He also asks for red marks on his chest and whines in a high-pitched voice every time Jisung prods his prostate. Also, Minho looks heavenly gorgeous underneath him. The uncomfortable positions, the sweat and brief breaks to take a breather, the messy hair bed or swollen face the following day. Nothing matters. Minho always looks humanly beautiful.
When he plays with Jisung’s body, Minho does as he pleases. He loves making Jisung beg and cry in pleasure, he manhandles Jisung easily and to his liking. Jisung has had countless sex partners before, but none of them compares to Minho. None of his past partners had looked at him the way Minho does—smirking at him and with eyes full of stars—nor had kissed him in the right places. With such little time, Minho has already discovered his weak spots, the way he likes being touched, what the needed words to make him come swiftly, and which tone of voice he has to use to leave him dizzy.
In a few words, sex with Minho is mind-blowing and easy. The two of them like the simplicity and nonchalance of sharing those blazing moments. Who wouldn’t like to have someone to fuck whenever you want with no strings attached? It is easy, uncomplicated, and gives you freedom.
There is only one thing they have talked about: likes and dislikes when it comes to sex, although it was in a way to provoke each other. It is on a chilly Saturday afternoon, Minho is getting ready for work at Sweet Fantasy—moving around his bedroom and putting on different clothes so Jisung can choose the outfit for tonight—while Jisung is lying on the bed with his eyes fixed on Minho’s pretty body.
(“What do you think about this?” Minho asks as he smiles and presses his pointer finger to one of his lifted cheeks. He has a glitter kitty ears headband on top of his head.
Jisung looks at him with his mouth open. It isn’t just the kitty ears that make his brain melt, but also the black lace lingerie that Minho is wearing right now. He looks stupidly alluring. The intricate patterns, the cute, lacy ribbon, and the keyhole neckline show Minho’s pretty collarbones and chest.
“Jisungie, you’re staring too much and not answering my question,” Minho says mockingly. Then, he drops his voice to add, “You like the kitty ears, don’t you?” The smile dancing on his lips turns nasty, eyes filled to the brim with mischief. He places his hands on his hips, arching one eyebrow at him. “Y’know, I remember our first night together… you called me kitten, do you remember?”
Jisung swallows loudly and nods. “Yes–yes, I remember.”
Minho chuckles. “You like calling me kitten, right?” He smiles and waits for Jisung’s nod, which doesn’t take too much. “You like watching me wearing kitty ears too?” Jisung nods, his mind numb and just answering with honesty. “Do you like it when I call you puppy, especially when I’m praising you?”
Jisung feels the heat crawling up to his cheeks, too embarrassed to say something. It has been a little while since Minho called him like that for the first time and they never brought up the ‘term of endearment’ again. Still, Jisung nods shyly, sure of his answer.
“You’re so transparent when you like something.” He giggles.
Jisung gulps down the embarrassment and gathers faux confidence.
“And you––you like when I spank you, don’t you?” he pathetically stammers. “Or when I leave hickeys on your body without asking for permission to mark you, right?” He watches Minho’s cocksure smile crumble down little by little which makes him feel real confidence. “You like when I tell you you’re mine, or am I wrong? You love when I say you only belong to me, that I’m the only one that can touch you and make you cry.” He gives Minho a sly smile. “You aren't as discreet as you think you are.”
Minho presses his lips together into a thin line, clearly affected by Jisung’s words—if his flushed pink cheeks, hazy eyes, and hard-on are anything to go by. Jisung smirks, proud of himself. He just got Minho weak at his knees, didn’t he? He likes to think that he has some power in their relationship and that he also can make Minho shudder with just a few words.
But, his thoughts fade into nothingness when Minho crawls to his lap and looks at him hungrily. Soon enough their lips are crashing together in a desperate kiss and Minho grips Jisung’s soft strands.
“You got all cocky talking just seconds ago,” Minho says while his lips trail down Jisung’s jaw. “I think I should put a leash around your neck and tame your cockiness.” Jisung moans at the thought of a leash wrapped around his neck and Minho bossing him around. Minho bites his neck, sucking on the skin softly. “I know you’d like that, pup.”
He nods stupidly quick, his head dizzy and tongue slightly lolling out. Minho reduces him to a mess so easily. It’s surprising.
Minho undresses and takes Jisung’s pants off, and when he grabs his headband to take it off, Jisung places his fingers over Minho’s and says, “Leave it there, please.”
Minho giggles and nods, enthusiastically getting ready to ride Jisung. While they are fucking and moaning each other’s names breathily, the two of them keep telling each other what they like so the other can do it right there and then—making the release much better and pleasurable.)
So, Jisung likes spending time with Minho. It is a matter of fact that they are great together and fit perfectly. It seems like they have their world, as Changbin told Jisung a few nights ago when they were having dinner together.
(“I’m tired of being around you when Minho is with you,” Changbin says and stuffs his mouth with pasta. He chews, ignoring Jisung’s frown. “I feel like a fucking third-wheel, you two have your own world and I’m left looking at you telling weird jokes to each other.”
Jisung giggles around a mouthful of pasta. “We don’t tell weird jokes.”
“Well, then I don’t understand your shitty humour.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you two are fucking, but I’m not surprised either.” The apples of Jisung’s cheeks are heated instantly at the memory of how Changbin got to know that his two friends have been having fucking. “I can’t believe you let him blow you in the studio that we share.”
“Shut up!” Jisung shrieks, covering his chubby, pink cheeks with the palms of his hands. He whines and avoids Changbin’s entertained gaze. “We don’t have to share the studio, you denied having one only for you!”
Changbin shrugs. “I don’t care, though. If you clean everything afterwards, then it’s okay.” The corners of his lips twitch up, a half smile appearing on his face. “I don’t want to find you like that again, though.”
“And you won’t!”
Changbin laughs lightheartedly, broad shoulders shaking and dimples adorning his cheeks.
“So, are you two thinking about getting together in a couple of months or what?”
Again, a deep crease draws between Jisung’s eyebrows. He shakes his head immediately. It is impossible to imagine a future like that with Minho.
“Nope, we are really far away from thinking that,” he answers and sips his drink. “He isn’t the kind of guy that gets into relationships.”
“Hm, I know that.” Jisung looks at Changbin with a lifted eyebrow, curious. He knows about Minho’s parents, about the clear fear that he feels about relationships, but Changbin was his roommate. He must know more than Jisung. “He’s always been like this, that’s why I’m not surprised you two are doing this. When I was his roommate there were a lot of times that I got tired of hearing people moaning at night, it was hell.” Changbin chuckles. “He even fucked my cousin, so this is nothing new for me.”
Jisung doesn’t like to admit this, because he and Minho aren’t together, but a sudden, light pang of jealousy hits his chest. He doesn’t pay attention to it, shrugging it off and continuing munching on his dinner while Changbin tells him about this new track he is working on.)
It is Sunday—their special day for usual meets-up. The two of them have made a kind of agreement to spend Sundays together since neither of them has to work, opting to leave their responsibilities behind and have fun. They don’t always spend hours and hours tangled up in bed, sometimes they just bask in the splendour of sharing time in silence, bodies touching somehow, and hearts pounding calmly in their chests.
Jisung is comfortable on the floor, his butt pressed on the carpet of Minho’s living room and his eyes looking at the programme playing on TV. He is between Minho’s legs, who is reading a book on the couch with one of his hands caressing Jisung’s fluffy hair.
Jisung nuzzles his cheek against Minho’s naked thigh and plants a light kiss there, continuing to watch the programme after that brief show of affection. His eyelids flutter as Minho’s fingers scratch his scalp perfectly, he loves those moments when Minho caresses him.
He thinks a little about all this—the domesticity of spending a Sunday together, caressing each other and sharing their warmth. It isn’t something Jisung expected when they started fucking (around three months ago already, time goes by quickly), but it doesn’t surprise him that they are here, like this. Something about Minho and their dynamic makes Jisung believe that this domesticity and cozy feeling settled in his chest aren’t odd.
Jisung gazes up, his cheek pressed against the meat of Minho’s thigh, and appreciates the details of Minho’s face. The purple, messy strands falling before his cute cat-like eyes, the soft curve of his face, the acne scars adorning his cheeks, his pink, plump lips that are a little chapped. Jisung’s heart curiously squeezes at the sight of Minho’s jutting out his lips, a faint frown appearing between his brows as his eyes move from one word to the following one in the book.
He knows that Minho is beautiful, but looking at him from this perspective and with his stupid heart jumping without a specific reason makes Jisung’s cheeks blaze. He blushes, even more, when the other’s eyes land on him, one of his eyebrows arched questioningly.
“What's up, baby?” Minho asks, his fingers still scratching Jisung’s scalp softly. “Are you bored?”
Jisung shakes his head slowly. “I’m just looking at you,” he says. “Is the book interesting?”
“Hm, yes. It’s a bit different from what I’m used to reading, but it’s good,” he replies. Minho eyes the book one more time but then looks at Jisung—deep brown irises twisting Jisung’s belly.
Minho caresses his cheek, the pad of his thumb giving sweet strokes and wandering a little on his warm skin until he touches the line of Jisung’s lower lip. Minho grabs him by his chin and plays with his lower lip, pressing and circling the pad of his thumb on the flesh and leaving a small aperture between Jisung’s lips.
“Open, pup,” Minho says in a low voice.
Jisung complies and opens his lips, heart pounding in his ears and blood rushing south as Minho slides his thumb inside the heat and wetness of his mouth. Jisung digs his fingers in Minho’s thigh, his heavy-lidded eyes staring at Minho’s little, wicked smile.
“What a pretty and obedient puppy you are,” Minho compliments.
