Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

art by @jutdaecult on twitter<3

No Pain by Silica Gel

▷ || ———— 3:39

Jisung’s thirtieth birthday is a letdown. But so is everything else in his life.

His only friend had a massive deadline and couldn’t go out with him, and his parents and brother were back in Malaysia. The birthday call was reduced to less than a minute of birthday wishes, followed by quickly hanging up so they could go on with their day. It feels, not for the first time, like he’s completely alone.

He shuts the door of his cramped apartment after a day at the office, taking in the sight of the trash on the coffee table and the dishes that haven’t been done. Jisung ignores both, instead digging around in his fridge for his leftover pasta. The suit he wore to the office is wrinkled, his shirt unbuttoned and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. While heating up the pasta, Jisung changes into a hoodie and sweats, and hangs his suit on the drying rack instead of being bothered to wash and iron it. It’s still his birthday, he should be lazy if he wants to be.

Jisung takes the pasta container and eats it in bed while scrolling through his phone, then settles into a heavy sleep for another day at the office tomorrow. The day ends up just like any other.

‘HAN JISUNG,’ a disembodied voice cuts through his sleep. The voice is clear, distinct; very different from any other voice he’s ever encountered in his dreams. He almost wakes up from the weight of his own name echoing around him, causing a shudder to seep into his system.

‘Yes?’ his dream self responds shakily.

‘TODAY YOU ARE THIRTY YEARS OLD, AND YOU HAVE REMAINED A VIRGIN. YOU WILL NOW RECEIVE HELP.’

Jisung shoots up in bed, fully awake now. What the hell? A nightmare? His mind comes up with the strangest things. Sure, the fact that he’s never had sex or even kissed or dated anyone has weighed on his mind over the years, but not enough to feel like he needs “help.” What did he mean by that?

Then he realizes he’s trying to make sense of a dream. He’s being stupid. Jisung deliberately doesn’t check the time on his phone before tucking his duvet over himself, burrowing himself into the soft covers, and settling back to sleep.

No dreams come to plague Jisung for the rest of the night, but he wakes up to the alarm like he hasn’t received any sleep at all. Great, and he has a big report to work on today…

He pulls himself out of bed, sits on the toilet while on his phone for a half hour to wake himself up, and then gets ready for the day. He brushes his teeth and half-hazardly shaves the five o’clock shadow off his face, but decides there’s nothing he can do about the state of his disheveled hair.

Jisung feels…odd. He can’t quite explain why. Perhaps it’s the unnerving dream from last night, or possibly the feeling of sleep deprivation causing his brain to register weird feelings. It’s not enough to call off of work, though, so he ignores it, hoping the oddness goes away.

After getting dressed for work, he heads to the 7/11 on the main floor of his building for his morning coffee, while grabbing something for lunch as well. The girl he’s seen quite a few times works the counter today, though he doesn’t know her well enough besides the name on her tag, Sullyoon. That isn’t enough to have a conversation.

As he takes his receipt from her, though, his hand accidentally skims hers.

‘Ew, I touched him. Gross.’

Jisung looks up at Sullyoon with shock, making her look vaguely shocked at him back, like she didn’t expect him to hear that? She stated it so bluntly. He stares for a moment, before deciding he’d better leave immediately. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to.” He bows at her, quickly taking his cup and sandwich as he heads out the sliding door. If Sullyoon doesn’t like him that much, maybe he should go to a different 7/11 from now on. Or figure out what shifts she works so he doesn’t come in at those times… no, it’s better to be safe and avoid any surprise interactions altogether.

The wait at the bus stop is short, and he takes a sip of his scalding coffee as he hops through the folding doors. He brushes against a few people as he fits his sandwich inside his bag, while his “Excuse me’s” are interrupted immediately.

‘He looks like he just rolled out of bed.’

‘I’m so late…’

‘I hate my roommate so much. Why does he always leave me to do his dishes?’

Jisung keeps looking up, readying himself to have a conversation with various random strangers who apparently all have something strange to say to him, but whenever he glances over, the other person looks to be on their phone or hardly paying attention to him. What is with everyone today?

He finds a spot to stand and stretches his arm up to grab a loop from the ceiling. When the bus moves forward, he stumbles a bit and accidentally nudges the shoulder of a man who is sitting down. He looks up at Jisung warily. “Yes?”

Just as loudly as he is speaking, he hears from nowhere, ‘Kind of a tiny guy…is he trying to ask for money? If we were going to fight, I could take him easily.’

Jisung blinks and quickly moves his arm away from him, while apologies stream from his mouth. How did the stranger do that: say two different things at the same time? And why is one of the things he said much more unhinged than the other?

Is…that what the guy thought?

No. No way. Jisung is living some weird dream. Hearing people’s thoughts is impossible.

But it makes a lot of sense... Maybe he hears the things people say coming from his mind instead of from their mouths…

It’s better to just avoid touching people altogether, Jisung thinks. He can do that easily. He usually avoids touching people out of habit, anyway; content to stay in his own personal bubble. It’s a part of why he’s never had a girlfriend before, or been kissed, or had sex. He feels like a nuisance to other people, and if he touches someone, or worse yet, attempts to kiss someone, then they’re just going to be grossed out by him. So it’s easy to stay in this mindset and keep himself from interfering with other people, and this way, his weird exhaustion-induced dream where he thinks he can read minds can end quicker.

The bus arrives outside of his office, so he re-adjusts the bag on his shoulder and gratefully manages to avoid touching anyone as he shuffles down the aisle and hops out of the doors. He scans his ID card to enter the building and clips it to his jacket, and as he does so, he realizes he’s forgotten about one problem with his no-touching plan: the elevator.

The thing is always packed with dozens of people. But if he doesn’t want to be late to his cubicle on the twenty-second floor, then Jisung is just going to have to suck it up and let his weird dream go on longer. The doors open and he slips inside, heading to the very back corner. He manages to only touch one person, Jinsol from his office, but she is thinking about…women. Having sex with a woman. Fingering a woman, specifically. He jolts his arm away as quickly as he can, heat rising to his cheeks. How can Jinsol just casually be thinking about having sex while her expression is so nonchalant?

Is there a chance Jisung’s really reading her mind? He could never come up with something like that on his own. He’d never thought about Jinsol in that way. He didn’t even know Jinsol likes women like that.

More people are added to the elevator, and he hears much less dirty things, but no less things he couldn’t make up.

‘Nayeon looked so good in the concept photos today. I still need to preorder the EP…’ Jisung doesn’t preorder albums. And his Twice bias is Jeongyeon.

‘I’m supposed to get a call from Nishinoya today. Fuck, I still need to type up that contract…’ The name doesn’t ring a bell. He didn’t forget a client, did he?

‘If Jin Woojung just works on his pitching average, the Giants would be much higher in the finals next year. His four-seamer needs some work…’ What the hell is a four-seamer?

Jisung is thoroughly unnerved, unable to take anymore. Why didn’t he just take the stairs? He could use the exercise. Never mind that he’s quite out of shape and climbing twenty floors would surely put him into an early grave—well, earlier. He is thirty now, after all…

The elevator stops at the next floor, and the doors swing open. Bang Chan, with his neat, light brown hair, his polished suit, and his thousand-watt smile, tries to scoot in. People move out of the way for him, and he carefully moves to the back.

Right next to Jisung.

Chan had been hired around the same time as Jisung, but has a much higher work ethic, and as a result is much more respected around the office than him. People count on him more for deadlines, but he takes them in stride. He’s much more personable than Jisung is, so people naturally like him more. Jisung doesn’t have a problem with this, however; he likes the guy well enough, and he definitely doesn’t try as hard to succeed at his job. The two of them usually make small talk and sometimes go out for dinners together with other coworkers. He got Chan out of an awkward work deal once. They get along great during projects, and he’s easy to reach when Jisung needs him. So he’s honestly the best work colleague he could ask for.

Of course, he doesn’t know Chan well, but he doesn’t try to know anyone well, aside from his family and his friend Seungmin. Jisung feels too nervous for something like that; making new friends. Chan offers him a small smile as a greeting, and Jisung does his best to return the smile without looking too awkward.

On the next stop, the elevator becomes packed. Jisung is much too squeamish, anxious, and claustrophobic for this, and of course the people in the building choose today, while he can in theory read minds and invade privacy, to not have any respect for personal space. One very tall man enters, and as the doors slide shut, people are inadvertently shoved around.

Someone jostles Chan, and Chan accidentally presses Jisung against the wall. He’s smooshed.

“Oh, excuse me, Jisung-ssi! My bad!” Then the pressure is off him just as fast—Chan pushes himself away from him to create some distance, but his hands are on either side of Jisung’s upper arms. His thumbs are still touching him.

‘Wow, Jisung looks so pretty today—he looks pretty every day, though. He seems exhausted, but he’s so good-looking even with the dark circles and messy hair. I hope he’s doing okay; he needs to be getting some sleep. If he were my boyfriend, I would make sure he gets to sleep at a regular hour and has consistent rest. Maybe I would cuddle him until he falls asleep every night. I could make him a nice big dinner and listen to his frustrations…what if he’s stressed about something, and that’s why he can’t sleep? I just wish we were close enough that I could ask him—’

Jisung’s mind explodes. This isn’t real life. What’s going on? Hello? Is he panicking? He thinks so. His eyes are round, staring over at Chan, who’s not really looking at him, perhaps not offering any eye contact on purpose.

The doors finally open, and Jisung knows it’s not even his floor—he just can’t get out fast enough. He shoulders past Chan and the rest, not even checking his reaction while he bolts through the sliding doors. He sprints down the hallway towards the bathroom, his narrow legs carrying him as fast as they can go. His shoulder hits the bathroom door to swing it open with a bang, and he hyperventilates in front of the mirror, clutching the basin of the sink in a white-knuckled grip.

Jisung’s cheeks are flushed from running, but the rest of him looks positively sickly. He grips his dark hair, smoothing it down as a coping mechanism. 

Chan likes him? Why would he like him? That doesn’t make any sort of sense that Jisung can wrap his head around. No one likes Jisung, no one ever has. The only logical solution is that this is a big mistake. He’s just somehow hallucinating these thoughts. He’s imagining what he must want Chan to be thinking. He needs to go to the doctor.

He splashes water on his face, squishes his cheeks in an attempt to get ahold of himself, and exits the bathroom. He has had enough of hearing peoples’ thoughts.

Jisung doesn’t go to the doctor. He takes a couple flights of stairs to his floor, deciding to work on his report instead. He’s winded in an embarrassing way when he arrives at his desk, but no one pays attention to him. And luckily, Chan isn’t around. Jisung sets his things down at his desk, and after briefly checking his emails, he gets to work. Since his report isn’t due until the end of the week, Jisung has plenty of time to work on it, and he takes advantage of the lack of fire underneath him to relax and begin to get his work done.

He’s barely been working for twenty minutes when his boss, Park Jinyoung, rounds the corner.

“Han.”

“Sajangnim.” Han turns his chair around and bows in his seat. His boss sucks, plain and simple: always on Jisung’s case about anything and everything, while turning around and buttering up everyone else. It’s a big reason Jisung no longer cares about working himself up the ladder here or performing above the minimum. It hardly seems to matter what he does to his boss.

“How’s the report coming along?”

Jisung gestures to it. “It’s about fifty-percent done, sir. It will certainly be turned into our clients by the deadline.”

“Right.” Park-nim grimaces. “About that—I just got a call from our clients. They want the report done today.”

“Today?” Jisung’s eyes widen. “Sir—”

“I told them it won’t be an issue; it’s vitally important for them to have it for their third-quarter bookkeeping. It won’t be an issue, right, Han?”

“I—” Jisung looks at his working copy again and swallows. So much for no fire underneath him. “No, sajangnim. I’ll get it done by tonight.”

“Great.” Luckily his boss doesn’t try to pat his shoulder or touch him before he turns and heads back towards his office.

Jisung sighs and spins his chair back to his computer. He pulls on a pair of headphones and turns up his music, a band called Silica Gel, and gets to his report. It takes hours of typing and refining, and it ends up becoming the perfect distraction from the fiasco that had been his morning until it’s barely a blip in his mind. Jisung tunes out everyone else, his whole world becoming the lyrics in his ears and the numbers and words in front of him. When it’s lunchtime, he quickly eats the sandwich he bought from the convenience store that morning, takes a quick bathroom break, and goes back to the report ten minutes later, already lamenting losing that much time to work on it.

He’s finally interrupted at the end of the work day, and jarringly. Chan pops his head up next to his cubicle, causing Jisung to jump out of his skin.

“Ahhh!— Oh, sorry, Chan-ssi, you scared me.” Jisung pulls off his headphones and forces a smile at him that turns shaky.

“No, I’m sorry, Jisung-ssi!” Chan seems apologetic. “I wanted to see if you’re doing okay, mate? You didn’t look so good in the elevator this morning, and I haven’t seen you all day. Are you going home soon?”

Jisung can easily picture Chan with a tail wagging behind him. He’s reminded about those thoughts in the elevator that he believed he overheard…but he still hasn’t properly processed the idea. He hasn’t heard anyone else’s thoughts all day, but he also hasn’t touched anyone since the elevator. It’s all too easy to convince himself that he’d made all of that up; a product of the delusions in his mind from being sleep deprived then, and sleep deprived now. Jisung shakes his head at Chan’s last question. “Nah, Park-nim wants this report done by tonight, so I have to stay until it’s done.” He gestures to his work, and Chan briefly glances at his screen.

The other looks pensive for a moment, then nods. “I’ll be right back, okay? Sit tight.” He ducks away, darting quickly down the hall and out of sight. Jisung blinks confusedly after him. Well, that interaction had been quick. He doesn’t believe Chan will actually return—it’s the end of the day, and he’s likely to remember that he can leave and head home.

Jisung wishes he could go home to his bed and his anime, but he still has work to worry about. He stands up and briefly stretches his arms over his head, then sits back down and pulls the headphones on again, continuing to type out a table.

He returns to his zoned-out mindspace, only to violently jolt out of his state fifteen minutes later by a hand on his shoulder. He looks up to see that Chan has made his way back. His fingers feel artificially cold against his crisp shirt.

‘God, he looks really good with headphones on,’ Jisung hears, loud and clear in his head. He blushes faintly as Chan speaks up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you again, Jisung-ssi. I brought us coffees.” Sure enough, he holds up two iced drinks.

Jisung is still in a daze, willing his heartbeat to calm itself, so Chan continues, “I see that you bring iced americanos to your cubicle a lot, so that’s what I got for you. I hope that’s okay?”

He stirs himself out of it. Wow, he pays attention to his coffee order? That’s so thoughtful... “Definitely okay, Chan-ssi, thank you.” Jisung pushes his headphones onto his shoulders and reaches for the drink, trying to avoid touching his fingers as they pass off, but he manages to touch them anyway. He braces for the thoughts.

‘Jisung has a bit of stubble on his face…was he able to shave this morning? He must be so tired…oh , is that a freckle on his cheek? He’s so cute, I—’ 

He blinks and isn’t fast enough pulling his hand and the drink away. He didn’t know he has stubble that he’d missed from shaving, and he hardly, if ever, thinks about the single tiny mole that sits on his left cheek. That’s proof enough for him: he can read Chan’s mind. And Chan has a crush on him. It makes his stomach stir uncomfortably. He doesn’t know what to do about it, about any of this. He should probably ignore it, if anything. These are Chan’s personal, private thoughts, and even though they’re about Jisung, he doesn’t have a right to hear them. This new gift only serves to make him feel more freakish than usual.

He breathes in, then shakily sets down the drink onto the desk. The next thought occurs to him belatedly: “Chan-ssi, are you working on something, too? Or is that decaf?” He looks at the caffeinated drink Chan’s holding that would likely keep him up all night.

“Oh—no, this is caffeine for me so I can be more focused on helping you with your report.”

“Wait. No way, you definitely don’t need to do that; the coffee’s helpful enough—”

“I wasn’t really asking, Jisung-ssi.” Chan looks at him with a flat expression. “I’m going to get my laptop from my cubicle, while you email me what you have so far.”

He doesn’t leave it up for debate at all, so Jisung decides to listen without offering an argument. He saves the work project, then quickly sends him a copy. Chan returns moments later, plugging in his laptop and grabbing a chair to sit close by. But not close enough to accidentally touch him, thank god.

It doesn’t take Jisung long to catch the other up on what’s left, and they get to work, staying silent save for occasionally discussing additions to the project. With Chan there to collaborate on the report, the work cuts down dramatically, and they manage to email it to their clients for approval within a couple of hours.

With the report finally finished, Jisung leans back in his chair, scrubs his stubbly face with his hands, and runs his fingers through his hair in relief. He looks over at Chan, who is frozen and watching the action. Jisung speaks up awkwardly. “You’re kind of a lifesaver, you know? Thank you so much for helping me, man…I probably would have been here all night.”

Chan blinks away, while offering a kind smile. “It’s no problem. You can just buy me dinner sometime to make up for it.”

Huh? “Huh?” Jisung blinks at him, his eyes wide.

“Yeah! We’re friends, right?” Chan’s smile remains unwavering, refusing to offer any insight into his head, unless he cheated by touching him.

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Yeah. Then we should have dinner sometime.” Jisung powers off his computer and pulls on his coat, while packing his things for the night. He knew Chan very possibly wanted more than friends, but Jisung is happy with being friends. Friends can be uncomplicated, especially since he doesn’t know how he even feels about Chan’s crush. He doesn’t have many friends, so just friends would be really nice.

He and Chan take the elevator to the main floor, this ride much less eventful than the morning one. They stand a reasonable distance apart from each other, and Jisung takes the time to check his measly amount of notifications, mostly from phone games he plays, and to pull up the bus schedule.

“Shit,” Jisung curses under his breath, as they make their way through the front doors.

“What’s up?” Chan hears him anyway.

“Um, it’s nothing,” Jisung looks at him in the glow of the streetlights. “The last bus left twenty minutes ago, so I have to take an Uber to get home…” he pulls up the app and allows it to find his location, when he sees a hand covering his screen. Chan’s hand. He looks up with some confusion. “Chan-ssi?”

“I have a car, mate. I’ll just take you home,” Chan answers, tilting his head expectantly.

Jisung draws his eyebrows together. “That’s…no way, I can’t ask you to do that. I live too far away, and it’s already really late.”

“Then that Uber ride’s going to be pretty expensive.”

“Yeah, but…it’s fine. Really.” Jisung starts to call the ride…only to feel the phone being pulled from his fingers. He looks up to see Chan holding it. “Hey! What the—”

“You can crash on my couch, then,” Chan states seriously.

Jisung blinks a couple times, his mind moving at a thousand miles a minute. Sleep? At Chan’s house? Sleeping at Chan’s house? He would be sleeping on the couch and Chan on his bed, though, right? So it’s not like they would be sleeping together. He can get up early when the bus is running to head home and change clothes for work…he found it hard to find a fault in this plan. Or a way to say no.

“I…if that’s not too much trouble for you, Chan-ssi,” Jisung agrees reluctantly. He watches the other’s face light up.

“Great! You’re going to like my sofa, Jisung-ssi. I bought it solely for comfort reasons,” he chats as they make their way towards the parking garage. They commiserate about space in apartments for sofas (Jisung has no space for such furniture), and they climb into the car.

Chan is a safe driver. He appropriately uses his turn signal, stops at every yellow light, and leaves appropriate space for the few cars on the road this time of night.

“What were you listening to with your headphones today?” Chan asks him while flipping through radio stations.

“Uh, Silica Gel,” Jisung admits. “Have you heard their music? They’re really good.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’ll give them a listen.”

“No Pain is the best one,” Jisung informs him. “What do you usually listen to?”

“Um…Jason Mraz, mostly…or the Greatest Showman soundtrack…” he responds, a bit sheepish.

“Oh. Our music tastes are a bit different, then,” Jisung grins. Chan glances at him through the rearview mirror, his expression softening immediately. “Let’s listen to some Greatest Showman, then.” Jisung waves his hand toward the console.

Chan listens to his request, connecting his phone to the car and turning on the soundtrack. Jisung has watched the movie and heard these songs before, and he feels comfortable enough to sing along with Chan to some of the words he knows.

Then Jisung, much too confidently, comes in way too early to a line, and laughs at his mistake with his face flushing.

Chan looks fondly at him, pointedly looking at his mouth before looking back at the road. Jisung had some idea what he’s thinking—his mouth has a tendency to make a strange heart shape when he laughs or smiles. To him, it’s just one of his weird quirks. But Chan doesn’t look at all like he thinks it’s weird.

What is Jisung thinking, really? He knows Chan has a crush, and now he’s willingly going to the man’s house. Is Chan going to try and make a move while they’re there, while he has Jisung alone? Does he expect something from Jisung? He has zero experience here, so he has no idea how to pick up on cues and how to avoid them. Friends spend the night at each other’s house, right? So this doesn’t have to mean anything. He doesn’t want to hurt Chan’s feelings or make things weird.

Chan parallel-parks into a space outside his building, and he leads them inside and up to his floor. He opens the door of his apartment to a modest, clean space, complete with a separate living area, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. Jisung internally sighs with relief that his apartment is not an open concept like Jisung’s is, and that the room with the couch and the room with the bed are separated.

“I’m going to make us a couple quick sandwiches for dinner,” Chan says, ducking into his kitchen to pull out necessary ingredients. “Please, have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

Jisung sets down his bag in the living room, taking in some of the decor he has: the tv, the photos of his family he has hanging up, the shelf of CDs that he decides to look at first and wouldn’t be as invasive as staring at family photos. There’s a lot of acoustic pop, and plenty of movie soundtracks.

Chan joins him a couple of minutes later, offering him a turkey sandwich on a plate. “Sorry you’re having a sandwich for both lunch and dinner, but I’ll make up for it with breakfast tomorrow.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, Chan-ssi, thank you so much…” Jisung mentally catches up. “How did you know I had a sandwich at lunch?”

Chan pales slightly. “I just saw you eating while I was heading to my desk.” His laugh that follows seems forced.

Jisung nods at this information, feeling a bit bewildered that Chan had been watching him even while he’d been zoned out the entire day and simultaneously trying to keep Chan from his mind. He takes the plate from him and sits on the couch. Chan joins him and sits a small distance away.

Jisung picks up half of his sandwich. “What do you usually do while you eat dinner?”

“Hm?” Chan takes a bite, then finishes swallowing before answering him. “I just watch TV. We could watch an episode of something?”

Jisung nods, and Chan turns the TV on. His ‘recently watched’ is filled with rom coms and sitcoms. “Do you like Friends?”

Another nod. Jisung had no opinion, and wouldn’t be picky in another person’s home. Chan turns on a random episode, and Jisung does his best to pay attention, but he’s kept the language to English, so it’s difficult to follow along with their dialogue. And he doesn’t want to be a bother, so he doesn’t say anything.

When the episode is over, Jisung decides it’s safe to say something, only because he knows he’s been much too quiet. “So, you’re from Australia, right?”

“That’s right.” Chan takes Jisung’s plate and stacks them, setting them on the coffee table. “Sydney. That’s where my family is.”

“What made you want to live in Seoul?” Jisung asks.

“Well,” Chan looks him over, maybe to gauge how much detail he should give. “I actually moved here as a trainee initially, you know, to be an idol one day. And then when that didn’t pan out, I’d made a few friends and decided I would just follow them to university here. And then after university, I was offered a position at an advertising firm, did that for a few years, and then I transferred over to our company. I guess…I’ve just been here so long that South Korea feels more like home than Sydney.” He doesn’t seem sad about this information at all; it seems more like he’s just stating facts.

“Do you miss it? Sydney? Your family?”

“Mmm. Yeah, sometimes. I think I associate Australia with childhood nostalgia, and so my happy memories are all surrounded by sunshine and beaches, you know? But…I am happy here, don’t get me wrong. I like my job well enough, I have some good friends, and my family comes here and visits every few months.”

Jisung nods again, letting him know he’s listening. Chan takes the plates into the kitchen and returns quickly, sitting back at his place on the couch. “What about you, though?” He asks. “Have you always lived in Seoul?”

“No,” Jisung shakes his head. “I lived here for a while, but my family moved us to Malaysia in grade school, and then I was mostly homeschooled. I moved back here for the military, then university and a job.”

“So we both have distant families,” Chan says, offering a small smile.

“Oh, I guess so, Chan-ssi,” Jisung smiles back at him. He seems to be happy about them having things in common. “So…I guess that’s why your Korean is so good.”

“Oh yeah, years of practice—” he chuckles for half a beat, then his eyes light up in a panic, and he looks over at Jisung, recalling something. “Hey, how’s your English?”

“Um, it’s excellent, thanks for asking.” Jisung can’t help but feel like he’s been caught, and he recites rather nervously: “Hi, my name’s Han. How are you? I’m fine, thank you, and you?” He pauses, then quickly adds, “Oh! ‘We were on a break.’” To quote the episode of the show they were watching.

Chan laughs, but it’s clear he’s also cringing at himself. “I’m sorry, mate, I’ll turn on subtitles next time.”

‘Next time?’ Right, being friends meant hanging out more often. Jisung laughs in return. “Don’t worry about it—it’s time I learned more English, anyway. Um…I think it might be close to my bedtime, though.” He checks his phone for the time, and sure enough, it’s around the time he usually makes himself shut his eyes.

“Right—let me go get some sheets and blankets. And pajamas.” Chan ducks into his room before Jisung can further question about the pajamas. He expects perhaps a spare t-shirt and sweatpants that he can return in the morning. He doesn’t expect his coworker to appear minutes later with a folded matching set, light green plaid-patterned, sitting atop a fluffy blanket and sheets that are being handed to him.

“Chan-ssi?” Jisung tilts his head, confused.

“I just had an extra pajama set you can use,” he answers nonchalantly, while purposely not looking at Jisung.

When Jisung takes the blankets and pajamas from Chan, he accidentally brushes his hands along his arms, catching a large amount of his thoughts. They stream into his mind before he can safely pull his hands away.

It’s a vivid mental picture—a mental picture of Jisung wearing the pajamas. His hair is softer and wavier than it is right now, secured with small clips. He looks soft and cute; much cuter than he will actually look wearing these. Evidently Chan doesn’t agree. Why is he fantasizing about Jisung wearing these? A further thought that made Jisung’s cheeks flush: what if Chan bought these pajamas specifically for him? He suddenly really doesn’t want to wear them…but it would be rude not to, so Jisung decides he has no choice.

“Okay, shower’s available if you want to take one tonight or tomorrow. Goodnight Jisung-ssi,” Chan gives him a tiny wave and retreats into his room. Jisung breathes a sigh of relief when he’s gone. He pulls on the pajamas, realizing they do fit suspiciously well, the waistband of the bottoms fitting perfectly around his small waist. He buttons up the top and takes inventory of himself in the mirror next to the front door. As expected, even though he looks softer, it’s still nothing like Chan’s fantasy. He has a five o’clock shadow for one, and dark undereye circles. His hair is a bit greasy. This has been a very long day.

He fits the sheets on the couch and turns off the lights before he settles under the fluffy comforter, finally letting his body relax. Chan is right: his couch is very comfortable. His eyes itch when they close, and he easily feels himself drifting off to sleep.

He wakes up what feels like seconds after to a small squeaking sound. When he slightly opens his eyes, he still only sees darkness. Jisung’s eyes quickly adjust to the room, though, and he can see everything. Including the outline of Chan standing in the doorway of his room.

Jisung’s heartbeat picks up when he sees that the other is just watching him in the dark. He feels creeped out. What is he doing? Is Chan planning something? Does he just want to watch Jisung sleep? Jisung slowly reaches for his phone under the covers, in case he needs to bolt out of his apartment as quickly as possible. He isn’t sure if he can fight off Chan or outrun him, but he’ll try his best.

Chan doesn’t seem to notice that Jisung is awake. He simply shakes his head and quickly darts into his room, closing the door. Jisung hears a lock click. For the first time all day, he wishes he could read Chan’s thoughts.

The door doesn’t open again, and an exhausted Jisung finds sleep once again. It’s a solid, dreamless sleep, and he forgets about setting an early alarm to head to his home and change. He is instead woken up by the smell of bacon. “Nrgh,” is his first word of the day. Jisung forces his eyes open and takes in his surroundings. The morning light streams in through the window of…Chan’s living room. Right.

He stretches and heaves himself off the couch, then folds the bedding up before padding over to the kitchen. He completely forgets what he’s wearing. “Good morning,” he greets Chan in a gravelly morning voice.

Chan looks up from the stove, and Jisung does not miss the once-over he is given, and the way Chan’s ears turn red. “Morning, Jisung-ssi. I’m doing a fry-up. An Aussie brekkie,” he says. Jisung doesn’t know if he’s ever heard a couple of those words used before.

“Wow. It smells great,” Jisung tells him. “Um, what’s a fry-up, and an Aussie brekkie?”

Chan winks at him. “You’ll see. Do you want to use the shower? Oh—and I left an extra toothbrush and razor for you if you need it.”

“Hm? Oh…yeah. Thanks, Chan-ssi.” Jisung leaves the kitchen and grabs his clothes from yesterday, then closes himself in the bathroom to work on making himself more presentable. He takes a more thorough shower, cleaning himself with Chan’s shampoo and body wash. Jisung brushes his teeth at the same time, but waits until he finishes with the shower to shave his face.

Putting on his much more wrinkled clothes from yesterday, he leaves the bathroom and is greeted at the living room with a full plate of eggs over-easy, bacon, toast, and grilled mushrooms and tomatoes.

Jisung’s stomach gurgles at the sight, and Chan laughs. “Eat up, and then I’ll take you back to your apartment.”

“O-oh, you don’t have to do that. I can just catch the bus over there—”

“—But then you’ll probably be late, Jisung-ssi.” Chan is right, but that doesn’t mean Jisung is happy about it.

“Maybe Park-sajangnim owes me for the overtime,” he grumbles, shoveling delicious food into his mouth.

“He definitely does, but that doesn’t mean he won’t yell at you again,” Chan expresses with some concern in his tone while he eats his own food.

Jisung didn’t know that Chan paid attention when their boss scolded him, but he’s quickly learning that Chan pays attention to him a lot. Much more than he realizes. “That’s true.” His shoulders sag a bit as he finishes eating. “Hey, thanks for the breakfast, Chan-ssi. This is really good.”

“No worries, Jisung-ssi.” Jisung almost misses the way Chan glances a second too long on his face. Namely, his cheeks. They’re probably round with food right now. Jisung doesn’t comment on it, and his coworker doesn’t either, so they finish the brekkie in silence. Then Chan places their dishes in the sink, and Jisung grabs his bag before heading out the door with him.

Yesterday had been perhaps the weirdest day of Jisung’s life. From the moment he found out he could read minds; to Chan being…he doesn’t know how to describe it. Intense, maybe. He’s happy to leave all the strange feelings behind him and start a new day. And that includes keeping his distance from Chan.

Chan is objectively handsome, with his silky light brown hair, his straight, pointed nose paired with full lips, and a body that is definitely fit. More than that, though, he is very kind. He’s attentive to Jisung in a way that he’s not used to from people, in a way that no one else is. He’s incredibly considerate, going out of his way to help him with his document and loaning his couch and even cooking him breakfast—even though the way he hosted had been odd. But he doesn’t want to lead his coworker on when he’s feeling so confused and so overwhelmed. It’s better to separate himself and get a better perspective on things, he thinks. So he only needs to go to work the rest of this week, and then he has the whole weekend to relax and figure himself out.

He changes clothes at home, buys a coffee at a different 7/11 than his usual one (RIP going to his nearby 7/11), and grabs the bus to work, preparing himself to evade Chan. Jisung has some idea how to do that; he can simply take a different elevator than normal, and focus on his work tasks. That’s exactly what he does, and as he steps onto his floor, waving and greeting a few of his coworkers, he luckily doesn’t catch sight of him. He arrives at his desk and briefly checks his emails, and finds a new one that came in from the group he sent the document to the night prior. They have a long, bulleted list of changes, so Jisung exhales and begins his work day like this.

Jisung finishes the changes and sends off another email to the group, when he feels a small poke on his shoulder. ‘I should not have eaten a breakfast burrito this morning, I can’t relieve gas with all these people around me, I’ll just wait until I’m back in my office—’

He stifles a giggle and swivels in his chair to see his boss, his laugh dying in his throat when he sees that Chan is with him. Chan looks uneasy for some reason, a customer service smile painted on his face. It can’t be because of Jisung, right?

Park Jinyoung also looks uncomfortable, but at least Jisung knows why. Maybe whatever this meeting is about, he can stall it some. Just to see that will happen.

“Bang asked me about the report, and he knew a little too much about it. So I inferred that he helped you with it. Is that correct, Han?”

Jisung nods. “I gave him a portion of the document and my notes, and he helped immensely with filling in the information I had, sir.” He looks to Chan briefly and he gazes back apologetically and a bit guiltily. Ah. He thinks he got Jisung in trouble. This is nothing he can’t handle, though.

To both of their surprise though, their boss smiles. “Lucky you had our star to guide you on this project.”

“—Oh no, sir—” Chan tries to cut in, but their boss continues as if undisturbed.

“As a small token of my thanks for you two staying late, I have this coupon for two free dinners at the barbecue place across the street.” He hands it to Jisung, who is bewildered by the information. Park-sajangnim never rewards him. What’s different here—oh, Chan. Now it makes sense. Unfortunately, this directly conflicts with his personal pact to see his coworker less, so he tries to hand it back, albeit slowly as to again, drag out this talk.

“Thank you for your kindness, but um, I can’t accept this—” then Jisung feels the paper being slipped out of his hand, and placed in Chan’s pocket.

“Yes, thank you, sir. Han-ssi owes me dinner anyway, so we’ll enjoy dinner together tonight.” Chan bows. Jisung forgot about the almost throwaway quip of Chan’s from last night, amidst the sleeping over at his house. And with learning he could read minds.

Their boss seems much paler, and is definitely clenching. “Happy to help. You two have fun.” And he seems to almost sprint to his office.

“What’s with him?” Chan wonders aloud.

“Gas pains,” Jisung answers automatically, before remembering himself. Chan cracks a conspiratorial grin and lightly smacks him on the shoulder, thinking it’s a joke at their boss’ expense. ‘He’s hilarious, I hope he’s comfortable enough to joke tonight at dinner,’ Jisung hears.

Oh— “I hope it’s okay that I said we can go to dinner tonight, Jisung-ssi,” Chan remembers, looking at him in earnest with an almost pleading look in his brown eyes.

Jisung pulls himself away from his touch and shifts in his chair uncomfortably. He has no idea how to get out of the dinner. He can make some excuse about not feeling up to it today? That can work. He looks up and meets his eyes again…and melts. He can’t do it. “No, that's…fine. I just don’t want to be out too late, if that’s okay. It’s been a long week,” he says, looking down and adjusting the shirt around his waist. His excuses are true, so he has no trouble saying them. And he does owe Chan a dinner…

Chan nods and visibly perks up. “Great! I’ll see you after work, then.”

After he leaves, Jisung groans and rests his head on the desk.

He isn’t needed for much the rest of the day, luckily—his whole week had been carved out for the report he’s already completed. So he suffers boredly through work, until he’s able to finish his shift.

Jisung finds Chan at the elevators, a leather bag slung over his shoulder, waiting for him. He seems excited, and a grin spreads across his face when he takes in Jisung walking towards him. Jisung isn’t used to this—someone waiting around for him, someone lighting up at the sight of him. If he didn’t literally know Chan’s thoughts, he wouldn’t trust the behavior. Scratch that—he still doesn't trust it.

They’re silent in the elevator, and when they’re walking to the restaurant. Jisung hopes this is okay: he feels like a terrible conversationalist, unable to come up with things to say at the opportune time. He’s always been this way, though, so if Chan really has feelings for him, then he should know what he’s getting, right? Jisung is relieved—and somewhat surprised he’s relieved—when Chan doesn’t look awkward or uncomfortable at all, instead looking over and offering him a warm smile.

The two reach the warm restaurant and are seated at a table. “Do you get barbecue a lot?” Chan breaks the silence.

Jisung shakes his head. “Not very often. It’s a lot to eat, and a lot of socializing for one person. Me and my friend Seungmin go sometimes, though, when he’s in the mood for it.”

Chan takes in this information, nodding. “What do you go for?” He gestures to the menu.

Right. “Oh, the short ribs, and beef tongue.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever tried beef tongue,” he admits while looking at the menu.

“We don’t have to order them—”

“—Nah, mate, let’s do it. It’s the boss’ bill, and all. Would you say you’re an expert at cooking?”

Jisung had to think about that. “I’m all right,” he decides. “I’m a week older than Seungmin, so I’ll play up that I’m his hyung and have to cook up the meat for him. He hates it, so that’s why I do it.” Jisung grins.

Chan giggles. “I’ve never heard you talk about your friend before. Is he your best friend?”

Jisung nods. “We met at uni after I’d finished off my military service, and we had a couple classes together. He moved in with me for a semester when he got kicked out of his old place, and we became closer then.”

“He doesn’t still live with you, right? You said you’re by yourself.” Chan is very attentive as he asks this, and Jisung hasn’t encountered someone so interested in learning about his friend before.

“Right. He has his own shoebox apartment. Like, we could pool our income and get a better place, the both of us, but we wouldn’t stay best friends if we had to be in each other’s space all the time…if that makes sense. Like, by the end of that semester, we’d had many nights of talking and getting closer as friends, but he was also sick of me not picking up after myself and not taking out the trash, which, fair, I should have been taking out the trash, and I’ve definitely learned my lesson on that…oh! And he’s not perfect either! He stays up all night with the lights on to write his romance novels.” It occurs to Jisung that he’s just rambling unprompted, and what’s worse, is Chan is letting him, practically hanging onto his every word.

An errant thought passes through Jisung’s mind: has Chan always acted like this around Jisung, during the work day and while having get-togethers with other coworkers, and Jisung simply never noticed it before? He doesn’t know how to pick up on crush cues, but now that he knows Chan has a crush, his actions are obvious. Jisung wonders if there were times in the past he’d been none the wiser, content in being oblivious.

“Um, you live alone too, right?” Jisung cringes as he asks the follow-up question, realizing it’s an incredibly stupid thing to ask him. He literally went to his apartment last night.

As expected, Chan laughs at him. “Where would I have hidden a roommate from you, Jisung-ssi?”

Jisung blushes faintly. “I don’t know your life, man! Don’t come for me.” He covers his eyes with his hands.

Still laughing, Chan pulls his hands away from his face. His grip is strong, yet his skin is very soft. ‘He’s so cute when he blushes,’ Chan thinks. “I live alone. It’s probably for the best; I’ve been told I snore quite loudly.”

“Really? I didn’t hear you.”

“That’s because you also snore quite loudly,” Chan smiles, still with that fond look.

Jisung scoffs and folds his arms. “Yah—”

“That’s okay! It just means you slept really well last night, right? I hope you’ll keep up the streak.” Jisung remembers Chan having thoughts about his under-eye circles. He’s sure they haven’t gone away, they never completely do—but Chan seems determined to see them gone.

“I’ll…try,” he decides to say. “I just need things to stop being so interesting at night. And for my evening free time to go on longer.”

“I understand.” Chan nods solemnly, at the same time the waiter moves to their table to take their order. He orders his beef cuts, including the tongue, and also includes the addition of the short ribs Jisung mentioned in passing.

They chat lightly for a bit until the meats, sides, and sauces are brought out. Chan brings the tongue closer to the grill. “Okay, Jisung-ssi. You’re the tongue expert—don’t take that the wrong way—you should cook and tell me what to do.”

Jisung smirks at him and leans in closer to feed the cuts of meat to the grill. They sit for a few minutes until it’s time for him to flip them, right on time. They ogle for a bit at the sear Jisung is able to achieve on the meat.

Then it’s time to take them off the grill, so Jisung slices up the tongue with the scissors, and gives a few pieces to Chan.

“The best way to eat these is with a little bit of lemon and salt to bring out the savory flavor of the tongue,” Jisung informs him seriously.

Chan “ooohs” at the information, then does as Jisung instructs him. Jisung sits patiently as Chan tries it. He’s slow to put it into his mouth. His face scrunches up and he makes humming sounds. All of this adds to Jisung having no idea if he’s liking it or not.

“...Good?” He asks.

“Very good,” Chan answers after he’s finished chewing. “I’m definitely going to order this again. Now sit back and let your hyung cook for you, hm?”

Jisung blinks. “Wait…how old are you?”

“Thirty-three…thank you for making me admit that,” he chuckles while adding a few cuts of flank steak to the grill.

“You look younger than thirty-three,” Jisung tells him honestly, receiving a blush from Chan. “Meanwhile, I got visible forehead lines at twenty-seven, and quite possibly a few gray hairs just from turning thirty on Monday.”

Chan looks up at him with concern. “Your thirtieth birthday was on Monday?”

“...Yeah?” Jisung doesn’t know why the sudden change in attitude.

“I saw you Monday, and I had no idea. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jisung raises his eyebrows. “I’m not a teenager anymore—I don’t really like to advertise my birthday, Chan-ssi. Besides, no one at the office knows. If they did, I’d have to receive a disingenuous birthday card from everyone with some pre-printed message and everyone’s signature because they can’t be bothered to write something…and I mean, I’m the same way so I can’t blame anyone else…” Jisung realizes he really has a tendency of rambling when Chan looks at him focused like that.

“Well, now you’ve slipped up, mate, and I know your precious birthday secret,” Chan answers, giving him a smug grin.

“Ugh, no—”

“—So be prepared for a genuine birthday message next year.” Chan snaps the tongs at him menacingly, then serves the cuts up on a plate. Jisung only stares at him. He’s never had anyone make such a fuss about his birthday before—not since he was a small child. He figures his family got bored of celebrating it as he became an adult, and it became less fun. Jisung became less fun, after all.

Chan continues to cook over the grill, and their chatter dies down as they eat. Jisung eventually diverts his attention to the various side dishes, eyeing the bowl of plain raw garlic.

“Do you want me to cook some of that?” Chan catches Jisung looking.

“Nah—” He’s feeling somewhat safe at the moment, in a bit of a silly mood, and he grabs a piece of it with his chopsticks out of the bowl. “I don’t know if you know—this is called ‘garlic sous vide’ and only the elite know about the depth of its flavor,” he tells him sagely.

“Oh, yeah…I’ve heard about that,” Chan plays along, to his surprise. “Maybe you should try some, as a member of the elite.”

“Yes, quite.” Jisung places it into his mouth and begins chewing without much extra thought. Immediately he is hit with an overwhelming strong flavor that is both much too spicy and pure garlic, and Jisung jolts his head around uncontrollably, darting his head around for a napkin.

To his horror, he thinks Chan is bringing his hand up to allow Jisung to spit the garlic into, but it’s actually worse: he clamps Jisung’s jaw shut to keep him from spitting it out. Jisung jolts away from him and his thoughts of keeping the garlic trapped in his mouth, and finally and covertly spits it into a napkin.

Chan laughs, harder than he’s ever seen. It makes Jisung’s heart soar for reasons he’s unsure about, even if it is at his expense.

“Yah, what the hell, hyung? I could have died,” Jisung whines, which only makes Chan laugh even more. His eyes are squinted shut and he’s clutching his sides. Jisung realizes he looks cute.

When Chan finally settles down, he gently pats Jisung’s arm. In Chan’s mind, he’s only replaying the image of him eating the garlic, which makes Jisung pout slightly.

“Are you okay, mate?” He asks still with an element of amusement, but he’s definitely being genuine.

Jisung quick-laughs, and waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah.”

They settle back into eating, in good spirits. Chan seems like he has something to say, but he doesn’t say it, which starts to annoy Jisung enough to try reaching out to touch him again, forgetting that this is a breach of privacy and a breakage of his own rules.

But Chan spits out what he wants to say before Jisung can think of a clever way to brush his arm against him. “So you… called me ‘hyung.’”

Jisung pauses the motion of reaching for lettuce, searching for when he did through his mind. “Did I?” Then he remembers: just a bit ago, while he recovered from the garlic. “Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t in my right mind—”

“No-no, I liked it. I think you should always call me ‘hyung,’ if you want.”

Well, of course he likes it. Jisung tries to think of reasons he shouldn’t call him this. It doesn’t really mean anything, right? Friends call friends ‘hyung’ all the time; it’s nothing special. “Well, what about at work? Does anyone else call you ‘hyung?’”

“Um, no, actually,” Chan admits while his chopsticks reach to grab a piece of lettuce. “You’d be the first. Um, can I call you 'Jisung-ah' to make it even?”

Chan really wants this, Jisung notes. He studies Chan’s hopeful expression, feeling as if he could sense the thoughts behind those eyes without touching him.

“Okay, sure, why not.” Jisung shrugs. “Um—hyung.”

The reaction is instantaneous, causing Chan to beam at him with his handsome smile. “Thanks, Jisung-ah.”

They finish eating and Chan stacks their plates neatly, then hands Jisung the coupon from his wallet. “So you can pay for dinner,” he teases.

Jisung stands up and stretches a bit, feeling very full. He feels like he doesn’t need to eat for days after this. He heads to the front counter, and after waiting in line for a bit, he approaches and anxiously hands the waiter the coupon, though he hates asking service workers to inconvenience themselves with discounts. They’re unbothered, though, and in turn enters the coupon into their computer. He starts to zone out and become somewhat blissful from eating such a good dinner, that he misses what the waiter says. “Hm?”

“I’m very sorry, sir, but your coupon expired two months ago and is no longer valid. Do you have another form of payment?”

Jisung blinks to let that register, then feels annoyance seep under his skin. Of course he’d been given an expired coupon. He should have figured his boss would pull something like that, either intentionally or unintentionally. He just thought it would be different when it affected golden boy Chan.

But now what is he going to do? Did he even have enough money in his account for this dinner after mid-month bills? “I’m so sorry—one moment,” he tells the waiter, and pulls up his bank account on his phone. Yes, he does, if he just uses his debit card…which he didn’t bring, his stomach flips as he pats his empty coat pockets. Maybe he can call up his boss late at night and tell him? And that plan wouldn’t work unless he answers calls this late from his least favorite employee…

He feels a figure move into his personal space and quickly steps to the side, looking over to see Chan handing over his debit card. “No —hyung—I’m supposed to be treating you for helping me!” Jisung tries to argue, but Chan only grins at him while the waiter processes the card.

“That’s okay, you can just get it the next time we go out.” Then Chan pats him on the arm in a friendly way, and a flood of thoughts from Chan rush into Jisung’s head. ‘Oh my god, I can’t believe I get to go out with him again…be cool, Chan…can’t let him know how I feel…don’t forget to put your card back where it goes!…but holy shit look at him, he’s gorgeous…I might be in love with him…’

Jisung quickly jerks his arm away without meaning to, causing Chan to give him a small tilt of the head, his eyebrows raised. He’s not thinking about that right now, instead, his mind is going through a deep, overwhelming cycle of What do I do? Fuck! Jisung’s given him the wrong impression somehow, and he doesn’t know where he went wrong. Instead of agreeing they should be friends mutually, Chan’s feelings somehow increased during this dinner, and it’s Jisung’s fault.

Chan is a beautiful man, sure. But he doesn’t know how he feels about him, about all this. Chan’s feelings are moving way too fast for him. When the waiter hands Chan the receipt, Jisung bows and makes his way out of the restaurant and onto the street, his coworker following closely behind in the cool night air.

“Jisung-ah? Is everything okay?”

Jisung stops walking, looking behind him at Chan. He still looks confused, but now his eyebrows are scrunched together in concern. Jisung sighs and forces his fingers to comb through his thick hair, ignoring the way Chan immediately watches the action. “Yeah, hyung…everything’s fine. Um, thank you for dinner, and offering your couch to me last night, and basically everything you’ve done...” He’s shaking a little, entirely unused to even the idea of rejecting someone, let alone actually doing it. “But I don’t think further dinners are necessary. I’ll just pay you back tomorrow when I get my debit card from home and find an ATM…and I’ll talk to our boss tomorrow about paying us back anyway, so…no one owes each other anything, all right? I’ll see you at work?”

For the first time since Jisung’s known him, he sees a flash of hurt dart across Chan’s face. He instinctively wants to take it all back and apologize immediately, but he can’t. He shouldn’t. He can’t lead the guy on. So it’s much better this way.

Then, as quick as it came, Chan shifts back to his normal, friendly self. Jisung may be seeing things that aren’t there, but it looks more like a mask than usual. “Sure, Jisung-ah. I’ll see you at work. Get home safe, okay?”

“Okay, hyung.” Then the two awkwardly wave and walk in separate directions: Chan to the car lot, Jisung to the bus stop.

Chapter Text

Seungmin looks at Jisung like he’s the single-most stupid person on the planet. Jisung would be fazed, except Seungmin looks at him like this quite a lot, and for much less. “So, let me see if I have your story correct. As of your birthday, you have the power to read the mind of anyone you touch.”

Jisung nods for him to keep going.

“You accidentally read your coworker Bang Chan’s mind, and you find out he has a massive crush on you?”

A more feeble nod this time.

“You let him invite you to his house, dress you in special Jisung pajamas, cook you breakfast, then take you out for barbecue the next day, all while you don’t have feelings for him back?”

Now Seungmin is just making this sound weirder than it already is.

Seungmin sits back on his couch, folding his arms, deliberating this information. “I think being a virgin is finally getting to you,” he decides.

Jisung sits opposite the coffee table from him on the floor, stressfully gnawing on some of Seungmin’s chips while he occasionally feeds a few to his friend’s vocal cat, Dori. He’d paid Chan back that morning, and received compensation from their boss for the dinner coupon incident, and now all that was left was for Jisung to gain some perspective on this entire situation. So after sending an emergency text to Seungmin asking to stop by his house after work, he was here, venting it all to his best friend.

“No, you dickhead,” Jisung leans back on his hands. “—Well, maybe it is getting to me a little. But I’m not lying to you.”

“Sure, you’re not.”

“You realize I can easily prove it to you?”

“Yeah, okay, Jisungie, read my mind by touching me then.” Seungmin retorts condescendingly, then pats his lap for Jisung to sit. Jisung does no such thing, instead moving to his feet to walk around the coffee table, grab Seungmin’s wrists, and tackle him to the couch. “What the—Jisung!” Seungmin falls to the cushions all too easily and struggles against his grip.

Jisung sits on his stomach, keeping him in place. “You’re thinking you want me off of you,” he says.

“Yeah, no shit!”

“Just relax, okay! Think of normal things I can’t guess.”

Glasses askew, Seungmin forces his wrists out of Jisungs hands and gives him a death-glare as he adjusts his frames. “Fine,” he relents. “What am I thinking about?”

Jisung can already hear all his thoughts coursing through his brain, and he voices them aloud as he receives some tangible ones.

“You have a massive deadline tonight, 10.5k words still to write for your next chapter…you need to kick me out soon so I can quit distracting you and bothering you, even though you do secretly enjoy being around me and you’re happy I stopped by… aww, Seungminnie,” Jisung gushes as Seungmin’s eyes widen below him.

Jisung continues, now completely copying Seungmin’s inner voice. “‘No-no-no, maybe Jisung actually can read minds, then I’d better not think about my delivery driver— mmph—’” Seungmin clamps a hand over his mouth, but Jisung continues with a muffled voice. “Mmm mmmm mmmm mm—” Jisung suddenly gasps and tumbles off of him.

“‘But it’s too bad my crush wouldn’t want me because I’m a virgin!’” Jisung repeats from Seungmin’s brain, yelling and pointing at him.

“What the fuck, Jisung!”

“You’ve been giving me shit about being a virgin when you’re also a virgin!?”

“Yeah, well—” Seungmin points at him in a rather Spiderman-pointing-meme way. “At least I’m not a freak who reads peoples’ minds!” Jisung falters at that, and he sees Seungmin register that he might have gone too far. “Jisung—”

“God, I know I am,” Jisung answers in anguish as he drops to the ground and covers his face with his hands. Seungmin sighs and drops down next to him, shifting over and leaning his head on Jisung’s shoulder.

‘Crap, I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. If all that’s true…then Jisung’s had the most eventful week of his life,’ Seungmin thinks. At the same time, he says, “You’re not a freak. It’s kind of cool, reading people’s minds. You should really use it to your advantage.”

“How?” Jisung rests his cheek against Seungmin’s head.

Seungmin peels his hands from Jisung’s face and holds them. “Find out what your clients at work are thinking, earn their favor while negotiating with them, then move up the corporate ladder,” he says as if it were obvious. “Or—Bang Chan has a crush on you, so you could always take advantage of that to get things you want.”

Jisung looks at him with shock. He has no idea how Seungmin manages to look so sweet while also being a menace at the same time. “I can’t take advantage of Chan-hyung,” he says with disbelief laced in his tone.

‘Hyung?’ He hears Seungmin think at him.

Jisung ignores this for now. “He’s kind of weird, and yes, the pajama thing comes off as creepy… but his thoughts are always in a good place. They’re kind of pure, even? I’ve never caught him like, imagining anything terrible in his mind; they’ve only about how attractive I am and how much…he’s falling in love with me…”

‘Jisung is so stupid.’ “You’re so stupid,” Seungmin relays to him. “Maybe you’ve never been with anyone before because you’re so dense.”

“Yah—”

“—But maybe Chan likes that about you. And in any case, you have to figure out how you feel about him, and you need to figure it out this weekend before you see him again.”

“I know,” Jisung grumbles.

Seungmin pats him on the head, then gets up to grab them more chips. They snack for a bit before Jisung’s best friend promptly kicks him out of his home to finish his deadline.

Later that night, after playing mobile phone games and watching anime for several hours, Jisung lays in bed and stares at his ceiling. How does he feel about Chan? 

He doesn’t come up with the answer, and the weekend passes by much too quickly. Before he knows it, he’s at work, sitting at his desk and chugging his 7/11 coffee, trying not to get anyone’s attention.

If he really thinks about the root of the problem, other than the utter lack of experience, and absolutely no idea how to even navigate a relationship, Jisung has never thought about guys that way before. He’s not opposed to the idea of being into guys, but he never found anyone that made him question his long-standing sexuality before. Chan is gorgeous—anyone can see that, and he’s very nice and very sweet to him. He’s friendly to everyone, he’s tidy, and he’s got a great sense of humor, based on the garlic thing at the restaurant the other night. Jisung’s thoughts turn against his control to imagine what they would be like in a relationship: Chan might make him breakfast whenever he stayed over, they could eat that breakfast together while Jisung gazes into Chan’s eyes. Perhaps he would have a bit of food on the corner of his large, plush lips and Jisung would lean over and wipe it with his thumb then gently kiss it off of him…

Jisung slams his head against his desk, breaking himself from his thoughts. At the same time, he hears commotion from the conference room, and turns his head to witness a man yelling at Chan through the glass. He’s never seen this before—usually it’s Jisung getting yelled at by clients. Chan is their lead salesperson, the golden boy.

He stands up and joins a couple of coworkers hovering nearby. “I’m kind of scared to give them their coffees right now,” Jinsol says to Hyunjin, two coffees clutched in her hand. Jisung hadn’t talked to his coworkers much at all last week, and he can’t help but think of the dirty thoughts he pulled from Jinsol’s head in the elevator last week when he approaches them. He’s careful not to touch either of them.

“I don’t blame you,” Hyunjin responds, looking uneasily towards the conference room.

Jisung suddenly feels an odd urge to step in for Chan, to protect him. Odd. He hasn’t had the urge or the need to protect him in years, and he can’t figure out how he can even help. This is a major client of theirs, and he can’t burn a bridge here, lest they both get fired. Unless…

“Jinsol-ssi, I can take them in for you,” Jisung offers before he can properly talk himself out of his plan. He half-thinks that Jinsol will deny the offer, but she easily pushes the coffees towards him.

“Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver, Jisung-ssi.”

“Make sure and tell us what’s going on in there when you come back!” Hyunjin lightly ushers him in the direction of the doors. When Hyunjin’s fingers brush against his back, Jisung hears, ‘A little odd he’s doing this for Chan-ssi, then again they’ve been hanging around each other a lot lately—’

Great, so people in his office are thinking about him and Chan. “Yep, you’ve got it,” he tells them in a deadpan tone.

He gathers up what semblance of confidence he has, and nestles the two coffees in one arm so he can open the door to the conference room. The two men look equal parts frustrated and tense, but he sees Chan visibly lighten up when he looks up and over at Jisung. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to get used to that.

“What are you doing here?” Chan questions.

“Um, just bringing in the coffees—Jinsol-ssi had something else come up,” Jisung lies, moving in the room and carefully setting them in front of each of them. One of them looks like the coffee Chan chose last week, so he guesses that one is his–and when he takes a sip, he’s relieved that he’s correct. As he sets the other coffee in front of the client, he brushes his arm slightly against the man’s shoulder as casually as he can, and fights from raising his eyebrows in surprise at his thoughts.

“Sir—” Jisung says to the client, bowing, “Would you like me to bring you a slice of cake from the cafe? Our treat. They have strawberry today.” And every day.

Both the man and Chan stare at him with surprise. Then they both turn to watch the man when he chuckles. “That would be nice, actually.”

“Great! I’ll be back very soon.” He bows again, already heading out the door.

He’s bombarded by Hyunjin and Jinsol when he gets out the door, looking to him for information, but he’s in a hurry. “Sorry, gotta go!” He shoulders past them and heads to the elevator at a brisk walk.

It takes a very hurried fifteen minutes, but Jisung is back at the office with a small strawberry cake in hand, and is thoroughly out of breath by the time he reaches the conference room again. He doesn’t see his coworkers—they must have finally gone back to their desks or were told off; either of those were likely possibilities. He knocks and moves into the room, bowing again before offering the client the cake and a fork. To his immense relief, the man looks more relaxed when he sees him with the cake.

“Wow—thank you. What did you say your name was?”

“Han Jisung, sir. I hope you enjoy it. It’s our pleasure.” He glances at Chan, who looks no less confused about the situation than he was before. As he turns and leaves, though, the client seems in much better spirits. He talks to Chan in a lighter tone.

Jisung hopes that he can simply head back to his desk after the whole ordeal, but broad arms wrap around his chest from behind instead, stopping him from leaving. ‘Why did these two make me stop Jisung-ssi? He’s so weak and easy to grab, does he ever work out? I ought to make him go to the gym with me sometime—’

It takes everything within Jisung to stop his coworker Changbin’s thoughts right then and there. In no way is he going to be forced to work out. He had to work out every day in the military, and he feels he’s earned the right to be lazy for the rest of his life. He looks around and spots Hyunjin and Jinsol hovering close by. So that’s where they went off to—to get help with making Jisung follow up on talking to them.

“No leaving! Spill. What happened in there?” Jinsol asks.

“Agh— There’s nothing to tell, I just got the guy some— cake—” With great difficulty, helped by Changbin eventually loosening his arms to some degree, Jisung pulls the arms off of him, and attempts to smooth out his hair and the rumpled collar on his shirt. “He looked like he was having a hard day, is all,” he finishes, looking towards the three of them.

That is part of the story, of course. From listening to the man’s thoughts, Jisung knows that today is the anniversary of his sister’s passing, and the client felt frustrated to be forced into negotiations at work instead of his annual tradition of going to his parents’ home and eating strawberry cake, his sister’s favorite. Jisung doesn’t blame him. He just hopes it isn’t weird that he named aloud the exact thing the client wanted…

“Really?” Hyunjin looks quizzically down at him. “Well—how anticlimactic.”

“Sorry.” Jisung shrugs feebly.

They start to shuffle back to their desks, but not before Changbin pulls him off to the side. “Join me at the gym tomorrow after work. Or else.” He squints threateningly at Jisung, then turns and moves back to his desk.

Jisung wonders if he should call in sick tomorrow.

It’s another hour before Jisung sees Chan leave the conference room with the client, shaking his hand. From his cubicle, they seem tired but in good spirits. Park-nim comes over to shake his hand, then the client leans in and says something to him. Jisung doesn’t have to wonder what they’re talking about for long. When the client leaves they look Jisung’s way, and his boss is hurriedly waving him over towards him and Chan.

Jisung feels an iciness run down his spine at the attention, but quickly darts over to them, while he avoids looking in Chan’s direction. “Sir?”

“Our client was just telling me you’d read his mind.”

Jisung feels his panic kick in. “Really?”

“He let me know that a member of my staff took time to make sure he felt comfortable, when he’d never been treated like that before at our offices. We think that partially thanks to you, the deal between their company and ours has been saved.”

Jaw-dropping and letting himself relax a bit, Jisung starts to argue. “I’m sure it was entirely Chan-ssi’s—”

“Well, of course he did most of the work. Don’t be stupid. But…good work anyway, kid.” Park Jinyoung pats him briefly on the arm. His boss thinks ‘I hope that he doesn’t ask for a raise…’  

When he leaves back to his office, Jisung finally spares a glance over to Chan, who’s watching him warily. He doesn’t need to read his mind to know that he’s thinking about the other night, when Jisung more or less turned him down, and maybe how that now conflicts with what Jisung just did for him this afternoon.

Jisung doesn’t quite understand the turnaround himself. He just knows that he wants to be there for Chan if he can. Jisung offers a small smile towards him, which prompts him to move closer.

“Hey, thanks for saving me in there,” he says softly.

“Of course, hyung.” Jisung replies as he looks into his deep brown eyes, his voice just as soft. 

Chan blinks and lifts his hand, as if to touch his arm, then thinks better of it. “But…how did you know that he wanted strawberry cake from the cafe?”

“Oh-um—” Jisung’s brain suddenly short-circuits. “He just, uh, seemed like a ‘strawberry cake from the cafe’ sort of guy.”

“A…‘strawberry cake from the cafe sort of guy?’” Chan repeats at him with disbelief in his tone.

“Yeah… after years of experience, you just know it when you see someone.”

“Is that right?”

“Mmhmm.” Jisung offers a bit of a teasing smile, knowing his excuse isn’t fooling him at all, but also knowing there’s no way he can guess the real reason. “You know, Chan-hyung, maybe one day when you’re at my level, you can understand certain cake nuances.”

Chan blinks for a couple moments, then cracks a smile. “Yeah, maybe one day I will be.” He turns and heads back to his desk.

“Jisung-ssi.”

Jisung peers up from his computer and up at the top of his cubicle to the sound of his name. Hyunjin and Jeongin, another coworker, both look determinedly over the edge and down at him, making him feel rather like a zoo animal.

“Some of us from the office are going out tonight…you’re coming, right?” Hyunjin watches him rather expectantly in a way that’s hard for Jisung to say anything but yes. If it gets him to stop making that face.

“I-uh-sure. Are we all just meeting at the same kimbap place?”

“Yep. You can carpool with us, though. If you don’t mind sitting in the backseat,” Jeongin answers.

“Why would I mind?”

Hyunjin shrugs. “I don’t know. You seem the type to get carsick.”

“Wait, I do not—” Jisung starts to argue.

The two giggle to each other and swoop down into Jeongin’s cubicle.

Jisung stands up and leans the best he can over his shelf and the wall of the cubicle. They’re sitting on the floor and they scream when they see him. “Yah! I do not get carsick!” He grabs the item with the longest extension in his reach—Jeongin’s back scratcher—and uses it to poke at them.

“Sorry, Jisung-ssi!” Jeongin tries to reach for his back scratcher, only to have Jisung move it out of reach. “We must have it confused with that time when you drank two beers in total and fell asleep in my car.” He grins and finally grabs it out of Jisung’s hand.

Jisung has no retort. He did in fact fall asleep in Jeongin’s car once after two beers. “Yeah well, you’re dumb.” So, there.

“You all realize you could go around the cubicle, right?” They all turn to see Chan behind them, looking bemused at the sight of Hyunjin and Jeongin crouched down and Jisung leaning over to reach them.

“Yeah, but that’s not the rules of the game, hyung,” Jisung informs Chan. He sees out of the corner of his eye Hyunjin and Jeongin staring wide-eyed at Jisung. Why are they doing that?

“All right, as long as you’re all aware. See you later tonight, Jisung-ah.” They give each other small waves again.

As soon as Chan leaves, Jisung turns to the other two. “What?”

“Since when are you two ‘hyung’ and ‘Jisung-ah?” Hyunjin stands up and leans over towards Jisung.

“We’re friends, that’s why!” Jisung answers quite defensively. “We hang out outside of work things sometimes. No need to get jealous.”

Hyunjin and Jeongin offer scarily-matching mischievous grins. “Sure, whatever you say~” Hyunjin says. “Come on, Jeongin-ssi.” He takes Jeongin’s wrist and leads him towards the break area. None of that can be good.

Jisung is feeling peaceful. He’s only one beer in, thank you very much, and the food hasn’t even come out yet, which will be sure to sober him up some.

There’s eight of them, which led them to get a more private room in the back of the restaurant. This was good, as their bunch tended to get quite loud. Sitting at the end next to Jeongin, he could easily look around at the others that showed up: Hyunjin, of course, then Changbin, Jinsol, Mimi, and Hyojung. Chan sat in between Changbin and Jinsol, and occasionally offered glances to Jisung whenever he thought Jisung wasn’t looking. He wonders again, if this is something Chan always does, and he’d never noticed it before.

They all cheer a bit too loudly when the food comes, and when the waiter retreats shyly, Hyunjin holds his arms out to block them. “Wait! Stop! I have a game for us.” He reaches down next to him, then holds out a fistful of disposable chopsticks to be passed around. They all take one, quite reluctantly.

“Hyunjin-ssi, what’s this?” Changbin asks him.

“Well, we don’t have an even number of girls and boys, but that’s okay—heteronormativity is out. But all that is to say, we’re picking random numbers and those two have to kiss!”

The table erupts in a series of arguments, but Hyunjin simply holds up his hands, not hearing a word. Perhaps he’s even relishing in the jeers thrown his way. Meanwhile, Jisung looks to the ground to swallow him whole.

“Shut up! All of you!” Hyunjin yells louder. “Jinsol-ssi, can you do a number generator on your phone?”

Jinsol gives Hyunjin a thumbs-up and pulls one up. “Okay! Number…3…and number…8! Smooch time!”

Jisung doesn’t want to look at his chopsticks. He would much rather disappear entirely off the face of the Earth. He forces himself to look down, and a part of himself shrivels up immediately as he spots the number ‘8’ written on them. Is there a way he can hide them? Pretend he got another number? Can he make a run for it?

“Jisung-ssi has number 8!” Jeongin leans over and announces next to him, to a series of cheers and “oooohs.” His stomach churns uncontrollably.

“I have 3,” the worst person to have gotten the number raises his chopsticks. Jisung’s face turns bright red, and he refuses to look Chan’s way.

“Oh, this is perfect! I couldn’t have planned this!” Hyunjin exclaims while Chan and Jeongin trade seats.

And then Chan sits next to him, close enough for Jisung to smell his familiar scent. “You okay?” He asks quietly.

No, no he’s not. Jisung has never had a kiss before. And it’s going to be right now. He’s had a lot of years to think about how this could go, whether it would be quick and with someone he never saw again, or with someone meaningful, someone he would want to spend the rest of his life with. With Chan…it will certainly be meaningful. And he isn’t ready.

He tenses up and lifts his head towards Chan—who can see that he’s uncomfortable, unlike everyone else here—and shuts his eyes, drowning everyone else out. He feels Chan’s hand carefully smooth his bangs out of his face. ‘Beautiful,’ Jisung hears.

He feels a kiss on his forehead, and his skin immediately heats up where Chan’s lips touch.

‘I’m sorry,’ Chan’s thoughts say, before he pulls away. Jisung looks up at him with a swarming mixture of guilt, confusion, and something else he can’t identify. Something lighter and warmer.

Jisung registers that the rest of them are booing, but Chan turns to the rest of them calmly. “The days of forcing people to kiss are long gone. We aren’t in high school playing spin-the-bottle; we’re grown adults. If you excuse me, I need to go make a call.”

The group falls quieter as he leaves. Chan doesn’t use his dad voice on the group often.

“He can be kind of scary,” Mimi comments with a mouth full of kimbap. Then— “We should do another round of this game.”

There’s a murmur of agreement, but Jisung moves to stand, having quite enough of the game. “I’ll be back,” he tells the others in a disembodied voice, then leaves to find Chan.

Jisung has no idea what he’s going to say if or when he finds Chan. Maybe he really does need to take a phone call, and he’s interrupting something. But something in his gut tells him otherwise. He needs to reassure him. Chan’s I’m sorry flashes through his mind when he finally opens the door to the balcony, finding the broad-shouldered figure facing away from him, looking out.

He braves the height of the balcony and moves to silently relax his arms against the railing, next to him. Jisung hesitates for a moment, then touches his elbow to Chan’s arm. He decides to stay silent: the atmosphere doesn’t feel like it needs Jisung’s words right now.

Chan isn’t thinking anything coherent, or anything Jisung can properly wrap his head around. He just sees images of himself from Chan’s point of view as he kisses his forehead, the group laughing and booing, then him again—“Sorry,” Chan finally says, looking over towards him. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Well—more uncomfortable than you already were.”

Jisung blinks, then exhales quickly, amused and somewhat embarrassed that Chan picked up on his emotions so easily.

The older continues, and as he does so, Jisung receives a coherent thought from him. One that pierces him through his chest. ‘He got so tense, maybe he’s just not into men at all, or maybe it’s just me. Yeah—it makes sense that it’s just me. Why would he want me?’ “I mean, it’s kinda weird to make two men kiss if you don’t know their sexuality, right? Or I guess that goes with any sexuality. It’s just weird to make people kiss. Hm…” Chan flinches and stops himself, then mentally berates himself for sounding stupid.

This is new. Jisung’s never heard Chan so unconfident. On the surface, he seems completely collected and put-together. On top of that, he’s literally perfect: skilled at his job, friends with everyone, responsible, gorgeous…it doesn’t make sense to Jisung.

He thinks about Chan’s full lips on his forehead, and how warm it feels even now. “I didn’t mind it,” Jisung says before he can think about it. He looks over and meets Chan’s eyes, which are now watching him back with surprise within them. Jisung hears more jumbled thoughts that he can’t make sense of, and ignores them as his mouth forms explanations faster than he can edit them. “It’s just…well—I’ve never kissed anyone before. And I know that makes me a loser, but…ugh. I got really nervous and scared.” Jisung feels his face redden again. He removes his elbow from Chan’s arm to cease the influx of new thoughts running through the older’s head. “I didn’t hate the kiss at all,” he mumbles.

Jisung watches a kitten dart across the street. The air is silent, save for the vehicles below and the sounds of the restaurant inside. 