The finger inside Jisung’s mouth glides against Jisung’s tongue softly, the rest of his hand holding Jisung’s jaw in a strong grip. Jisung whimpers and rolls his eyes as Minho’s finger begins to move quickly inside his mouth, basically fucking it.
“You can take more than one finger, right?” Jisung only exhales heavily, his chest rising and falling, fingers curling around Minho’s thigh. Suddenly, Minho presses his finger deeper inside Jisung’s mouth and says, “Answer me, please.”
“Yes,” Jisung breathes out, words mumbled because of the finger inside his mouth.
The corners of Minho’s mouth curl up softly, his eyes glimmering under the lights of his living room, and he slides his thumb out of Jisung’s mouth to replace it with his middle and pointer fingers. He bends down a little so he can grip Jisung’s hair with his free hand, his fingers fucking Jisung’s mouth fast. Drool leaks from the corner of Jisung's mouth, dripping down his chin, and Minho’s smile gets wider at the sight of him drooling and staring at him with red-rimmed eyes.
Jisung lets the gathered tears stream down his cheeks, mingling with the drool on his chin. He clutches Minho’s shorts and pulls them down a little, he can’t look down since his eyes are locked with Minho’s, but he palms his crotch blindly and moans loudly at the feeling of Minho’s hard-on.
“See how quick you turn me on, baby?” Minho says, smiling and sliding his fingers deeper. He chuckles when Jisung gags a little and squeezes his cock by mere reflex. “Let’s take it easy, pup.”
He slips his digits out of Jisung’s messy mouth and wrinkles his nose at the spit dripping from them. He rubs those wet fingers against Jisung’s cheeks, the smile still plastered on his face as he watches Jisung’s rosy face, open mouth, and glassy eyes.
“Prettiest boy ever, aren’t you?”
Jisung nods enthusiastically. “Yes,” he exhales.
Minho puts his face closer to Jisung’s pinkish one, the tips of their noses touching gently. “Yes what, baby?”
“I’m the prettiest boy,” he whispers.
Minho pecks his lips, smiling into the short kiss. Then, pats his head and caresses behind his ears. “You’re right, sweets.” Jisung sees Minho’s eyes trailing down and glancing at his neck, one of his hands wraps around the soft skin there and squeezes the slightest bit. “I really should buy a leash for you.”
Jisung nods, accepting right away. God, he wants a leash so bad.
“Min,” he calls softly and clenches his fingers in Minho’s shorts.
“Hm?”
“Can I ride you?” he blurts out, eyes glistening with want.
Minho grins and helps him to get up from the floor to perch him on his lap, stroking his hair tenderly and then cupping his cheeks to peck his lips again. Jisung’s heart flutters aggressively and he can’t pinpoint what is causing that—is it Minho’s shiny, wrinkled eyes? Is it the way his stretched lips show his bunny teeth or how he peppers Jisung’s cheeks with flying kisses? Is it the way that he presses Jisung’s lower back to get their bodies closer?
Jisung doesn’t know what has been happening with him lately, but his fearful thoughts vanish as Minho licks his mouth.
“I’ve got an idea,” Minho responds and slips his fingers beneath Jisung’s oversized shirt.
Jisung shudders. “Tell me about it.”
He sees Minho glancing at the book and grinning devilishly. He runs his fingers through Jisung’s spine and then skirts the waistband of his shorts.
“It’d be great if I fuck you while you read for me,” Minho says. He wears a cocky, lopsided smile. “Do you think you’re capable of riding me and reading at the same time?”
Probably not. Jisung knows himself very well. He gets so needy and lightheaded when Minho is fucking him, it is impossible to do such thing as reading and have Minho pounding him. He will probably cry and the tears will blur his sight, he will tremble and his fingers won’t be able to grasp the book correctly, and words will be interrupted by loud moans and whines. He knows himself and his body extremely well, but he can’t disappoint Minho.
Well, Jisung knows that Minho won’t be disappointed if he just shakes his head and tells him to stop coming up with those weird ideas, but it doesn’t matter. He wants to be good for Minho, ride his cock like he has never done it before and read the fucking book like a pro. He wants to impress him.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m capable of doing that,” he says in a rush.
One of Minho’s small hands cups his cheek. He looks at him with eyes brimming with what seems to be adoration. Then, he catches Jisung’s lips with his own and dives in a sweet, slow kiss.
“I know you are, my darling,” Minho whispers against Jisung’s lips.
He knows that Minho is aware of Jisung’s incapacity to be fucked and read at the same time, and he just wants to burst into a flurry of giggles. Minho is just buttering him up as always, showering him with saccharine words just because he likes doing that. The odd squeeze in his belly and fluttering heart come back stronger than before, Jisung doesn’t understand the meaning of that yet.
He also doesn’t understand why he wants to keep kissing Minho throughout the whole night, or why he wants to open his chest and crawl inside there to be one with him. Jisung desires to touch Minho all the time, even more than in the last few months. Kiss him. Fuck him. Caress his hair. Nuzzle his neck. Worship his thighs and chubby tummy. Embrace him. Just be with him forever.
It is strange, but it makes Jisung kiss Minho more lovingly and he holds him closer than ever.
→ → →
Jisung promises himself that he will end things up with Minho. He knows he isn’t strong enough to do it, though. Every minute shared with him Jisung thinks that the following time they meet up, he will be honest and put a final period to their not-so-nonchalant story.
The only thing that Jisung keeps doing and tries to not falter is sleeping with Minho after having sex, he always leaves the other’s flat or spends the night curled up on the couch of his living room. Minho doesn’t question it, but Jisung sees the way he looks at him while he is getting dressed and notices the way Minho embraces him at night when he is trying to sneak his way out of the other’s arms.
Jisung believes he has lost his mind. He doesn’t know what to do with the routine he and Miho have built up throughout the past months together, doesn’t know how to break all those habits with him and bury them. Minho has truly become a constant in his life; he is a part of Jisung’s life now. How is he going to leave him and their shared patterns behind? He hasn’t found the right answer yet, but after so many sleepless nights sinking into his loneliness, only accompanied by the whirlwind of thoughts, Jisung has concluded that the best option is to break things up with Minho.
Sometimes, Jisung can’t help but wonder what they would have become if they had met in different circumstances; maybe in another life. It occurs in any situation, no matter if Minho is present or not. Some days, Jisung’s thoughts stray while he watches Minho cooking dinner for them, or when Minho caresses his knuckles out of habit when they are watching a film, or when he is locked up in his studio and working on a track. He thinks about a parallel universe where the two of them are together, call each other boyfriend , and he doesn't go to sleep with an aching heart.
He hopes that Minho doesn’t notice the way his demeanour has changed, even when they are tangled up in bed. Usually, Jisung would tend to be talkative and playful during sex, but these last times he only lets himself be kissed, manhandled, and be deceived to believe that the spark in Minho’s eyes is a glimpse of love.
He is now aware of the importance of protecting his heart and finally putting distance between him and Minho, but each time they meet and Minho gives him that pretty, glimmering smile of him, Jisung forces himself to think that a little more hurt won’t kill him, so he just pretends that everything is fine and takes his clothes off. However, at the end of the day, Jisung knows that soon he will have to end whatever he and Minho have.
One morning, Jisung wakes up with a heavy, warm blanket over him and the gentle sound of splashing water in the bathroom. He doesn’t remember bringing a blanket with him last night, so it must have been a gesture from Minho.
For a moment, Jisung thinks about pretending to be asleep and waiting for Minho to leave his flat, but he opts to blink the sleep of his eyes to get used to the shaft of strong sunlight casting over his living room and get up to prepare breakfast.
He makes breakfast for Minho the way he knows that he likes it. While he is scrambling the eggs, Jisung feels a pair of arms wrapping around his waist and tender lips pressing against his nape.
“Morning,” Minho murmurs huskily.
Jisung only hums as a greeting and gives Minho’s hand a soft squeeze before finishing scrambling the eggs for them. Once he turns around to face Minho, he can’t wrap his head around the fact that Minho gazes at him so softly even when he has a terrible bedhead and his whole face is swollen. Minho, though, looks extremely pretty freshly showered and with his—now black—hair divided into two lines that leave his forehead exposed.
He kisses Minho’s cheek fleetingly. “Start eating if you wanna,” he says before heading to the bathroom to wash up.
Jisung doesn’t look back, but he feels Minho’s eyes following him. He quickly washes up and walks back to the kitchen, where he finds Minho waiting for him with a warm, bittersweet cup of coffee.
They sit in silence, the atmosphere a little bit awkward and tense. Jisung lets Minho’s fingers fit into the spaces of his own anyways. Three gentle squeezes are enough for Jisung to sigh and gaze up at Minho.
“Hey,” Minho whispers and the corners of his lips pull up into a hesitant smile. Minho squeezes Jisung’s hand again, thumbing his skin softly.
“Hi,” Jisung replies, his gaze faltering for a second as his eyes look down at Minho’s lips.
Even if they have been together—almost attached to the hip—for months, right now it feels as if they hadn’t met each other for a long time. It doesn’t matter that last night they were all over each other, kissing and roaming each other’s bodies, at this precise moment Jisung feels that he hasn’t shared a second with Minho for years; like he is walled off and Minho can’t come in.
He looks up again to meet Minho’s shimmering eyes and finds a hint of desperation and fear in them. Now, he is the one squeezing Minho’s hand.
“Why did you sleep on the couch? You must have frozen there,” Minho says. He keeps a low tone of voice as if he was scared of raising his volume and shattering something.
Their breakfast is halfway finished, Jisung busies himself with a sip of his coffee as a way of coming up with a good excuse.
He clears his throat before replying. “I was working on a song and I didn’t want to disturb your beauty sleep.” He attempts to sound lighthearted and shows a goofy smile.