Chan seems stunned and at a loss for words. Jisung’s skin begins to feel itchy and hot at his admission and the way that Chan is looking at him. He starts to turn away, and it seems to snap Chan out of whatever is going on in his head. He leans in until he’s very close to Jisung, moving his muscular arms on either side of his torso.

Their bodies have never been this close, not even in the restaurant with the kiss. Jisung can feel the heat radiating from him, can smell his clean, vanilla scent again, now even stronger. He can vaguely see with the dim lighting around them, a few dots of faint freckles painted across his face. Everything in his senses is Chan.

Jisung feels flustered, his eyes round and taking in everything, and yet, this doesn’t feel bad. In fact, he finds that he sort of likes Chan so close to him. He feels safe, even. Maybe he can brave himself to get closer…

“Jisung-ah,” Chan mumbles. “You should know—”

The door to the balcony bursts open, breaking the spell between them immediately. They jump away from each other to check the intrusion, and find Changbin and Hyunjin hovering at the door. “Come back inside! The food’s getting cold!” Changbin tells them. “And it’s your turn to buy a round, Chan-ssi.” They grin like they know what they’re interrupting. But Jisung doesn’t even know what they’re interrupting. What was Chan going to say? Would he be able to find out? Did he want to find out?

He looks over towards Chan, who is back to his normal, walled-up self. He’s making a face he uses with everyone, Jisung now realizes. It was just on the balcony that he finally saw a bit of the real Chan. The thought makes him feel the same warm pestering feeling he couldn’t recognize fluttering in his stomach. Chan offers their coworkers a friendly grin and steps towards the door. “C’mon, Jisung-ah, let’s go eat.”

When they’re in the hallway and stepping into the room, Jisung accidentally brushes against Hyunjin’s arm, and receives a full-force of a memory—Changbin and Jeongin making out with tongue. That was the result of the second round of the chopstick game?!

Jisung is so distracted with this that he bumps his foot on the doorframe and nearly trips onto the ground. He’s only saved by Changbin himself, who has more thoughts to provide about how easy it is to pick him up and how weak he is. “Thanks, Changbin-ssi,” Jisung separates himself from him. He has no idea how he’s supposed to control his stunned face right now. His ‘gift’ should have come with some sort of guidebook. He looks over at Chan, whose face is twisted into a glare at Changbin for only a split-second, then is back to normal so quickly that Jisung is able to convince himself he must have imagined it. What reason would Chan have for making that expression?

Chan buys the round as he’s told, while Jisung finishes his kimbap and offers his card to pay rather silently, stewing over everything that happened tonight. He almost misses Jinsol trying to get his attention.

“Hm? Oh—sorry, what’s up?”

“I said, are you going to be able to catch the last bus home? I don’t think Jeongin-ssi is fit to drive you anymore…” They all glance over and see Jeongin and Hyunjin cuddling drunkenly on either side of Changbin.

Jisung checks the time on his phone. “I should be able to make it if I hurry—”

“—Why don’t you take your time and stay over at my place?” Chan interjects, his hand reaching for Jisung’s wrist. Jisung hears plainly, I don’t want to let him get away, and panic fills Jisung’s lungs. “A-ah—no, that’s okay, hyung, I like my bed!” He gasps and springs up, his legs wobbling slightly. “This was fun. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” He bows at the group and starts to leave.

“Jisung-ah, hey—” Chan trots over to him before he’s able to get away. “If this isn’t weird, can I give you my phone number?” He asks quietly. “I just want to make sure you get home okay.”

Jisung tilts his head, taking a moment to make sure he’s registered that correctly. It wasn’t that people didn’t care that he got home safely, it’s that…no one’s taken the time to make sure he is safe. He feels oddly cared for at the moment, and he offers a small nod and a warm smile, along with his phone for Chan to type in his number.

When Jisung is hopping on the last bus of the night, he glances at the new contact and sees that Chan has put himself in his phone as ‘Chan-Hyung ☺️’

Jisung stares at the letters for a moment, then decides to add a ‘💗’ next to the smiley.

He has a difficult time staying awake at his computer the next morning, and he can tell he’s definitely not alone in this. Jisung sees most of his coworkers from last night chugging espresso and energy drinks, looking much worse for wear. Jeongin isn’t anywhere to be seen—he must have taken the day off.

Jisung feels a steady, pulsing pain behind his left eye that doesn’t seem to go away despite the medicine he took earlier. His own iced americano doesn’t seem to be cutting it. The words of the document he’s reading all seem to blur together when his eyes cross without meaning to, and when he starts to heavily space out, random dreams begin to overtake him.

He’s not expecting it when he feels someone’s chest press into his shoulder, and he startles awake.

‘Things last night were great, but I rushed into it too much. I really don’t want to push him when he’s so flighty.’

“Good morning, hyung.” Jisung glances up at Chan. He seems normal and not tired at all—his light brown hair is brushed out smoothly, and there are no visible dark circles under his eyes to be seen. His brown tweed suit is pressed neatly. Meanwhile, Jisung doesn’t dare to look down at himself, in case he has mismatched shoes from stumbling out the door. He’s relieved to hear Chan’s thoughts, and to know that the man isn’t here to pressure him. Chan seems to know exactly what Jisung needs right now, even though he himself didn’t know that space was what he needed. It’s nice.

“Are you doing okay, Sung-ah? You seem a little tired.”

“No…I mean, well, yeah I am tired. But I’m okay, really. Thanks,” he adds.

Chan doesn’t look convinced, and his thoughts don’t sound convinced, but he nods anyway. “Okay. If you’re sure. I actually needed to come over here for work reasons, oddly enough. Can you get me a printout of the contract you had the Yoons sign?”

Jisung straightens up in his seat, finding himself happy to have something for his brain to focus on other than falling asleep, even if it’s a work task. “Sure.” He searches through his computer files for the contract, almost absentmindedly, and clicks on one. “Oh, whoops—” he immediately realizes it’s the incorrect file at the same time Chan does.

“That doesn’t look right. Can you pull up your files again?”

Jisung does as he asks, and Chan proceeds to lean into his space and cover his hand over Jisung’s on the mouse. Jisung just…lets him do this. He’s close enough to smell, and without really thinking about it, he sits there and tries not to be too obvious as he drinks in his clean scent again, just like he’d done last night.

Meanwhile, Chan is also thinking about last night, and replaying Jisung’s words. Jisung cringes as he hears his own voice replaying in Chan’s head. “It’s just…well—I’ve never kissed anyone before.” He badly wants to remove his hand, but it’s securely trapped under Chan’s, so he continues to listen helplessly. “And I know that makes me a loser, but…ugh. I got really nervous and scared.” Jisung is a loser. He’s both sad and relieved that Chan finally understands. Then maybe Chan can finally move on from his crush.

Does Jisung want him to move on? It would be much simpler if he does. Much less scary. If Chan made the decision for him so that he never had to take the leap, he would feel immensely relieved. Yet there’s a small ache in his chest, that tells him he wouldn’t be entirely unaffected. And he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“Here—this one looks right.” He clicks on the appropriate document and pulls it up. “Yeah. Can you print that one for me?”

“Sure, hyung.”

Chan’s hand hasn’t moved. Jisung feels his fingers tighten around his. “Great. Thanks, Jisung-ah.”

‘So, he doesn’t have any romantic experience. I guess that means I’ll have to start at square one, no matter how long it takes.’

Wait, what?

Chapter Text

Jisung doesn’t want to be here. The music is piercing his ears, there’s far too many people shoved into one tiny room, and too many of those people have touched him tonight—either by brushing against his arms, or bumping into him. He feels like he’s reading multiple peoples’ minds at any given time, and it fills him with a deep pit of anxiety.

He doesn’t want to drink, because he knows the anxious feeling will only worsen if he does. But this has obviously not stopped anyone else from taking advantage of the free liquor. Jisung looks towards the small makeshift stage area of the noraebang, where Mimi and Changbin are performing a rap duet. They’re surprisingly good. But loud. Slightly away from the singing area, Jisung spots Chan chatting with a woman from another department. She’s practically hanging off of him, her grin and laugh lighting up her face at whatever Chan tells her. Meanwhile, Chan focuses his full attention on her, giving her the appropriate amount of eye contact, and even offers a polite smile when she says something in return. Jisung knows by now that Polite Work Chan is not the genuine Chan—but he doesn’t quite know if Chan likes her back or not.

It’s not his place or business to decide. But something nasty and ugly claws at the inside of his chest cavities at the sight of them together anyway. Jisung wants to go home.

“—Hey, mate, scoot out of the way, please! I’m a booth guy!” He feels a body press into him, and he quickly turns his head towards the source of the intrusion and shifts over. He hasn’t had many conversations with Lee Felix since he started a couple weeks ago. He knows the man is a transfer from a related branch in Sydney, and he knows that Felix has a seemingly-endless supply of energy.

Against his will, he receives a full-dosage of Lee Felix’s thoughts as the man does not let up in leaning against him. His long dark hair falls over Jisung’s shoulder, and Jisung can practically taste the hot tequila breath wafting from him. ‘This party’s so cool and everyone’s been so nice to me…ugh, if only I didn’t feel so nauseous.’

That’s the only thing that would make this party worse. If Felix got sick around him. “Hey.” Jisung holds out his hands and steadies Felix’s shoulders, then quickly reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out some anti-nausea tablets. “Take a few of these, okay? Please don’t throw up, Felix-ssi.” Please.

As if in a daze, Felix looks down at the tablets and drops his jaw. “Wow, thanks, mate! Why do you have these?” He takes the blister pack from Jisung, almost too excitedly, and punches a few out with his fingers.

“Oh, I…always have these for work events. Just in case…” Jisung trails off in a quieter voice. He doesn’t want to explain that he often gets nauseous as a result of his anxiety while at work events, and hopes Felix isn’t in the mood to pry further. 

Luckily, his new coworker hands the rest of the pills back to Jisung without a word. Unluckily, he starts to take the pills with the tequila in his hand, and Jisung has to intervene. “No,” Jisung scolds him, and Felix frowns as he switches the drink in his hand with Jisung’s water that he’s been nursing all night. “Please don’t take pills with alcohol,” he instructs further, giving a small sigh.

‘He’s so bossy,’ Felix thinks, then a different voice that is still Felix’s, but seems to be his voice of reason, interjects. ‘Jisung’s trying to save your life, idiot.’ And that thought seems to perk him up. “Thanks, Jisung-sunbae. I’ve got the best coworker!” He grins and takes the medicine, then hooks an arm around Jisung’s neck and pulls him closer.

Jisung’s cheek squishes against Felix’s chest, and his mind is suddenly full of Felix’s thoughts as the other scans the room and registers everyone and everything in it. Then, he has a mental image of him and Jisung hanging out, outside of work. No, Jisung feels far too awkward for that. “No problem. I just don’t want you to throw up,” he mumbles, then gently pries himself off his coworker. He’s still really close to him, too close. He didn’t know Felix has a scattering of freckles across his cheeks until now. The other looks at him, his eyes blinking multiple times as he also takes Jisung in.

‘Wait, he’s kind of handsome, actually. I wonder if he would ever let me poke his cheeks.’

Jisung scoffs and averts his eyes. He glimpses Felix slowly raising his hand to do just that and reaches over to gently push it back down at his lap. There. No need for cheek-poking. He looks up at Felix and notices that he’s smiling at him with a scattering of crumbs around his lips. Ugh, how long does Jisung need to take care of him? He sighs and reaches for a napkin.

“Hold still,” he commands, and Felix listens to him, albeit confusedly. Jisung gently wipes the crumbs from his mouth, and the task is over in a second. He’s still looking at Jisung, but they’re finally not touching each other, and Jisung would rather keep that up than find out what his expression means. “There,” Jisung adds, scooting away very slightly.

“Oh, shit—I didn’t even realize I had food on me. Thanks for caring about me, mate!” Then Felix almost launches himself at Jisung again, and he tries to hold his hands up defensively.

“Excuse me.”

A rush of relief runs over Jisung as he turns to gaze up at Chan. Unfortunately, with the distraction he doesn’t catch Felix, and his coworker essentially flops onto him.

“Hi, hyung,” Jisung wheezes with Felix draped on him, and his black hair wildly cascading over him. He meets the older’s eyes and falters.

He seems furious. Jisung’s eyes widen in surprise, and his heart begins beating rather quickly, as if he’s been caught. Is he doing something wrong?

Then Chan seems to remember himself and forces a measure of calm across his face. He says with a scarily-controlled voice, “Felix-ssi.”

“Oh, hi, Chan-sunbaenim—” Felix pulls himself off of Jisung and reaches over to help him up. Jisung accepts the help, and this only seems to further unsettle Chan.

“I was coming over to say that Hyunjin-ssi at the next table asked about you.”

“Me?” Felix squeaks and immediately cranes his neck to look over there.

“Yeah—he asked if you were single.” Jisung watches their conversation silently, growing overwhelmed at the undertones he’s supposed to keep up with. Chan’s grown into controlled annoyance, but his lie—and Jisung knows somehow that it’s a lie—makes Chan smirk a bit at the corner of his full lip. He doesn’t know what to make of this different Chan.

Felix doesn’t pick up on a single thing, and only grows more excited. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him that you’d have to talk to Felix, because I didn’t know.”

Felix registers this. “I should…go and talk to him right now, huh?”

Both Chan and Jisung nod at him. “Um—” Jisung clears his throat, and grows slightly pink when they both turn to look at him. “You’ll have to be cool about it, though, right? You can’t just say you’re going over there because Hyunjin-ssi asked if you’re single. You’ll need to pull out your charms.”

“You’re so right, Jisung-sunbae. You two are great, you know? I can really see us all becoming best mates.” And he pulls Jisung into a bone-crushing hug, which he reciprocates half-heartedly.

“Sure, Felix-ssi.”

‘Jisung’s handsome, but he’s no Hyunjin. I’d better go over there right away.’

He flinches. “Okay, ouch. Off you go.” His ‘ouch,’ he realizes belatedly, was in response to his thoughts, but he could pass it off as a reaction to the hug. 

“Right! See you in a bit!” Chan tenses when Felix pats his shoulder and flits over to the next table. Shaking his head slightly, he recomposes himself and offers Jisung a smile, easy enough.

“Is this seat taken?”

Jisung can’t help but open his mouth in shock when Chan then slides himself in where Felix had just been seconds earlier. Wait…wait, wait. What the hell was all that? He stares dumbfounded at Chan now, but he’s either not noticing, or ignoring him. Why did he stop talking to that woman to come over here, then lie to Felix, all so he could sit here next to Jisung?

Because he likes you, stupid.

“So…what’s up, hyung?” Jisung runs his hand through his messed-up hair, attempting to tame it into place. He feels so awkward right now, and he hates it. He wishes he were good at starting conversations and making the energy around him better. Even as Felix left, he could feel the tension around himself growing and hardening into a shell to unwittingly keep everyone out. But he can only stew in his own brain and watch himself fumble every social interaction.

“Nothing,” Chan answers. “Are you having fun?”

“Um—yeah,” he answers. He’s lying of course, and somehow Chan picks up on it immediately, based on the unimpressed tilt of his head. It’s the same way he’s able to pick up on Chan’s mood now. They’re learning to read each other’s moods.

“Have you had anything to eat or drink?”

“Eat…yes. I ate some snacks earlier. No drinks—well, except for water.” Jisung gestures to his glass on the table, and Chan’s easy smile drops somewhat.

“Didn’t Felix just drink from that?”

He doesn’t wonder how Chan knows this; he’d definitely been watching Jisung again without him realizing. “Yeah…? It was just to take some medicine, though. It’s not a big deal.” Jisung reaches for it to pull the glass closer, but Chan is quicker and takes it into his hand.

“Why don’t I get you a refill, hm?” He starts to get up, and Jisung quickly reaches to grab onto his upper arm. He’s more muscular than Jisung thought; his arm has a defined firmness that he suddenly has the urge to feel more thoroughly under his fingers. He doesn’t—instead, he quickly rescinds his hand before he can hear more thoughts. Chan’s mind isn’t making sense—it’s just a jumble of unclear annoyance.

Chan pauses and looks down at his hand that he’s dropped, then up to him. “It’s really no trouble—”

“I know, hyung. It’s not necessary, though, okay?” Jisung pleads with him. This has already blown out of proportion in an embarrassing way. “I’d much rather sit here with you than worry about a water glass that my coworker drank from.”

He sees Chan flush, and he doesn’t know why. But he seems satisfied with this and gives up the effort. He sets the glass down again and scoots over next to Jisung, their arms millimeters from each other.

It’s silent again, but somehow it feels less awkward now, the air between them easier. Jisung looks over and sees a smile traced along his friend’s face. He inhales, then curiosity gets the better of him, and he closes the miniscule distance between their arms, grazing it along Chan’s.

Jisung hears his own voice, loud and clear, saying “I’d much rather sit here with you” over and over in Chan’s mind, on repeat, and he barks out a laugh in disbelief before he can stop it. Chan is sort of ridiculous.

He looks over curiously at Jisung, raising an eyebrow. “Something funny?”

“Um—not really.” Jisung composes himself. He glances around for anything as a distraction, and immediately settles on Felix, who’s moved on from Hyunjin and is now approaching the stage area. “Just—Felix-ssi is about to perform.”

Their coworker seems even more drunk than before. He scrolls through some song choices, before landing on RBB by Red Velvet. Jisung makes a low groan in his throat and braces himself to hear the worst cover of all time…but it never comes. Instead, Felix’s low voice masterfully increases in range and captures most of the notes, and before long Jisung actually feels somewhat good hearing some live music. He realizes he hardly knows a thing about his new coworker—because he sounds like a professional singer. A drunk professional singer…but someone who knows what he’s doing, regardless.

“He’s amazing…” Jisung says between them. Chan watches Felix sing with a flat, stoic expression, and turns to glance over at Jisung when he speaks up. He’s biting his lip and searching Jisung’s face. Something’s on his mind, and Jisung doesn’t know if he should figure out what.

“Sing with me,” Chan says suddenly, causing Jisung to immediately turn red and sputter.

“N-no, no fucking way, hyung—”

“We’ll have fun! It’s not like you’ll be alone, you know? I’ll be right there with you.”

Jisung doesn’t want to go up there and sing in front of his coworkers. He hasn’t been convinced even a tiny bit. He used to sing a bit back in school for choir, and in college he and Seungmin would sing duets in their apartment, while he strummed along on the guitar, but it’s been…ages. Years. And even then, he never wanted to perform in front of people.

Chan is still looking at him expectantly, his large lower lip jutting out in a pout.

“C’mon, hyung, you’re not seriously trying to use aegyo to get me to—”

“Please, Jisung-ah!” Chan scrunches up his face and folds his hands together. The man is in his thirties, for god’s sake, he should not be performing aegyo to try and get what he wants. This is so cringy, and Jisung should not be falling for it.

Why is he falling for it?

Jisung groans loudly and pushes Chan’s face away from him. “Ugh—just…fine. I’ll do it if you stop looking at me like that.”

“Aw, nice!” Chan moves away from Jisung’s hand and snatches it out of the air, positively beaming at him. He tangles their fingers together and pulls Jisung out of the booth, leading him towards the stage.

Jisung’s stomach plummets to the floor. He does not want to do this. He’s overwhelmed and anxious already, now to add singing in public on top of it. Not to mention he’s completely sober. “Chan-hyung, look, listen—” His voice is drowned out by the end of Felix’s song, the closer they get to it. Talking right now is full-on impossible.

As the seconds pass, his body starts to shake. This is going to suck. He’s going to suck. Everything is terrible, and he wants to go home. Better yet, he wants the ceiling to crash down from above and kill him. Jisung doesn’t want to do this for anyone, no matter how beautiful and kind and probably jealous of other peoples’ attention that person is. He heaves in and out to rid himself of the increasing panic in his chest.

He feels a hand clench protectively around his own, and he looks down. Chan is still holding onto it, and he hadn’t realized. He says something, and Jisung doesn’t catch it. But he can hear the thoughts through Chan’s head instead. ‘He looks so nervous, and kind of like a baby deer. He’s pretty. I just want to make him feel better. I don’t want to tell him he doesn’t have to do this, because I really think he can do this. I’ll just have him focus on me and no one else.’

All Jisung can do is nod. Baby deer, huh. That’s a new one.

Then Felix finally finishes, and grins when he hands off his mic to Chan. “Aww, good luck you two~” then he moves back towards Hyunjin’s table, leaving them to it.

Jisung’s heart is positively pounding and he feels sick to his stomach. He almost reaches for the anti-nausea pills in his pocket, before he remembers himself, where he is, what he’s doing. Chan hands him the tablet with the list of song choices, and Jisung really doesn’t think he should be holding things right now, but he grabs onto it with shaking hands and scrolls through the songs with a finger. He recognizes a lot of them, and knows the words to plenty, but it’s one album that stops him.

“They have The Greatest Showman soundtrack on here,” Jisung tells him, his tongue sandpapery.

“Oh! Do you know the English lyrics?”

Jisung gives a tilt of his head. “I know how to read English words—I’ll be fine.”

He hands the tablet back to Chan to choose the song from the soundtrack. He knows this is the perfect opportunity for him to choose Rewrite the Stars, and maybe he would like them to sing romantically to each other. Jisung hardly registers this—at this point, he doesn’t quite care what lyrics he’s singing.

To his immense surprise, Chan selects The Other Side, and Jisung blinks multiple times at the screen, and his choice. He’s heard this one about as often as the others, but the English lyrics move really quickly, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to keep up like he said he would. But more than that…this is the opportunity to get Jisung to sing a lovey duet with him, and one with quite overt lyrics—why isn’t Chan taking that opportunity? Now they’re going to sing about two probably straight dudes at a bar, and one guy is trying to convince the other to run a circus with him. Not very romantic. 

Jisung remembers, as he’s grasping onto the second mic, that Chan promised himself he would start at square one with Jisung. He supposes that Chan might think forcing Jisung to sing a love song with him would be pushing him farther than he seems comfortable with being pushed. And he would be right—as Jisung thinks about the lyrics of that song, and saying them to Chan, he would probably die. He’s definitely not ready for that kind of thing.

When he looks over at his friend, he can see that his face is formed into a wide, somewhat apologetic smile. He can see that Chan just wants to have fun, and he wants to have fun with Jisung specifically.

So, okay then. He can try to be fun sometimes. Possibly.

They’ve unspokenly agreed between them that Chan will do the Hugh Jackman part, and Jisung will do the Zac Efron part. For being the one that suggested (forced) Jisung to do this, the least Chan can do is have the bigger part. He loosens his tie and pushes up the sleeves on his button up shirt, then adjusts his vest. Meanwhile, the instrumentals start blasting behind them, and Jisung flinches a bit, but tries to recover quickly.

Chan’s voice isn’t very Hugh Jackman-y, aside from the Australian accent. He has some difficulty reaching the lower pitch, but he doesn’t seem to care much. When he has to swoop his voice very low, he ends up groaning a bit and then laughs at himself as he keeps going. The edges of Jisung’s mouth turn up in a small smile.

He has to admit, though, he’s got a good amount of intonation, with the way he’s able to hold notes for a long time, and he’s pretty good with the inflection of each note. Jisung sees people turning to watch them—he can’t blame them; he would as well with the mixture of the odd song choice and Chan belting out into the room unabashedly. When it’s Jisung’s turn, he pales a bit at the fast-moving English, and he knows he’s singing much clumsier. But because he’s focusing more on the words than the crowd, Jisung strangely finds his heartbeat decreasing somewhat as he slightly relaxes. He hits a particular ‘L’ sound in the word ‘life’ that just doesn’t come out right with his accent, and he surprises himself by barking out a laugh into the mic.

He glances over to see Chan beaming at him, almost like he’s proud of him. A part of Jisung wishes he knew the lyrics a bit better, so he could watch him for the rest of the song. But still, their voices weirdly fit together, and as they keep going back and forth, he feels Chan’s hand rest on his shoulder, then move downwards to wrap around his waist. And instead of feeling like he wants to run, the touch feels grounding. Warm.

Jisung realizes that he likes when Chan touches him. 

When the song finishes, he gives a shaky, breathless grin over to his friend, expecting the same easygoing, polite energy he always sees from Chan. But to his surprise, he sees a Chan with his defenses down for a split-second. As he looks back over at Jisung, his expression seems nervous and even a bit mystified.

“Let’s go sit down, hyung,” Jisung suggests in a gentle yet firm tone. He simply nods in return, still dazed, so Jisung bravely reaches over and rests his hand on Chan’s back, steering him towards the booth. He’s both surprised and unsurprised to see just his face in Chan’s thoughts—but he hadn’t realized the way his hair has draped over his face from the sweat, and the way he’s loosened up his tie and rolled up his sleeves makes him look…dare he say…cool?

Chan seems to agree, anyway.

He slides into the booth first and scoots over so that Chan can join him. They’re silent for a moment, until Chan speaks up.

“So, how did I do?”

“Oh—” Jisung turns to him and crosses his legs. He’s really in no fit position to be judging Chan on his performance. “Not bad?”

Chan scoffs at that, his hand reaching up to absentmindedly scratch his head. “‘Not bad?’ C’mon, Sung-ah, I sang multiple octaves up there. You gotta give me something.” He gently nudges Jisung in the stomach with his elbow.

Jisung grins and playfully rolls his eyes. “Fine…you were great, I guess.”

In return, Chan gives him a gaze that looks fond. “Then I guess I’ll take it.”

Without meaning to, he stares at Chan for a bit longer, his eyes settling on the dimples he’d never noticed he has. Jisung has a weird, sudden urge to poke one of them. He’s both relieved and annoyed at the same time when they suddenly get interrupted.

“Chan-sunbaenim, hello again!” It’s the same woman who had been talking to Chan earlier, now with a friend standing next to her. Jisung thinks he also vaguely recognizes her from another department and occasionally from the elevator. They’re both directly looking at Chan and not at Jisung at all, so he slowly seeps down into the cushion, making himself disappear.

“Oh, hello!” Chan greets the women. Jisung notes his pretty dimples are gone, and he frowns when he sees polite businessman Chan is back. 

“Do you mind if we sit with you?” The friend asks.

“Oh, uh, sure! By all means,” Chan says. Jisung gets up from his seat reluctantly so they can all shift and sit down, and decides to sit in a pull out chair opposite the booth. They’re both chatting animatedly at Chan while this happens, which gives him the opportunity to slip back into his natural role as a ghost. Vague, unassuming.

As he sits, he accidentally nudges the friend on the ankle, and he offers her an apologetic smile. In return, she offers him a once-over and a dirty look, then refocuses back to Chan. ‘Who even is this sweaty loser, and why is he talking to Bang Chan? Oh my god, is he gay? Even if Chan-sunbaenim were into men, he is so out of this guy’s league…’

Well, Jisung’s heard enough. He immediately pushes out his chair and stands up to migrate towards the other side of the room, determinedly not looking at the faces of Chan or the two women. When he’s finally out of earshot, he lets his body sag. He finds a perfectly good corner to hang out in and leans against the wall.

Of course, she’s not wrong. It doesn’t make sense for Chan to have a crush on him, and it never has. Why would someone so handsome want to willingly sit next to him at a party? Why did Chan catch feelings for him? None of it adds up. He’s nothing, nobody. He always will be. People just don’t have the capacity to care about him, and that’s what he’s perfectly used to.

It’s late, and his head has started hurting. He decides to call it a night and pats his pocket for his house keys and phone, then starts to walk towards the door…only to feel a hand on his arm.

“Jisung-ssi.” ‘He’s not leaving, is he? After that performance? Maybe we can talk him into an encore, perhaps a sexy song this time, just to see what he’ll do…’

He turns to see Jinsol. His face would normally flush at the thought of being forced to sing again, but right now, he can’t find it in himself to care. “What’s up, Jinsol-ssi?”

“Oh, I was actually wondering if you wanted to go in on my drink order with me? I just don’t see anyone else ordering, and I don’t want to stick out, you know?” She holds out the tablet with the drink and snack orders to him.

The last thing Jisung wanted to do tonight was drink, but actually…it’s not sounding like such a bad idea right now. It would be a good distraction, give him something to null the deprecating thoughts running through his head. “Sure,” he tells her, and takes the tablet from her, inputting the same drink she’s ordering. He’s not picky.

“Great! Thank you! I’ll go and pick them up in a bit, okay?”

“Sounds good, Jinsol-ssi.” he offers her a smile that he knows doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, she sets down the tablet and leaves the room, probably to go to the bathroom.

The bathroom sounds like a good idea. Not because he has to go, but it would be much less chaotic than this room. He waits a few minutes, just to make sure it doesn’t look like he’s following her, then strides across the room and leaves out the door.

He doesn’t see Jinsol anywhere while he finds his way down the hallway of the noraebang to the bathroom. Jisung eventually happens upon a larger lobby area, with vending machines and bathroom signs. Perfect. But as he walks into the space, he realizes that he’s not alone.

Jinsol has been cornered against the wall by two larger guys in suits. They look like they might be with their company, but Jisung doesn’t recognize them. His coworker spots him out of the corner of her eye, and her face brightens with relief, and in their surprise at a new person walking into the lobby she’s able to duck under their arms before they can stop her. She practically sprints to him. His eyes widen as she wraps her hands around his wrists. ‘Help me, Jisung!’

Jisung knows for a fact that he doesn’t stand a chance against these guys. Other than the time he’d been more or less threatened, he’s managed to avoid Changbin’s suggestions to go to the gym thus far, and he’s still criminally weak. Maybe he should’ve taken his offers more seriously…

That doesn’t matter right now. He has to do something. Jisung shifts until he stands in front of Jinsol, and Jinsol gets the hint and backs much further into the hallway. “H-hey, you leave my friend alone!” Jisung shouts. “She doesn’t want to hang out with you, so I suggest you back off—”

“—And what the fuck are you going to do about it?” They both approach Jisung, quickly surrounding him, and he can’t help but groan as one of the men grips his shoulders and slams him against the side of a vending machine. The back of his head makes a loud bang against the textured metal plate, and he feels a rushing, traumatic sensation fill his head. The man looks pissed and ready for a fight, and Jisung glimpses into the man’s head and sees that he’s about to hurt him, with only fury running through his thoughts.

In a daze, Jisung squints his face and prepares for a punch…that doesn’t come.

He manages to open one eye, and sees Chan in front of him, holding onto the guy’s wrist. He pulls the man off of Jisung, but Jisung can only stand there, his hair and clothes disheveled, and vaguely watch what’s going on. What is going on?

“Hey, mate,” Chan says to the man, his voice bitter and cold despite the greeting. “You two are from the Narasaki corporation, yeah? We’re all here to have a good time, and I’d hate for things to be taken too far when our companies have such good relations…it’s almost as if this would have lasting repercussions, wouldn’t it?”

Jisung sees Chan’s gaze has fully iced over, the veins on his neck throbbing. He’s terrifying in a very new way. But he’s also… very hot. Jisung doesn’t know if he’s in his right mind. Probably not.

Chan is using logic along with his intimidation tactic, which Jisung thinks will go right over the drunk guys’ heads. But there seems to be some brain cells in between the two of them, because the other guy manages to come to his senses at that moment and claps the shoulder of the guy who’s just assaulted Jisung. “Right…have a good night,” he says slowly, and he offers a curt nod before he pulls the other guy away to head back to their room.

Jisung’s head still feels clouded, and his brain is disoriented. He doesn’t register Jinsol appearing until she’s in front of them and talking.

“—And I owe you two for real,” he catches the end of what she says. “I’m happy to buy you both a couple drinks—”

“That’s okay, Jinsol-ssi,” Chan says from his side. “You don’t owe us a thing. I actually think I’m gonna make sure Jisung-ah gets home okay.”

He is?

“That’s a good idea, Chan-ssi, he hit his head pretty hard. I don’t know if you saw…”

“Only a little bit of it, but I ran here as fast as I could.”

Then with a blink, Jinsol is gone. Wait, where did she go? She was just here. Jisung suddenly looks around for her around the lobby, behind the vending machine, on the ceiling…

“Are you okay, Jisung-ah?” Jisung feels hands wrapped around his upper arms and warm, kind thoughts filled with worry towards him.

He blinks at Chan and his stupidly beautiful face for a few moments, trying to snap himself out of it. “I-I’m okay, hyung…I just…” he reaches up to clutch the back of his head, which has started throbbing, and the other man drops his hands to his sides. “Other than the head thing, I’m fine,” he tells his friend, who in turn doesn’t look convinced. A thought occurs to Jisung. “Why’d you come back here, anyway?”

Chan suddenly seems shy amidst his serious expression. “I wanted to check on you…I wondered if something happened earlier with the people that joined us at the booth since you left really quickly, and then I saw you talking to Jinsol-ssi… and after that you left the room, and you looked kind of upset, so I thought I would make sure you’re okay. Let’s sit down?” The last part sounds like a suggestion, but he’s already guiding him towards a bench near the door. Jisung lets himself be herded without argument and he takes a seat.

Jisung watches Chan sit down next to him, and the way that he sits at an angle is close enough for their knees to touch. Truthfully, he feels somewhat bewildered at his explanation. He didn’t realize Chan would care that much about where he went, what he did, and what sort of expression he wore on his face.

He listens to the rush of thoughts that enter his head as Chan doesn’t seem to be in the mood to withdraw his knee. ‘I wonder what’s wrong with him. Did those women say something to him? Did I say something? Maybe I pushed him too hard when I suggested we sing together. It’s like everytime I push a little, he pulls away…I probably need to be even slower. Yeah. But yuck—I hate feeling so jealous over seeing him with Felix and Jinsol. I just—’

Jisung shifts his leg away, trying his best not to look surprised. He had some inclination that jealousy was the reason he’d come over to interrupt him and Felix talking…but Jinsol? How does he even begin to tell Chan that she’s off the radar…but he can’t tell him that, because his only piece of evidence that she’s only into women is from the time he caught her thinking about sex with women.

He leans back against the wall, closing his eyes to try and keep the worsening headache at bay. But he knows that the jealousy thing shouldn’t be the main takeaway from his thoughts, even if they were the most jarring. Chan thinks Jisung’s pulling away from him again, when really…it’s the exact opposite. There’s something about Chan that’s slowly burning away at his insides, drawing him towards him, and he doesn’t understand it.

“Chan…” Jisung speaks up, forcing his eyes open to look at him under the fluorescent lights.

“Jisung.”

“Thanks for saving me back there. I really appreciate you looking out for me.”

He looks surprised, but immediately smiles at him. Jisung’s heartbeat sets at a quicker pace when he sees those dimples again. “Any time. I’ll always have your back.”

Always? He wants to deny this, but he sees how assured Chan looks while he’s saying this, as if having his back is a core belief of his. He lets it be.

“What do you think about getting out of here and grabbing some ice cream?” Jisung asks him.

“Isn’t it almost October? And sort of cold out?”

“Yes.”

“…Yeah, of course I do.”

_____

Jisung is relieved that it’s a Saturday. His head still hurts from the guy throwing him against a vending machine, and he’s ready to take some acetaminophen and pass out.

He does just that, and he wakes up a few hours later to watch some anime with a more subsided headache and some ramyeon that came out a bit too watery, and as a result the noodles taste flavorless. No matter, food is food.

The day passes way too quickly this way, and he laments that he has to return to work on Monday, the same way he always has to.

He’s considering ordering something from a restaurant for dinner once again, when he hears his doorbell buzz. Jisung thinks it’s in his head at first. People don’t come to his door. Is it the mail person? But they would have come much earlier.

Jisung quickly pulls on a hoodie and sweatpants and steps to the door. He unlocks the chain that has been locked all day, as he hasn’t left the house, and opens the door to see Seungmin on his steps, his hair a bit unruly, his shirt and pants wrinkled, and even fingerprints on his glasses.

“Do you want to go get drinks with me?” Seungmin asks without pause.

“Uhh—” Jisung registers after a beat that Seungmin is in some sort of crisis. He hasn’t seen his friend like this since their finals in university, and if he’s under the same level of stress…oh, it’s bad. “Come in, Seungmin-ah.” He steps back to let him in.

Seungmin immediately wrinkles his nose at the state of his apartment. “Sheesh, when’s the last time you cleaned?”

“Last week—never mind. You have to stay out.” Jisung starts to push him back towards the door, his friend much too judgmental for his tastes today, but for some reason Seungmin’s eyes widen and he tries to miss Jisung’s hand on him. It’s too late, and Jisung firmly places it on his chest.

Jisung feels a shock as he touches Seungmin, as if he’s encountered some static electricity that runs all the way through his arm. Seungmin must feel the same thing as well, because he full-body shivers.

‘What the hell did you just do to me, Jisung?’

Jisung scoffs and thinks, ‘What I did? You’re the one intruding in my house’— he stops and blinks up at Seungmin when he sees that the man is looking at him as if he’s seen a ghost.

He rescinds his hand quickly. “Seungmin… did you… hear that?”

In turn, he stares mournfully, then nods.

Jisung’s head is spinning. Why? How? Then it hits him. “Wait. You’re a virgin, and your 30th birthday was on the 22nd…” his mouth drops open. “You can read minds too?”

He nods again.

Jisung pouts. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s been a really weird week, Jisungie. I was just trying to process it all. You’re the only one who knows.”

Jisung nods back. Okay, he knows way too well how he’s feeling. “Then, if I can read minds, and you can read minds, then…” Jisung reaches for Seungmin’s hand and folds their fingers together. ‘Who’s flying the plane?’

‘You’re stupid.’

‘God, I wish we had this power when we were trying to pass notes to each other in class.’

Seungmin chuckles. ‘It would have kept us from being thrown out that one time.’

A wide smile forms on Jisung’s face at the memory. He’d been so freaked out about being kicked out of a class at the time, but now it’s just funny to think about. ‘Let me get changed, then let’s go get those drinks.’

Seungmin doesn’t say another word about his own curse until several drinks in, and when he does, it’s coupled with a groan and a lean back into his seat. “I can’t believe I told you that you were a freak for reading minds. And now here I am. A freak that reads peoples’ minds. I’m hating this karma thing, Ji.”

Jisung stills, then reaches over and pats Seungmin’s leg. “There, there.” ‘We can just be freaks together, now.’

‘Weren’t we already?’

‘True.’ “But I need you to tell me about your week—because something tells me more has happened to you than just the mind-reading thing.” Jisung reaches over and pulls Seungmin’s glasses off his face to clean them with his t-shirt, while he starts his story.

“Well, you know how it started, probably. I had an incredibly odd dream, where some big voice told me I would be receiving “help.” He puts ‘help’ in air-quotes.

Jisung nods and slides Seungmin’s glasses back onto his face.

Seungmin continues undeterred. “—But I had a lot of writing to do, and I’d ‘Locked In’ mentally and physically. I didn’t actually see anyone until a couple days after my birthday…and that was my delivery driver.”

Jisung’s eyes widen. “No.”

“Yep. I accidentally skimmed his hands and got the biggest shock of my life.” He holds up his hands, as if they’re evidence of the story. Jisung nods in acknowledgment that he has hands.

“What did you hear? Does he agree with me that you’re creepy and weird?”

“Thanks, but no…not at first. He wasn’t really thinking about me at all. He was thinking about Dori.”

Jisung raises his eyebrow. “How does he know that you have a cat?”

“Well…”

Then Jisung proceeds to hear Seungmin relay his tale. He knows Dori was initially a stray that lived on the alleyway next to Seungmin’s building for a long time. When the weather got extremely cold, his friend had taken the tabby in for shelter, and then the cat just didn’t want to leave his cozy apartment. At the time it was sort of hilarious to Jisung, because Seungmin is so much more of a dog person, but Dori livened up the place and made Seungmin less lonely, so Jisung was happy for him.

Seungmin tells him about how after that initial encounter, he’d guiltily started ordering things left and right—random things to get the delivery guy to come to his door.

“What were you going to do when he came to your door, genius? Were you going to use your rizz?”

“Don’t say rizz. You’re thirty.”

“Fuck you.”

Every time the man arrived at his door, Seungmin would try and vaguely touch the man’s fingertip, just to garner potential interest in him, he says. Every time, though, it would just be interest in his cat. So he eventually just asked a few days ago, out of curiosity, how would he feel about taking a small break to meet his cat? To which the guy agreed in an entirely nonchalant way, not at all like his excited inner thoughts towards his cat that Seungmin had been privy to.

“Then I found out some actual stuff about him,” Seungmin informs him as he pushes his glasses onto his face. “His name’s Minho, and Dori was a cat that he’d try to feed every time he saw him. He even brought Dori boxes for shelter. He lives in an apartment that doesn’t allow pets—or else he’d have adopted Dori himself.”

Jisung pours Seungmin some more soju, and he returns the favor. “How did he know that you had him, though?”

“He asked around to one of our neighbors, apparently. And they told him way too much,” Seungmin answered, sounding a tad irritated.

“Oh, no. Gossiping about you?”

“Yeah—she told him about how Dori was taken in by ‘The loner on the third floor who writes erotica— shut up.’”

Jisung cackles. “‘Erotica,’” he repeats while wheezing.

“I only know this from reading his mind though, obviously. He wouldn’t just tell me he thinks I write erotica. But I don’t know how to explain what I actually write without sounding like I read his mind. And he probably does think I’m a creep, and a weirdo—just like the song. This sucks.” He throws back his shot of soju, and Jisung does the same.

“I don’t know what this god-person means by ‘help,’” Jisung comments, his vision starting to swim around him. “Because it really just feels like it’s made both of our lives much more difficult.”

Seungmin squints at him. “How is it going with you and Bang Chan?”

“Um—it’s going, and not going,” Jisung answers, moving to fidget with his shirt. “He still has a crush on me for whatever reason. Last night we went to a work noraebang-thing, we sang a song together, and he saved me from some drunk guys who were going to beat me up.” He continues, though Seungmin has raised his eyebrows. “And—a couple weeks ago, he kissed me on the forehead…” he trails off.

He’s rendered Seungmin speechless. After a moment, he takes a swig straight from the bottle, then clinks it down on the table. “Poor Jisungie,” he says in an overly-honeyed tone. “He has a perfectly nice, gorgeous man who he knows is in love with him and would do anything for him. How terrible.”

Jisung scowls and pulls his knees to his chest. “Look—I know he’s nice and gorgeous. The problem is me, okay? I don’t know if I’m what he needs. And I don’t even know if I like him like that, or if whatever it is I feel is because I know that he has a crush on me. Because I didn’t have one before all this mess.”

Seungmin falls into an unfocused scowl to match his. “You didn’t? At all?”

“No?” Jisung tries to filter through his drunken thoughts to think of Chan then. Cool, confident, friendly, objectively handsome Chan.

Now Jisung wonders if he’s objectively handsome, or if Jisung also finds him personally attractive.

“Seungmin…I might be bisexual,” Jisung sags in his seat, then burps loudly.

“You’re disgusting… because of the burp, Jisung, not because you’re bi! Don’t look at me like that. Obviously I’m queer, too. Probably gay. I don’t know.”

Jisung shrugs at that. “Then…you should order more stuff. Or better yet—get Minho’s number. You’d save yourself money with the second thing.”

“No offense, but I’m not taking relationship advice from Han Jisung.” Seungmin chugs the dregs of the bottle.

“Yeah…that’s fair.”

They stumble out of the bar and Seungmin grabs his wrist while they wade through the throngs of other bar-hoppers. The bus stop is a whole block away, and Jisung regrets not bringing a thicker jacket.

They finally reach the bus stop and slump together for warmth on a bench. Luckily they’re under the canopy, because the skies begin pouring rain. It’s hard for Jisung to focus on anything besides how cold he is, but Seungmin nudges him, trying to get his attention.

“Isn’t that your boyfriend over there?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jisung mumbles, but he sits up to see where Seungmin’s pointing across the street. Sure enough—that looks exactly like Bang Chan. No—Jisung recognizes that coat. It’s him. He’s talking to a woman, and Jisung sits and watches helplessly as he starts putting his arms around her and holding her close. He even watches as they kiss briefly.

“Jisungie?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s get on the bus now…”

Oh. He hadn't realized the bus arrived. He feels a bit outside of his own body as he leaves the safety of the canopy and immediately is drenched in rain as he walks to the entrance of the bus, letting Seungmin on first, then following in after him.

When they reach a couple of hard seats, their hair and clothes clinging wetly to their skin, Seungmin speaks up. “Are you okay?”

Jisung blinks once. “Sure. We’re not together—he’s allowed to do whatever he wants. He’s never even confessed to me. It makes sense, you know.” He forces a laugh. “He probably has more than one crush. Maybe I’m just his work one—his crush because he’s bored.”

“Jisungie. Can you not talk about yourself that way? We don’t know anything about what just happened. Maybe it’s just a hookup.”

So Jisung falls silent, letting the acidic thoughts linger in his head instead. He knows Seungmin can tell he’s still stewing in his own thoughts, but doesn’t say anything. He might not know what to say. He reaches for Jisung’s hand, and allows Jisung to listen to Seungmin’s disjointed worrying thoughts. In turn, he supposes he allows Seungmin to hear all of it—all the ugly, self-hating parts of him.

“Whatever. I just want to go home,” Jisung says finally.

“Okay. I love you though, you know that, right?” Seungmin squeezes his hand.

“Yeah, I know. I love you too, Seung.” Jisung rests his head on Seungmin’s shoulder for the remainder of the ride.

When Jisung stumbles in through the door of his empty, tiny apartment, he doesn’t feel like sleeping, even though he’s cold and his muscles are tired. His clothes are freshly-wet from the rain pouring on him when he stepped inside, and he’s dripping through his home as he starts piling dishes into his sink, putting trash from his coffee table into the trash bin, and cramming dirty clothes into the washer unit. He’s semi-satisfied with that, and he crawls into bed still in his wet clothes, and finally falls asleep after a half hour of staring at nothing and feeling alone in his apartment, regretting not following Seungmin home. He wishes he had something here to keep him company—a dog, perhaps.

When he wakes up just hours later, he feels sick. Jisung wonders if it’s just a bad hangover, but hangovers don’t make his skin feel cold and send snot running down his nose. He hadn’t thought about the cold rain potentially making him sick. Great. He feels weakened, but he manages to convince his brain to get up and change into a hoodie and sweats, and then he stumbles back into his wet bed, tugging the covers over himself. He deserves this, after all. He strung Chan along, and he’s finally found someone else. Perfect, gorgeous Chan, with his beautifully-tousled brunet hair and his large, full lips, his sculpted nose, and his warm brown eyes that would now be looking at the woman with fondness instead. That’s fine. He’s fine. Really, he should be more surprised that it’s taken this long for Chan to find someone else. His thoughts make him feel dizzy, and he tries to silence his brain long enough to find some semblance of sleep. He falls into a fitful rest full of vivid, non-consequential dreams.

The next thing he notices is someone buzzing his doorbell. His eyes blink open, and he realizes it’s finally morning…or it could be the afternoon. He’s not sure, and he doesn’t seem fit to check. Maybe if he stays here long enough without saying anything, then whoever is at the door will take the hint and leave.

They don’t take the hint. The doorbell rings some more, and then to Jisung’s horror, they even try the doorknob. “Jisung-ah,” a voice calls, and Jisung feels a shiver run down his spine as he realizes the voice belongs to Chan. “Your door is locked…can you let me in?”

“No,” he finds himself saying out loud. He’s an actual, literal mess. What is Chan doing here? He’s never even been here, except to drop Jisung off at home from the noraebang, only to speed off again before he could ask if Chan wanted to stay over. But he realizes Chan can’t hear him, and he’s too weak to yell. So he sort of has to go to the door, one way or the other.

Jisung heaves himself from his bed and weakly shuffles to the door. He unlocks it and pulls the door open slightly.

He sees Chan in a casual black long-sleeved crewneck, black sweatpants, and black sneakers. The sunglasses propped on top of his head are also black. He’s holding a plastic bag full of styrofoam containers. “Hyung—what are you doing here?” Jisung’s voice sounds like his throat is full of gravel.

“Jisung-ah, you look terrible. Are you sick?”

Jisung shrugs. He’s already losing the will to stand for so long, and his legs just might come out from under him. Chan seems to notice, and very carefully pushes the door open and lets himself in.

“Come on, let’s put you back into bed.” Jisung lets himself be ushered back into his bed, and he pulls the covers over himself again. “Do you own a thermometer?” Chan asks.

Jisung shakes his head. Chan moves in closer and feels his forehead.

‘Poor guy—if I didn’t randomly come here to surprise him with lunch, would he have ever reached out and told me he was sick? No—of course he wouldn’t. He doesn’t seem the type to ask for help from anyone, but definitely not me.’

Chan’s right, unfortunately. He especially doesn’t want to see him like this—hair and skin greasy and sweaty, his apartment still in disarray despite his quick cleanup last night. 

“You definitely have a fever.” Chan pulls his hand away.

“What are you doing here, hyung?” he asks again.

“I was going to see if we could have lunch together, but…I think I should probably change my plans.”

“Yeah—good idea. I’ll see you at work—”

“—I mean changing my plans to take care of you, Sung-ah.”

He blinks, his brain not quite computing. “Why?”

“Well, when’s the last time someone’s taken care of you when you were sick?”

Jisung is silent as he tries to think back. It had to have been during college sometime, maybe…actually he can’t think of a time sooner than his childhood, and by now he’s been quiet for too long, which only proves Chan’s point.

“So, let me take care of you.”

“But…what about—” Jisung blurts out, then wants to feed those words right back into his mouth. His fever-ridden brain isn’t helping with discerning reality, and now that he realizes he’s alluded to thinking about something, Chan isn’t going to let it go, is he?

Chan tilts his head and looks at him warily. “But what about what?”

“Um, nothing. Never mind.”

He crouches down to meet him at eye level. “Please tell me.”

Jisung finds it hard to look at Chan right now without his eyes drooping from exhaustion. Which makes it easier to coax it out of himself. “But what about…that girl last night? Why are you here bringing lunch to me instead of…I don’t know, being with her?”

Whatever Chan expected Jisung to say, it certainly wasn’t that. His mouth falls open and his eyes widen. “How do you know about that?”

Jisung gives a half-shrug. “Seungmin and I saw you while we were at the bus stop. You two looked pretty…snuggly.” Yeah, that feels like the right word to use at the moment.

“It—well, it was sort of a one-night stand, if you could call it that, because she left almost immediately after…but it was a mutual quick-thing, we both just wanted to fuck and that was it, you know?”

Jisung doesn’t know, and he assumes Chan realizes that, by the way he seems to want to put his foot in his mouth. He would feel embarrassed for how he brought it up in the first place, but he can’t feel much of anything besides the cloudiness in his head and the chill spreading throughout his body. 

“—Anyway, nothing’s going on with her. I don’t even have her number, Sung-ah—”

“Hyung, relax, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I was just wondering why you weren’t with her, that was all.”

“Oh. I just…want to make sure you know that I’m not seeing anyone. I’m single.”

Jisung wants to reach out and touch him to get his reasoning behind saying that. He thinks about touching him, and he decides that he will be doing that, but his heavy arms refuse to catch up with his brain. So he lays there and only guesses Chan’s thoughts. “Okay. Why do you want me to know?”

Chan grimaces, then slowly stands to his feet. “Sleep, Jisung-ah. We can talk another time.”

“Oh. Okay.”

It doesn’t take much to convince him to let himself stop fighting the sleep threatening to overtake him. He still doesn’t understand why Chan is here. Why would he want to be with Jisung over that beautiful woman on the street? He could date anyone he wanted. Anyone in their right mind would want Chan. Who would only want him for a couple hours, only to never see him again? Someone crazy, that’s who. He tires himself out from the spiraling and dozes off.

He next wakes up to the sound of running water, and dishes clanging in the sink. His eyes blink open to the sight of Chan’s broad back hovered over his sink, finishing off washing the last of his dishes. Jisung feels weak and nauseated, and the next thought that occurs to him has him scrambling out of his bed and tripping over his bedding as he rushes to the bathroom.

Jisung hears his name called with worry laced in Chan’s tone, but he slams the door of the bathroom and empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet as an answer. When he’s finished, he feels fucking miserable. He wishes for the hundredth time that Chan wasn’t seeing him like this. He should be alone and taking care of himself—he’s done it his whole life. He doesn’t want Chan literally cleaning up after his messes.

He feels weak, and decides the floor of the bathroom is just as good a place to sleep as any. It’s convenient, really.

Jisung pulls himself into a fetal position on his bathroom rug, and dozes off with his cheek squished against the cool floor tile. Minutes or perhaps hours later, he can’t tell which, he registers the door opening, then his eyes barely squint open to see socked feet. He feels a small swoop in his stomach when he’s being lifted up and carried back to his bed, his face nestled in the crook of Chan’s arms. He hears a rush of thoughts of Chan looking down at his feeble body, but instead of disgust and annoyance over carrying him, Chan feels a sense of calm fondness. And then, reluctance when he has to set Jisung down in his bed and pull the bedding over him. 

Then Chan isn’t touching him for a few minutes, so Jisung loses track of him until he’s close by again.

“Jisung-ah, if you need to throw up again, there’s a bucket here…”

Jisung grunts. “Hyung.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry that I’m making you worry about me, ruining your Sunday…it’s really okay if you’d rather be somewhere else—”

“And if I don’t want to be anywhere else?”

Jisung has no answer to that, so Chan continues. “I’m choosing to stay over because I care about you, and I like helping, all right?”

“All right…” Jisung bites his lip.

Chan sighs and sits down on the floor next to his bed. “What is it, Jisung?”

“It’s just…I’m really not used to anyone taking care of me like this. It kind of makes me a pathetic loser, huh?” He forces a weak laugh, but Chan only frowns at him.

“Stop. You are not a pathetic loser, okay? It’s okay to ask for help. Hell—it’s perfectly normal to want someone to be close to you. Whoever gets to be your first kiss, your first girlfriend or boyfriend—they’re going to be so lucky. Just like…how I’m lucky to take care of you right now.” Jisung suddenly feels a soft hand massaging the arm sticking out of his covers, and he hears a rush of thoughts.

‘If I were so lucky to be his first for all those, I would treasure it for the rest of my life.’

Jisung turns bright red, hopefully disguised thanks to the fever. He feels warmth spreading through his body, letting himself surround himself in Chan’s safe thoughts and his gentle touch. Maybe…all those things would be really good, if they were with Chan.

He thinks he opens his mouth to say something, when he’s actually settling into a somewhat-comfortable sleep.

Jisung wakes up some time later to the outside of his window being pitch-black. He’s covered in sweat, which tells him that at some point his fever has broken. That’s a relief, at least.

He still feels somewhat nauseous and lethargic, his legs sore, so he decides that not moving is still a good idea. Jisung blinks and takes in his apartment: his drying rack that looks suspiciously like it has more clothes on it, the untouched dusty guitar in the corner, his cleaned-off coffee table and his countertops in his kitchen cleared.

He doesn’t have to look far to find the culprit of his clean apartment. Chan has fallen asleep next to him. He knelt down and draped over the edge of his bed, and he’s sound asleep, snoring. His eyes are squinted shut, as if something’s troubling him.

Jisung can’t help but reach over and gingerly brush some hair out of his face and read his thoughts—and to his great surprise, he’s able to see Chan’s dream.

Chan is imagining himself walking around a very warped version of their work office—the large room is so weirdly-shaped, that Jisung wouldn’t be able to recognize it if there weren't desks and computers. He approaches their incredibly distorted boss, who barks at him, “Don’t forget the deadline to let the police frogs out is due Friday.” Chan nods at their boss like this information is completely normal, and Jisung stifles a giggle at him. Cute.

Dream Chan continues walking around the office. Jisung sees warped, dream-haze versions of their coworkers, as well as a few people he doesn’t recognize, and someone who looks suspiciously like Ryan Reynolds standing next to a cooler. Chan pays little attention to him, though, in favor of…himself.

Dream Jisung is just as hazy, and much paler than the actual honeyed tone of his skin, but it’s him, all right. Chan has his bedhead and disheveled clothes down to a T. But he’s also wearing an exaggerated deep scowl, which is the most jarring part.

Chan looks directly at Dream Jisung, and Real Jisung can feel a weird amount of anxiety emanating from Chan. Dream Jisung’s voice is different, but definitely a good imitation of his actual voice. “You know it’s never going to happen, right?”

Chan sighs. “Yeah, I know…”

“I’m never going to like you back. You’d better get it through your fucking head.”

Dream Jisung turns and sits at a computer, effectively dismissing him, and Chan mutters, “Okay…” before he goes back to walking around.

Real Jisung has seen enough of the dream, and he rescinds his hand from Chan’s head, letting it drape limply over his stomach.

He wishes he could say that he would never do that to Chan. And he supposes he would never phrase a rejection like that—or talk like that to anyone. But…he has been rejecting Chan. Over and over, constantly. Jisung feels like a piece of trash, a wrapper perhaps, wadded up and fallen under a dumpster. And he should be treated like that. Chan deserves so much better than him. He wishes he could tell him without admitting that he knows about the crush.

He watches Chan for a bit more in the dark, taking in his muscled arms supporting his head, the cascade of soft hair over his closed eyes. Then Jisung reaches over and gently pats his shoulder, ignoring the incoming dream scenes. “Chan…” he mutters loud enough to interrupt his snoring.

Chan groggily stirs for a moment, then suddenly comes to and wakes with a jolt. “Hm? Yeah? Do you need something, Sungie?”

Jisung ignores the sudden heat on his face from Chan calling him ‘Sungie,’ and starts to scoot over closer to the wall. “That has to be really uncomfortable…please come up here with me?”

Chan blinks at him in a daze, as if he’s not sure if he’s still dreaming or not. Then Jisung sees more of a glimpse of uncertain Chan rising to the surface. “A-are you sure?”

Jisung nods. “Sorry if the sheets are sweaty, though…I think my fever broke.”

“That-that’s all right. I’m glad you’re feeling a little bit better.” Chan stands to his feet to stretch out his arms and legs, then climbs into bed next to Jisung and pulls the blankets over them.

His bed is only a twin-size; any larger and he would have even less room in his cramped apartment. With both of their wide shoulders, their arms touch no matter which way Jisung shifts. Chan’s thoughts are racing, thinking about being in a bed with Jisung.

But Jisung falls asleep quickly among the constant stream of his thoughts, letting them surround him like an embrace. When Chan finally finds sleep, his dreams somehow incorporate themselves into Jisung’s, until he’s imagining following Chan around on his dream endeavors. A subconscious part of Jisung knows he’s not actually in Chan’s dream, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to keep him company. Outwardly, they’re both snoring their heads off.

Chapter Text

“You know, Jisung-ssi, you wouldn’t need me to hold all this up for you if you would just go to the gym with me.” Changbin stands there, television in his arms, with a grin that he’s probably trying to pass off as enticing.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jisung retorts. “Would I somehow grow two extra arms if I went to the gym?”

“Well, I guess you’ll never find out, huh?”

Now that he’s back in the office, Jisung has been tasked to fix the television in one of the conference rooms. Said television had to be taken out of the wall and held up so that Jisung could access the plug-in cables. He’d recruited the best person for that job, but that recruitment didn’t come without setbacks. Mainly, more bullying to get him to go to the gym.

The first and only time he went, the day after he helped Chan out with that client, Changbin had been overjoyed to work him to the bone. In retrospect Jisung thinks that’s all the guy wants him for, really; not because he wants to spend time with him or wants to help him, but because he wants a project. Someone he can do before and after photos with to show his bros. And Jisung doesn’t really want to feel like a pet.

“Whatever,” he mumbles as he reaches behind the screen to connect the cords, his sleeves rolled up and out of the way. He thinks he has it figured out, and he requests Changbin put the screen back while he tests it.

“Nice, okay.” Jisung smiles as he presses a few buttons on the remote, and it functions the way it’s supposed to. “Thanks for the help, Changbin-ssi. Is there…any chance I can buy you a coffee to pay you back instead of what you’re about to say—”

“—Nope! You can pay me back by lifting with me.”

“Oh...great.”

“See you tomorrow night, Jisung-ssi!” Changbin waves and walks out the conference room door. Jisung is turning to grab his things from on the table when he hears Changbin say “Hey, Chan-ssi!” outside the door, followed by an even more muffled return greeting by a now very familiar voice. Jisung’s stomach sinks.

When he and Chan woke up the next morning after Jisung had invited him onto his bed to sleep next to him, he’d expected things to be awkward, perhaps one or both of them realizing that they were way too close in proximity to each other. But instead, that feeling never came. He’d blinked his tired eyes open to take in a Chan who had already woken up and had been sleepily watching him. It should have felt creepy that he’d caught Chan doing that…but it wasn’t, at all. His expression and thoughts were so fond, so worried about him and whether he felt better, his eyes taking in Jisung’s soft, puffy, sleeping form. Chan knew his fever broke during the night, but he still called off work and had Jisung do the same. Then they spent the day eating soup that Chan made in his tiny kitchen, and watching a mixture of sitcoms and anime. Then in the evening, Chan went home only for an hour or so to get his clothes for work the next morning, and they spent another night in Jisung’s same cramped bed. It felt so comfortable, even weirdly domestic between them. 

And then this morning, Chan decided to follow Jisung’s morning schedule, choosing to ride the bus with him even when he had his car. Jisung reluctantly led him to his 7/11 and insisted that he cover his coffee and breakfast, though he did have to field questions from the older about why he didn’t simply use the 7/11 in his apartment complex instead.

“Ah—it’s because the woman working there thinks that I’m gross, so I just avoid going there altogether now…” he didn’t think about lying until after the words had already slipped from his mouth.

“Why does she think you’re gross?”

“Probably because…” he had gestured vaguely to himself, as if that answered the question. “But really, it’s okay. She was right—and I’m used to stuff like that.”

Chan had frowned, and Jisung could see him start to seeth. “It’s her loss,” he’d said finally, as their bus had pulled up.

The bus ride had been filled with people as usual, and he couldn’t stop Chan from crowding into his space while hovering over him, their hands touching as they shared the same overhead support loop. His thoughts were very clear and distinct, and Jisung had no choice but to listen to them.

‘Thank you, packed bus! I get to be so close to Jisung. Ugh, I’m so lucky. I can’t believe someone said something so mean to my Jisung, what did he mean, he’s used to it? I swear, I’m not above beating people up…if I disguised myself, maybe I wouldn’t be fired…Oh—we kind of look like a couple standing so close to each other like this. His lips look so soft right now—I wonder what it would feel like to kiss them…’

Jisung managed to shift his hand enough that he wasn’t touching him any longer. The combination of the crowd of people around him, and Chan so close to him, still casting lingering glances at him and his lips…Chan’s feelings…it was too much. He needed space to think. Then he’d immediately felt guilt for wanting to distance himself. When they arrived at the office building and scanned in their IDs, Jisung had feigned needing to use the restroom and dove off, telling Chan not to wait up for him.

And now…it seems Chan has managed to catch up with him. Jisung peeks through the window of the door to the hallway outside and sees Chan scrolling through his phone. He’s leaning casually against the wall, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, his hair mussed up, likely from him running his hands through it. He’s so gorgeous, it actually hurts.

Jisung feels overwhelmed all over again, and decides to leave out the opposite door to a different hallway. He’s barely had time to even think. Things are going so fast for him right now, way too fast. He hasn’t even had a proper date before, and now he’s thinking about being with Chan, kissing him senseless, touching him…he needs to buy himself some time to think more about it, but how? He doesn’t know how he can, not when Chan’s stuff is still at his house. He starts to sweat, he feels so nervous about the thought of being with him. Ugh, he’s pathetic.

“Hey, Jisung-ssi!” He hears Felix before he sees him. He’s jogging to meet up with his fast, almost frantic walking pace, so Jisung slows himself down for his coworker’s benefit. 

“Hey, Felix-ssi.”

“Are you feeling any better? Sorry you had to miss work yesterday.”

“O-oh, yeah. I had a cold and fever over the weekend. It sucked, but—I’m back.”

Felix nods to commiserate, then reaches to loop his arm around Jisung’s. ‘Poor guy. It’s kind of interesting how he and Chan were both off of work yesterday, though.’ Jisung doesn’t have time to let that thought register before Felix is speaking up.

“Hey—I saw you and Chan-ssi getting off the bus this morning together. You two seem really close.”

Work gossip. Jisung’s life has been reduced to work gossip. He opens his mouth to dissuade further rumors from spreading, when a familiar figure approaches and wraps his hand around Jisung’s arm. ‘Go away, Felix, get out of here. Jisung’s mine, take the hint.’ “Oh, yeah! We’re so close that I’m spending the night at his house.”

“Hyung!” Jisung whines at Chan, but he keeps his stiff smile and his hand around him.

Felix doesn’t notice the hostility. “Oh, wow! So, you’re having a slumber party tonight? Can I come?”

Chan seems at a loss for words, and his mind is scrambling for some way to outright refuse him while remaining polite at the same time. “N-”

Jisung cuts in, his mouth running before his mind has a chance to catch up. “Um, yeah, sure! There’s room for more. You’ll have to bring your own blankets, though. My home’s too small for a couch.” This is great, actually. Felix has offered himself up as the perfect distraction for the evening, giving Jisung more time to think.

“Oh, that’ll be so fun, mate! You got it! And hey—I just bought a takoyaki pan, and I’ve been practicing flipping the batter; we should turn this into a takoyaki party.”

“That sounds…really fun, actually,” Jisung tells him, surprising himself by telling the truth. “You bring your pan, and Chan-hyung and I will get the ingredients tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan! Here, put your number into my phone and you can let me know your address.” Jisung does, and it’s a bit hard to type things into his phone while Chan still hasn’t let go of his arm. “See you tonight, Jisung-ssi!” Felix offers a wave and a grin, and practically skips away.

That leaves Jisung with Chan in the hallway. “Hyung, can you let go?”

“Hmm? Oh—I’m sorry.” His hand leaves his arm.

“I should have asked if you were okay with grocery shopping with me after work today, sorry about that…”

“—No, that’s definitely okay. I love grocery shopping. And we can take my car instead of hauling groceries on the bus.” Chan grins, his dimples showing.

“Great. Then I’ll talk to you later, hyung.” He hesitates a tiny bit, but then his instincts take over, and he pokes one of Chan’s dimples. Then he turns on his heel and walks in the other direction. He misses the way the older’s face turns beet-red.

At the end of a long and uneventful work day, Jisung rides home on his usual bus with Chan, and they pick up his car close to his apartment. On the ride to the market, Jisung looks up ingredients for takoyaki and writes them as a grocery list on his phone. The silence is comfortable, only broken by the talk shows on the radio and occasional bits of songs Jisung will hear as Chan flips through the stations. He eventually settles on a top hits station, and Jisung vaguely hums along to the lyrics when he recognizes a song. He feels relaxed; he tucks a leg under himself and settles into the seat, absentmindedly tapping his other fingers against the window ledge. He isn’t even that fazed when Chan not-so-subtly rests his hand on Jisung’s knee that is close to the center console.

“Channie-hyung—” Jisung starts, then flushes faintly when he realizes he called him ‘Channie.’ Fuck, he’s so gone already.

Chan smiles with amusement and shakes his knee. Jisung can hear him repeating the nickname in his head over and over. “Yeah, Sungie?”

Jisung coughs. He’s perfectly fine. “I-I was just wondering if there’s anything you wanted to add to the list.”

“Nuh-uh—” Chan shakes his head. “But you might want to get more than just takoyaki for yourself this week…your refrigerator lacked…a lot of things…”

Jisung’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Am I detecting a hint of judgment in that tone, hyung?”

Chan laughs. “Maybe. You really live like that, huh?”

“I order out a lot,” he defends.

“Oh, I can tell. Do your local restaurants have your orders memorized?”

Jisung tries to have a retort to that; even opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He realizes there is no retort. “S-shut up,” he finally says. Nailed it.

Chan only laughs harder.

Jisung is not a big fan of supermarkets. Too many people, too many products to look at, and trying to navigate a shopping cart through the narrow aisles gives him unnecessary anxiety. Then there’s the matter of checking out; trying to put everything on the conveyor belts for the checker to scan as quickly as he can, because if he takes too long he feels like he’s inconveniencing everyone around him. He felt like dying once when he had a milk coupon—never again. He pays full price now.

It’s a matter of self-preservation at this point that he orders out for most of his meals.

And yet, when Chan parks the car, and they make the trek across the parking lot and through the automatic doors into the bustling market that smells strongly of fish, he finds that he’s feeding from Chan’s calm energy. His friend is somehow entirely in his element as he grabs a shopping cart and immediately slips a bag of chips close to the front into the cart. He asks Jisung questions about the takoyaki ingredients and occasionally points out cute packaging, or gently suggests he restocks certain food items—rice, meats and veggies that will freeze for a long time, some sauces—Chan explains all this animatedly to him as they walk. Jisung accepts his suggestions easily; Chan’s so much more capable when it comes to cooking, and he seems to have more confidence in Jisung cooking than he himself has. Belatedly, he wonders if Chan actually intends on cooking these things for him. Since he hasn’t stated his intention of sleeping anywhere besides Jisung’s apartment yet.

In short, he’s making the shopping experience a very easy one.

“Do you like banana milk, hyung?”

“I don’t mind it. I prefer strawberry, though.”

“We should get drinks with the takoyaki, I think. I’ve only got water. How about a Hello Kitty drink?” He points to it for Chan, who snorts.

“Sure, we all need Hello-Kitty-flavored drinks to go with our takoyaki.”

Jisung doesn’t go for the Hello Kitty ones, though. He instead reaches for banana and strawberry milks, then a 12-pack of beer.

The checkout process goes smoothly—Chan seems to catch onto Jisung’s need to be as quick as possible, and rather than dissuade him, he helps out with placing the items, making the work much quicker with two people. It’s also easier to carry out the groceries with Chan’s packed muscles helping him, and it’s much better to be able to put them into the trunk of a car. By the end of that, it feels less like an ordeal, and more like a fun errand.

Jisung tries not to think too hard about the idea of grocery runs always being like this with Chan around, but he thinks about it anyway. He’s close to fantasizing about it, even, which he knows is dangerous. But all this, riding in the car with him after work, buying groceries, going back to his apartment where they’ll be cooking while hosting a coworker…it all feels so easy. And that scares him.

They haul the groceries up his stairs and into his apartment, and they’re putting everything away save for the takoyaki ingredients when Jisung hears a knock on his door. He opens the door to see Felix waving a takoyaki pan in one hand, and an overnight roll tucked under his other arm. “Hi, everyone! Oh, you were right, Jisung-ssi, this apartment is tiny! Whenever your lease is up, we should go halfsies on an apartment—”

“—Why don’t you set up the pan on the coffee table, Felix-ssi?” Chan cuts him off while he’s blanching the octopus over the sink, not even looking at him. He’s now plunging the octopus in the water as if the sea creature committed some atrocity against him, and Jisung has to fight a smile at how obvious Chan is being.