Minho’s hold tightens. The two of them look at their hands clasped together, appreciating how their empty spaces are perfectly filled with the other’s fingers. The warm clasp of their hands together always looks flawless. Jisung’s heart becomes small and weak at the knowledge that someday—once he has gathered enough courage—he won’t wallow in the schmaltzy feeling of Minho’s hand pressed against his and his soft strokes on Jisung’s knuckles.
“Jisung,” Minho says with a sigh, “I don’t want to push you to tell me what’s been happening, but I’m not stupid.” Jisung feels Minho’s eyes fixed on his face, but he lingers his gaze on their hands together. “I’m not saying that you’re lying to me right now, but you’ve been acting so odd lately, and now you’re telling me that you spend the night on the couch because you were working on music when you didn’t have any equipment or your writing notebook with you.”
Jisung squints his eyes defensively, feeling attacked even if Minho is right. “I could’ve—”
“Don’t look at me like that,” Minho pleads and Jisung softens his sharp features instantly. “I don't want to make this an argument.”
Minho stays silent, waiting for Jisung to continue talking about what he was saying, but Jisung truly doesn’t have it in him to make the web of lies bigger. The arrow is already halfway in his chest, he can’t deepen it more inside him.
He stares at Minho and witnesses how his lower lip begins to tremble, his Adam’s apple bobs anxiously, and tears appear in the rims of his eyes. Jisung watches the situation unfold in front of him, speechless and stupefied. Desperation crawls up and clutches his heart in an iron grip, an empty hole forms in his stomach, and the sudden feeling of being out of breath embraces him.
“I don’t want you to lie to me, please.” Minho’s voice comes out shakily, his grip around Jisung’s hand is as tight as before. “Have I done something wrong?”
Jisung opens and closes his mouth, then shakes his head and clears his throat. “No, Minho. You haven’t done anything wrong, really. It’s just…” He sighs and shakes his head again.
“What’s happening, then? You avoid me, don’t sleep with me at night even when we’re under the same roof, lie blatantly to my face, cancel plans or our usual Sunday meetups,” Minho says with his chest rising and falling violently, the edges of his words broken, and his face flushed bright red. “I’m sorry if I’m being pushy. I’m not asking you to tell me right now whatever is happening in your head, but promise me that we’ll be okay.”
Jisung feels as if someone has punched him and knocked the air out of his lungs. He has Minho before him, a second away from breaking down and turning into a sobbing mess, desperately looking at him with red-rimmed eyes and trembling lips. Minho is begging for a promise, his pleading eyes convey much more than his words, and Jisung can’t give him the answer he wants.
He can’t promise Minho they will be okay. Jisung can’t tell him that someday their relationship will be the same as what it was in the beginning because he and his heart aren’t the same as before. Now, his heart does a somersault and squeezes at the sight of Minho, flutters whenever Minho kisses or touches him, and simply acts like a lovesick foolish, and it won’t change.
Jisung knows that his feelings for Minho are far from fading away.
“Jisung…” Minho sniffs a little, his grip around Jisung’s hand softening. “Will we be okay?”
Minho sounds as if he is hopelessly clinging to the only feeling of hope he has left inside his chest, just like Jisung was doing a week ago before concluding that there will never exist an us between him and Minho.
“Jisung.” Minho squeezes his hand one more time before letting it go, then runs his fingers through his hair in a desperate way, and looks at Jisung with the saddest eyes. “I'm–fuck, I'm tired of this,” he sputters and presses the heel of his hands against his eyes.
Jisung realizes now what Minho is feeling, and what has caused this reaction. Minho is clearly done with him. They are supposedly friends and Jisung has been acting so distant and weird lately. It hurts Jisung, but he understands Minho.
This relationship isn’t only killing Jisung, but also Minho with what it causes Jisung. It is like dominoes falling, knocking down each one with no remorse.
“Jisung,” Minho says breathlessly. He has been uttering his name with a deep sorrow lacing his words, already hiccupping between choked sobs.
Jisung is aware of everything, he and his imprudent heart have ruined everything. He doesn’t notice the salty droplets falling from the corners of his eyes until he feels them falling off his chin. Jisung just bites his lower lip to stop it from trembling. He can’t do this anymore.
“Please, tell me. I’m—” Minho hiccups and chokes back tears “—I’m in–I’m just so…” he stutters uselessly.
Jisung takes a deep, shaky breath. “I want to end what we have,” he says.
He watches Minho swallowing the enormous lump in his throat, watches him wiping his tears and letting a shaky exhale leave his quivering lips. He looks defeated as if he has lost lethal combat, but his eyes have a hint of precognition. Minho looks as if he was expecting this to happen, hurt and disbelief washes all over his face, but then he just nods and gets up from his stool.
“I understand,” he whispers loud enough for Jisung to hear him. Minho embraces himself in what looks like a comforting hug, his watery eyes don’t meet Jisung’s. He only inhales deeply and chuckles drily. “I understand,” he repeats and leaves the kitchen.
He leaves the flat and Jisung’s life, but never Jisung’s heart and mind.
← ← ←
Minho had invited Jisung to a charity event and he immediately said yes. What Minho didn’t tell him beforehand was that it was a charity event planned by his coworkers—more specifically by Hyunjin—and Jisung couldn’t feel more anxious once that little detail slipped out of Minho’s mouth while he was driving to the place where the event will be held.
Jisung is nervous. It is his first time meeting Minho’s friends, face to face, not hearing them talking with Minho on a call whilst they are together. There were a few times when Minho told his friends he was with him and Jisung had said a shy “hello,” but nothing else. So, yeah, he is naturally anxious and timid.
Minho must have noticed his nervousness—he has become an expert on picking up Jisung’s anxious habits—and that is why he squeezes Jisung’s hand and kisses his lips softly before entering the room.
“Don’t worry about my friends,” he says against Jisung’s mouth. “I know they’ll love you. Oh, and you look so pretty today.”
Jisung’s heart does a silly flip and heat crawls up to his cheeks. Something inside him stirs and melts at the reassurance words, kisses, and sweet compliment Minho gave him. He does feel less nervous than before, but he still is slightly jittery once they have set foot inside the glimmering place.
Minho’s friends have done a good job decorating the place. There are a lot of people, especially parents with their children who are students of the dance studio Minho works in. Jisung feels a little dizzy with the big number of children running around and people having a good time. A stage is placed at the end of the party room, and Minho mentions to Jisung that it is there for small performances by students.
Suddenly, Jisung finds someone pointing at them with a big smile tugging at his lips.
“Oh! Look who’s coming!” A blonde man with freckles sprinkled across his cheeks says excitedly at the sight of Minho. Jisung looks at the man, he is rocking back and forth in his heels, clapping and beaming like a child, and with the arm of another man around his waist. “Look, Seungminnie! It’s Minho and his boyfriend,” he shrieks to the man by his side.
Jisung gazes up at Minho and watches him rolling his eyes. Minho looks back at him, a soft smile dancing on his lips, and shakes his head before speaking.
“That’s Felix,” he says while they are approaching Felix and his companion. “According to him, you’re my boyfriend and he won’t stop calling you that even though I told him we aren’t boyfriends,” Minho comments in a low voice and with another eye roll.
“He’s cute,” Jisung murmurs.
“Wait to meet him,” is the last thing Minho says before approaching Felix and the man standing next to him. “Hi, Lixie,” Minho says with an easy smile on his lips, and then shifts his gaze to the other man. “Seungmin,” he greets with a nod.
“Hi, Minho,” Seungmin replies with a similar nod.
“Jisung! Right? You’re Jisung, aren’t you?” Felix chimes in, freckled and rosy cheeks bunching up as the smile plastered on his face widens. Jisung doesn’t have the time to say something, only a nod is enough for Felix to wrap him in a tight hug. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you! Minho hasn’t introduced us before, but he talks so much about you that I feel that we’re friends already.”
The edges of Jisung’s mouth pull up into an elated smile, his eyes admiring the way an angry crimson blush takes over Minho’s cheeks.
“Huh? So you talk so much about me at work?” he says mockingly.
Minho rolls his eyes and avoids meeting Jisung’s eyes. He huffs and shakes his head. “I never say your name at work, Felix knows about your existence because he’s a nosy bastard and peeks over my shoulder every time we’re texting.”
Felix tilts his head and Seungmin blatantly snorts.
“What are you talking about, Minho?” Felix frowns, confused. “You’re always talking about him! “Oh, Jisungie bought me a congratulatory present for my promotion. Oh, Jisungie’s always talking in his sleep and kicks me when he’s asleep. Oh, Jisungie’s calling me…”—”
“Okay, okay! We understand your point, Felix!” Minho yells, the tips of his ears painted in the reddest shade ever.
Jisung lets out a couple of giggles, his heart suddenly relaxing and fluttering at the knowledge that Minho talks about him with his coworkers. He looks up at Minho and finds him flushed scarlet and looking completely embarrassed. The sight is endearing and Jisung would like to cup Minho’s cheeks and kiss him silly, but he just squeezes Minho’s hand.
Seungmin chuckles, sipping his drink. Then, Minho frowns at Seungmin and the latter arches one of his eyebrows at him, questioningly.
“Why don’t you stop your boyfriend?”
Seungmin shrugs. “Your misfortune is my happiness,” he answers. After that, he extends his hand toward Jisung and smiles kindly. “Hi, I’m Seungmin.”
“And my fucking nightmare since we were in high school,” Minho adds.
Jisung giggles and takes Seungmin’s hand to shake it briefly. “I’m Jisung, but I suppose that Felix already told you about me.”
Seungmin nods, still grinning. “Yep, I know basically everything about you and Minho.”
Jisung feels the skin of his cheeks heating up again. He is happy that Minho has talked about him with his friends, he knows that Minho wouldn’t say anything bad about him (except for his sleeping habits), but he is curious about what other people have to say about him—about them and their relationship.
“Where’s Hyunjin?” Minho asks Felix, looking around.
“He’s checking on everything again.” Felix rolls his eyes. “I already told him that it’ll be fine if he has fun! He brought a plus one with him, but the poor guy is sitting over there”—Felix points with his chin at a table where a guy is sitting alone and playing with his fingers—“lonely and bored because Hyunjin is in the kitchen.”
Minho looks at the lonely guy and snorts. “Let’s go with him.”
Jisung gnaws his lower lips as they come closer to the lonely guy. He looks at Minho chatting animatedly with his two friends, giggling with Felix and rolling his eyes at Seungmin. Right there, Jisung realizes that he wants Minho’s friends to like him, think of him as a charming guy and—this is a strange thought—a good man for Minho.
He can’t wrap his mind around the last thought, but he hopes that his usual effort to look good is enough to impress Minho’s friends. He went for a smart and casual look with his hair slicked back and light make-up (which Minho complimented as soon as they met). Jisung hopes that Minho’s close friends view him as a great man, even though they (or at least Felix) apparently already view him like that—if the way he looks at Jisung so happily is anything to go by.
Felix is a good guy, Jisung realizes as the evening goes by. He has taken the seat beside Jisung and hasn’t stopped talking for what seems hours, explaining to him about the purpose of this charity event that Hyunjin came up to help a student pay for his operation, and also whispering in his ear that Minho really talks about him all day at work.
Throughout the evening, Jisung feels happily welcomed by Minho’s friends. He meets Hyunjin, who Minho convinces to stay with his plus one—a good, shy guy called Jeongin—and not worry anymore. They enjoy their evening with a light conversation, relishing the brief performances a few students show (they are Minho’s students and he mentions it to Jisung with a proud smile, telling him how they choreographed the entire thing on their own), and having good fun.
One free month of dancing lessons is being raffled, Jisung blushes crimson red when Minho looks at him with an arched eyebrow and an amused smile tugging at his lips after buying ten raffle tickets.
“What?” Jisung says, flushed and embarrassed.
“Why did you buy raffle tickets for dancing lessons when you have me ?” Minho asks, a half smile drawing on his face.
Jisung looks down at his tickets. “I want to help!” he replies. Minho giggles and scratches his chin lovingly, scrunching his nose and wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “Stop! Leave me alone.” Jisung whines and puts his chin out of Minho’s reach.
“I hope you win, baby.” Minho grins and kisses his lips swiftly, leaving him astonished and even more flushed than before.
Minho hadn’t kissed him since they had entered the room, until now. Jisung thought it was most likely that he wouldn't want to do something like that in front of his friends. In the end, they aren’t really together. But, Minho has just kissed him, in front of his friends who are whistling at them and giggling at Minho’s reddish cheeks, and Jisung feels that his heart is about to burst out of his chest.
It is everything about Minho right now that makes his heart flutter and squeeze. Minho holds his hand, caressing and kissing his knuckles. Minho makes sure that Jisung is involved in the conversation, looking at him and listening to him attentively every time he wants to say something, or glancing at him whenever he makes a joke just to be sure that Jisung is giggling about what he said. Minho strokes his thigh under the table where no one can see but kisses him in front of everyone’s eyes.
Unfortunately, Jisung doesn’t win the free dancing lessons. Hyunjin happily announces the name of a student’s mother as the winner, Jisung sticks his bottom lip out and Minho bursts into laughter at him.
“Oh, baby. Don’t pout like that,” Minho says and Jisung hears someone—probably Seungmin—chortling. “I’ll go to talk to some people, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Jisung watches Minho walk away and then lets out a sad sigh. Even if Minho told him to not pout, he does it anyway.
“Minho can give you free lessons!” Felix says, giggling with Seungmin.
“Oh, no. I don’t think so.” Jisung shakes his head. “I’m such a clumsy, slow learner. He’ll probably cut my head off at the end.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows pinch together. He says something under his breath that Jisung can't hear well.
Jisung frowns. “What?”
Seungmin clears his throat. “Minho will surely cut someone’s head off if they mess up too many dance steps.”
Jisung laughs. “Yeah, I know that.”
“But he wouldn’t do it to you.”
“Huh?”
Felix and Seungmin share a quick glance as if they know something that Jisung hasn't noticed yet.
“I mean… He truly has a big soft spot for you, doesn’t he?” Seungmin answers, glancing again at Felix.
Jisung tilts his head, a deep crease painted between his brows and pink dusting his cheeks. He has never thought that Minho has a sweet spot for him, even though Changbin mentioned it a few times. Honestly, he doesn't think it is true.
Jisung giggles uncomfortably. “I don't know. I think that Minho is a really sweet person with everyone.”
Felix nods. “Oh, yeah. He clearly is such a sweetheart under that poker face and eye rolls, but…” Felix and Seungmin link their eyes again, then look at Jisung and smile. “He behaves differently with you.”
Well, Minho obviously behaves differently with him. Jisung isn't only Minho's friend, just like Felix and Seungmin are. He has seen Minho in vulnerable situations and Jisung likes to think that those moments together make them have a different bond. It isn't a romantic bond, just… different from other types of relationships they have with other people.
Jisung doesn’t reply to Felix’s comment, he just shrugs, ignores the knowing glances Seungmin and Felix are sharing again and looks for Minho in the mass of people. Ah, there he is. Jisung’s heart gets warm at the sight of Minho petting a child’s head and smiling sweetly at the little boy. If Minho’s friends think that he has a sweet spot for Jisung, then they should see him talking to children. He is so good with them.
Then, Jisung watches how the little, redheaded boy waves at Minho to say goodbye and a tall, smiley man approaches Minho from behind. He touches Minho’s shoulder to call his attention, arching his eyebrow and smiling playfully as he engages in a conversation with Minho. Jisung believes that the guy and Minho probably know each other pretty well, if the constant, lingering touches of the guy on Minho’s body—Minho’s shoulder, lower back, waist—are anything to go by.
The stabbing pang of jealousy comes without warning, a disgusting burning sensation making its way onto the pit of Jisung’s belly. He doesn’t enjoy the slightest bit the sight of someone else's hand rubbing the small of Minho’s back, but Jisung can’t be jealous. Minho isn’t his.
He looks around and finds that Felix and Jeongin aren’t at the table anymore, Seungmin is the only one sipping on his drink and arching his eyebrows at Jisung. A mischievous glint adorns Seungmin’s brown irises and Jisung feels his cheeks heating up because he knows that Seungmin knows what he is thinking and feeling.
“Where’s Felix?” he asks, dodging the real question that wants to slip out of his mouth.
Seungmin grins. “He’s looking for Hyunjin and Jeongin. The event is about to end and he wants to say a few words in the last speech.”
Jisung nods, looking around and glancing at Minho. He still is chatting with that man, giggling and all. Jisung crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. He isn’t mad at Minho, obviously not. He is mad at himself for feeling like this. Minho isn’t his boyfriend, and, even if he was, he is allowed to talk to whomever he wants to.
But, something about this man and Minho seems different. Well, what causes a burning sensation inside Jisung is, more specifically, how this man is looking at Minho. It isn’t only the slight touches, that man is making eyes at Minho and a winning smile is tugging at his lips. Jisung huffs. He shouldn’t feel like this, he shouldn’t feel like this, he shouldn’t feel—oh, fuck off.
Jisung gets up and forces a smile at an amused Seungmin. “I’ll go with Minho,” he says firmly, but then adds much quieter and bashful, “I, hm, I need to tell him something.”
Seungmin chuckles. “Go and fight,” he answers and laughs at Jisung’s befuddled yet abashed frown.
Okay, he doesn’t know how to approach Minho. He should have made up an excuse before hastily getting up, but he doesn’t have any and is left in the middle of the party room with his heart pounding in his throat. Jisung fidgets with the hem of his dress shirt, his chest starting to rise and fall quickly as he doesn’t know what to do and feels the jealousy spreading, creeping under his skin, and embracing his bones.
He looks back at Seungmin, feeling like a lost child. Seungmin smiles at him and nods, attempting to encourage him, and it kind of works. Jisung takes a deep breath and begins walking toward Minho.
Unfortunately (or not?), Minho isn’t the first one to notice him—it is the guy who notices him and arches an eyebrow at him, calling Minho’s attention and making him look over his shoulder. Minho turns in a swift motion, the curves of his lips pulling up into a buoyant grin, and the gleam of his eyes strengthening.
To be honest, Jisung is afraid that Minho will put distance between them now that there is a guy interested in him. It shouldn’t, though. Jisung shouldn’t care about this. Their friends-with-benefits relationship isn’t an impediment for Minho to flirt with other guys, but Jisung’s stomach churns gloomily at the thought of Minho dallying with other people.
To his relief, Minho’s mouth curves upwards into the hugest, softest smile he has ever worn, and his eyes light up at the sight of him approaching them. Jisung’s stomach flips over and his heart flutters with happiness at the knowledge that Minho is happy seeing him. It is even worse once Jisung’s shoulder bumps with Minho’s and the latter wraps his arm around Jisung’s waist and kisses the crown of his head.
“Missing me already?” Minho whispers after kissing his crown, as if it was a secret meant only for the two of them.
Jisung looks up and feels the tips of his ears blazing. Minho’s eyes glimmer at him , possessing that characteristic glint of mischief. For a second, Jisung forgets the presence of the other man. He only has eyes for Minho, pretty and gentle Minho. Jisung catches his lower lip to subdue the absurd craving to feel Minho’s mouth against his own.