“Yes, sunbae—” Felix stops his thoughts at Chan’s tone, and sets his equipment down on the small table, while dragging his bedding over to Jisung’s bed corner.

While the two men are busy with their various tasks, Jisung makes himself busy by opening his window, knowing it’s going to be stuffy in his home rather quickly, as well as pulling cushions out of a cabinet and setting them up around the table. Plates and chopsticks and preparing the condiments is a good idea, too. In the meantime, Felix is chatting to him about anything and everything—random gossip at work, a loud neighbor he has, the drinks that Jisung has laid next to the coffee table.

Jisung finds that he doesn’t mind his excessive talking so much. It prevents him from having to come up with topics to fill the space, which he’s absolutely terrible at. Chan, on the other hand, has that vein protruding from his neck that Jisung noticed at the noraebang, leading him to believe he feels annoyed at Felix.

Jisung still doesn’t know how to reassure him without telling him that he knows about the crush. So he has no choice but to let it be, and to do his very best to liven up the space on his own.

When Chan is finished cooking, he sets the batter and the octopus next to Felix, and then scoots his cushion next to Jisung before he sits down. Then the two of them watch Felix at work, and though his coworker said that he’d practiced before coming over here, Jisung grows less and less confident in his abilities by the second.

“Shouldn’t you…spray the pan?” Jisung asks carefully.

“Oh, good call, mate—um, next batch I’ll do that, I’ve already started pouring.”

Chan and Jisung give wary glances to each other.

“Felix-ssi, you’ve got to wait a bit for the batter to cook before you can flip them—ah okay, that works, too,” Chan trails off. It’s a good thing Jisung had the foresight to open the windows, because the steam coming from these are thick.

Felix’s first batch doesn’t come out in one piece. Actually it’s more like a partially burned, mushy mess. “Um, this batch is mine,” Felix says, dropping the pile on his plate.

“Nah—don’t eat that,” Chan counters, suddenly taking it from him and dropping it into the trash bin. Jisung watches him turn his confidence on before his very eyes—a small shift in his expression, his shoulders setting. “Why don’t I take over for a few turns?”

“Oh, uh, okay, sunbaenim.”

When Chan takes over, the process seems effortless. He’s thoroughly coating the pan in oil, he’s adding the right amount of dough and filling, and he’s turning them precisely when they’re supposed to.

“Have you ever done this before?” Jisung can’t help but wonder.

“A couple times. But I also own a waffle iron, so the batter cooking rules sort of apply here, too.”

Jisung sucks in a breath. “You mean you could have been making me waffles all this time?”

Chan laughs softly. “Next time.”

The pure confidence that there would be a next time has a chill running up Jisung’s neck despite the increasing temperature in the room. He takes a shaky breath, then busies himself by distributing beers to everyone. Felix downs his beer rather quickly, and Jisung decides to follow suit. He notices that as they’re plating their takoyaki, adding condiments, and holding them up so that Felix can take a photo of them for his Instagram, that Chan hasn’t touched his beer at all. And come to think of it, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Chan drink, just one time that they’d had a meeting with some executives not too far into when they’d originally been hired. Other than that, he didn’t drink during company dinners, and not at the noraebang. So he does the logical thing and replaces his beer with some strawberry milk. “Cheers,” Jisung grins and holds up his can when Chan looks confusedly at him. Then, he laughs softly and holds up his small milk jug, and they tap them together.

After a couple rounds of both takoyaki and beers, Felix announces he’s taking over again. He’s been watching Chan work, though, so his batches turn out much better. Unfortunately, Jisung’s starting to feel gross from the amount of fried batter he’s consuming, combined with the small plume of smoke wafting and making his apartment hot. His face feels greasy and hot from the beers and he knows that he’s going to be a thirty year old man with acne starting tomorrow.

So it’s good when Felix announces that this is the last batch—that they’re all out of batter and octopus. “But this one is a special batch,” he informs the other two with a conniving grin. “One of these is going to be so spicy, you’ll be crying home to your mother.”

Jisung has the panic flood to his face—and he’s surprised when Chan does, too. Maybe they’re similar in spice tolerance, in that there’s no spice tolerance to be found between them.

“All the way to Sydney? That must be one spicy takoyaki,” Chan attempts to joke, his laugh shaky.

Felix shields them from looking, but after he’s plated them and proudly displays the balls to them, Jisung pretends to be reaching for a beer, when really he’s reaching to brush his arm along Felix’s. Perfect, his thoughts lead him right to which one it is. Now he should probably take it for Chan’s benefit, since he’s downright terrified and trying to play it off.

But then, Chan’s knee knocks against his leg, and Jisung receives some very vivid thoughts. ‘I hope Jisung gets it so that his face is all flushed and teary…’  

Jisung coughs and moves away. What the fuck? Is that something Chan’s into? Well, obviously it is…in any case, he was feeling sorry for him, but now he’s just going to very casually randomly pick ones around the spicy one. So, there.

And now he’s definitely not going to think about Chan wanting to see him flushed and teary for the rest of time.

To Chan’s benefit, he holds on strong. But eventually, he can’t fight the way his mouth burns, and he downs two strawberry milks and even a banana one in succession, all while Felix and Jisung can’t help but laugh at his reaction. When he’s calmed down, he looks at them both with a glowering, betrayed expression, and Jisung laughs a little harder, while leaning into Chan to catch his breath. “Sorry, hyung,” he breathes, and touching Chan is a mistake, because now he can sort of feel the pain, too. But he can also see Chan looking down at Jisung sinking into him, and what he can only describe as love radiating from him. It makes Jisung’s laugh cease.

Felix is still giggling as he starts to unplug the griddle and move it towards the kitchen, along with a couple bowls. Jisung finds this the perfect distraction, and so he carefully moves off of Chan and grabs some bowls to meet up with Felix. Jisung instructs him to just drop the bowls in the sink—he’ll do the dishes later—and Felix goes along with the plan. He moves back into the living area and the coffee table, chatting about how good it was, but how full he is. Jisung cracks a smile, agreeing with him, all the while looking at Chan, who’s now in a mood he can’t quite decipher. He’s silent and somewhat broody but forcing himself to look like he’s not. Jisung doesn’t like it.

While they’re wiping surfaces down and gathering up the trash, Felix continues talking, though now he’s actually including Jisung in his conversation. He’s trying to include Chan as well, but Chan only responds with a series of noncommittal grunts. Jisung doesn’t know how the roles reversed, and he became more of a social butterfly than Chan.

“When you were growing up, what did you always want to be, Han-sunbae?”

“Oh, a music producer, I guess,” he told Felix while they carried the trash outside to the trash curb. “I learned how to play the guitar, and I’d perform raps that I wrote on Youtube, and I’d also give songs to my friend Seungmin to perform in university while I played guitar…I don’t know, that was fun.” He already knows he’s told Felix more than he ever thought he would, but his coworker just keeps nodding for him to continue, so he does. “But I knew that wasn’t really going to take off, so I kept at getting my business degree, and now…here I am.”

“I get that,” Felix informs him, his face much more serious now than Jisung ever remembers it being. “You know, I was going to be in a boy group, and that’s all I ever wanted to do. I ended up training here as an idol for a long time, but then the company just…dropped me. It happens, I guess. I’ve made my peace with it. So I knew I needed to give that up and head back home to get a proper degree and job. And now, here I am,” he repeats the end of what Jisung said.

“You know, I wondered why your voice control was so amazing at the noraebang,” Jisung says. They walk back in the door to see Chan there, much more subdued while he mops the floor around the coffee table.

Felix perks up, though. “Wow, I didn’t think anyone had noticed! Thanks, mate. Dancing is what I really want to do. But it just feels too late, you know?”

Jisung hesitates for a second, then gently pats Felix’s arm. His coworker is thinking about himself in his younger years, dancing in practice rooms, combined with the anxiety that his knees and back might never keep up with the work again. “Felix-ssi, you should keep up with your dancing, if it makes you happy. I mean, I know this is hypocritical, since you can literally see my guitar gathering dust in the corner, but…don’t be like me. There’s popup showcases you can work for that don’t involve debuting with a group. Right, hyung?”

Another noncommittal hum.

“Well…I’ll think about it. Thanks, sunbae.” He pats Jisung’s arm back. ‘Jisung’s really nice. Really handsome, too. He could do with a shower, though…’

That last part is fair. Jisung also thinks he could do with a shower.

Felix then rolls out his bedding and flops down onto it. Jisung thinks that’s a very dangerous thing to do on a full stomach, when the air is warm and the blankets are soft…and sure enough, Felix is snoring softly against his pillow minutes later.

Jisung will wake him later for nighttime routine things, but right now, it’s time to do dishes, his least favorite chore. He heads to the sink and pulls on his gloves, and it’s not long before Chan comes up behind him.

“Can I dry?” He asks.

“Mhm.”

Chan pulls out a dishtowel, and they work silently for a few minutes; Jisung scrubbing at the sauces on the plates and bowls, Chan drying. Again, it all feels incredibly domestic. But this time it also feels like the air between them is tense, awkward. Jisung’s not entirely sure it’s him causing it for once.

“I thought Felix was kind of an immature kid when he first joined our company,” he says to fill the silence. “But I admire his optimism when he’s been through a lot. That’s something I don’t really have at all.”

Chan is silent for a moment. “Yeah, I can tell. But I’m the same way, I think. I’m always trying not to, but I can’t help but think negatively about myself.”

Jisung sighs. “I can tell, too. But it’s harder to decipher negative moods with you. I’m sure that’s on purpose—the mask you put up at work and with other people.”

In response, the older looks at him, and Jisung sees his defenses entirely dropped. He sees the insecure, nervous Chan, fully open and bare for him. “I didn’t know you noticed.”

He nods and slips off his gloves, then reaches his arms around his middle to pull Chan close to him in a hug. Though they’re the same height, Jisung’s much tinier in muscle than him, and yet he feels the way Chan makes himself small and fits into his frame, letting Jisung surround him with his arms. Chan is silent—save for his racing thoughts, of course.

‘I don’t know what’s going on between him and Felix. Does he like Felix instead? Should I let that happen? I don’t want that to happen. He’d probably be the optimist that Jisung needs, but I can’t help it. I want Jisung to be mine. But he always feels so close and so out of reach at the same time. Why does he initiate touches, then pull away so quickly? He’s probably going to pull away from this hug, too, as soon as he can. And why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t need someone like me practically hanging off at him. He’s made it perfectly clear he doesn’t feel the same. I don’t know why I want to keep doing this to myself. Maybe it’s what I deserve.’

Jisung does pull away, but only because they’ve been standing there for so long. His breath hitches as he takes in Chan’s defeated expression, the pure longing in his eyes. “Hyung. Felix is just a coworker to me. Maybe a friend, if that. That’s all he’s ever going to be. I just…wanted you to know.” Then he watches Chan’s eyes widen.

“Why did you want me to know that, Sungie?”

“Um…” Jisung should be panicking right now, but instead, he feels weirdly in control of the situation. The fear of Chan knowing anything about his inner turmoil, and simultaneously not mentioning whatever was going on between them now seems unimportant. “The same reason you told me that you were single a few days ago, I expect.”

Chan gasps softly, but then they both freeze when they hear Felix stir awake. They take another look at each other, then move farther away from each other to finish the dishes.

“Hey, mates, do you think I could get a glass of water?” Felix’s voice is so low and gravelly that it feels like it’s making the Earth shudder. As Jisung shifts the water to cold for a moment to get Felix a drink, he thinks that a voice like that should be famous.

They each shower and tuck into bed. Jisung has to admit he feels much more like a human now that he’s out of his suit and into his comfy hoodie and sweats, and he’s been freshly showered. And because, for the third night in a row, he has Chan laying in his bed next to him. Their arms brush against each other once again, and Jisung can’t help but hear all his negative late night thoughts seeping into his mind.

He doesn’t know what to do about Chan’s thoughts, about any of it. He hadn’t realized it had been obvious outwardly when he physically pulled away after hearing too many glaring thoughts, and now he feels slightly embarrassed. If he were Chan, he would probably come to the same conclusion, too; that Jisung didn’t want to touch him.

He’s given Chan unnecessary stress, and he hates it. He deserves so much more than what Jisung can give him. Jisung’s pathetic, out of touch, has almost no friends, keeps his apartment in disarray, has no ambition, and is too anxious for most social situations. It’s better for Chan if he cuts his losses before he ties himself down with someone like him. He deserves someone with their life in order.

But he wants to reassure Chan now. His constant stream of awful, self-loathing thoughts are hiking Jisung’s blood pressure, and he wants to do something to soothe them. Chan is wonderful and perfect—and Jisung could never measure up to be the right person for him, but Jisung is the only person right now, so he’ll have to work.

“Hyung, look at me,” Jisung whispers. Chan’s thoughts feel confused now, but he complies, shifting his body until he’s facing Jisung. Through the light in the window, his face looks tired and sullen. But there’s a hint of affection in his eyes when he looks at Jisung, and that’s what he’s going to latch onto. “Come here.” Jisung scoots closer and wraps his arms around him, until their bodies are nestled together. Chan practically melts against Jisung’s chest, so he breathes in and out slowly and wills his own heartbeat to decrease.

This feels nice—normal even. Jisung finds that he still feels comfortable with Chan so close to him. It doesn’t matter if the arm underneath him is soon becoming numb—as long as Chan feels safer, more secure. And it does work to some degree; Jisung soon hears Chan’s self-deprecating thoughts settle into nonsense, and he knows that the other has finally fallen asleep. When he feels soft snoring rumbling the bed and him, he’s satisfied his suspicions are correct.

Jisung shifts his arm to get circulation back into it, and he uses his other hand to lightly feel through the strands of his soft, drying hair. Then, he soon loses consciousness as Chan’s dreams bleed into his.

‘Chan’s hands are possessively holding a pathetic, pliant Jisung beneath him, the only thoughts coursing through his brain is finding relief from the pulsating heat thrumming in his body. Chan’s rutting against him frantically, their cocks rubbing deliciously together as Chan tries to chase his own relief. He’s looking down at Jisung’s face—distorted, fragmented—but all he can think about it how beautiful Jisung looks when he’s like this, so perfect for him—’

Jisung stirs, and realizes the pulsating heat is coming from his own body. His eyes bolt open, and he manages to stay in place to gather his surroundings. He’s in his bedroom, and Chan is still wrapped in his arms. Felix is still knocked out cold on the floor next to them, snuggled in his own fluffy blankets. The sky outside shows only a vague beginning of a sunrise, so the other two shouldn’t be waking up for a while.

Now for the negatives. Jisung can still hear the sex dream— Chan’s sex dream—in his head as he holds the other. And god, if it isn’t doing things to his sleep-rattled, virgin, touch-starved body. He’s hard—of course he is. Painfully so. Chan must have been focused on this particular dream for a while. He’s absolutely flummoxed to see that Chan is still perfectly calm, his dick soft, as if he were having any of his other regular nonsense dreams. So that makes Jisung the freak here. Once again.

He’s still feeling the desperation from the dream and from his own want crawling under his skin, making it hard to think. Jisung doesn’t know what to do. Obviously he needs to get this figured out in the bathroom. But how does he get there? One move, and Chan could wake up and find out. Even worse, what if he trips and wakes Felix? He’s imagining the worst case scenario, if they were to wake up and find out. Ha, Jisung got an erection at the sleepover! What a fucking loser! It would be like middle school all over again.

His heartbeat starts pounding even more as he does his very best to peel himself away from the older, shifting until his arms are freed well enough to remove his entangled legs. Luckily, Chan isn’t a light sleeper, so he doesn’t wake up right away.

Unluckily, Chan does just about the worst thing he could possibly do in this situation—he moves his leg until it presses and slides right along his hardened length. A sound forces its way through Jisung’s lips before he can stop it—somewhere between a moan and a whimper—and he clamps his hand over his mouth.

He wants to scream when he feels Chan freeze, and the man’s dream dissolves into thoughts about that sound, and when he slowly opens his eyes to take him in.

Jisung has to act quickly to wipe the look of horror off his own face and to act like everything is fine. He shuffles away from Chan and crawls off the foot of the bed, then shuffles quietly to the bathroom, hoping Chan doesn’t look at him, or worse, looks there. The door slides shut as softly as he can possibly close it, and he turns on the cold water in the shower.

He’s shivering under the freezing stream of water, but it’s not just from the temperature. It’s the settling sensation in his stomach of what just happened.

Chan had a sex dream. About him. And his body reacted to it. Maybe it’s just because it was basically porn about him that Chan projected straight into his brain, and he’d have reacted the same to any sort of vision regardless of what it was. No matter; he’s praying to whatever god gave him this curse that the older did not find out about his throbbing erection…that is not going away.

His cock has never ached so badly before, never craved something so much. With a sigh, Jisung resigns himself to his fate. He increases the water pressure in the shower and turns the water to warm, reaches for his t-shirt sitting outside to bite down on and muffle the sound that would emit from his mouth, and begins to fist his cock in his hand, pumping steadily.

Being a virgin at thirty, Jisung is no stranger to masturbating. He believes he has it down to a science at this point, even, and his mind goes to his usual fantasies of someone reaching behind him and pulling him possessively against their chest. They cup his pecs in their hands and circle their fingers around the sensitive nipples there. He imagines the nameless and faceless person reaching down and kissing at his neck and jaw, both their breaths hot, their heartbeats beating wildly against each other.

When Jisung comes, his eyes squinted shut and his teeth clenched against the cloth in his mouth, he realizes that the figure he usually fantasizes about wasn’t so faceless and nameless this time around. No—this figure has some distinctive brown hair and a set of plump lips.

He is so fucked.

Chapter Text

It’s safe to say that Jisung would like to move countries and change his name, but both work and Chan prevent that from becoming a feasible option.

The man is awake and frying eggs when Jisung finally steps out of the bathroom. Felix is already awake and waves at him when he joins them in the kitchen area.

“I thought you took a shower yesterday, sunbae,” Felix comments, his hands around one of Jisung’s mugs. Chan has really adopted his house as his own and is doing all of the host things—but he finds that he doesn’t mind.

He reaches into the cabinet and pulls out another mug, then pours himself some coffee that he never bothers with in his own house. He didn’t even know if his coffee maker still worked. Apparently so.

Jisung tries not to act affected by Felix’s question. “I guess I didn’t wash all the shampoo out of my hair, because I woke up greasy,” he lies. He’s determinedly not looking at Chan, who would likely be able to tell that he lied. As he looks at him from the corner of his eyes, though, he sees that he’s acting very focused on making breakfast, and not looking anyone’s way, either.

Jisung tries and fails not to look too closely into this body language. His skin itches and his mind is running through all the worst case scenarios he can muster. Clearly, Chan somehow found out about his problem this morning. Maybe he’s disgusted with him for the reaction—a situation that would be out of the blue on the older’s end, because Chan would never piece together that Jisung having morning wood stemmed from his dream. How could he? Which made Jisung a pervert who randomly got off on having people in bed with him. Jisung couldn’t think of another explanation for how Chan now set down their plates in front of them and immediately started eating his own food, not bothering to keep up a pretense of small talk.

Jisung feels awful. He’s made Chan uncomfortable, and he’s made him feel like he has to stay around and play host. When they’re done eating, he immediately jumps up to clear their plates, and rattles off where he has extra toothbrushes and other hygiene-related things if they need them before they all head to work. The other two get ready without much fuss despite the cramped apartment keeping them from having personal space for putting clothes on.

“I think I like your gray suit the best, Jisung-sunbae,” Felix comments at one point, his eyes darting to Chan after he says. “Doesn’t he look good?”

“Hm?” Chan finally glances Jisung’s way, who is trying and failing to wave off this interaction. The older scans his suit, then moves back to adjusting his collar in Jisung’s mirror. “Yeah, he looks fine,” he says flatly.

And that’s enough to make Jisung want to cry.

When the trio hop off the bus after an uneventful ride, Chan keeping his distance as much as possible, Jisung waves and tells Felix he’ll meet him inside. “Chan-hyung,” he murmurs, “Can I talk to you alone?”

He looks like he would rather do anything but talk to Jisung right now, but he nods anyway, and lets the younger lead him to an empty hallway. Now that Chan’s alone with him, it’s hard to get the words to form in Jisung’s dry mouth, but he summons up the energy.

“About this morning,” he starts, his hands clenching into fists and fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves. “I—I’m so sorry that I made you uncomfortable. It—that was so uncool of me, and I don’t blame you for your reaction, I just, it happens sometimes, I can’t really help it and I’m really sorry, I know I’m disgusting—”

“Jisungie, what are you talking about?” He looks up to see Chan staring at him, incredulous and a bit flummoxed.

“I—” Jisung faltered. “You’re upset with me for um—getting hard this morning, and I get why you would be—”

“What? You got hard this morning?” Chan whisper-shouts.

Oh. How does one eject himself from this conversation? Better yet, how can one eject himself from this planet? Jisung swallows, and it’s become absolutely impossible to find words to say.

“You…you didn’t know about that until I brought it up on my own. Oh—that was silly of me,” Jisung finds himself suddenly laughing, nearing hysterics. “I thought that was why you were mad at me, and…oh my god, I’m going to be late for a meeting thing—goodbye, um, possibly forever—!” Jisung doesn’t try to tack on more words before he’s now turning and sprinting in the other direction, blatantly ignoring Chan calling his name. He’s relieved that the man doesn’t chase after him, because he knows that he would be caught up to, all too easily.

Maybe Jisung should quit, he feels that embarrassed. He’s so stupid. Why did he say that? He’d gone through all the trouble to hide it, just to blow his cover over Chan not acting like himself for just a short while. Jisung hasn’t spent that many mornings with him; maybe that’s just what Chan is like sometimes when he’s tired. That has to be it.

Chan didn’t chase after him, but he does continue to try and get his attention all day. Maybe to try and talk through some of that highly-uncomfortable topic. Jisung doesn’t want to talk to Chan—not really. Not if he’s going to bring it up. But unfortunately, he knows that the man deserves some sort of closure after that conversation. They’re both caught up with work tasks, and Jisung doesn’t have the opportunity to catch up with him until they’re clocking off of work.

His coworker Jinsol bumps into him as they’re exiting the doors, and she’s only thinking about making dinner. “Oh—hey, Jinsol-ssi.”

“Hey Jisung-ssi. What are you up to?”

“Just going home.”

“Same. Hey, since I owe you from the other night, maybe we could go grab some dinner? My treat?”

Jisung tilts his head at her, attempting to search for a deeper meaning. She likes women, and that doesn’t mean she only likes women, but why would Jisung of all people be an exception to her liking women? And even beyond that, her thoughts have never been even close to the allusion of a crush. He’s reasonably certain after putting all the pieces together, that there is no deeper meaning. Jinsol means what she says and this is just a dinner to pay him back.

With that conclusion, he shakes his head. “You really don’t owe me anything. You were in a tight spot and I wanted to do something…it’s really Chan-hyung that did the most—”

“Then if you don’t accept, we should go out for coffee tomorrow instead.”

Jisung starts to rethink his clues. She’s being rather adamant about them doing something together. “I—uh. Okay. I guess you can buy me a coffee.”

“Great! Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, Jisung-ssi.” She waves and heads to the bus stop. Jisung heads onto the sidewalk and is about to follow her when he hears his name called. He groans when he registers the source of the voice.

“You didn’t forget about working out with me, did you?”

“I one-hundred percent did, Changbin-ssi. Let’s get this over with.”

“You could sound a little more enthused! Maybe I have some gym clothes you can borrow…” his coworker sizes him up and thought to himself as he led Jisung towards his car in the parking lot.

Jisung looked forlornly towards the bus stop, lamenting his empty apartment, and the chance to talk to Chan.

Changbin mercilessly worked him through squats and building up his core, and by the time his coworker dropped him off at home, he feels achy and gross. His legs shake when he crosses the threshold into his empty apartment. It feels so. Quiet. Empty. He sort of misses the cramped feeling when Chan and Felix were here earlier this morning. He toes off his shoes and drapes his jacket over his drying rack, the same routine as always. He’s got stir fry ingredients in his refrigerator thanks to Chan’s suggestion, so instead of ordering out, he pulls out his pan and makes himself dinner for once.

It’s good, but he knows it would have turned out better if his hyung had made it. Even so, Jisung’s sort of proud of himself. He eats his dinner and watches a few episodes of Soul Eater, and finally showers and changes into more comfortable clothes, and that’s when his phone buzzes with an incoming call. Chan-Hyung ☺️💗.

Jisung takes a deep breath, in and out to calm the bubbling of anxiety, and accepts the call. “Hello?”

“Hey. What are you doing?”

“Just watching tv in bed. You?”

“I’m on my way to your house.”

Jisung freezes. “Why?”

“There’s a few things there that are mine I need to pick up, but besides that…I have to talk to you.”

“Right. Okay. The door’s unlocked.”

“See you in a few, Sung-ah.”

Jisung sits there even after he hears the three beeps letting him know the call is disconnected.

He looks around his apartment, and remembers it’s clean from this morning, so he can sit here in his bed with his knees to his chest, his anxiety rolling and boiling over in his stomach. His phone stays untouched, and the anime continues playing while he watches it unfocused, until all too soon he hears a small knock on his door, and Chan enters his space.

“Can we please talk?”

Jisung nods, not watching him. Waiting to hear him out.

“How about a walk? You kind of look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He cracks a smile as Jisung turns to look at him.

“I kind of feel like I am one,” his voice comes out deadpan, and he crawls out of his bed to pull on his sneakers and follow him out the door.

Chan looks good tonight—he always does—but there’s something about his casual dark clothes, his untidy hair that fits under a cap, giving his unstraightened curls the shape of duck tails, that’s making Jisung’s anxiousness for this whole situation spike to new levels. He’s so attractive, Jisung doesn’t know what to do with himself. If Chan’s here to end whatever’s going on right now, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

They walk in silence for half a block, letting people and dogs pass by them. A particularly large dog approaches them, and they break their non-speaking to ask the owner if they can pet it, and then they move on their way.

“I’ve always wanted my own dog,” Jisung decides to say, to fill the silence that’s threatening to grip them once again. “I had dogs and cats back in Malaysia, and I miss having them.”

Chan cracks a smile. “Me too—about wanting a dog, I mean. I think it would be nice.”

“Yeah, I—”

“I like you, Jisung.”

“—think that they’re the perfect…” Jisung stops walking and blinks once. “Um. What?”

“Yeah.” Chan stops too, his hands fitting into his pockets.

Jisung’s brain refuses to process this. He doesn’t know what to say. He begins to wrack his brain—how did Chan’s brain settle on needing to confess to him? It doesn’t make sense. He starts to reach for his arm, realizes that it would be much too obvious if he did that, then drops his hand limply. “…I don’t understand.”

Chan looks up and sucks in through his teeth, as if he’s gathering the story in his head. “I’ve liked you for a while, actually, um. Do you remember that time we had dinner with that group of executives—we’d both only been working at the company for a few months, but they needed a couple of newbies to run errands for them?”

Jisung did remember. “The one that turned into dragging the two of us to the exec’s penthouse apartment, and forcing us to drink?”

Chan nodded. “That was the last time I drank… I never wanted to have a hangover like that again. I just remember amidst all that, a woman tried to tell me I must have been hired based on my looks, and that if I wanted to get ahead I needed to be a little more…open to some private things…”

Jisung does remember the situation, all of it. It was back when he and Chan were on a more level playing field, and back before Jisung lost the ability to give a shit about his job. He remembers sitting uncomfortably in the middle of two older, heavily cologne-scented men, who were going back and forth across couches to Park-nim, along with a few other women to discuss some business. Their tones were so saturated in slurring from the alcohol, however, that it was highly possible they didn’t retain any tangible information.

Jisung had focused his energy into not seeming affected by the energy around him, acting like he went to meetings like this all the time, when in reality he was like a frightened little puppy. He’d focused his energy on Chan, the only person equal in position to him here, who for the moment had an older woman practically hanging off of him, begging to have her flirting reciprocated.

Chan had been just as inebriated, though Jisung assumed that had more to do with the alcohol the woman continually poured for him, and he’d felt it would be too rude to decline. Luckily, no one had paid attention to Jisung’s glass he’d kept with him all night, mostly as a prop.

He’d tried to pay attention to their conversation, he really did, but everyone around him was too loud, and the woman clearly didn’t want to be overheard, because her words were in a low, quiet tone, bordering on seductive. Chan had looked very uncomfortable, though, and Jisung didn’t need to hear what she told him to know Chan needed out.

He’d bundled up whatever nerve he could to save his coworker, despite his size and status, and moved up off the couch to approach her. She didn’t notice that he’d approached at first, until he made himself encroach on their space. “E-Excuse me, I’m going to take Chan-ssi home now.”

She’d turned her head towards him, then eyed him with disgust as she took in his appearance. “Can’t you see we’re busy? This handsome face is about to make heaps more money with the deal I’m about to make with him.”

Chan looked up towards him, his eyes glazed over from the alcohol and his expression indecipherable. But he seemed out of his element here and unsure what was going on around him. Jisung had more resolve this time as he turned towards the executive.

“I don’t know how you received the sort of impression that Chan-ssi wanted to make…that sort of deal with you, but he is not that kind of a person. He is great with his work, and got here by pure skill alone. His handsome face had nothing to do with it. And if you don’t mind, he’s had a bit too much to drink, and I’m going to take him home now. Come on, Chan-ssi.” He’d reached for Chan’s wrist, and he got up willingly, his body moving to slump behind Jisung’s. As if he were using Jisung to protect him.

That was a new feeling, someone wanting him to protect them. He tried his best in the past to help people out when he could, but those situations didn’t always work out. Jisung straightened his posture and shoulders, trying to fill more of the space and make himself bigger.

“What a shame,” the woman simply answered in annoyance, rolling her eyes. She immediately scooted over on the couch and moved on to the next person, someone talking in the group with Park-nim.

Jisung had turned to Chan, and squeezed his wrist. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“‘Mkay.”

When they’d gotten outside, Chan had been adamant about taking the bus home, separate from Jisung. He’d understood at the time. They weren’t friends, just colleagues at best. Chan probably didn’t want to be seen with him for too long.

But he’d waited at the bus stop to make sure Chan got on the correct one, and while he did, Chan mumbled, “Did you mean all that earlier? Or was it just to get me away from her?”

Jisung didn’t even have to think. “It was both,” he’d said. “I wanted to get you away from her, but I also think you’re insanely talented at what you do. I feel like you could take over from Park-nim in just a few years, or better yet, you could leave this company and do something less soul-sucking. You are way more than a pretty face.”

Chan had given a small laugh, but his eyes had suddenly trained on him, taking him in. For a moment, he’d seemed entirely sober. At the time, Jisung didn’t know what his stare meant. “Thanks, Jisung-ssi,” he said softly. Then he stood up as the bus approached the stop. “I’ll see you at work?”

Jisung had brushed his hair out of his face and offered a small smile. “Yeah. I’ll see you at work, Chan-ssi.” Chan had continued to watch him with a strange look from his window seat, and even as the bus drove away.

Oh.

Chan continues, unaware of Jisung’s private revelation. “...Then you came along. I couldn’t pay attention while it was happening, but looking back you were clearly terrified. And you stood up for me anyway. I can’t remember a time anyone’s ever had my back like that. Not when I was a kid, and definitely not during my trainee days. You just…said really nice things to me and made sure I got home okay, you even talked to me at work that Monday to check on me…and I guess I developed a bit of a crush. Yeah.” Chan looked down, and Jisung could see his cheeks and ears darkening.

“If it were just a one-time-thing, that would be different, and I could get over it. But you’re always like that—looking out for everyone else, and letting things roll off of you when people either don’t notice or don’t care about you…but I care, Jisungie. I care so much about you, and I’m always going to be fine with what you want, since you’ve never really shown a clear interest in me besides saying I was a pretty face after that gathering…”

Jisung doesn’t know what to do. His skin feels itchy and hot, and his eyes feel in danger of tearing up for no reason. Of course he knows that Chan is in love with him. It’s always left confusion in his mind— why would someone like Chan ever want to be with someone like him? He’s never felt worthy of his admiration, and he still doesn’t. Yes, he does like to put other people first, and that’s something he’s always done. He’s never felt deserving of attention, so he doesn’t ask for it. He’s learned not to need it.

“I—but, um,” he stammered, his voice coming out hoarse. “So you’re not mad about this morning?”

“No, Sung-ah,” Chan shakes his head adamantly. “I tried to tell you, but you literally ran away from me…did you know you kind of look like a newborn deer when you run?”

Jisung lets out a breath in relief, but also somewhat in exasperation. Why does Chan keep comparing him to a baby deer? “Oh, great.”

“In a cute way. But um, no way I was mad or even upset with you. In fact, it’s kind of the reason I’m actually confessing to you right now.”

He tilts his head in confusion and he draws his eyebrows together, trying to find the connection.

“I’ll just save you the trouble of trying to figure it out,” Chan chuckles at his expression. “I did some thinking today, and I came to the conclusion that maybe it had to do with me, that you got turned on around me? And then earlier last night, you clarified that you and Felix-ssi were just coworkers, and maybe that means you wanted me to know you’re available…if I’m missing the mark here, Jisungie, please tell me.”

Jisung sucks in a breath. “Well—about Felix-ssi, you seemed really uncomfortable last night, so I wanted to try and erase some of that worry that I thought you might have.” Chan nods in understanding, so Jisung continues. “Then about you being the reason for this morning’s um, incredibly-embarrassing incident…your thoughts are not incredibly off the mark, no,” he mumbles. The other looks at him expectantly, but Jisung has something else to say, another thought occurring to him. “But—okay, so you weren’t upset this morning at all? That was just me overthinking?”

“Oh.” Chan suddenly folds his arms and taps his fingers against his skin, looking away. “No, I was um…in a mood this morning.”

“Because of Felix-ssi?”

“No, because I—” he suddenly seems embarrassed too, and he clears his throat to possibly stall for time. “Because I kind of…had a bit of a lewd dream this morning.”

Jisung feels surprised—not because Chan had one, obviously, but because he felt bad about it. He seemed so calm as he dreamt about it, and it didn’t occur to Jisung that he would feel negatively towards the dream afterwards.

He remembers, a bit belatedly, that he’s supposed to act surprised about the sex dream itself. Crap, he’s never been a good actor. “Oh, wow, um. Was it um, about us?”

“Yeah…yeah. But I promise, Jisungie, I don’t expect anything from you, okay?” Chan moves closer to him, though he seems afraid to touch him right now. “I just wanted to tell you how I feel, and I just…want to know how you feel.”

Here’s where everything comes crashing down around him. Like the ceiling of a cave collapsing while he’s in it. He doesn’t know the way out, and he’s going to be smothered by the rubble. “I-I don’t…” Jisung blinks, his breath shuddering… “I’ve never liked anyone before. I don’t know how to feel, whether it’s the right feelings. You—you’re amazing, Chan, and you deserve someone who’s not such a mess all the time.”

“But maybe I like your brain, Jisung-ah. Maybe I like the idea of being there to help you put your thoughts back together.”

He looked up to see Chan looking him right in the eyes, his gaze soft and fond. Jisung’s heart is pounding, and it’s making it hard to breathe. “Hyung—I don’t…I don’t know.”

And then that look turns a bit clouded, and he frowns. His shoulders hunch inwards. “Oh. It’s okay. Really.” He breathes in and out, as if to calm himself. “I guess I also wanted to tell you now because I’m going on a work trip to Sydney tomorrow, and I’m turning that into a small vacation where I’m visiting my family, so I’ll be gone for about a week. This’ll be good, I think, for maybe clearing my head and starting to get over you—”

“—No!” Jisung shouts, then clamps his hand over his mouth when he realizes that he’d been a bit too loud, because the older flinches. “I mean, hyung, no—” his hands move to hold Chan’s lower arms, his hands shaking while his fingers grip around his skin. Chan’s thoughts are also loud, and it’s making it hard for Jisung to concentrate.

‘I don’t get it. What does he even want? He probably wants to figure out a better way to let me down easy. Then the trip has come at a good time for him, so that he can find the words. Maybe I can find better words during the week to make things better between us, to make us go back to being friends or just coworkers. I don’t want things to be awkward…but ugh, it hurts to look at him. I hate that he looks so gorgeous while he’s rejecting me—’

“I’m not rejecting you, okay? I don’t want you to get over me. I know that’s selfish to say, but I don’t.” He realizes that in the chaos, he’s just answered Chan’s thoughts, but it’s vague enough that he hopefully won’t notice. “Things between us are going really fast. I want to give you a better version of me; someone who isn’t in his own head and knows what he wants, and so I guess I’m asking if you’ll wait just a little longer for me to think about it.” He removes his hands and shoves them into the pockets of his jacket.

Chan looks at him for a brief moment, his eyes moving as he considers. “Okay,” he sighs. “You’re right. This has been fast; I forgot myself while I was too excited. Then… I’ll let this time apart be time for you to think. Um. Bye, Jisungie.”

Jisung’s heart seems to seize up as he lets Chan leave in the other direction. He got what he wanted—he got the time to think about it. Why does he feel like this is the wrong thing to do?

Chapter Text

The workplace is just as hectic and busy as always, and yet, Jisung feels like it’s empty. He looks around for Chan’s familiar figure when he walks in, even though he knows the man won’t be here.

He sent a text to him this morning. Just a simple Have a safe trip. Chan doesn’t have read receipts on, and Jisung doesn’t know if he’s seen the delivered message. His stomach feels unsettled, and he can’t seem to focus on anything. By now the plane has taken off, so there’s no way Chan will answer him until later. If ever.

Jisung knows he fucked up. He knows it, and he can’t think of a way in which he wouldn’t fuck it up again if he went back in time. Because the facts are still the same. He doesn’t know if he really likes Chan, or if he’s just reacting to the knowledge that Chan likes him. He’s not sure if he just feels the need to confess back to him because Chan has confessed. Jisung can’t go back and fix things, because he doesn’t know that the outcome would be different. He’s still a mess with no control or idea how to label his own emotions. It’s still true that Chan would be better off without him.

He’s not getting any sort of work sitting here and staring at his inbox, watching the cursor blink at him while he tries to form coherent thoughts into an email. Jisung stands up and decides to walk around and look busy, and maybe that will help him feel important to society. He ends up getting stopped by a few people to ask him about current work projects, so it works a little.

When Jisung walks by Changbin’s cubicle, the man turns in his chair and actually gives him a tentative schedule for times they’re going to meet up to work out, and Jisung just accepts it with a sigh. He clearly worked hard on this. But Jisung’s not feeling like filtering his thoughts, and he asks, “Changbin-ssi, do you genuinely want me to work out with you, or do you just want me as some sort of pet project?”

Changbin raises his eyebrows and sits forward in his seat. “Um, the first thing? Why would I want to use you as a pet project?”

“Because…I don’t see any other reason you would be this adamant about the workout thing.”

“You mean, other than I think we should hang out?”

Jisung blinks. “Huh?”

Changbin grabs a pen and starts to click it a bunch. “We’ve been coworkers for a while, right? We’ve hung out at dinners and stuff, and you seem cool. Shy as hell, though, so I thought this would be a good way for us to spend more time together.”

It’s not connecting in his head. “You want to…be friends?”

“Duh. So please relax, I don’t have any secret agenda. I’ll see you after work tomorrow.” He turns back to his computer and starts typing in a document while Jisung stands there, processing what just happened.

“I’ll…see you. I’m sorry, Changbin-ssi. If that’s all this is, maybe it would be nice to get back to those pecs I had in the military…”

“That’s the spirit,” he says. “Now go answer your emails before I tell the boss on you.”

“That’s a lie. You never talk to Park-nim if you can help it.” Jisung sticks out his tongue, but he does walk back to his desk.

When he reaches his desk again, he sees a sticky note stuck to his screen. Jisung sits down in his chair and rolls himself into his desk, then grabs the note to read it. Jisung-ssi, meet me at the cafe at noon. I’m getting you that coffee. -Jinsol

Jisung’s confused about Jinsol, too, but maybe she’s like Changbin and wants to be friends with him. That still feels weird, and he’s distrustful of the thought, so he doesn’t entertain it for a long time. He instead makes himself answer his barrage of emails and call some partners. He schedules meetings with clients and tries not to get too anxious at the thought of negotiating with them.

Pretty soon, it’s lunchtime, so he abandons his desk and makes his way to the bustling cafe. He moves to stand in line, but he hears his name called instead.

Jisung cranes his neck to see that Jinsol has saved a seat at a booth for him, and she has two drinks as well as two croissant sandwiches in front of her. He waves and approaches her.

“Hey, Jisung-ssi. I also bought us some lunch. Have a seat!”

“Sure. That’s nice of you! Thank you, Jinsol-ssi.” He drapes his jacket over the back of the both and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, then slides in across from her. “How’ve you been today?”

“Not bad. I’ve been fielding calls all day from the Sawamuras, and I swear, they do not listen when you try to tell them something, so I feel like I’ve been saying the same thing over and over for hours…" She continues to rant as she tears at her sandwich with her fingers and occasionally eats small bites. Jisung just eats instead of offering input, but he’s listening to her and nodding along to commiserate. This is…kind of nice, he realizes. Just casually having lunch and talking with someone. Being friendly. Jisung can count on one hand the times he’s eaten lunch with his coworkers, and every time it was because they also had clients there to butter up.

Jinsol even says something that gets Jisung to genuinely laugh with a full grin, and Jinsol pauses.

“Oh, your smile is really pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that before.”

The tips of Jisung’s ears turn red. “Thank you.”

“Does Chan-ssi compliment your smile a lot? He’d better.” Jinsol seems nonchalant about what she’s just asked, and she pops another one of her bites in her mouth after she asks it. 

“Um—” Jisung laughs hesitantly. “Why would he compliment my smile?”

Jinsol raises her eyebrows. “He doesn’t? Then you should break up with him—I’m kidding, by the way, you two are really sweet together…what?”

Jisung’s mouth has fallen agape. “Um. We’re not together?”

The woman’s mouth falls open too. “What the fuck? Why? You’re literally in love with him?”

Jisung scoffs. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. You make those doe-y heart-eyes whenever he’s even in the vicinity, and you’re always looking around the office for him. Hyunjin-ssi and Changbin-ssi caught you two making out on the balcony at the restaurant? Felix-ssi said you two slept in the same bed?”

“We didn’t make out on the balcony,” Jisung defends. “We’re just friends.”

Jinsol just glares at him. “Oh, so you’re stupid stupid.”

“That’s…kind of mean.” They don’t know each other well enough to jokingly insult each other.

His coworker slumps in her seat and folds her arms. “Sorry. I’m only calling it as I see it. Are you seriously telling me that you don’t have a crush on him?”

“I—” Jisung suddenly has the need to mess with his coffee cup, to try and peel the label off. “I don’t know.”

“You…don’t know.”

“That’s right, I don’t know.” He swallows, wondering if he should explain further. Maybe it would help to gain some outside perspective. Of course, he’d rather talk to Seungmin about this—and it’s actually okay if Seungmin calls him stupid, because Jisung knows that his best friend is coming from a good place when he says it. He has no idea what Jinsol’s intentions are. “If I…share something, do you promise not to tell anyone?”

Jinsol stares for a moment, then something in her gaze softens when she sees the fear in Jisung’s. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’ve…never been with anyone before. I’ve never kissed anyone, never had sex, never had a boyfriend or girlfriend.”

“Wow. Ever?”

“Never ever.”

She sits with this information for a moment. “Oh, I think I get it. You literally don’t know what it’s like to be in love, so you can’t recognize the feeling.”

He nods glumly.

“Well.” Jinsol leans forward with her hands folded, and Jisung copies her. “Does Chan make you happy? Does he make you laugh? Do you have fun with him?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Do you picture yourself kissing him a lot, like even for no reason at all. Like he’s just sitting there looking pretty, and you’re thinking about his lips?”

“...Yes.”

“When you picture your future, is he a prominent figure in it? Probably even front and center?”

Jisung doesn’t answer that right away, and tries to listen to her advice and think about his future. He’s probably working at this crappy office forever, but…maybe Chan’s coaching him through working towards promotions, and then maybe they’d have the money to get a better apartment, one that would be perfect for a dog, no, two dogs. He’d stop eating out so much and maybe they’d even have a proper dinner table for eating together, and then they’d sleep together in the same bed that would be much bigger than his twin-sized one… “Fuck—I think I do picture that.”

In response, Jinsol simply rests her chin on her hands, watching him expectantly.

“Does this mean I love him? Do I really give him doe eyes?”

“The second thing…definitely. The first—you have to figure that out yourself, I’m afraid. But I believe in you, Jisung-ah. You can be really smart. And I need you and Chan-ssi to get together to heal my fujoshi heart.”

Jisung chokes. “Are you serious?”

“No. Yes. I guess we’ll never actually know, will we?” Jinsol winks and takes their trash, balling it up in her hands.

Jisung could find out rather easily, actually, but maybe it is better not knowing. “Um, are you in love, Jinsol…ah?”

“Astute of you. But yeah. I’ve been dating a beautiful woman named Sullyoon for three years as of last month.” She smiles dreamily, and Jisung can’t help but smile back…until he realizes something, and his face falls again.

“Your girlfriend doesn’t work as a cashier at a 7/11 in Hongdae, does she?”

Jinsol squeaks. “How do you know that?”

“She works at my 7/11, the one on the main floor of my building. She called me gross because I touched her hand!” He adds adamantly, and then claps his hands over his mouth. That person didn’t actually say it, just thought it.

But Jinsol just cackles. “Oh that’s hilarious, Jisung-ah. Let’s hang out sometime. Ooh! Or go on double-dates. When you get your shit together and confess to Chan-ssi, of course.”

“Ugh. I’ve never been able to get my shit together.”

“I believe in you.” She gently pats his head as she stands up. ‘He’s not that bad.  He can be kind of gross sometimes, but that’s just because he’s a boy, I think. I’ll have to talk to Sullyoon later.’

Great. Hopefully her girlfriend doesn’t remember the interaction.

That night, Jisung’s apartment has never seemed so empty and quiet. He listens to the cars outside his window to try and dull his senses into sleep.

And at some point, he admits to himself that he wants to hear Chan’s even snoring against his chest again, the rumbling that turns into a lullaby. What is Chan doing right now? He’s only two hours ahead of him, but that means he’s probably in a deep sleep by now. Chan is in Australia for full days of work, after all.

Jisung checks his sent message for the millionth time, and he blames his tired mind for the message he decides to send afterwards. I hope you’re having a good time.

Delivered. No sign that he’s read it. But Jisung doesn’t expect him to read it. He doesn’t blame Chan—he wouldn’t want to read it either. If someone told him they needed to think about his confession, it would send his anxiety into overdrive. Chan doesn’t necessarily get anxiety, but he does likely think that Jisung rejected him.

Maybe he did reject him. He could have handled that situation so much better, but he also doesn’t know how it would be handled better. He has the hindsight, but not the experience with that kind of thing.

If nothing else, Jisung has been given the gift of time, which was what he wanted. He has ample time to think about what he wants, over and over again. He can spiral as much as he wants into the night when he’s supposed to be sleeping. And with all that time, he still won’t come to the proper conclusion.

The talk with Jinsol helped give him some direction, though. The days pass in a haze of work, spiral, sleep for a couple hours, on repeat. He thinks about what she told him, about the signs to look for when someone’s in love. He continues to wonder what Chan is doing while Jisung thinks about him. Jisung wonders if they’d ever get to catch up; if Chan would ever relay his week in Australia to him. He finds himself really wanting to hear all about it. Maybe Chan would show him a million photos and tell him about his family. Maybe the trip was terrible and he’d arrive back home as a husk, complaining about how difficult the deal negotiations were. Good or bad, Jisung wants to hear him talk about it. He wants many days like that—Chan walking through a door and telling him about his day, and Jisung kissing his full lips senselessly.

It’s the fifth night without Chan, and he realizes that he still remembers what his lips feel like. That night at the restaurant, when they both drew the chopsticks and Chan kissed him on the forehead.

Jisung touches his forehead at the memory, and his eyes tear up, though he doesn’t know why.

His fingers grasp his phone, and he calls Seungmin’s number.

His friend picks up around the fourth ring. “Jisung, do you know what time it is?”

“Probably around three am. Why? It’s not like you were sleeping.”

“...No. But you’re definitely supposed to be.”

“You know a lot about romance, even if it’s fictional romance. Do you think I’m in love with Chan?”

He imagines Seungmin’s adjusting his glasses on the other end. “How would I possibly know that, Jisungie? It’s not like you’re here for me to read your mind.”

“When you could read my mind, then.”

“Okay, when I could read your mind, there might have been some inclinations there, yes. Your mind was a complete trash heap, though. You know that, right? All you do is self-loath. I bet you’re being self-loathing right now.”

Jisung sniffs and wipes his eyes. “How’d you know?”

“Magic.”

“You’re right. Chan confessed on Monday. And then he left for Australia.”

“Because of you?”

“Unrelated trip to Australia. But I told him I needed time to think.”

There’s silence. “For gods’ sake, all you ever do is think. What if for the first time, you stopped thinking and sabotaging yourself, and you went with your gut? What’s your gut telling you?”

“Um…”

“Because the way I’m reading this conversation, you want me to tell you how you’re feeling. I think you already know how you feel, but you’re being too stubborn to admit it.”

He sniffs again. “Maybe.”

“Let me know how it goes when he gets back, okay?”

“Okay. Love you. Good luck on your chapter.”

“Love you too, Jisungie. I’m stealing this conversation for a plot.”

“Do I get a cut of the paycheck?”

“Absolutely not.” Jisung hears the call disconnect, and he laughs hoarsely as he clutches the phone to his chest, then his laughs turn to hysterics, until he’s gripping the sides of his stomach. If his neighbors can hear him, they’d think a lunatic lived next to him. But it’s not funny, even at all. He is stupid. Because he does love Chan.

It’s Sunday when Jisung finally gets a text, and he’s at the gym with Changbin. The man is holding his hips and expertly spotting him while he squats. His coworker’s thoughts are more focused on Jisung’s form, and then they’ll occasionally flicker to the movie he’s going to watch when he gets home. He’s in the middle of a Lord of the Rings marathon. Jisung feels that this is some sort of medieval torture, and he wants to tell Changbin that. But he would only laugh at Jisung’s misery.

When he’s finally allowed a water break he reaches for his phone, and promptly chokes on his water.

Changbin trots over to him while he’s coughing. “What? What’s going on?”

In answer, Jisung simply hands over his phone for Changbin to read the text. The gym time has been a good time for him to explain his relationship with Chan to his new friend—or perhaps, lack of a relationship. And in turn, Changbin can tell him about his crush on Jeongin from their office, and they can jointly commiserate. It’s been nice. Changbin reads the text aloud. “‘Jisung-ssi’ —oof that’s not good, man, not the honorific— ‘I received your texts, and my trip was good. I’m at home now. I’ll see you at work.’”

“Yeah, he hates me,” Jisung decides, attempting not to sound absolutely devastated.

Changbin watches him for a moment, then hands him back his phone. “What are you going to do?”

“I…” Jisung considers. “I’m going to shower, and I’m going to get my ass over there.”

“That’s the fucking spirit, man.” Changbin claps him on the back. “Let me know how it goes.”

Jisung does that—he quickly showers at the gym, trying to not smell like a dump truck. But all that is for nothing when he decides to sprint to Chan’s apartment as quickly as he can. It’s not that far, only a mile or so. He’s been working out this week, he can get there no problem, right?

Wrong.

His core aches and he’s gasping for breath, his legs turned to cooked noodles by the time he arrives at the building. Jisung doesn’t feel like he has any time to spare, though. And he doesn’t have anything else to lose at this point.

He stumbles up his stairs and heaves his chest in and out when he rings the doorbell. And then again when it’s been a full minute. Jisung is about to ring it a third time, when the door opens, revealing a disheveled Chan. His clothes are wrinkled, his hair is disarray with his roots coming in. His undereyes sport dark circles. In short, he resembles Jisung. And it unnerves him.

“What are you doing here?” Chan asks him in a flat tone. Then his eyes scan Jisung’s frame, and his brows draw together. “Wait, did you run here—?”

“I’m sorry, Chan. I’m so sorry,” Jisung breathes. “I’m sorry for running.”

“Why are you sorry for running here?”

“No like—” Jisung wipes his sweaty hair from his face. “I mean running in a metaphorical sense. I shouldn’t have told you that I needed time to think. There was nothing to think about.”

Chan freezes, and he just watches Jisung.

Jisung steps forward until he’s inches from him. His hands reach to cling to Chan’s lower arms, above his wrists. “I think that I’m in love with you too.”

Chan mouths the words he just heard back at him, utter bafflement crossing his face. “But…I didn’t say love, though,” he says.

Jisung lets out a breath, and he laughs softly despite the thick air around them. “I guess I’m getting ahead of myself, then. I’m in love with you. End of the sentence. Am I too late?”

Chan simply shakes his head. His hands reach to tenderly cup Jisung’s face. His thumbs trace Jisung’s cheeks. And then he leans in and carefully presses his lips to Jisung’s mouth. Gingerly—he’s afraid that Jisung will pull away at a moment’s notice. But that’s just about the last thing from his mind.

Then as he realizes Jisung isn’t going anywhere, he begins to move his lips and he deepens their mouths together. He guides the kiss, knowing this is Jisung’s very first. He can taste Chan, and he melts with the feeling of his pillowy lips. It’s everything Jisung could have wanted, and more. And he wants more from Chan. He wants everything.

‘He feels so nice, they’re exactly what I thought they would feel like, no, even better. He’s so gorgeous. He smells like sweat; I can’t believe he ran here. He couldn’t wait to tell me—Jisung must have been waiting all week to tell me. Ugh, I love him so much.’

They part for a moment, and Jisung can only grin at him. Chan smiles back, and his fingers move along the bow of Jisung’s lips, as if he’s studying the curve of them. “I do love you, by the way. And I would have said that to you instead of ‘like,’ but I was just trying not to scare you off. Now…I feel like I should have said that instead, since I scared you off anyway.”

Jisung snorts. “You didn’t. You’re not going to scare me off.”

“Oh. Good. Good. Can I kiss you again?”

He starts to nod, then pauses. “Just one thing.”

Chan raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“You’d better not ever call me ‘Jisung-ssi’ again. I mean it.”

Chan laughs at that, and meets their mouths together mid-smile. They both can’t seem to stop smiling.

When Jisung first wakes up, he doesn’t know where he is. The lighting’s wrong, the pillow and bedding are a different texture. He reaches out and touches an arm, and his mind remembers when the other’s dreams flood into his mind, and a catchy tune from an Australian commercial starts playing over and over.

He missed this, he knows. He wants to always wake up to Chan.

Chan invited him into his home for dinner, but not before they folded into each other's arms and blissfully kissed on his couch. He had nothing to eat in the house after being gone for a week, so Jisung had promptly pulled up one of his many delivery apps and ordered food. They spent the evening talking—mostly Chan recounting his Australia trip and about how he spent time with his family. But they also just discussed their feelings some more. It felt good to be on the same page there, and it feels good that Jisung is satisfied with labelling his feelings. As soon as he admitted it was love, it just felt right. Everything seemed to fall into place.

Jisung had taken a shower and shaved, and he put on the weirdly well-fitted green plaid pajamas that Chan had for him. He looked much softer and cozier this time around—much closer to that fantasy Chan had about him that one time.

“Be honest. Did you buy these pajamas with me in mind?” Jisung finally had the nerve to ask when he stepped through the doorway of his bedroom.

Chan, who was already blushing furiously when he saw Jisung, had dove into his bed as a response and covered his pillows over himself to hide.

“Yah! Answer the question!” Jisung had laughed and jumped onto the bed. He heard a muffled shriek as he tackled Chan and tried to lift the pillow off of him.

‘Ugh, I’m so embarrassing! Why did I buy him pajamas? Why isn’t he creeped out by me?’

He’d been able to uncover the blankets enough to show just the slightest sliver of skin—Chan’s neck, it looked like—and it was bright red. Jisung had felt a rush of affection and he leaned in and kissed the spot, earning him another scream. “You’re so loud,” Jisung chastised. “Don’t you have any neighbors? Are you ever going to answer me?”

Finally lifting the pillow from his bright red face, Jisung cooed at him and smoothed his soft hair. 

“Okay—maybe, I thought, um. If you ever came over, you might like to wear them, um…”

“You know it’s okay, right?” Jisung had grinned down at him. “But if I’m going to wear these, then I’m going to have to get you ones to match.”

“Ugh, no please—I can’t wear pajamas in bed.” 

Jisung had moved to the side, and lifted the covers onto him. “What do you wear, then?”

‘I hate everything. Why’d he have to ask me that?’ “Well…nothing. Usually.” He’d coughed.

“So you’re usually wearing clothes to bed for my benefit,” Jisung had said before he could fully comprehend what that really meant. He wasn’t about to tell him that it was okay that he didn’t sleep with any clothes on—because quite frankly, he was not ready for that. He’d had his first kiss that night, and that was enough firsts for him for a bit.

“Yeah. You seem…pretty chill about that.” Chan had scrutinized him as he laid on his side to face him.

“Oh. Because I am. Goodnight, Channie-hyung.” It had been Jisung’s turn to dive under the blankets, and for Chan to go chasing after him. Jisung’s eyes widened at Chan hovering over him with the blanket over his head.

“I just told you I sleep naked, and you’re fine with that?” He’d asked in an exasperated tone.

“It was the way you came into this world, you might as well,” Jisung reasoned.

“I think you’re lying, and you just don’t know how to respond to what I said in a normal way. Tell me.”

Jisung had bit his lip, considering his words, then nodded. He didn’t wonder how Chan knew he’d just been making excuses. “I guess, I know it’s not a sexual thing for you, and it’s just your way to be comfortable. But I’m…maybe I’m not ready for you to do that for a while. If that’s okay.”

Chan had breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s more than okay, Jisungie. Thank you for telling me your boundaries.” He leaned into his space and kissed him, and Jisung happily met his sweet lips. They’d spent a few moments deepening the kiss and savoring the taste of each other. When they finally parted for air, Jisung felt a bit flustered as he registered the comment. Chan had just given him positive reinforcement—praised him for telling him something.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very clear so far,” Jisung said. “I just…yeah. I’ve never been in a relationship before, so I don’t really know what I’m supposed to communicate to you…and I haven’t really been able to distinguish my own feelings.”

Chan had laid down and wrapped his strong arms around Jisung’s frame, drawing him closer. His thoughts were vague but definitely fond, and it sent even more warmth through Jisung’s chest.

“It makes sense. Well—let’s talk things through if you feel indecisive or in your head about something, okay?”

Jisung had nodded and tucked his head into the crook of Chan’s neck to listen to a mixture of his thoughts and his heartbeat. “You have to tell me stuff, too, though. You’ve been keeping a crush from me for several years, so it’s like, what else don’t I know? I’d like not to guess.” And he would appreciate not having to forcefully pull the thoughts from Chan’s head to find out.

He felt the other man nod above him and hum in agreement. The blankets were pulled over them. Chan turned off his lamp, and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

As he thinks through the events of the night prior, Jisung realizes he’s happy. He doesn’t quite remember the last time he’s been wholly, incredibly happy. He feels…warm.

He lays in the soft sheets for a bit, settling into the comfort of the bed and the feeling of the man next to him. He almost misses when his phone starts to ring.

With a groan, he turns over and pulls it from the nightstand. There’s still a bit of time before his alarm goes off for work, and people don’t usually call him this early in the morning.

Well, usually. Kim Seungmin does. When he’s going through a crisis and has no concern for whether Jisung is sleeping or not. He takes in Chan’s sleeping form for a moment, then answers the call.

“Hello?” His voice comes out barely audible and grumbly.

“I ran into Minho last night. Outside of delivering packages.”

Oh, that sort of crisis. Jisung gently sits up in bed and cards some fingers through his hair to smooth it out of his face. “Was it awkward?”

“No, actually. That’s—pretty odd that it wasn’t, but he was sort of in a mood, and so it easily blended past small talk. He…he told me about his dreams of becoming a dancer, and I was just hooked the whole time. I’ve never felt like this about anyone, Jisungie, and I don’t even know if he feels the same way!”

Jisung wants to tell him that’s what his power is for, dummy, but there were two reasons he doesn’t. The first is that he has a Chan next to him, and his breath now sounds more like he’s dozing, than in a deep sleep. He could very well be listening in. The second is that there’s no way Seungmin hasn’t already tried reading Minho’s mind.

“I mean, he’s gotta be into you a little bit if he’s telling you all this stuff about him and all his worries, right? At the very least, he thinks you’re a safe person to talk to.”

“I guess. I just really want him to be happy and for him to get what he wants. And I…I really want to buy him dance shoes. His current ones are worn out. Is that a weird thing for me to think about?”

“Mmm.” Jisung looks down at Chan, who is simply looking up at him now with sleepy, fond eyes. A part of him thinks that if Chan needed dance shoes, he wouldn’t hesitate to run out and immediately get him some. Based on that, he knows his answer. “It’s not weird if you have feelings for him.”

“…Fuck.” Seungmin says on the other line. “Okay, you’ve been helpful for once. Let’s talk later.”

“Okay, bye, Seung—” the line disconnects. Jisung laughs softly and puts his phone back, wiggling in next to Chan.

“Sorry to wake you,” he says, “That was Seungmin. He’s having some boy troubles.”

Chan smiles. “Poor guy, I know how that feels.”

He doesn’t quite have a response to that. Jisung is the boy troubles, after all. He offers Chan a shyer smile. “Sorry.”

“You’re more than worth it, Jisungie,” Chan replies, and he wraps his arms around him again and pulls him close to his chest. He can’t really escape the man at the moment, even if he wants to. And he doesn’t want to. Jisung would be satisfied laying in bed together like this forever, surrounded by Chan’s scent and his skin and his soft sheets—not to mention his warm thoughts repeating things like ‘I can’t believe Jisung’s in bed with me,’ and ‘I’m so lucky to have him in my arms,’ and ‘Mine.’

The ‘Mine’ should scare him; the idea of belonging to someone is so far-fetched he can barely believe it. But Jisung also wants to belong to him. He wants to be Chan’s. And he wants Chan all to himself.

Jisung turns his head to gently press a kiss to Chan’s arm, and in turn he relinquishes his hold ever so slightly.

“I’d better head home soon to get ready for work,” Jisung mumbles, already hating the thought of leaving and then having to clock in.

Chan also seems to hate the idea, because he groans. “We really ought to keep suits at each other’s places,” he says.

“That’s pretty smart. Smarty-pants.”

“Yeah, that’s why I get all the raises. Because I have smart pants.”

“Oh…I knew there must be something fishy like that going on,” Jisung chuckles. “Some secret pants to get you more money.” The irony of this teasing, Jisung realizes, is that he still has something fishy going on with him. A pretty big secret, in fact.

Does he even want to tell Chan? He’d probably hate him if he found out. Reading his mind is such an invasion of privacy.

But his mind is so perfect, Jisung could crawl up in it and listen to it all day. The good thoughts and the bad thoughts. He doesn’t want to lose Chan. Maybe he doesn’t even have to ever tell him. They can just live the rest of their lives without Jisung uttering a peep about it. He can keep a secret like that forever, right? He’s done it so far.

“Before you go—” Chan gently kisses the side of his head, through his thick dark hair, and Jisung positively melts. He lets go to roll off the bed, and he leaves the bedroom. Jisung hears him shuffling around and digging through his luggage, and he’s very curious as to what Chan’s going to show him.

He’s laying on his side, his arm supporting his head, when Chan enters the room again a minute later. The older sits on the edge of the mattress. “Hold out your hand,” he instructs.

Jisung stalls. “Why? You’re not going to put a bug in my hand, are you?”

“Why would I—?” Chan cuts himself off and laughs. “It’s not a bug this time; please give me your hand.”

“‘This time,’” Jisung echoes his words in a grumble, and reluctantly holds out his hand, ready to pull it back at a moment’s notice. Chan continues to laugh in a bit of disbelief at him, and he takes Jisung’s hand.

It’s a relief that Jisung can read minds, because he finds out quickly that Chan doesn’t have a bug. It’s also unfortunate, because now he knows exactly what he intends to do. He’s probably never getting surprised by a gift again.

A lot more relaxed now, Jisung keeps his hand held out while Chan clips a bracelet to his wrist. “There. No bug.” He smiles with his dimples.

“Wow,” Jisung gasps and pulls it closer to himself. It’s a thin silver chain, very simple, but shiny. He knows nothing about metals, but this has to be genuine silver, right? “Why—” he swallows, tries again. “I don’t understand why you got this for me when you thought I didn’t like you back, Channie-hyung. This is so—wow,” he says again. He looks up to Chan, who is looking a tad uneasy.

“It was…well, I wasn’t completely sure you didn’t like me back. You just said you’d think about it. And um, while I was there, I went out shopping with my dad, and I saw this, and um…” he licks his lips, clearly nervous with what he wants to say next. “I kind of…fantasized a little about you wearing something that I gave you? Like, to the office and stuff where everyone can see. I just want everyone to know that you’re mine. Um—if you want to be. And I suppose I bought it on the off-chance that you felt the same way that I feel about you.”

These words more or less match up with what Jisung already knows—that Chan wants to stake a claim on him. He knows that Chan fantasizes about him. He knows, and yet it doesn’t make it easier to hear him say it out in the open and away from his thoughts.

He adjusts himself until he’s sitting up. Jisung continues to look at the bracelet, somehow fitting very nicely around his wrist. Then he scoots forward and pulls Chan by the nape of his neck to slot their lips together. It doesn’t take much for Chan to sink into the kiss and take over, his hands reaching to grip Jisung’s upper arms and pull him even closer. Chan’s feeling desperate, and Jisung doesn’t quite need to hear his thoughts to know that. His breath shudders hotly against Jisung’s mouth, and he’s surprised to feel the man opening their mouths to slip his tongue inside. This hasn’t happened yet. What does he do when someone puts their tongue in his mouth? Is he supposed to just…keep his mouth open and let him? He can’t deny that it’s slightly weird at first, but as Chan keeps moving his tongue around to taste him, evidently not caring whether Jisung has morning breath or not—it feels kind of nice. It’s a weird kind of sensitivity that has Jisung’s skin becoming hotter. He decides to use his own tongue to slip into Chan’s mouth, and the older rescinds his tongue to let Jisung do that. He’s a gentleman like that. 

His tongue explores around Chan’s mouth experimentally, and he’s surprised to hear and feel a small moan coming from the older. Jisung parts from their lips, deciding to take a breath. “You…liked that?”

Chan nods. “Very much, Sung-ah.”

“I…” he moves to look up at him with widened eyes, his hand still around the back of Chan’s neck. He notices that his lips are reddened and starting to swell. Maybe they should hold off on kissing more when they have work to get to in a couple hours. “I’ll wear this all the time,” he assures him. “I want people to know that I’m yours.”

He inhales sharply. Jisung hears Chan repeat what he just said in his head, over and over. Cute. “Then um.” He swallows. “Can I call you my boyfriend?”

Jisung’s cheeks darken. “Me?” He can’t help but say. He still can’t believe Chan wants him, even with all the evidence laid out in front of him. It makes no sense to him. Other men are much more handsome, much kinder. Anyone could have rescued Chan from that situation with the executives.

“You.” He tells him in a serious tone, his eyes looking straight into his and refusing to waver. ‘He’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out.’

Jisung feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.

Chan sees his pained expression and continues. “The day after you told me you liked Silica Gel, I listened to their music nonstop all night, thinking about how it makes you happy and how you might feel when you listen to it. I can’t stand when other people flirt with you and it makes me want to physically fight them. Sometimes I’ll just watch you work, because I love the way your face scrunches up when you’re serious and focused…I’m obsessed with you, Jisung.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, to any of it. He just hears Chan beat himself up about admitting all that, hears him say that Jisung’s face looks so pretty right now all puffy from sleep. Chan thinks he wants to see that face looking at him in the morning for the rest of his life, and that’s what finally drives him to action.

“You’re incredible, Channie,” Jisung breathes. “Everything about you. I’d love to be your boyfriend. I’m just…I’ve never had a boyfriend before. Or been one. This feels surreal, like it’s not actually happening. I don’t feel like I deserve it, even a little.”

“I know how you feel,” Chan agrees, his face brightening despite that. He takes Jisung’s chin and leans in to steal another kiss, and he lets their lips linger together. He could probably kiss Chan forever.

Chapter Text

Work is unbearable, but for different reasons now.

Jisung can’t keep track of his projects, and his mind strays halfway through emails. He can’t help but turn his head every five minutes to sneak glances at his boyfriend, even though he’s only doing mundane things like squinting at his computer, or leaning back in his chair to talk with clients on the phone, or using his pen to itch a spot on his hair.

What’s worse is when Chan will make excuses to walk by his desk and skim his fingers slightly against his shoulder, or give him a fleeting smile. It’s not enough for Jisung. Every time he does it, Jisung wants to grab him and kiss him over his desk, other coworkers be damned.

He’s been slowly sinking into insanity for a while now, but now he’s been fully plunged into the deep end.

When Jisung is in the copy room, he hears Chan come in not soon after. There’s cameras in here, just like everywhere, so they still can’t do anything. But that doesn’t stop Chan from leaning into him from behind, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, and then immediately turning to leave before people catch them.

And now Jisung has to walk back to his desk with his face entirely red.

Work finally wraps up after eight painstaking hours, but it becomes worse. At least here, he had fleeting glimpses of Chan. Now he’s going to be without him for a whole evening and night.

He leaves with Changbin to work out at his gym, and he catches him up about the events that transpired, since he’d abandoned his friend to run to Chan’s house the day before. Changbin’s ecstatic for him, although it doesn’t come without a fair amount of teasing.

Jisung arrives to an apartment that’s even more desolate than usual. He washes off the workout sweat in his shower, and then when he checks his fridge, it’s just a bunch of random ingredients. He tries his best and pulls out kimchi and rice. And that’s what he needs to make kimchi fried rice, right? He’s basically a chef at this point.

It ends up dry. He eats his kimchi fried rice on the floor, using his coffee table. Jisung stares at his phone, willing himself to come up with a non-lame way to text his boyfriend, or maybe for his boyfriend to text him first and end his suffering.