“Yes,” he replies and kisses Minho’s cheek.
A sudden—yet not so unfamiliar—feeling of goodness settles in the centre of Jisung’s heart. Right there, Jisung believes that his waist was made for having Minho’s arm around it, his crown was made for feeling Minho’s lips against it, and his eyes were made only to look at Minho and adore every detail of him. He was made for Minho.
It isn’t the first time this feeling spills over Jisung’s chest. There have been a few times where Jisung felt this comfortable, this safe, this meant to be . But, it is the first time that he can put a name to the feeling and describe it.
It scares him, though.
What does it mean exactly?
Isn't he crossing the line of what a fuck buddy may or may not feel?
Does Minho feel the same way?
Is this… love?
No, it can’t be love.
The lines between them are getting gradually blurry, Jisung realizes as the thought of ‘Is this love?’ pops up in his mind. Jisung can’t afford his addled brain and heart to play tricks with him.
“Jisung, this is Jihoon. Jihoon, this is my Jisung,” Minho introduces them.
My Jisung. Minho’s tone had softened so much when those words slipped past his pretty lips.
Jisung’s heart beats crazily.
He only smiles politely at Jihoon, who smiles back at him yet the edges of his lips look too tight to be an honest smile.
Minho looks down at Jisung and smiles at him. God, that perfect, beautiful smile is only for him.
“It was good meeting you after so long,” Minho says, his tone sounding like a farewell. Then, he gazes at Jisung and adds to him, “Let’s go with my friends, babe.” He gives Jihoon one last close-mouthed smile. “See you sometime.”
Jisung waves Jihoon goodbye, receiving a tight-lipped smile back. He doesn’t want to admit it just for the sake of not being childish, but… he is burning with pride and happiness throughout the rest of the evening after Minho’s behaviour with that man in front of them. Minho hugged him, kissed him, presented him as his Jisung, and called him babe.
Jisung can only think about arriving home with Minho and tattooing his skin with golden, everlasting kisses. Jisung looks at him with glittering, attentive eyes. If Minho says the shortest or longest utterance ever, Jisung is swiftly gazing at him. If Minho says a silly joke, Jisung can’t hold the bubbling laughter coming right from his chest. If Minho touches Jisung’s knee, then Jisung places his hand above Minho’s and slots their fingers together.
He just can’t get enough of Minho.
Once they say goodbye with friendly smiles and quick hugs, Minho slides his arm over Jisung’s shoulders and kisses his cheek in a swift motion. “It’s finally time to go home,” he says and sighs tiredly.
Jisung feels his heart warm as he stares at Minho driving and humming the soft song streaming through the speakers of his car.
“You’re staring, baby,” Minho utters with a husky tone of voice and a glancing at Jisung.
Jisung doesn’t allow himself to get shy now. “It’s because you’re so gorgeous,” he answers.
Minho arches an eyebrow at him “Don’t need to butter me up, love.”
Jisung giggles and melts in his seat as Minho grabs his thigh and begins stroking it. He flutters shut his eyelids—comfortable, safe, meant to be.
Jisung hasn’t yet comprehended the meaning behind his feelings, even when he is with Minho’s head resting on his lap, caressing his colourful strands, and listening to him talking about the dream he had a few nights ago.
Honestly, he thought that once they set foot in Minho’s home, they would be ripping their clothes off and kissing roughly, but they had taken a shower together and got on the bed to talk comfortably. Jisung has his back pressed against the headboard and Minho gazes up at him from his lap.
“And you were there!” Minho giggles lively and shoots Jisung’s heart like a Cupid’s arrow. “But you didn’t have hair! You were bald”—he erupts into a flurry of titters—“and crying because you were bald.”
Jisung bursts into laughter and his whole body buzzes, the happiness embracing him far away from dying. He keeps his eyes fixed on Minho, although they are crinkled and pretty small so his eyesight is a bit blurry.
Minho scratches his chin. “You look pretty from here.”
Jisung frowns. He is one-hundred per cent sure that from Minho’s point of view he isn’t the most handsome man in the world. His hair is a complete mess, he has an inevitable fatty fold under his chin, the dark bags beneath his eyes are visible, and he knows his skin isn’t in the best condition. But, Minho says he looks pretty, so he doesn’t care about anything else.
“You also look pretty, always.” Jisung reaches for Minho’s lips and kisses him tenderly.
He traces the curves of Minho’s face, feeling underneath the pad of his thumb the texture of Minho’s skin with relish. God, he is so beautiful. Minho closes his lids and lets himself be caressed lovingly, his fingers curling around Jisung’s wrist, and lips parting when Jisung’s thumb grazes the curves of his mouth.
Jisung grins. “Gorgeous,” he mutters barely above a whisper as he slides his thumb inside Minho’s wet, warm mouth.
Minho takes his sweet time swirling his tongue around Jisung’s thumb and sucking the tip, eyes closed and making sounds of pleasure in the back of his throat. When Jisung strokes his hair, Minho flutters open his eyes and smiles around Jisung’s thumb.
My Minho , Jisung’s heart says.
“Pretty,” he whispers as Minho kisses the tip of his thumb, then takes his hand, kisses his knuckles, and intertwines their fingers together.
It appears to be so much for Jisung’s weak, foolish heart. He shouldn’t feel so elated by only looking at Minho’s sleepy eyes and pouty lips, but he is anyway. Warmth shouldn’t be wrapped around his heart when Minho murmurs, “I wanna sleep with you on top of me,” but it is anyway.
“On top of you?” Jisung arches his eyebrow, the pad of his thumb gliding over the plump flesh of Minho’s lower lip.
“Yeah,” Minho catches Jisung’s thumb and gnaws the flesh, giggling a little.
Jisung tilts his head a little. “How?”
The corners of Minho’s mouth curl up softly. One minute later, Minho has gotten on his back, with his arms outstretched on either side of his head, and Jisung is on top of him with his hands on Minho’s hair and lips against his cheek, planting a soft kiss there. He giggles when Minho’s hands slip under his shirt.
“Am I not heavy?” Jisung asks.
Minho makes a sound in the back of his throat. “To be honest, yes,” he replies and laughs with Jisung. “But I want you like this—close and warm against me.” He hugs Jisung, kissing his forehead. “Let’s sleep?”
Jisung’s heart hammers against his ribcage.
My Minho wants me so close, the thought pops into his mind unintentionally.
“Let’s sleep, baby.” Jisung kisses Minho’s jaw and then his lips, lethargically and gently. He feels safer than ever. The meant to be feeling persisting in his chest. “Sleep well and don’t dream of me bald.”
Minho giggles and his body buzzes, making Jisung giggle. “I’ll dream of you doing other things.” He wiggles his eyebrows, laughing with Jisung.
“Shut up!”
Minho keeps laughing, then takes a deep breath and says with a breathy voice, “Sleep tight, my darling.”
My darling. The possessive pet name is mind-numbing and heart-fluttering.
“Sweet dreams, Min.”
→ → →
Is it possible to feel that you are living with half a heart? Jisung doesn’t know if it is possible or not, but he has been feeling like that since the last time that he saw Minho.
Minho is the one who took half of Jisung’s heart with him, but, to be honest, Jisung wants him to not give it back.
He should have been more careful from the very beginning. There is a part of himself that looks at him with an exasperated expression and tells him, “Why were you so blinded by his beauty, charisma, and sweet personality?”
Jisung should have expected all this. Thousands of ‘I should have…’ are swimming in his head, but any of them will help him fix this terrible mess.
Sometimes, Jisung sees Minho behind his closed eyelids. He sees him laughing with those glimmering eyes wrinkled in the corners and bunny teeth on display. He sees him cooking for them and feeding Jisung small pieces of their meal so he can approve it. He sees him waking up with a low grumble and pouty lips asking for a flying kiss. He sees him mindlessly peeling an orange and feeding him while they watch a film or engage in small talk. He sees him hovering over him, snapping his hips roughly, looking at him fiercely yet with a glimpse of softness, showering him with saccharine praises.
He doesn’t want anyone to know what happened between them both. He just tries to act normal, but after a few minutes of sharing lunch with Chan, he points out the loss of sparkle in his irises and his forced smile.
“Nothing happened,” Jisung mumbles swiftly and stuffs his mouth with meat.
Chan stays silent for a second, then nods and says, “Alright.”
Jisung wants Chan to insist. They don’t utter a single word for a couple of minutes, humming approvingly at the food and sipping their fizzy drinks.
He is starting to feel restless after a while, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt or tugging at his earlobe. He wants to talk about this with Chan, benign and compassionate Chan, so he takes a deep breath—Chan looks at him expectantly at that—and explodes right there.
“I caught feelings for Minho and at first I acted like it was nothing, like I didn’t care too much and chose to continue our friends-with-benefits relationship because I knew that if I said something, everything would be ruined.” Jisung doesn’t look at Chan, his eyes fixed on the grilled meat as he speaks. His fingers curl into a fist around his chopsticks, his chest falling and rising in a fast motion. “I preferred to have him that way, even though it hurt me to have to pretend. But, then everything got too much, my feelings became so colossal and so enormous that I couldn’t ignore them anymore.”
Jisung swallows the urge to burst into a mess of tears.
“It hurt me so, so much. Chan, you can’t imagine how heartbroken I was—how heartbroken I am . I wanted him, but I was killing myself. I put a slight distance between us because I was losing my mind, but he noticed it and called me out. It was fucking hell. You should’ve seen him shaking and about to burst into tears because of me. I will never forgive myself. I ended up telling him that I want to end our relationship, and he… he said he understood and left.”
Jisung feels Chan’s cold hand wrapping around his shaky one. It doesn’t make him feel better, but a tiny band-aid covers a small part of his shattered heart.