Neither happens, though, and he finally turns his phone screen-down so he’ll stop staring at it so much. With nothing else to enrich his brain, he looks around at his eclectic apartment, and his eyes settle on his dusty guitar without thinking about it.

He hasn’t picked it up in a few years, and most of the time he forgets it’s there. His eyes have gotten so used to seeing it in that spot, at that angle, that it surprises him that he’s even affording it a thought or two.

It also surprises him that he’s moving over to pick it up off of its stand.

Oh yeah—these strings are so out of tune they don’t even make a sound other than the wispy sound of metal strings clashing against the neck. He carefully tunes each string by humming, and he’s not surprised when his High E string suddenly breaks with a plink. These strings are old and have been in a single position for a long time.

Jisung digs through the junk drawer in the kitchen and he’s frustrated not to find an extra E string—but about three B strings. “Not very helpful, me from the past,” he mutters to himself.

This is where he would probably give up. Instead, he’s inexplicably pulling up a close-by music store on Naver and inputting it in his maps. He’s pulling on a coat and a beanie and sneakers, and he’s walking out to take a quick bus. And he’s arriving at a music store to buy a set of replacement strings before the store closes in a half hour.

He’s also buying a couple music books and a ream of paper with staff lines. When all’s said and done, it’s not very cheap, and he’s not even sure what’s come over him. Jisung just wants to.

Back at home, he carefully restrings his guitar, and he cleans it of the dust that’s accumulated in the cracks and crevices. Then his fingers begin to play Bruno Mars’ Locked out of Heaven from muscle memory.

Second runthrough he starts to sing it, his voice definitely out of practice as well. Third runthrough, he films himself with his phone propped up on his coffee table. It’s not perfect by any means, and his voice cuts out at parts.

He still sends it to Seungmin, along with the text ‘ Still got it 💪💪’ and he prepares himself for the incoming ridicule.

Instead of a return text from Seungmin, he gets a phone call from Chan. Jisung didn’t send the video to the wrong person, did he? Nope—he’s good. This must be a coincidence, then.

“Hey,” Jisung answers.

“Hey,” Chan copies. “What are you doing?”

“Um, I’m just eating,” Jisung says. He’s not sure why he’s not telling Chan about the guitar, but when he thinks about it, whatever he’s doing, he wants it to be a surprise. 

“What did you have? Takeout?”

“No, actually! I made some kimchi fried rice on my own,” he answers triumphantly. “Are you proud of me?”

“I never thought I’d see the day.” He hears Chan fake-sniffling on the other line.

“Shush. I’ve made all the stuff from the ingredients you made me get! They’ve all turned out, um, nothing like you’d make it. But they’re something.”

“Do you need to get groceries again? Because I definitely do. I’ve been gone for a week and I had takeout tonight.”

“Yeah, I do. Need to get groceries, I mean. Want to go on Sunday?”

“That’d be fun, Jisungie.”

This is so easy, Jisung notes: his conversations with Chan, making plans with him, the idea of shopping together. “I miss you,” he finds himself saying. “I know I saw you today, but—”

“—I agree. I want to see you all the time.”

Jisung smiles. “I’ll see your pretty face tomorrow, at least.”

“You sure will,” Chan confirms, and then there’s some shuffling in the background. “Actually, this brings me to something I’d been thinking about today. I think we should go on a date this weekend—a proper one. Maybe we can get to know each other better.”

“Oh—yeah, okay.” Jisung straightens his posture. “Should I know what we’re doing, or is it a surprise?”

“Hmmm. I’ll make it mostly a surprise, but I’m thinking about a day trip to Lotte World. Thoughts?”

“Um, yeah. Let’s do it.”

“Great. Now go to sleep soon, okay?”

“I will if you will,” Jisung says. A part of him knows Chan is relieved he gets to tell Jisung to go to sleep at proper times now, and he exhales in amusement.

“It’s a deal. Goodnight, Sung-ah. Love you.”

“Love you too, hyung. Goodnight.” Jisung smiles as he says it and ends the call. Then, he promptly flops onto the ground, letting his guitar lay on top of his chest. A date? A proper one? What is he supposed to do?

He quickly pulls up his phone to text Seungmin again, when he sees that his best friend has texted him already, replying to his video.

me

[video attached]

Still got it 💪💪

seung

I don’t know if I would say that 🤔

Your voice is so pitchy that Dori started yowling at me.

me

You don’t get it. He’s actually saying “more beautiful music, father”

Was it really that bad?

seung

You’re rusty, but you’re still good. You can get back to your old chops.

You’d be even better if I were there to sing with you I expect…

me

We should sing together again

Come over next time you aren’t close to a deadline

seung

Tomorrow?

me

Tomorrow.

👯‍♂️ us

“Make the space in your mouth larger,” Seungmin instructs the next day. “Open your throat for the tone to come out clearer.”

Jisung listens. He’s been singing “I feel like I became a zombie, 머리와 심장이 텅 빈” over and over for the last few minutes, and his voice keeps breaking at the 와, like he’s going through puberty again. He opens his throat, and it doesn’t break, but it does come out hoarse. He groans and puts his head down on his coffee table.

“You’ll get there. Drink some water,” Seungmin says. When Jisung doesn’t respond to him, he rests his hand on Jisung’s knee.

‘Why now, by the way? You don’t want to make music for years, and all of a sudden it matters to you again. Why?’

“I um, it’s hard to explain. I’m not even completely sure why,” Jisung says to the floor. “Chan and I are together now. We’re boyfriends.”

“I know. It’s all you can think about. Congrats, though. I’m happy for you, Sungie.”

He lets his stream of consciousness take over, and he hopes that Seungmin can glean some sort of explanation from it. ‘Chan’s so put together and he’s successful at work. He has a lot of friends, and people just like him. I’m none of those things. I feel like I’m not good enough for him. But I want to be. I want to be someone who measures up next to Chan. I don’t want to be someone who wastes away in his shitty apartment watching anime and has no ambition. I don’t have anything to offer, but I do have this. Or—I will have this when I get better at it.’

Seungmin lightly swats his shoulder. “Did you forget how he’s in love with you? He knows exactly what you quote unquote ‘have to offer’ and it’s more than enough for him. This is the same guy that bought you pajamas, even though you weren’t even friends and barely talked to each other. He’s too far gone, I’m afraid.” He sets the guitar aside and scoots closer to rest his face on Jisung’s back. “I think it is cool of you that you’re wanting to better yourself and be a better version of yourself. Just don’t do it for a man. You’re going to set feminism back fifty years.”

Jisung giggles at that. “Okay. I guess so. Get up—I’m going to try singing it standing up.”

“But you’re so soft…”

Seungmin shrieks when Jisung suddenly moves out of the way, causing him to lean forward and almost topple over.

Jisung has been both looking forward to his date with Chan, and completely dreading it. How does he act on a date? What does he say? What if it’s so incredibly awkward, and Chan realizes that he’s made a mistake in having a crush on Jisung because he can’t carry a conversation, and he decides to leave in the middle of the date? He’d have to figure out his own way back from Lotte World, he supposes. He feels dejected at the idea.

He also doesn’t know what to wear on this date, and everything he owns is either too formal and business-like for a day at an amusement park; or much too lounge-y, for a day of laying around his house and eating takeout japchae. Jisung just needs a perfectly good outfit for Lotte World that makes him look handsome and cool and put together, all at the same time. Maybe if those gods that gave him his mind-reading are listening, he would offer a trade.

After washing all his clothes and taking inventory of them in case he happened to land on something he forgot about that would work perfectly, he finally settles on a black long-sleeve collared Adidas-brand shirt with white stripes down the sleeves, a pair of jeans, and converse. He conditions his hair twice in the shower, and does his best to smooth out and tame his hair. 

By the time he has on the bracelet Chan gave him and small silver hoops in his ears, then looks in his mirror, he decides he looks… fine. He looks clean and casual; not any of those other adjectives he wanted, but that was a pipe dream.

He leaves his apartment to go and wait for Chan. Jisung waits at the curb outside of the 7/11 and scans down the street for him. He doesn’t expect someone to poke his shoulder, and he jumps in surprise.

“Sorry!” The source of the poking steps back. Jisung blinks for a moment, but then he recognizes her as Sullyoon, the girl from the 7/11 checkout and Jinsol’s girlfriend. Shit.

“No—no, it’s okay! Sorry.” Jisung holds up his hands.

“Sorry to bother you. I just, I hadn’t seen you around in a while, which was strange, since you used to stop in every day. And then we had that odd encounter, and I didn’t know what it was about, until Jinsol and I talked about you and told me your name. And I’ve connected the dots. That is why you haven’t been around.”

Jisung feels his stomach plummeting to the floor. “It’s…really not a big deal, Sullyoon-ssi—”

“I’m not done. Thing is though, the things my girlfriend was saying…I know I never said you were gross aloud. I would never do that. I do remember thinking that it was gross our hands touched, but only because it’s weird to touch strangers’ hands.”

“Oh. That makes sense, I guess—”

“So either you lied to Jinsol, or you somehow guessed what I was thinking, which is also odd—”

“I can read minds,” Jisung blurts aloud, and then he clasps his hands over his mouth. Sullyoon’s eyes seem to bug out of their sockets.

“What?”

“Please don’t tell Jinsol-ssi,” he pleads with her. “I promise I don’t use it to be a pervert or pry in people’s heads. Touching your hand was an accident, I never meant to be weird—”

“Chill, man, I’ll keep your little secret.” Sullyoon laughs. “But I knew there had to be something weird about you, Jisung-ssi.”

He doesn’t feel the need to tell her that there’s a lot of weird things about him. “I’m sorry for avoiding going to your store in case I ran into you.”

“Sorry that I called you gross. You’re not.” Sullyoon pats his shoulder before going inside. ‘You’d better not go to other stores now. If I keep driving away you and your money, my manager is going to yell at me.’

“Noted,” Jisung mutters as she walks into the store. What an odd conversation. And now someone besides Seungmin knows about him. He doesn’t know the 7/11 employee, and he doesn’t trust her to keep his secret. He’ll just have to prepare for the possibility of her spreading it to Jinsol, and hope that it doesn’t spread further than that. He only has to wait outside for a few more minutes before he spies Chan’s car pulling up.

He opens the car door and slips inside, immediately taking in Chan’s appearance. He’s dyed his hair again, likely to get rid of his grown-in roots, but now it’s much darker. It looks so silky, Jisung has the urge to run his fingers through it…oh, wait, he can do that now. He reaches over and touches a strand. “Your hair looks great,” he says.

“Thanks,” Chan smiles. He’s wearing a light blue polo shirt that’s actually see through, which would be a problem, except that he’s layered it with a white tank top underneath. He’s paired it with light wash jeans and white sneakers, and he just looks…soft. Pretty.

He suddenly giggles, and Jisung doesn’t understand why, until he realizes he’s just said the word ‘pretty’ aloud, and in a very dreamy tone. He flushes, the heat creeping on the back of his neck.

“You look pretty too, Jisungie,” Chan says, and he reaches for his hand to hold onto. When their fingers link together, he rests them on the gear shift, as if it’s the most natural place for them to be. When he pulls onto the road, following the directions on his phone, he questions, “Are you excited for Lotte World?”

“Oh yeah.” Jisung cracks a smile. “This is the perfect activity for two men in their thirties.”

“Men in their thirties can wear matching headbands and take photobooth photos and ride bumper cars!” Chan states adamantly. Jisung can’t help but laugh at his offended expression.

“Okay, fine, maybe so. We’re getting corn dogs, though, right?”

“What do you take me for? Of course we are.”

Jisung does a small celebratory dance in his seat that looks quite a bit like the chorus to TWICE’s Cheer Up, and Chan gives him the biggest grin that makes his eyes crinkle.

They have to park a fair distance away from Lotte World, but when they finally make their way through the gates, they immediately stop at a kiosk to grab ear headbands. They basically have to, it’s required. There’s a few good ones, and Chan is being unhelpful by cooing at every single one Jisung tries on. He’s starting to think Chan would like anything he wears.

When Chan pulls out a duck headband, Jisung is mortified when he starts to sing in an aegyo voice, “Rubber ducky you’re the one! You make bathtime so much fun!” Jisung can’t quite hear the rest because he laughs and puts his hand over Chan’s mouth to silence him. His boyfriend reaches to grab Jisung’s hand and pulls it away, holding onto it tightly. Then he keeps singing the song as he tugs Jisung to the counter to pay for two of them, so he can’t even pretend he doesn’t know the guy when the person at the counter stares at them like they’re weird.

By the time they’ve exited the gift shop, Jisung is thoroughly flustered, but so, so fond of this goofy man with a duck headband and a wide, dimpled smile.

Their morning is spent waiting in line for the Atlantis ride and taking turns eating a gelato in a soft bread cone, and when they finally get onto the ride, Jisung is not prepared for the speed it goes. He screams loudly, and Chan is next to him, screaming while laughing at the ride and at his expressions.

They take a small break before the next ride to order strawberry yogurt drinks and step into a photobooth, and they sit for a series of aegyo poses. The second to last photo, Chan sneaks a kiss to his cheek, so Jisung knows he has a dumb surprised look on his face. Then as sweet revenge, he pulls Chan by the shoulders and plants a deep kiss on his lips, and he’s satisfied by his shocked expression—and then, even more so when they continue kissing for about thirty seconds longer.

They move into the large building and go on a few smaller rides like the bumper cars and the Conquistador—the viking ship. Chan grabs them several corn dogs while Jisung gets them some iced coffees, and they take some time to relax from the adrenaline. He can’t remember the last time he’s had such a fun time at an amusement park. The last time, he believes, was with a large group of his classmates from college, and he’d been ushered along the entire day to do what the group wanted to do. Meanwhile, Chan seems to understand the slower pace Jisung wants to take, and perhaps Chan also wants that. The day just feels…good.

The two leave the building in the evening when the sun’s sinking, and it seems like everyone else has the same idea, because the place is now cramped. Jisung keeps his hand tightly clasped in Chan’s to keep them from being separated, but people are still slamming into them left and right, and he catches so many thoughts from strangers, he can’t even begin to keep track of them all. 

‘I need to get to—’

‘People need to get OUT OF MY WAY—’

‘I’m never going to be able to get on the Atlantis today—’

‘That sottok was not very good—’

‘I want to go on the gyro spin again—’

‘Ugh, where’s the bathroom—’

He’s starting to feel the anxiety swirling in his stomach, and he’s helpless to the sensation of being trapped among hundreds and hundreds of people. When a taller man pushes into him and he stumbles a bit along the pavement, it starts to become harder for him to breathe.

It doesn’t help that Chan’s thoughts are all about how worried he is about Jisung, how pale and sweaty he’s become, how he looks seconds away from bursting into tears. Actually, his thoughts only makes him feel worse, and it doesn’t take long for his vision to begin dimming, and for him to begin gasping for the air that refuses to enter his lungs.

He feels, through his fog, strong hands holding his upper arms, and he’s being guided out of the main path and in between a few kiosks. He’s suddenly sat down at an empty, shaded table, and the relief from the congestion makes Jisung realize that he is in fact crying.

Chan’s still holding onto his arms and rubbing circles into the fabric of his shirt, but Jisung shrugs him off. “Don’t touch me for a moment,” his voice snaps unintentionally. “I need to clear my head.”

“No worries, Sung-ah. Whatever you need.”

It’s a struggle to breathe for what feels like hours. He does his best to inhale and exhale slowly. Eventually, it becomes easier to take in what’s going on around him.

When he finally feels like he can take in enough oxygen, he sags in his chair and wipes the tears from around his eyes and cheeks, and even the bit that dripped down his chin.

Chan closely stands next to him, his eyebrows drawn together in worry.

“I’m okay now,” Jisung tells him. “Sorry for being rude to you—”

“You weren’t rude. Trust me,” Chan interrupts. “I had a dinner reservation scheduled for us after this, but maybe we should just go home and I’ll cook something there. Does that sound good?”

Jisung is in no mood to sit in a restaurant, so he nods weakly, then lets Chan pull him to his feet. His arm is around Jisung’s waist protectively as they take a small detour, around and away from the huge crowd, and they slip out of the park without further incident.

The walk to the car is silent, and Jisung wonders if he’s imagining the air feeling stagnant. It may just be that he still hears Chan’s loud, disruptive thoughts that are all about how worried he feels, how he needs to get Jisung home, and how he hopes Jisung is feeling okay.

On the drive to his house, Chan's thoughts turn to blaming himself for what happened, for being the one to lead him into the crowd, and that’s when Jisung finds his voice.

“I ruin everything, hyung.”

He sucks in a breath. “That’s not true—”

“No, it definitely is. Most people don’t like being around me, and that’s why I’ve been alone for so long.” His tears start filling his eyes again before he can stop them. “I can’t be normal in social situations, and I don’t know if I ever will be. I…maybe we aren’t compatible, Channie, because the way I see it, you should be with someone so much better than me, someone that matches your energy. And I still don’t know what you see in me that’s so much better than everyone else. That night with the executives, anyone could have saved you from that woman—”

“But no one did, Jisung,” Chan bites back, and his tone is stern enough that Jisung stops talking. “You were the only one there for me, and you still are. You get that? No one here has ever cared with the depth that you care about me. They see my friendly face, and they call that good enough. They think they’ve seen all of me, and they don’t care to know the rest. But you know me. And you’re the only person who does.”

Jisung stills. “But…the real you is so much better than the friendly office Chan.”

“And that’s why I’m so in love with you, Sung-ah. Do you think I don’t know that you have anxiety?” Jisung has no semblance of a response to that, so Chan keeps going. “I’ve known ever since we met—it’s clear that huge social situations make you uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter, though, and I don’t even care that the park ended on a slightly sour note, because I had a great time.”

“Me too,” Jisung agrees. “I had so much fun.”

“I want to be there for you if you need me, because I don’t want you to be alone anymore. But now we know for next time to stay out of large crowds of people, and it’ll stay fun for you the entire time.”

He blinks. “You’re just okay with changing things like that? For me?”

Chan nods and offers him a tiny smile. “If only you could see yourself the way I see you. You’d know that I’d do just about anything for you.”

Here is the part where Jisung tells him that actually, he knows exactly how Chan feels, but he can’t make himself admit it. It doesn’t feel right to admit it now, with the mood weighing so heavily on them. He sighs and takes his headband off, and the rest of the drive consists of Jisung staring intently into the duck’s beaded eyes, hosting a staring contest with the stuffed animal on the top.

When they arrive home, Chan takes the cushions out of the cabinet and sits them around the coffee table, like he lives here. He ushers for Jisung to sit, and denies any offers to help him with dinner. “Don’t worry about anything, okay?”

Jisung pulls his knees to his chest. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do, Jisung-ah.” Chan leans over and kisses the top of his head, then moves towards the kitchen to pull together some semblance of dinner.

He’s successful, because of course he is: he manages to locate the ingredients for ramyeon with green onions and a fried egg on the top. The broth looks incredible, and Jisung can tell he added more to it than just the package that the noodles come with—and sure enough, as he stirs it, he sees strips of tender beef in there.

“This looks amazing. I didn’t even know I had meat,” Jisung says.

“You still had a package in the freezer…what’s all this?” Chan takes in the various stacks of staff paper and the guitar book that Jisung compiled into a neater pile while Chan had been busy making dinner. He looks over to the guitar propped up in the corner, no longer dusty, then eyes Jisung questioningly.

“Oh.” He sets down his chopsticks and wipes the sweat from his hands on his jeans. “I was saving it as a bit of a surprise for you whenever I got back to my chops from college, but…I’ve been picking up the guitar and singing again.”

Chan’s eyes widen. “Really?”

Jisung nods. “Seungmin came over yesterday to help get our voices back into shape. And then when he finally deemed me ready, we filmed a cover of Zombie by Day6…um, do you want to hear it?”

He nods aggressively, and even holds out and makes grabby-motions with his hands. Jisung giggles at that and slips his phone out of his pocket to locate it from his gallery. “Here.” He props it up on the table and lets Chan tap the play button, while he sits back and stirs his ramyeon and blows on it to cool it down. Meanwhile, he’s trying not to get anxious again at the thought of Chan hearing him sing and play the guitar.

Seungmin’s voice comes out, followed by the strumming of a guitar. Chan starts to scrunch up his eyebrows and frown while he nods his head to the beat, in a way that Jisung’s not sure if he likes it or not. He made that face at the restaurant a while ago, though, when he liked the meat, so this must be his ‘concentrating’ face. “Seungmin’s a good singer,” he states, and Jisung simply nods in agreement at that, because his part is about to come up and he suddenly feels nervous. When it does, Chan breaks out into a big smile that sends butterflies into Jisung’s stomach, and then he’s back to nodding to the beat and scrunching up his face.

When they reach the chorus, Jisung looks down and decides to brave taking a sip of the broth to avoid watching his expression. It’s still too hot and it scalds his tongue, and he still sees Chan react. He pauses, and then to Jisung’s horror, he reaches his hand forward and replays the chorus.

“That part gave me some trouble yesterday,” Jisung laughs uncomfortably.

“I love the sound of your voice,” Chan says. “You have such a nice vocal range. And yours and Seungmin’s voices blend so well together.”

Jisung blushes at the compliments while Chan finishes the video. And when he does, he reaches over and touches Jisung’s hand. ‘I feel like I just love him more and more every second, and I don’t even know how that’s possible.’ “Thank you for showing this to me,” he says.

“Of course,” Jisung answers, unable to stop his face from growing red. He takes his phone and powers it off before slipping it into his pocket again. “Um, like I said, I wanted to surprise you—I was going to film a Jason Mraz song and send it to you…I bought a book here that has the sheet music…” he clumsily pulls the book from the stack and thumbs through the pages, then turns it around and holds it up for Chan to see.

“Well, what if you played it now? And then I sang it?”

Jisung freezes. “You’d want to do that with me?”

“I dragged you up to sing with me at the noraebang. Did that not convince you that I want to perform with you?”

He has no response to that. The connection hadn’t been made clear to him until now. “Um. I’d love it if you sang while I played guitar,” he whispers.

Chan grins again. “Great. Finish eating.” He gestures to Jisung’s noodles, then picks up his chopsticks to slurp his own.

After the coffee table has been cleared and the dishes are drying in the rack by the sink, Jisung sits back against his bed while he runs through the chords of I’m Yours. Chan sits very close by—his legs draped over Jisung’s. He’s got the lyrics up on his phone, but Jisung knows he doesn’t need them, and he’s trying to look like he’s not about to show off.

When he starts to play, Chan’s not quite ready to come in the first try. But he does on the second, and his voice comes out somewhat shakily. Luckily it’s just them, and luckily Chan could sing in just about any way he wanted and Jisung would still find him incredibly endearing. But his voice is so clear and distinctive, with hints of his Australian accent seeping through the tone. Jisung immediately wants to film this so that he can hear it again and again, but he lets the moment be. His ears turn red when Chan looks pointedly at him when he sings “I’m yours,” and he giggles along with him when he laughs embarrassedly in between the verses.

And then he has the sheer audacity to melodize with the chorus instead of singing the regular notes. His voice raises an octave, and he seems to do it without even thinking. When they finish, Jisung adds a couple extra guitar chords just because. Then he sets aside his guitar and simply gives Chan a scrutinizing expression.

“Okay, so maybe this was my audition song to become a trainee…ah! Hey!” He tries to bat off Jisung’s hands, which are tickling the underside of his legs. Jisung just persists, and while he’s laughing, he grabs Jisung’s wrists and easily flips him onto his back.

Jisung tries to wriggle out of his grip, but Chan’s too strong for that. He huffs out a laugh and looks up at his boyfriend hovering over him. He can see his flexed shoulder blades and collarbones through his see-through shirt, not to mention Chan’s focused gaze on him, and something hot stirs in Jisungs stomach at the sight. He needs to get out of this before his body does something embarrassing…

“Ugh—fine! You win!” He relents.

Then Chan smirks. Fuck. “I thought so,” he says, and he presses a kiss to Jisung’s lips, effectively turning him beet red before he moves off of him.

It’s…odd. The feeling in Jisung’s stomach. When it’s his turn to shower, it doesn’t take long for him to put a name to the feeling. Desire. He wants Chan to be in here with him now, in his cramped shower. He visualizes himself touching every inch of Chan to map him out. He wants Chan’s hands gripping his waist, holding him in place while the older fucks into him—

Woah.

Where did that come from?

And shit. Why is he hard over it?

He has no choice but to silently jerk off in the shower, and when he finally gets out and slips on a comfy t-shirt and gym shorts, he feels like Chan knows. Chan can somehow sniff the dirty thoughts off of him, can sense that he’s just been touching himself to thoughts of his boyfriend.

But if he does, he doesn’t show it. He’s laid on Jisung’s bed, his arm supporting the back of his head, reading something off of his phone. He’s wearing one of Jisung’s oversized t-shirts and his boxers, and the entire visual is enough to probably kill him.

He turns off the lights in the house and locks the door, then he slides into his spot between Chan and the wall and pulls the covers over them. “Goodnight, Channie-hyung,” he says, then leans over and purses his lips for a kiss.

Chan chuckles at him and obliges, giving him a proper goodnight kiss. Then Chan pulls him closer, and he snuggles in against his chest and lets the older wrap his arms around him. He feels so blissful right now. Everywhere around him is Chan, and everything feels good.

He’s precisely on the cusp of sleep, when he hears Chan tell him something. He grunts to have the man repeat it, but he doesn’t. Then he hears his boyfriend tell him something else, but this time, he’s paying attention and he’s able to decipher the words. ‘The moon is really bright.’

Jisung groans and looks up at it through his window. “Yeah, it is. Let me close my curtains, hang on.” He reaches over and swishes them closed, and when he looks back at Chan, he seems…confused. Huh. Why would he look like that—

Oh. Shit.

“Well, goodnight!” Jisung says quickly, and he lays back in bed and pulls the covers over him.

He can’t ignore Chan’s thoughts, though, with the man so close to him. ‘I could have sworn I only thought that…I guess not? Or maybe Jisung’s just that good at reading me. Maybe he could see that I’d been trying to get the moonlight from my eyes…but he answered me. Yeah—yeah. I must have just accidentally said it out loud.’

Instead of relief that it’s sorted itself out, Jisung just feels an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Chapter Text

Jisung doesn’t mean to put Chan on a backburner. But that’s the way it goes, apparently, when he’s suddenly important at work.

Their boss has unfortunately been happy with his work product lately, and wants to “see how he fares” with being the leader of the task-force in charge of product-testing a new software the company is developing. Now Jisung has to spend evenings and weekends away from his boyfriend, with the planning around locating test subjects eating up any extra time he has. He loathes it.

“Another no tonight, Jisung-ah?” Changbin asks him with a lean against the wall of his cubicle. He’s staying at least a foot away from Jisung’s desk and the many, many papers scattered around. Jisung isn’t even looking up, just trying not to lose track of the numbers and sorting order in his head.

“I don’t think so, Bin, I gotta—”

“—You’re so focused on work, you’re dropping honorifics?”

“Bin-hyung, god. I just have a lot to do before Saturday, I can’t really work on getting gains right now—agh—” he yelps when Changbin suddenly pulls him from his hunched position and wrangles his arms around his neck into a headlock. Well, there went those numbers in his head; instead replaced by loud thoughts from his coworker about getting him to go to the gym.

“You let the boss put too much on your shoulders. You’re the leader, right? Delegate more work to your task-force.”

“My task force is full of people from another department,” Jisung breathes, his hands pushing up on his arm to get him to let go. “And they all keep telling me they have other things to work on—”

“It’s bullshit, Han Jisung, and I think you know that. They’re steamrolling you because you’re weak and anxious, but you have to lay down the line.”

“Okay, maybe it’s true, but I don’t appreciate the callout—”

“Come on, I’m helping you write an email to your team.” It doesn’t sound like a suggestion. “Jeongin-ssi—” Changbin relinquishes his hold and moves around the cubicle wall to talk to their coworker. “Jagiya, go take a ten and let me borrow your chair.”

“Jagiya?” He hears Jeongin cough.

“Come on, we kissed! I think I’m allowed to call you that. Chair?”

“Okay, fine. But…don’t call me ‘jagiya’ unless it actually means something to you.” Jeongin gathers his phone and walks quickly away. 

Changbin just gapes at the man, utterly stunned.

Jisung pokes his arm to pull him out of his trance. “Jeongin and Changbin sitting in a tree—”

“Like you have any room to talk!” Changbin retorts, his face red and his voice raised, but Jisung knows he’s not mad at all. No, the man is extremely flustered. ‘Did Jeongin really mean that? He wants me to call him jagiya, and for that to mean something to him? Have I been misreading things this whole time? I need to see him, like soon—’

“That’s fair. Help me with this email, then go get your man. Or the other way around,” Jisung prompts.

Changbin rolls Jeongin’s chair to his desk, and he helps him write out a strongly-worded email to his team. They quickly go through the tasks left, and Jisung forcefully delegates various projects. He has to delete a few times—when his friend decides he’s being too lenient.

When he hits ‘send,’ Jisung feels a nauseous sensation in his gut. “They’re going to hate me.”

“Do you ever talk to them?” Changbin asks.

“No, but—”

“Then don’t worry about it! Make some office enemies. It’s more fun that way.” He gets up from Jeongin’s chair and slides it back into place. “Let me know if they keep giving you the runaround. And…I’ll see you tonight.”

Right. Jisung can suddenly get off work on time now, and in time to work out with him. “Thanks for your help, hyung.” He relaxes in his seat with some of the workload already off of him. “Tell me tonight how it goes with Jeongin-ssi.”

Changbin suddenly looks nervous—an expression Jisung’s never seen on his friend before—and he heads in the direction of the breakroom in search of Jeongin.

Jisung knows that the time he has with Chan during the work day is special, and so he tries his hardest not to take up the time talking about his work tasks. But it’s impossible when his boyfriend only asks him questions about it and nothing else.

They’re taking lunch at the same time and eating next to Chan’s desk—which is bigger and doesn’t have important papers scattered around everywhere. He’s munching on a sandwich that Chan packed for him, and it’s so much better than any 7/11 sandwich. He wants to apologize that he’s not spending so much money at Sullyoon’s store anymore, but really…he doesn’t quite owe 7/11 money forever. There was no contract.

“I just need to get one or two more product-testing volunteers that can take the time to come into the office on Saturday,” Jisung is saying. “And then, I think I’m pretty much done with the planning aspect, until the day of. Problem is, I’ve exhausted a lot of outlets—”

“What about Seungmin?” Chan takes a large bite of his sandwich.

Jisung blinks. “What about him?”

Chan points to his mouth, so Jisung waits for him to chew and swallow. “He’s a young-blooded person who can read and write and would take time for you on the weekend. He fits the bill.”

“Mmm. I don’t know. He’s always cooped-up with deadlines, it’s hard to tell when he’s free.”

“Well, it gives you an excuse to talk to him on the phone during work hours. And if he does come, maybe we can finally meet.” Chan has been dropping hints like that lately; how he wants to meet Jisung’s best friend in the flesh. Jisung wants that too—but so far, it hasn’t worked out between all their schedules.

But Jisung smiles. “Ah, I see how it is. This has all just been a ruse for you to meet Seungmin. Are we even having product testing on Saturday?”

Chan giggles. “You got me. You’re too good of a sleuth.”

“Yes, I’m basically Sherlock Holmes.”

“Now all you need is a cute little hat.” Chan stares at his head, and Jisung doesn’t even need to touch him to know he’s now fantasizing about him dressed like the detective. If he’s not careful, the man’s going to actually get him the outfit.

Seungmin is not pleased about the prospect of taking up one of his free days to come down to Jisung’s office for product-testing and filling out surveys, even with the promise of a free lunch and compensation. He even says no, that he’d rather watch paint dry, thanks.

Jisung’s resigned to scouting out more potential testers, and he’s setting up priority emails when he gets a call to his direct line. “Jisung speaking.”

“If I did help you out by going to your product testing thing Saturday…could I bring someone with me?”

He smiles. “Sorry, can I ask who’s calling?”

“Shut up. It’s just—Minho’s been saving up some money for dance classes, and he refuses to let me help him out, but this wouldn’t be me giving him money. This would be me giving him the opportunity to get money. So I can be really sneaky this time about getting him extra income. Am I making any sense?”

Jisung squeals a bit into the receiver, and waves Jeongin away when he peers around the cubicles and looks at him quizzically. “You really care about him,” Jisung sums up.

“I…I really do,” Seungmin admits quietly.

“Of course you can bring him. Can you email me his contact info? Since the only things I know about him are that his name is Minho, and he dances, and he likes your cat?”

“And me, hopefully he likes me too! Maybe not as much as Dori, but…yeah, I’ll send the email in a bit.”

“Cool. See you both on Saturday.”

“I guess so. See you.”

Jisung hangs up the phone, his smile even wider. He’s never seen Seungmin like this with anyone before, and it’s nice. He really hopes it works out.

_____

The night before the product testing, Jisung ironed out his best suit until it looked crisp and new. He spent hours after that preparing his notes. After a fitful and stressed-out sleep, he’d spent the morning straightening and smoothing out his hair until there wasn’t a hair out of place, he carefully shaved every facial hair until it looked as if he simply didn’t grow them, and he’d arrived at the building at six am sharp to start setting everything up in the lobby of the building.

He’d delegated more tasks to his very reluctant team, and they weren’t making their eye rolls and snide comments subtle at all. When Jisung passed off a ream of papers to one of them, they skimmed hands and he got an earful of exactly what she thought of him, cuss words and all.

It had made for a very stressful early morning.

Now that the set up is done, other people he likes much more have come in to help before the test subjects arrive. Jeongin and Changbin come in together, which Jisung finds interesting. He knows that during the week, the two had talked it out and decided to take things slow. So they aren’t holding hands or acting couple-y yet, but they are casting shy smiles at each other while they set up the computer software.

Felix comes in and immediately helps Jisung with various tasks, all with a grin and a thousand different things to say. But he randomly disappears around the same time that Hyunjin shows up with scones from a bakery for everyone. Come to think of it, after a few minutes he can’t find Hyunjin around his baked goods either. He decides not to think too much about it.

Chan finally arrives through the doors, the last of the employees. Jisung looks him over from across the room and he’s surprised to see that he looks windblown; his hair and suit jacket unruly. It’s as if hasn’t gotten any sleep, either, because his face seems almost sunken in and Jisung can swear he sees undereye circles from where he is.

And when Chan looks at Jisung, it’s as if he’s looking through him instead.

Jisung immediately heads towards him to ask him what’s wrong, but it’s at that moment that the first set of participants come in through the door, so he offers Chan an apologetic smile, and moves to his position to help greet everyone and guide them to the proper tables and computers.

He’s immediately swept up in keeping track of everything to make sure things are running smoothly. Mishaps happen anyway—they miscount the amount of surveys they need, so he instructs Felix to head upstairs to print out more copies; two test subjects don’t show up, so more staff get delegated to attempting to contact them.

Jisung feels stressed, but not to the level of anxious yet. They do have everything handled, and so many people are counting on him. Still, he wishes he had his support around, but Chan is focusing all his attention on assisting people with the software and not even sparing a glance towards him. He misses his boyfriend’s warm, safe presence, but it would be selfish of him to divert Chan’s attention to him right now.

“Jisung.” ‘Hey, you okay?’ Jisung suddenly feels Seungmin’s thoughts with his hand on his shoulder.