“You always go through so much, Jisung,” Chan says with the gentlest, sweetest voice ever. Jisung hiccups and clutches Chan’s hand. “When will you have a break, hm? You make me want to take you home and take care of you forever.”
Jisung chuckles between hiccups and sobs. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”
Chan smiles gently and shakes his head, he squeezes Jisung’s hand as he says, “You’re my friend, Jisung. I love you and I’ll naturally worry about you, okay? I’m happy you're comfortable enough with me to confess this to me.” Jisung cracks a small smile. “I’m happy you’ve finished whatever you had with Minho if it was making you so sad.”
Jisung looks down and gnaws his bottom lip. “But now I’m sad because I don’t have him,” he mutters, the edges of his lips curving downwards and eyes watering again. “It makes me so sad that I can’t hug him at night and listen to him talk about nonsense in his sleep.”
Chan wears a similar smile to Jisung’s, one full of nostalgia and grief.
“Do you know that”—Jisung sniffs and squeezes Chan’s hand—“he always looks for me even when he’s fast asleep? He does–0–used to do it out of habit. I always forced myself to believe that he did it because he was cold, but I like to think that he used to do it because he missed me even if he wasn’t conscious.” Jisung sighs, the tiredness has crept up to his shoulders. “The lines between us got so blurry, Chan. I didn’t think straight once I fell in love with him and it ruined everything we had.”
“Jisungie, be gentle with yourself. It’s not your fault you’ve fallen in love, you can’t control your feelings.” The pad of Chan’s hand brushes the warm skin of Jisung’s hand.
“I’d like to let him know about my feelings, y’know? Not––not now, but… once I’ve tamed my heart or I can face him without the urge to kiss him, I’d like to tell him the reason why I ended… whatever he had.”
“That sounds good,” Chan answers.
“Yes.” Jisung smiles slightly and tiredly. “He deserves to know the truth about what happened, right?” He looks up and sees Chan nodding with a tender smile dancing on his lips. “I’ll understand if he doesn’t want to know anything about me, but I’ll try to explain what happened to me and my behaviour to him.”
Chan strokes Jisung’s hand. “That’ll be good, honey. If it makes you feel better, then you should do it whenever you feel ready to face him again. In the meantime, you could forgive yourself a little, hm?”
Jisung gives Chan a closed-mouth smile, nodding a few times. “Yeah, that’ll be good for me… Thanks for, y’know, listening to me and making me feel safe.”
Chan smiles and giggles. He can’t help but squeeze Jisung’s hand again.
“Please, Jisung, shut up. I’m your friend and I’ll listen to you every time you need it.”
Jisung sticks his bottom lip out. The edges of his heart get a sudden warmth after so many days of pure coldness. Even if Chan told him to shut up, he doesn’t waste the opportunity to thank his friend one more time once Chan dropped him in front of his building.
Chan only rolls his eyes and smiles. “Go to rest,” he says and hugs Jisung’s small frame tightly. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself,” he whispers and kisses the crown of his head.
“Thank you,” Jisung murmurs one last time before getting out of the car. He smiles and waves his hand at Chan before entering the building and preparing himself for another night alone.
Days turn into weeks, weeks into a whole month and a half. The weather changes and the end of hot and humid June turns into a slightly tolerable mid-August. Changbin’s birthday passes by and Jisung does his best to look good hoping to see him, but he never shows up and Changbin gives him a sad smile. Jisung changes the furniture placement of his flat, and Minho’s belongings remain intact. Gradually, he stops avoiding his and Minho’s common spots and a bubble of hope emerges in his chest at the thought of running into Minho, but it never happens.
Minho simply disappears. He is like a ghost of Jisung’s past, but he knows it is real.
Jisung tries to change his lifestyle so he doesn’t spend so much time dwelling on Minho and what-ifs , but it isn’t that easy. Jisung’s breath still catches in his throat every time he starts thinking about the last time he saw him, sweat gathers in the palms of his hands when he goes to the bakery and thinks about bumping into Minho, and his heart picks up its pace with the mere sound of laughter similar to him or the smell of an identical cologne. He hasn’t deleted their photos together, but he avoids looking at the album of photos ‘min&me’ every time he opens his gallery.
He is dying to ask Changbin about Minho, just a little update on him. Is he fine? Is he eating and sleeping well? Does he miss me as much as I miss him? Does he want me back? Does he hate me for getting attached and ruining what we had? Am I still his Jisung?
On cold nights, Jisung looks at his contact number and thinks about calling him. Jisung wishes he could call him as if nothing had happened, ask him about his day and listen to his rattles all night long. He wishes he could fall asleep listening to his gentle, sweet voice. He never calls, though. Jisung only buries his face in his pillow and sleeps (he doesn’t like to admit that he dreams about Minho touching his face and whispering I love you ).
As September begins, Jisung starts to wonder if Minho will call or send a brief text for his birthday. He is restless as the days go by, an unsettled feeling of uneasiness pooling in the centre of his heart.
Changbin and Chan call him at midnight, singing happy birthday with extremely high-pitched voices and telling him how much they love him. Jisung is happy. His family call him from the other side of the world. His coworkers send him tons of texts. Felix is brave enough to text him briefly.
Jisung waits the whole day. Even when he is having dinner with Chan and Changbin at a glamorous restaurant, Jisung checks his phone every two minutes. His friends don’t utter a single word about that, but Jisung sees them glancing at each other worriedly.
Chan buys a small cake for him and he forces a smile while they sing happy birthday. When he blows out the candle, he wishes Minho would call him.
Minho doesn’t contact him.
At the end of his birthday night, Jisung is growing tired of faking smiles and just wants to go home so he can burst into tears. Chan hugs him tightly and Changbin can’t stop asking him if he would like to spend the night with them, Jisung only shakes his head and forces one last happy smile.
Once he is under the blankets and looking at his phone with red-rimmed eyes, Jisung ponders the option of calling Minho. Wouldn’t it be too pathetic? Jisung doesn’t care.
He presses the call option. Tears fall down his cheeks, his heartbeat skips a beat, and his hands and lips tremble.
Minho doesn’t answer his call.
Jisung sinks himself into his sorrow. He can’t help but think about his memories with Minho—their first glance, their first touch, their first inside joke, their first kiss. Everything.
Jisung leaves his phone under the pillow and hugs himself, crying like a baby for long, long minutes. He slowly starts to drift off to sleep, his heart calming down yet his headache growing, but then his phone begins ringing and he grumbles.
Jisung doesn’t see the caller ID. He answers with his lids closed and lets out a soft hum.
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing the person on the other end says.
He recognizes that voice.
“I’m sorry for being a coward,” Minho adds. He sounds devastated, Jisung's heart becomes small and his brain can’t process what is happening. “Happy birthday.”
Jisung is paralyzed, words won’t come out of his mouth and Minho simply ends the call.
← ← ←
Jisung wishes he had let his grandmother teach him how to cook when he was younger. He isn’t precisely useless in the kitchen, but he is aware of the fact that he can’t make the greatest dish with the same easiness that Minho does it. Well, it’s the thought that counts, right? Minho will appreciate this… dish just because Jisung tried his best and spent the whole afternoon cooking for him.
Jisung hopes that Minho likes his attempt at cooking. It isn’t the greatest or the most delicious, but Jisung watched every video recommendation about how to make a good jjajangmyeon and japchae because he remembers Minho telling him about his childhood favourite food.
It isn’t a special occasion, just a simple Friday night that they will spend together, but something inside Jisung’s chest made him come earlier to Minho’s home while he is at work to cook them dinner.
Jisung has doubts about the food, even if he is forcing himself to think that Minho will like what he has done and appreciate his effort. For a second he thinks about throwing this food into the trashcan and asking for takeout, but he can’t dwell too much on that thought because Minho is stepping into his home and bringing a bright smile with him.
“Baby, I’m home!” he says in a loud voice, chuckling after that.
Jisung can’t hold back the smile making his way onto his face—a fond, huge smile tugging at his lips at the sight of Minho walking into the kitchen. He is sweaty and flushed red, with messy hair and glimmering eyes. Jisung loves the sight.
“You already knew I was here,” Jisung murmurs once Minho has crushed him in a tight hug and kissed his forehead. He closes his eyes when Minho’s lips linger on his forehead.
“Yeah,” Minho says and laughs softly. “I mean, I saw my flat lit up from the entrance of the building and guessed it was you. None of my friends has a spare key and I don’t think a thief would be waiting for me with dinner ready.” The two of them break into a flurry of giggles.
“Well, yeah, you’re right.” Jisung looks back at the food, ready for them to fill their tummies. Heat crawls up to his cheeks. “I cooked for you.”
He looks up at Minho’s gentle eyes, the increasing blush crawls up to the tips of his ears at Minho’s soft gaze.
“I’m not sure if it’s good,” he says and sticks out his bottom lip. “It won’t be as good as your dishes, but I tried for you.”
Minho smiles and shakes his head. “I’m sure it’s so delicious, super tasty and good because my Jisungie made it for me.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I want him to be mine forever.
Jisung’s heart flutters and his mind goes blank. Minho giggles, kisses his cheek a thousand times, and then plants a brief kiss on his lips.
“I’m gonna take a shower quickly, alright? Wait for me a little.”
Jisung is frozen. His cheeks and lips are warm from Minho’s touch there. His heart is berserk and fearful. I want him, Jisung thinks.
He wants Minho, and not solely for fucking and playing around. Jisung wants Minho’s complications and happiness. He wants Minho’s hand holding him as they aimlessly walk shoulder to shoulder. He wants to wait for Minho with dinner ready, even if he isn’t the best cook.
The realization comes tenfold as the late evening goes by. Jisung silently watches Minho munching on his food and praising him for cooking so well for them, pinkish red cheeks bunching up and deep endearment oozing out of his eyes as he says, “Ah, as expected from my diligent Jisung; the food is incredible. You did a good job, darling.”
He finds himself blushing and smiling timidly. He always gets like this when Minho praises him, but now it is worse.
Minho takes his hand and gives him a soft squeeze, Jisung feels like writing a million songs about their fingers fitting perfectly like puzzle pieces meant to be together.
The domestic rhythm that they always follow makes Jisung dizzy and hyperconscious. They wash the dishes together as Minho talks about his day and Jisung listens to him attentively, giggling when Minho tells him about a cute, silly incident with a group of little girls.
Then, they opt for watching the new episode of the drama they have been watching lately. Jisung gets comfortable between Minho’s legs, his head resting comfortably on his chest, and his heart warm at the belly rubs Minho is giving him. He loves belly rubs.
Jisung feels like he is meant to be right there with Minho—cuddling, commenting about the characters and their predictable actions, stealing kisses here and there, laughing together. Deep down in his heart, he knows that they aren’t meant to be, but Jisung pretends.
He pretends that he and Minho aren’t together just to have easy access to sex. He pretends that something burns between them stronger than the flames of Minho’s bed.
Minho’s fingers play with the waistband of Jisung’s sweatpants, making him let out a shuddering breath. One thing leads to another and in the blink of an eye Minho has his hand wrapped around Jisung’s cock.
“Fuck,” Jisung mutters barely above a whisper. He curls his fingers around Minho’s wrist and squeezes it, which makes Minho giggle and kiss him behind his ear.
“You’re so hard, baby,” he says and nuzzles Jisung’s neck. “I think we should do something about it.”
Jisung rolls his eyes when Minho thumbs his slit. “I think you should do something about it,” he replies.
Over the past months, Jisung has learnt that his favourite sight is Minho riding him. Yes, he likes watching Minho in different positions—in fours and ready to let Jisung fuck his brains out, over the countertop of Jisung’s kitchen so he can eat him out, on top of him and turned so all that Jisung can see is his cute ass bouncing and perfect back, etc, etc—but none of them compares to Minho riding him.
Jisung loves a lot of things about Minho like this—his flushed scarlet body, messy hair, features twitching in pleasure, his chubby tummy, and thighs. Everything about Minho is heavenly gorgeous.
So, after hellish stretched minutes of playing around—biting and sucking each other, kissing and touching, whispering soft, dirty words, opening Minho up with his and Jisung’s fingers—Jisung finally has Minho the way he likes it: riding him.
“Fuck, baby,” Minho whimpers. He thumbs and pinches Jisung’s nipples, watching him twitch and roll his eyes at the fantastic sensation. “You’re so sensitive, pup.”
Jisung shakes his head, hips bucking up briskly and moans falling out of his mouth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he breathes out.
Minho’s touch is electric and mind-numbing. He clenches so deliciously good around Jisung’s cock, his fingers curl softly and expertly around his neck to squeeze it and force him to let out a high-pitched moan, two of his digits slip inside Jisung’s mouth and fuck his mouth as he says, “My little good boy.”
Jisung is dazed, his sight blurry with tears of pleasure and red lights flickering in his head.
Warning, warning, warning.
“You’re fucking me so good, my love,” Minho manages to say between breathy moans and reedy cries.
Warning, warning, warning.
Minho cups one of his cheeks in a soft hold, attaching their lips and licking his mouth. “Oh, fuck—right there, pup. You’re behaving so good for me.”
Jisung cries at the dulcet tone lacing Minho’s words and the overwhelming pleasure crushing his senses.
Warning, warning, warning.
“You fuck me so good that I might come untouched, babe.”
Jisung can’t stop panting. Droplets of sweat fall from his hairline, Minho’s nails scratch his chest, he uselessly tries to jerk Minho off. Everything is too much, that's why he feels like bursting into tears and murmuring an unexpected ‘I love you,’ right?
Warning, warning, warning.
Jisung flutters his eyes open in a swift motion.
I love you.
Jisung snaps his hips a few times more and then he is filling the condom. Minho moans, fucking himself in Jisung’s cock until he comes too with a loud groan.
“You were so good, Jisungie.” Minho plants a gentle, lingering kiss on his forehead.
He looks up at Minho—flushed, sticky with sweat and cum, flustered, with his eyes full of stars and lips raw—and his chest suffers a painfully strong squeeze.
Warning, warning, warning.
Mine is the only word that crosses Jisung’s mind when he watches Minho’s lips stretch into a fond, worn-out smile. He wants to see him smile like this forever.
He is in love with Minho.
The red lights go out for a second, but then they come stronger than before and sirens are heard in his head—signalling an imminent, life-threatening disaster.
Even if Minho is most likely sore and tired, he seems to have noticed Jisung’s odd numbness. He is the one helping Jisung to take off the condom and clean them up a little. Jisung is there, paralyzed and seconds away from falling apart.
He is fucking in love with Minho. He wants to share his future with someone afraid of committing himself to a relationship. He has made the biggest mistake of his life—not because he won’t have an opportunity with Minho, but because he will surely fuck them up at some point.
No, Jisung won’t fuck them up. He will do his best to keep Minho by his side, even if he will have to pretend and hide his feelings for the rest of his life. Nothing bad will happen, right?
Jisung’s chest feels empty and sorrowful.
Isn’t love something that should feel warm, comforting, or whatever?
This isn’t right. Jisung is feeling incredibly gloomy right now.
He wants to wrap his arms around Minho’s fragile frame and kiss his temple as a way of saying good night, but he needs to get away from him. Right now.
Minho radiates warmth, but Jisung is so fucking cold.
He can’t believe he has fallen in love with Minho, but a part of him isn’t the slightest bit astonished.
→ → →
Jisung couldn’t reach out to Minho after he called him on his birthday. He has been calling him and filling his notifications with desperate texts, but Minho never answers.
He is still deciphering Minho’s words. I’m sorry for being a coward. Why would he say that? What is he sorry for? A coward? Why would he be a coward?
Jisung plays Minho’s words in his head again and again. Every night after slipping under the blankets and clenching his fists around the shirt he wears to sleep (Minho’s old shirt), he starts to question what Minho meant.
He doesn’t tell his friends about Minho’s call. Sometimes, Changbin glances at him with a knowing tint adorning his eyes, and Jisung wonders if he knows something that he doesn’t. He bites the tip of his tongue every time they are together, afraid of accidentally asking about Minho.
Is he okay? Do you know why he called me? Do you know how to fix this mess?
Jisung tries to not ask about Minho, but Changbin just lets his name roll off his tongue easily and without remorse when they are working on a song.
“Have you thought about visiting Minho?”
Jisung looks up, eyes wide and lips parting. “Huh?”
Changbin clears his throat. “Have you thought about confronting Minho?”
Jisung rubs the back of his neck. “It isn’t that easy…” he says.
“What do you mean?”
Jisung huffs. “Well, just picture this: you caught feelings for your fuck buddy, who you know that doesn’t want to commit to a romantic relationship, then you fuck up what you have with them and they leave because you told them that you wanted to end things up. Would you just show up at their door and confront them?” He arches one of his eyebrows.
Changbin rubs his tummy, lips pressed into a thin line as he thinks. “Yes, I’d just show up at their door and confront them.”
Jisung pinches his eyebrows together. “What? It’ll make everything worse.”
Changbin shrugs. “I'd rather be honest than hide my feelings for the rest of my life.”
“Do you think I should talk to him? I don’t know, go to his house unannounced and let him know about my feelings?” Jisung tilts his head.
“You should’ve let him know about your feelings from the very beginning.”
Jisung scrunches his nose, irritated. “Well, telling me what I should've done from the beginning won’t change the present.”
“I know,” Changbin says, and then adds, “But that doesn’t mean that you can’t change your future by taking the decision you should’ve taken on the very first day. If he doesn’t answer your calls or texts, then you know where to find him. Go, look for him, tell him what you’re feeling.”
Jisung avoids Changbin’s gaze. “And what do I do after facing him? I already know he doesn’t want me back.”
Changbin sighs and shakes his head. “You will know what to do after facing him.”
He looks down at his fingers fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.
“Think about it, Jisung,” Changin says ultimately and goes back to work on his laptop.
Jisung gazes up at his friend, Changbin makes this mess so easy to fix. Jisung told Chan that he would like to confess his feelings to Minho someday, but he isn’t completely sure about doing it now or sometime soon…
The idea of showing up at Minho’s door pounds his head through the whole day, even the whole week.
He wanders around his house, finding Minho’s things here and there—a pair of green, fluffy socks, his funny sunglasses, and two food magazines in the last drawer of his bedroom. Jisung reads the articles about vegan food and remembers Minho telling him about some dishes he would like to try, and maybe that is what impulses him to head out of his home and walk to the supermarket.
Jisung looks at the picture he took of the ingredients to cook braised tofu and grabs all he needs, wearing a closed-lipped smile for the young cashier. The way back home is silent, Jisung only hears the leaves rustling in the light wind and his boots against the concrete.
He doesn’t want to think about Minho, but it is impossible to not picture him walking by his side with their fingers slotted and chattering about whatever. He pushes the thought out of his head and takes a deep breath, pressing the 4th floor once he is in the elevator.
Jisung looks for the key to his flat and a soft ‘Aha!’ leaves his mouth once he has found it, he thumbs the tiny cat keyring that Minho gave him. He steps out of the elevator with the bag of the supermarket in his arms, the key clasped in his hand, and his heartbeat stuttering when he sees Minho standing in front of his door.
What the actual fuck, Jisung’s heart says breathlessly.
Minho follows the sound of the elevator, his eyes locking with Jisung’s surprised ones. Jisung clutches the key, stops in his tracks, and breathes out a small, “Minho.”
“Jisung,” Minho says.
Jisung sees the sad gleam in Minho’s eyes and the tight line of his lips, he wears a hesitant expression that swiftly turns into determination. Jisung shudders at the courage painted on Minho’s features.
“Minho,” he repeats, the tips of his fingers tingling with the desire of tracing the curves of Minho’s face.
Jisung doesn’t know what to say or do. As he is frozen in place, Minho is the one approaching him with dithering steps. Jisung swallows and curses under his breath at his shaky heart pounding in his ears.
Minho stares at him, his eyebrows slightly knitted together. “Can we… Can we talk? Please,” he pleads , his voice weak and a second away from breaking.
A shaky breath slips out of Jisung’s lips. “Yes,” he replies.
Even inside his home, Jisung doesn’t know what to do or say. He could perfectly buy himself some time by putting the groceries in the kitchen, but he just watches Minho taking a seat on the couch and ruffling his hair.
Minho looks at him, silence stretching and stretching until he gulps down and pats the couch. “Come here, will you?”
Jisung blinks. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.
He leaves the groceries on the small table of his living room and occupies the other corner of the couch, then takes his shoes off so he can put his feet on the couch and have his legs pressed against his chest. Jisung looks at Minho, but he can't tolerate looking at him and not spilling his love for him.
Jisung feels Minho’s eyes fixed on him, neither of them uttering a single word and just brimming the silence with their quivering breaths. This isn’t what Jisung was expecting once he and Minho met—he doesn’t know what he expected—but… it isn’t odd, either.
On the contrary, Jisung feels somewhat comfortable and safe. He allows himself to close his eyes and take a deep breath, his cheek squished up against his knees, and his heart finally finding some peace. If there wasn’t any unfinished business between them, Jisung would fall asleep.
“Jisung,” Minho murmurs.
He blinks and gives Minho a small smile. “I’m sorry.”
Minho shakes his head, his fingers closing into a fist. “Don’t worry,” he answers and looks around the living room. “You know,” Minho starts, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before continuing, “I knew that you weren’t any other simple guy since the very first moment I looked at you.”
Jisung curls his fingers around his wrist. Words have left him, he doesn’t know what he should answer, so he lets silence surround them until Minho dares to keep speaking.
“You’re… weird—a good weird, I mean. The type of weird that I like, that makes me feel comfortable.” Minho tugs his earlobe, a soft pinkish red adorning the tips of his ears. “Everything with you is weird, to be honest.”
Jisung looks down at his hand, the skin is a little red yet soft-looking. He can’t decipher where Minho is going, he is curious and jittery at the same time. At this point, it is okay if Minho rejects him, he has already mentalized himself for that.
“I know we never addressed our… relationship, or whatever we were doing. I think you and I were on the same wavelength, right? We had a good connection and lots of hobbies in common, I wasn’t surprised when we had sex for the first time and it was fucking great. I was having a blast with you.”
A tiny, dejected smile dances on Jisung’s lips. They were on the same wavelength, until Jisung got his feelings mingled and fucked what they used to have.
Minho props his elbow on the back of the couch and holds his cheek with his hand, Jisung can’t face him. “But, y’know that one of us always has to fuck everything up, right?” Minho says, rubbing the palms of his hands against his face.
Jisung’s heart thuds to the floor. Fuck, fuck. Minho knows about his feelings. Fuck.
“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispers so low that Minho doesn’t hear him.
A long, tired sigh slips pasts Minho’s trembling lips. “It’s shitty that this happened to us, isn’t it?”
Jisung notices how Minho is beginning to look even more apprehensive than ever before—he rubs the palms of his hands on his thighs, his chest rises and falls quickly, and the rims of his eyes brim with tears.
“I’m sorry,” Jisung says again, hurt laces the edges of his words and he can’t help but start snuffling. “I swear—I swear I tried, Minho.”
“What?” Minho mumbles.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t control what I was feeling,” he blurts out. Minho’s brows pinch together in confusion, his lips parting and eyes widening. “I thought I could hide my feelings, that it was okay as long as I had you, but my stupid heart is too selfish and—”
Minho blinks repeatedly, shaking his head. “Jisung.”
Jisung chokes out a sob. “No, please, listen to me. I thought everything was better if I didn’t say anything, but then it got too much for me and I—”
Minho gets closer to Jisung, his hands landing above the other’s hand. “Jisung, Ji—”
He can’t fight the sudden urge to wrap his arms around Minho’s frame, his face full of tears on Minho’s neck. “I’m sorry I fell in love with you,” he breathes out. He breaks down, sobbing and shaking in Minho’s arms.
“Jisung, Jisung,” Minho says, his arms squeezing Jisung’s waist.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Jisung chants. The heavy weight of his love falls off his shoulders, but he holds the armour up again to endure the rejection that is about to come.
“Look at me, please.”
Minho cups Jisung’s cheeks, brushing the pad of his thumb against their fullness. Jisung doesn’t want to face him, doesn’t want to look at the pity swimming in Minho’s irises, but he complies anyway.
“We have always been so silly, haven’t we?” Minho says, letting out a soft giggle. His eyes glimmer, brimmed with tears, and the corners of his lips curl up happily.
Jisung doesn’t dare to say something, afraid of losing Minho’s touch and the sudden elated gleam of his eyes.
“I’m so fucking in love with you, too. You can't imagine the hell I've been through lately believing that you didn't reciprocate my feelings,” Minho says.
Jisung’s head falls against Minho’s shoulder, tears keep streaming down his face and his hands clutch Minho’s jacket. Minho plants a gentle kiss on his head, and another, and another, and another.
“Minho,” Jisung cries. He gazes up, watery eyes meeting Minho’s, and a smile stretches his lips. “I love you,” he says for the first time, and his heart feels so at peace.
Minho inches his lips closer to Jisung’s, giggling when Jisung caresses his nose with his own. “I love you, Sungie,” he murmurs and connects their lips.
They have kissed a thousand times before, but Jisung never felt this good kissing Minho. Finally, the meant-to-be feeling comes back with the purpose of staying, maybe forever.
“Jisung, my love,” Minho says between kisses.
My love.
“Baby.”
“Shhh, let’s kiss,” Jisung grips Minho’s hair.
“Darling.”
Minho attempts to pull Jisung away, but it is useless. Jisung catches his bottom lip between his teeth and tugs at it, then crashes their mouths together again.
“Sweetheart.” Minho holds Jisung’s face and forces him to pull away, earning a long whine from him. Minho giggles and kisses Jisung’s temple, he gives the groceries a glance. “Were you going to cook dinner?”
Jisung glances at the groceries. “Yeah, hm… I found a food magazine you left here and I was going to make braised tofu.” He smiles.
“Cute.” Minho kisses the tip of his nose. “What do you think about cooking together, hm?” Minho arches a brow. “We could cook and catch up,” he says, and then adds, “I know we have a lot to talk and sort out, but we could do that tomorrow. What do you think?”
Jisung nods. “Yes, sounds good.”
This seems to be a dream. Jisung can’t stop himself from sneaking glances at Minho from time to time while they are cooking and chatting, his heart feels full and, after so many days covered in blue, now it is painted in a warm, golden hue. The tips of his fingers tingle every time he and Minho touch, his cheeks are growing tired from beaming so much, but he can’t help himself.
For a moment, Jisung thinks that this is too good to be true so he tangles his arms around Minho’s waist and presses his lips against the back of his neck. “It’s true,” he whispers and a sigh of relief falls from his mouth.
Minho caresses his hands. “It’s true,” he echoes.
But, even if Minho echoed his words, Jisung still can’t believe it.
After having dinner together and lounging for a while on the couch, Jisung asks him if he wants to stay and Minho accepts. In the middle of the night, Jisung wakes up in a cold sweat and looks around in his darkened room. He thinks that Minho was a figment of his foolish imagination, but Minho wakes up at the sound of the bed sheets rustling.
“Baby,” Minho murmurs and sits up to embrace him tightly.
Jisung feels the loud thump of his heart calming down second by second as Minho’s lips pepper kisses on his shoulder, neck, and cheek.
“I’m here, sweets. Don’t worry,” he says and places his hand on Jisung’s chest, right where his heart—now his whole heart—lives. “Calm down, I’m right here.” Minho plants a lingering, everlasting kiss on his forehead. “I’m here to stay.”
Jisung takes the hand that resides on his chest, his fingers squeezing it softly. “Minho,” he manages to say between gasps.
“Hm, that’s me.” Jisung feels the little smile tugging at Minho’s lips, he is nuzzling his neck and still has his hand above his heart. “That’s me and I love you so much, baby.”
Jisung looks down at Minho and finds him already looking at him. “I love you, too.”
“I know, my love,” Minho answers and kisses Jisung on the lips—well, the corner of his mouth. One of Minho’s hands goes up to Jisung’s hair and brushes his fingers through the strands. “Want to sleep on top of me?”
Jisung sniffs and nods, his heart swelling tenfold with the enormous fondness and love he has for Minho. Sleeping on top of Minho must be one of his favourite things, feeling his bare skin against his body, and those warm hands caressing his back and hair.
“Tomorrow we’ll talk, but you have nothing to worry about. We’re okay,” Minho kisses his forehead again.
Jisung locks his eyes with Minho’s. He knows that the darkness of his room must not let Minho see the love and confidence seeping out of his eyes, but he hopes that Minho spots those things in his words as he says, “I promise you we’ll be okay, Minho.”
Jisung thinks that Minho got what he meant, if the deep kiss he gives him is anything to go by.