He sighs. ‘Yeah, it’s been a long morning.’ He keeps thinking about Chan, though, and Seungmin hums in acknowledgment before removing his hand, to prevent them from being obvious they’re just standing in silence in proximity to each other.

Jisung turns to see Seungmin and a man he’s only seen through Seungmin’s memories. He’s about Jisung’s height, with bright purple hair and handsome, sharp features. The man also looks younger than they are, maybe by five or six years, it’s hard to say.

“Are you Minho?” Jisung asks.

“That’s me. You’re obviously Jisung. Seungmin-hyung talks about you like, all the time. Jisung-ah this, Jisung-ah that—”

“Shhh—”

“Oh really?” Jisung forms a mischievous smile and rests his arm on Seungmin’s shoulder. Seungmin’s taller, so it’s uncomfortable, but the idea is there. “Well, what can I say? The man’s obsessed with me.”

Seungmin quickly shrugs him off. “I’m gonna leave. I didn’t come here to be bullied—”

“No, you’re staying,” Minho cuts in. “They’re serving lunch. And you said over and over that you wanted to meet Jisung-ssi’s boyfriend.”

Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up further, and Seungmin blushes faintly. “Betrayed! By my own boyfriend.”

Jisung gasps and looks between them. “Wait. You two are boyfriends?”

“Wow, you really can’t keep secrets from him, huh?” Minho giggles to Seungmin. “Yeah, we were going to ask you and your man to have dinner with us afterwards, and then we’d announce it, but…”

“Um, surprise,” Seungmin coughs.

“I’m really happy for you guys,” Jisung grins and pats them both on the shoulders. “And we’re definitely grabbing dinner after this. Minho-ssi, if you go with Changbin over there with the clipboard, he’ll direct you to a computer. Seungmin-ah.” He keeps his hand on Seungmin’s shoulder to not seem conspicuous.

‘Can we talk about this now?’

‘Um, yeah, actually, that’d be great.’

Jisung tells the closest person—a suspiciously-disheveled Hyunjin—that he’s going on a quick break, and then he and Seungmin head to the break room.

To an onlooker, their body language must be incredibly odd. Jisung reaches out his hand, and Seungmin takes it while they sit on the countertops side by side, while not really looking at each other.

‘So, spill. Boyfriends? Why didn’t you tell me he’s younger than us?’

‘I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. I half-convinced myself that Minho doesn’t like me and only hangs out with me because he thinks of me as some older brother giving him sage advice. It was embarrassing, because you know…I don’t see him as a younger brother at all. And then…he had a dance performance the night before last.’

Seungmin replays a foggy, vague version of it for Jisung: how Seungmin sat close to the front of the stage, and he brought a full bouquet of flowers. Minho dances beautifully, and then when he finishes, he catches Seungmin’s gaze in the crowd, and Seungmin can tell that something in him changes, because he looks at Seungmin completely frozen, the tips of his ears and his neck glowing red.

Seungmin goes on to replay that he thought Minho had been embarrassed of him, that Seungmin had the audacity to show up, that he was being so obvious with his feelings that it was to the point that Minho didn’t want anything to do with him, so as soon as Minho left the stage he walked home, dejected and crying. But Minho had caught him on the street, and said he liked him as more than a friend. Seungmin took his hand to make sure, and Minho’s thoughts were suddenly all about how pretty his hair was, and how his glasses made him look sexy—

‘You can skip that part,’ Jisung elbows him.

‘No way. He thinks my eyes are the prettiest shade of brown, and I have the loveliest voice—’

‘I’m going to throw up.’

‘He loves that I’m taller than him but that he’s still stronger than me…’

“Enough!” Jisung whines and slaps his arm. Seungmin laughs.

‘Fine. I guess, after all this I realized I’m completely in love with him.’

Jisung looks at him with his eyes wide.

‘I was scared before to take the leap, I know now. But now that I have, it’s so freeing.’

‘Are you going to tell him about your powers?’

‘He already knows.’

“What?” Jisung exclaims.

‘He’s very perceptive, and I had a lapse in judgment. Deadly combination. He’d never told anyone about his favorite flower until I brought them for him, and then when he cornered me about it, I told him.’

‘And he’s…fine with it?’

‘He thinks it’s sexy.’

‘Okay, I walked into that one.’ Jisung sighs, but he realizes he still has a proud smile on his face. He’s so, so happy for his best friend. He deserves this love with Minho, more than anyone he knows. They seem perfect for each other. “Thanks for talking to me about your love confession,” he says.

“Yeah. Honestly, it feels really good to tell you how I’ve been feeling, Jisungie.”

He reaches over and pulls Seungmin towards his chest, and his best friend wraps his arms around him to settle into the hug.

Jisung didn’t mean to be away from the testing for so long, but his phone is clear and free of any emergency texts or calls, and the building isn’t on fire, so he assumes that everything is going fine. He walks Seungmin back to the lobby and directs him to get assigned a computer. He sees that his suspicions are correct, and everything is still going smoothly.

He feels a weird sense of pride that the event is running smoothly because of Jisung, who put all this work into it. He doubts anyone cares about that, other than possibly Chan, but he’s still happy with himself.

He realizes Chan isn’t at his spot, now that Jisung is thinking about him and looking for him, and he can’t seem to see his figure among anyone in the lobby. He’s not going to worry right now—he could just be going to the bathroom, or running an errand. He wouldn’t just disappear in the middle of Jisung’s event, right?

But he’s also been acting strange today too, so there is that.

Jisung’s skin starts to itch at the thought of not being able to talk to him right now, to figure out whatever it is. If there even is something wrong. It’s possible there’s nothing, and he tries to tell himself that, as he tries to get back into monitoring the event and answering questions, but after about twenty minutes or so of his thoughts slowly spiraling into a bottomless pit of his own making, he can’t take it anymore.

He sends Chan a text message, then thinks better of it and calls him. No answer. Jisung walks around aimlessly, checking on the closed cafe and the restrooms. He heads down some hallways on the main floor, and he’s about to give up and try calling again, when hands are suddenly grabbing at the sleeve of his suit jacket and pulling him into a dark storage room.

It’s Chan’s whirring thoughts that suddenly fill his mind, or Jisung would be screaming in fear right about now. Even so, he can’t help but shriek as he’s desperately pushed against a file cabinet.

Jisung can’t seem to process anything: not the way his boyfriend’s fists are clenched around the fabric of his suit jacket, not the jealous, hurt thoughts swimming through Chan’s head, and definitely not the betrayed expression he can only dimly see through the light of the window.

“Hyung—”

“Your friend confessed to you?”

Whatever Jisung expects to hear, it’s not that. “What?” He blinks. “What are you—”

“You were thanking him for telling you about his confession.”

Oh. The talk with Seungmin— “No! Hyung, that was out of context—”

“How the hell would that be out of context—”

“Please let me explain!” Frankly, Jisung feels too old to let their words become misconstrued. He reaches up to gently pry Chan’s hands away from his jacket. He’s never cared about it getting wrinkled before, and it’s certainly not a priority at the moment, but he’s tried his very hardest today not to look like his regular dishevelment.

He can’t deny that it doesn’t look good on Chan, though. Jisung wants to run his fingers through that mussed-up hair and paint kisses along his cheeks, but he’s also half-scared out of his mind at not knowing what’s happening, what’s going through Chan’s head even while they’re touching. The disjointed thoughts cease when Chan realizes that Jisung’s trying to pull him off of him, and he fits his hands in his pockets.

“Fine,” he relents.

“Hyung, he was telling me about his love confession to Minho. That purple-haired guy that he came with? I don’t know if you saw him in the lobby or not, but he seems nice. And Seungmin’s in love with him, not me. I don’t know what all you heard, but it’s not like that.”

Chan lets this information settle, and a series of conflicting expressions cross his face. “So, you’re really just friends?”

“Just friends,” Jisung almost pleads. “We’ve never seen each other like that. Channie-hyung, you’re the first man I’ve ever been attracted to.”

He wishes that his words are enough, that Chan feels satiated by what he’s saying. But instead, he sighs and turns away, and his fingers run through his hair as he thinks. “Okay,” he decides. “I’m sorry for not trusting you, then. But…Jisung—” Chan bites his lip, and Jisung just wishes he would tell him already. His hands reach to grip the cold handles of the file cabinet behind him, just to keep him grounded. Jisung’s stomach begins to churn, and he knows bile will eventually find its way if he’s kept in this in-between state for very long—not knowing what’s wrong, but knowing there is something wrong.

“Channie, please tell me,” he almost whimpers.

Chan’s breath shudders. “I feel like you’re hiding something from me,” he finally says. And it’s like a knife has suddenly plunged into his stomach. “Maybe you’ve always been hiding something from me. The way you gave that client strawberry cake…that was strange, but I let you keep the reason from me because we were barely friends. You’d just rejected me, so I had no right to pry.

“Then, you’ve always had an aversion to touching me—it’s like you’ll let me or someone else touch you, and then seconds later you’ll realize it and move yourself away. I figured that was just a habit of yours, but when I thought about it, you didn’t used to do that. We could go to company dinners and sit next to each other and it was fine.”

Jisung has nothing to say to any of this, not at all. He can only stand there silently, fidgeting with the file drawers behind him while Chan lays his soul bare for him to see.

“And then the moon thing the other night.” Fuck, Jisung thought he’d forgotten about that. “You drew the curtains for me when I didn’t tell you to, and you were facing away from the window, so it couldn’t have occurred to you to do that on your own. I just…” Chan finally turns to look at him, to peer at him. “I might be off-base here, and maybe all these things can be explained away. Maybe you really don’t like to touch me, and that’s fine—”

“Stop.” Jisung reaches forward and grabs his hand, then laces their fingers together. He braces himself for the barrage of thoughts, and he flinches when he’s right in how loud and abrasive they are. He sees Chan think about the past few nights, how he’s laid in bed and tried to piece it all together. He hears Chan blame himself for pushing for skinship when Jisung clearly doesn’t want it, ‘See, he just flinched when he touched me.’

Jisung is shaking, he realizes. He’s terrified. He has something to lose, and he knows that he won’t be able to survive if Chan leaves him.

But he also knows that he can’t keep it a secret any longer.

He squeezes Chan’s hand, to give himself some comfort. And because he knows there’s the possibility that he’ll never get to hold this hand again after he says his next words.

“Hyung, you’re not off-base here. I do have something to tell you.” Jisung swallows, feeling the lump in his throat. “I can read minds—any mind, of anyone I touch. Including you.” He takes in Chan’s frozen expression, and his mouth starts running to fill the silence before he can stop it. “I got it as probably some consolation for turning thirty and being a virgin. I just randomly got a dream where some gods were judging me and they told me I needed help. And maybe I did– do, because I know I’m a loser who needs some sort of divine intervention…but that’s why I knew about the cake and the moonlight getting into your eyes, and why I flinch at touches.” He finally clamps his mouth shut when he registers that Chan still watches him with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

‘Why is he making up stories? Maybe he can’t tell me the real reason. Oh, maybe he doesn’t want to tell me because he hates me…that’s probably the reason. I don’t blame him—’

“I don’t hate you!” Jisung interrupts, and Chan’s eyes widen in shock. “I was…I was unsure how I felt when I heard your thoughts for the first time, and how relentlessly caring and kind you are, and how all that loving attention was directed on me for some insane reason. And I got really anxious, because I couldn’t understand how someone so wonderful as you would even want to be with me. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.” His throat starts feeling scratchy, his vision becoming fuzzier with tears.

“But—” he continues. “I understand not wanting to be with someone who knows the inside of your head. Someone that’s…heard your fantasies. I know it would make me uncomfortable. I’ll never tell anyone anything, and I’ll leave you alone forever if that’s what you want.” Jisung squeezes the hand he’s been clinging to, the one that’s now limp in his grip, and he reluctantly lets it go. 

He doesn’t have to hear his thoughts to know Chan’s still trying to wrap his mind around it. “How long?” He asks, his tone quiet.

Jisung doesn’t ask him what he means. “Since the day after my thirtieth birthday. Um…we got squished in the elevator, and I heard your thoughts about how I looked good even when I looked exhausted, and all the things you would do if you were my boyfriend, like cuddling and making me food and forcing me to sleep at normal times…” and Chan has certainly kept his word on all of those things. Despite Jisung’s ongoing work project, his undereye circles are nonexistent at the moment.

Chan has nothing to say to that, though, so Jisung keeps talking. “Then I had that report you helped me with, and we stayed up late so you had me stay over at your house. Um, it was that day. You had some fantasies about me in those pajamas you specifically bought for me…”

“Oh, god.” Chan’s face burns bright red, and his hands grip at his hair. 

“Obviously, I don’t have a problem with it! I wear them for you because you like it and I love making you happy. And they’re comfy. But like I said, if you want to run in the other direction I…I completely understand.”

Jisung has no idea what else to say. He gets the feeling he’s gone too far. Chan starts to walk around the storage room, and he’s doing his best to process everything.

“Jisung,” he says after a silence that has gone on for years. “I really need to…I need…time to process this. This is a lot.”

“Right, yeah.” Jisung forces a smile on his face. “I get it. It is a lot. Probably too much.”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m going to…go home now.”

“For sure, don’t worry about it,” Jisung finds himself saying it, and he continues to repeat it in his mind like a mantra when Chan takes one more look at him and leaves the storage room, abandoning him in the dark.

_____

Jisung has to take a while in the bathroom to press damp paper towels under his eyes to lessen the redness and puffiness. It doesn’t stop his face from looking incredibly blotchy, and it doesn’t stop him from feeling like any second, if Seungmin even so much as looks at him in a questioning way, then the tears will come. So he avoids Seungmin and Minho and buries himself into work for the rest of the day.

He can’t avoid their faces at the end of the testing, when he’s debriefing the participants and giving a final speech.

“Thank you all so much for your participation today. We’ve received plenty of usable data, and your help in that is appreciated.” Jisung accidentally makes eye contact with Seungmin, who raises his eyebrows while he assesses him, then looks around—probably for Chan.

Jisung coughs to clear the forming lump in his throat. “We should have each of your mailing addresses to send out personal checks, but if your address has changed since the initial intake email, please let a member of our staff know. Thank you again, and you are free to take a snack and enjoy the rest of the day.” There’s a smattering of applause, and Jisung walks away from the crowd to find a good corner to hide in.

Unfortunately, Seungmin finds him, immediately followed by Minho. “Sungie. What’s wrong?”

Jisung just shakes his head, covering his eyes and willing himself to calm down. Then, he feels hands on both his arms. 

‘Oh, Jisungie.’ Seungmin’s thoughts. He must be listening to Jisung unwittingly recount the talk he had with Chan.

‘No one’s looking at us, you’re free to cry if you want, Jisung-ssi.’ He hadn’t realized it would be kind of nice that Minho’s in on the mind-reading thing. And what’s more, he sounds very calm, his thoughts soothing.

“You can call me ‘hyung’ if you want,” he tells Minho with a shaky breath, before promptly bursting into tears. He can vaguely see Minho trade looks with Seungmin, who in turn probably informs him that he’ll tell him later with his eyes. Seungmin and Minho both put arms around him and take him on a detour to the back doors of the building.

He has to make sure that the clean-up crew are doing what they’re supposed to be doing, and he pulls out his phone to send check-up texts. Jisung doesn’t have much else input in what he does the rest of the night—the two usher him onto a bus that takes them to Seungmin’s house. They lead him into the door and situate him on the couch, where Dori is immediately plopped onto his lap.

Jisung pets the soft kitty and stares at the blank television, while Seungmin fills Minho in on what happened.

“That’s crap!” He enters the living room again to address Jisung. “He’s not using his head. Because if he did, he’d realize that it’s kind of a blessing to have your partner know what you’re thinking. All I have to do is think about being hungry, and Seungmin gets me food.”

Jisung barks out a watery laugh. “Our Seungmin-ah’s so whipped.”

“Hyung’s obsessed with me. Can’t say I blame him.”

“Okay, you two can stop gossiping about me now,” Seungmin chides as he enters the living room, beers in hand for the three of them. He cracks the can open for Jisung since his hands are full of cat, and he accepts the drink gratefully. “Minho-yah’s right, though, about Chan not using his head. He’ll come to and he’ll realize he’s being an asshole.”

Jisung shakes his head. Chan’s the farthest thing from an asshole. He’s well within his right to not want anything to do with Jisung after he’s invaded the privacy of his mind, over and over again. He’s such a freak. No wonder his boyfriend panicked and left.

Chan probably doesn’t even want to be boyfriends anymore, he realizes. Why would he? He probably thinks their whole relationship was built on a lie, and it was. It doesn’t matter if Jisung is desperately in love with him; he’s made Chan feel like Jisung can’t be trusted.

He tips the beer back and downs it quickly, ignoring Minho and Seungmin watching him with mixed amounts of worry. Jisung wipes the back of his mouth. “Sorry. Can I have another one? Just realized my one and only relationship is over.”

The evening is spent ordering some take-out noodles and downing several more beers, while not really talking about it. What else is there to say? Minho knows what happened, and any feelings Jisung has are either obvious, or can be answered much better through touching him.

Jisung insists the other two talk about their relationship instead, so Seungmin and Minho fill the space talking about their new normal: how they’ll work during the days and then the evenings are spent together or waiting for Minho to finish his dance practices. “And then we’ll have dinner after his practices,” Seungmin adds.

“So, does that mean you don’t work odd hours anymore?” Jisung rests a cheek flushed from the alcohol against his hand, his elbow on the armrest for support.

“Oh, he still does, hyung.” Minho chuckles. “But only on deadline days. I don’t let him stay up late anymore on regular days.”

“Minho-yah gets really clingy and sleepy in the evenings. It’s kind of embarrassing,” Seungmin states bluntly, finishing off his beer. Minho shoves him.

“Don’t act like you don’t love holding me, Minnie-hyung. Maybe I can’t read your mind, but you make little humming sounds when you’re happy.”

Jisung coos at that, and ducks out of the way when Seungmin throws an empty can at him.

It’s not all that late when Jisung decides he can’t stay awake from the alcohol anymore, and he lays his head on the back of the sofa to rest his eyes for just a few minutes.

When he comes to, it’s dark in the living room, and he has a thick comforter pulled over him. He’s always been a sleepy drunk.

Jisung pulls out his phone, noting the lack of important notifications. He wants to give Chan the space to think about things, but he also really, really misses him. He wants to be cuddled up next to him right now, littering kisses on his skin.

Jisung presses the call button on his phone. He can’t really think right now with the alcohol clogging up his brain, but this doesn’t feel like a bad idea. Chan’s probably not going to answer anyway, and he can leave a sad and unsatisfying voicemail—

“Hello?” Chan’s voice sounds groggy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d pick up,” Jisung says.

“You’ve got me. What’s up?”

“I…I just wanted to hear your voice. Even if it was just a prerecorded message,” Jisung says, his words slurring together. “But I did get to hear you for realsies, so that’s…yay.”

“Sung-ah, have you been drinking?”

“Yeah, but—I’m at Seungmin and Minho’s house. Oh, I guess it’s just Seungmin’s house, but probably not for long. They’re in loooooooove,” he divulges.

“That’s nice, Sungie.”

“You didn’t let me introduce you today,” Jisung suddenly pouts. “I wanted you to meet Seungmin.”

“I know, it’s just—”

“Yeah. No, I know.” Jisung picks at his bracelet. “I’m so sorry about everything. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable, and you have every right to hate me and think I’m gross—”

“Sung-ah—”

“But I promise I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful to you!” he persists. “I’d pull away a lot because I wanted you to have your own thoughts without me listening to them. I know I still heard a lot more than I should have, and I don’t have any excuse for that. I just love you so much, and I’m really sorry for everything. Bye.” Jisung hits the end button despite the protests on the other line. 

He immediately sees Chan calling again, but he just turns his phone on silent and lets the alcohol carry him back to sleep. He knows Chan probably wants to console him, and he can’t have that. Jisung made a mistake, and he doesn’t deserve him trying to make him feel better.

When he wakes again, it’s to a persistent banging sound. He stirs and comes to the realization he’s still in Seungmin’s house, and someone’s at the door.

Jisung has no intention of letting the intruder in, but he can slowly and drunkenly pull himself to the door to look through the peephole. And he can yell some nonsense about calling the police.

He stops yelling, though, when he sees it’s Chan in black sweats and a black beanie, looking a bit like a burglar anyway. Jisung unlocks the door and pulls it open. He’s in his clothes from the testing earlier, and Chan gasps slightly to take in the sight of him.

“Baby,” Chan starts, and the nickname both floods him with warmth and makes him want to sob some more. “Why are you still dressed in your suit?”

“I probably crashed before Seung could offer me something more comfortable to wear,” Jisung answers sullenly. His eyes scan his boyfriend, taking him in. His eyes zero in on the fluffy curls on the back of his head, peaking out of his hat. “You look way too good right now. Kinda want to…eat you,” Jisung lets his thoughts slip with zero filter.

“Come here.” Chan reaches for his arms and pulls him into an embrace. The older’s hand comes up to tangle in Jisung’s hair, the other to trace soothing circles into his back.

Jisung breaks down immediately. “You’re being way too nice to me,” he says in a watery tone, his face buried into Chan’s shoulder.

“Sung-ah. I love you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I just…I’m really embarrassed you heard all those thoughts. I keep replaying all the things you must have heard, and cringing over and over.”

“I love every single one of your thoughts. You’re so wonderful.” Jisung gently breathes in the fresh smell from his clothes.

“…Well, I guess I realized a part of me is thankful for the mind-reading? I don’t think I’d ever be able to accurately put into words how I feel about you otherwise. And I don’t know if you would have ever caught onto my feelings.”

Jisung shakes his head. “No, I wouldn’t have. You’re very good at keeping people from seeing your real emotions, Channie-hyung.”

In response, Chan reaches to hold Jisung’s chin in his hand, tilting his tear-stained face up to look at him.

‘Can you hear my thoughts right now?’

Jisung nods in his hand. “Yes,” he whispers.

Chan seems surprised, but he’s also gazing at him with so much fondness in his eyes, it’s a wonder Jisung isn’t currently melting into a puddle. He doesn’t deserve that look, but he can’t deny how good it makes him feel.

‘Your heart is beating so fast,’ Chan thinks, and Jisung takes inventory of himself, feeling his own chest. Sure enough, his heart is racing. ‘I kind of love having this power over you, and that you feel this way about me. I didn’t know if you would ever have feelings for me.’

Chan runs his thumb over the skin of his cheek. ‘Your skin is so soft, baby. I want to hold you. I want to make you feel good…’

Jisung can’t take it anymore. He moves forward, crashing their lips together. ‘Fuck, I love Jisung’s lips,’ Chan thinks as they slot together. Jisung wishes Chan could hear his thoughts too, so he’d know that Jisung is practically obsessed with the feeling of him and his lips, especially with the way they fit against his. Their kissing turns heated and wet, and he feels Chan gently nibble on his lower lip, while Jisung’s hands reach to move along his neck, to his collarbone, sliding down to his chest. He feels Chan’s breath hitch in his throat when Jisung’s thumb lands along the bud of his nipple through his t-shirt.

‘You’re drunk, Jisung. I don’t want to do anything right now.’

Jisung whines against his mouth. He wants this really badly, he realizes. In a way he’s never wanted anything like this before.

Chan chuckles at his reaction, and takes his hands. ‘I want to take you apart properly, slowly, and when you can remember every single bit of it.’

Well, that alone sends Jisung to a half-hardness.

“Can I take you home with me?” Chan asks, and he plants a soft kiss against Jisung’s jaw.

“Please,” he whispers. “I want that so much. I just gotta text Seungmin that I’m leaving.” Jisung separates from him suddenly, and moves into the apartment to find his phone. He checks the screen when he locates it on the coffee table, and grimaces when he takes in the five missed calls from Chan. He sends a text to Seungmin in his bedroom, and a thought registers through the fog of his brain as he’s leaving the apartment.

“How do you know where Seungmin lives?”

Chan snorts and reaches his arm out to steady him as they walk. “I found him on Facebook and asked him for the address to come see you. Um, he answered, along with a strongly-worded message about how dumb I am, and how he can’t wait until we meet properly so that he can kick my ass.” He pulls up the paragraph to show him. Jisung can’t help but laugh.

“He gets protective when he’s drunk,” Jisung explains. He registers that Seungmin can still type eloquent, full sentences even when inebriated. Impressive.

“It’s really great that you have someone in your corner for you. But I’d like to see him try to take me in a fight,” Chan says, all too cheerful despite his menacing words. His boyfriend visualizes them in a boxing ring, and Jisung giggles.

Chapter Text

When Jisung wakes up in the morning, surrounded by the smell of Chan’s bedsheets, his face pressed up in between his shoulder blades and his arms wrapped around his boyfriend, he registers several things. One, his relationship isn’t actually over like he thought. Chan knows now—he knows everything. He remembers that Chan told him that he was even thankful for the mind reading. That he was only embarrassed because Jisung had heard his thoughts. There wasn’t anything that told him Chan thought he was gross or disgusting for having the ability to read minds—not even when he touched Chan now and heard his unfiltered dreams.

Two, he’s hungover. It doesn’t get as bad for him as it does for Seungmin; who’s usually out for the count for a day or more. Jisung has had to take care of his friend on more than one occasion, and he’d be worried about it today, but…Minho is there to take care of him. For which he’s grateful. No, Jisung just registers a small headache, and his body feels somewhat lethargic. All he really needs is a cup of coffee and maybe some ibuprofen.

And three, he loves Chan more than anything. He tilts his head up to take in his boyfriend’s sleeping figure, the way he’s done frequently. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of him like this: his hair unstraightened and forming wild curls around his head, his eyes squinting while he sleeps, his lips forming an open pout, the perfect shape for his snores.

He lays in bed, listening to his dreams and his breathing, and when Chan wakes up, he takes in Jisung hovering over him, laughs, and buries his head into the pillow. “Stop,” his whine is muffled.

“What?”

“Watching me. I can’t be that interesting.”

“I could watch you for hours,” Jisung states. “...In hopefully a non-creepy way.”

Chan peeks at him with one eye. “A little late for that, Sung-ah.”

“Oh.”

“Just kidding. Tell me you can’t hear my dreams, though. You can’t read those, right?”

Jisung lays back onto his pillow and gives Chan a wary glance. “Okay. I’ll tell you that I can’t hear your dreams.”

Chan groans loudly and covers the pillow over his head. “How bad are they?”

“They’re basically nonsense,” Jisung tries his best to assure him. “Sometimes I’m clearly missing some childhood memory inside story, but otherwise you just walk around and talk to people in your life. Park-nim shows up frequently, your parents, your friend Eunwoo from uni…at least, I think that’s who he is, Ryan Reynolds and Rachel from Friends, me once or twice…”

“You?”

“Mmhmm. Me.” Jisung hopes he misses the way heat began to creep up his neck.

“What do we…do?” Chan asks slowly.

“Nothing,” he says quickly. Too quickly.

“Jisung.”

Chan suddenly pulls Jisung towards him, embracing and keeping him from escaping both him and the question.

“I…okay, fine! Um, the first time, I think I told you that it’s never going to happen between us, and that you needed to get it through your head. But in a very rude way.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for portraying you like that.”

Jisung shakes his head. “I know I was just a representation for your own thoughts back at you, and you don’t actually think I would say those things to you. Not to mention it was also incredibly untrue.” He reaches over and kisses Chan’s cheek.

“That’s true. It is happening between us, so…”

“Yeah, so take that, Chan’s brain!” Jisung grins.

Chan giggles and returns a kiss to Jisung’s cheek, precisely where his tiny freckle sits. “Tell me about the other one, then.”

The grin freezes on his face. “Well, do you um, do you remember the morning after the takoyaki party, when I apologized to you for getting a boner…and then you confessed to me later that night…?”

His boyfriend slowly blinks at him, and then his expression suddenly falls in horror. “No.”

“Yeah.”

“You… heard that sex dream I had? Oh my god, I’m so sorry, fuck—” He starts beating himself up inwardly, but Jisung’s arms are still stuck at his sides. So, he does the only thing he can think of.

Jisung licks his face.

Chan’s expression turns to disgust, then he barks out a laugh while he scoots away to wipe his face with the sheet. “Eughhh, why did you lick me?”

“To get you to stop thinking. Because, obviously I fucking liked the dream, hyung. Did you forget that I had to go jerk off in the shower afterwards?”

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t! I…I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable with something you don't feel ready for.”

Jisung falters at that. He can see where Chan’s coming from, and he knows that the man just wants him to feel safe and happy with him. But if he’s honest with himself, the level of turned on he started to feel the night before hasn’t let up even a little bit. He’d let Chan have his way with him at a moment’s notice; all he needs to do is look like he wants to reciprocate.

He gives Chan a long look—hopefully a look that he understands, and then, he reaches his freed hand up to grip the muscle on his upper arm. “Maybe we can talk a little bit over coffee?”

‘Talk?’

“About…this.”

“Oh. Okay, sure, Sung-ah. I’ll make you some breakfast, too, I think I have some bacon left from that carbonara…” Chan has already rolled out of bed and left the room to head towards the kitchen, or else Jisung might try to stop him. But he also knows by now that it’s nearly-impossible to stop Chan from cooking for him once he’s got his mind set to it.

Jisung had been unsuccessful in stopping his boyfriend from cooking him a full Aussie brekkie, but truthfully, he barely put in the effort to stop him. The combination of his black coffee and the grease from the breakfast turns out to be more than enough to get his headache to subside. It’s also so, so, incredibly delicious; Chan has a way of cooking the bacon that makes it basically melt in his mouth, and he can’t help but moan a bit and also shimmy in his chair every time he has a bit of the toast dipped in the egg yolk with the roasted cherry tomatoes on top. Insanity.

Chan’s eating much more silently, though he watches Jisung with amusement. “Were you going to talk to me about something?”

“Hm? Can’t remember anymore,” Jisung answers dismissively.

“Ah, that must be the amnesia potion I slipped into your coffee while you weren’t looking,” he teases.

“The what?” Jisung mimes sticking out his tongue and gagging onto the ground. Chan giggles, then settles down while gently touching his hand.

“Jisung-ah. I can’t read your mind, so you’re going to have to tell me.” ‘Oh, you have a bit of egg yolk on your cheek. Cute.’

He leans forward so that Chan can wipe it off for him, and Chan swipes his cheek with his thumb, then licks his thumb to clean up the small mess. “Well,” Jisung starts while blinking slowly at the action, trying to drive it away from his mind lest he go insane, “I don’t really know what to say without it sounding really awkward.”

Chan crosses his legs and watches him expectantly.

“I’ve been thinking lately, about how I might want to uh, have sex. With you. Um. A lot?”

In response, his boyfriend smiles as he recalls a memory. “I caught a bit of that last night, when you didn’t agree with me telling you no…”

“I appreciate that, really I do, but it’s kind of like…the drunk thoughts and the sober thoughts are basically the same, in that I really want to. And I think I’m ready to um. Give it a try.” Jisung flinches at his own words. God, he’s embarrassing. “That is, if you are, I mean—”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Chan informs him. “I’ve wanted to for a while.”

Jisung tilts his head. “How long is ‘a while?’”

“Probably when I started developing a crush on you?”

“So years?”

Chan nods solemnly.

“But…” Jisung tries to make sense of that, and what he knows about Chan. “Okay, but—no, wait, never mind.” He’s started to say something, and now wishes he hadn’t. Because Chan’s definitely not going to drop it.

“Not never mind. What is it?”

“It’s really…none of my business, but I’m just thinking about that woman that I saw you with—the one you said was just a one night stand.”

“Oh.” It’s clear Chan didn’t think that was going to be what Jisung said. And he doesn’t have an answer to it. Instead, he gently pinches Jisung’s bracelet, letting his stream of thoughts answer for him.

‘I’ve had quite a few one night stands like that—something quick. She was the last one, though, because after that, I thought I might have had a chance with you, and that’s well worth the months of no sex. Actually, after I developed my crush, they were all just ways for me to distract myself, because I couldn’t have you.’

“Why didn’t you confess sooner?” Jisung wonders. “Why did it take me admitting that I jerked off to you, to have you admit it?”

“Because you terrify me, Jisung-ah,” Chan answers easily.

“Me? Terrify you?” Jisung folds his arms.

‘I just really want you, and I didn’t want you to run away from me. Honestly, I think I did the right thing, waiting, because you haven’t been on the same page about your feelings until recently. And let’s not forget how you did reject me, after I paid for us at the barbecue place.’

Chan is right. He can’t deny the facts. Jisung gives him a shy smile. “I’m sorry about that. I love you?”

Chan giggles. “No worries, baby. I love you too.”

“And you…you’re really okay with the mind reading thing?”

A small breathe in, a small exhale. ‘Yeah, I’m really fine with it.’

He can’t get over the way that Chan always looks at him, the way he’s focusing all his attention on him. Jisung feels so safe with him. He wants to be with Chan more than anything, and he wants to be as close to him as possible. He wants more.

Jisung pushes out his chair with a creak, stands up, and moves over to Chan. “What are you—” he starts to say, but he silences himself when Jisung climbs onto his lap, straddling him with his legs. His heart begins to race with nerves at what he’s about to do, what he wants to happen. He takes in Chan’s widened brown eyes, that look up to him with a varying mixture of surprise and clear want. Jisung rests his hands around his face, lifting his chin up to kiss those pretty, perfect lips. When his mouth starts to move, and his fingers tangle themselves in the curls behind his head, he hears Chan moan softly; he listens vaguely to his disjointed thoughts about how hot Jisung is, and how much Chan wants to take him apart. And that sets a fire across his skin.

Their lips fit together, over and over, and the sounds they make are wet and loud and frankly obscene. Jisung attempts to capture his breath in between kisses, not wanting to move away for even a second. His tongue slips inside Chan’s mouth, tasting his coffee and bacon breath. He feels Chan envelop his hands around his waist, pulling him even closer. Jisung doesn’t quite mean to rub up against his boyfriend’s groin, but when he feels an intense amount of heat from the action, he decides to do it again, experimentally shifting in his lap until his own hardening length is pressed up against his.

Chan gasps, and when he looks at him, his eyelids are half-closed. “Jisung-ah —” he’s interrupted when Jisung leans in to kiss the faint freckles across his face. His arms move to wrap around his neck, pulling himself even closer to his chest while his kisses move downwards to his chin, then to the lobe of his ear, where he gently nibbles around his piercing.

Amidst the pure heat between their bodies fitting together, Jisung registers Chan’s thoughts, definitely unfiltered. ‘He’s heard all my thoughts; he knows how ugly I am on the inside. Why does he not run in the other direction? I’m nothing special.’

Jisung brings himself up to kiss the side of his head, then looks at him. “Channie-hyung. Baby.”

Chan realizes that Jisung heard all that, and he turns redder. “Jisung, listen—”

“Can you listen first?” He feels a small nod, so he continues. “You’re the most unselfish man I know. You’re considerate and talented and funny, and god, you’re gorgeous. You’re just…amazing, everything about you. I know you don’t believe me, but I’ll keep telling you anyway. You’re always putting yourself down—be kinder to the man I love, okay?”

In response, Chan’s arms move around his torso and he buries his face into Jisung’s shoulder, his ears even redder from shyness. “I’ll try,” he says.

Jisung reaches in to plant more kisses in his hair, then tilts his boyfriend’s head up to gently press kisses to his nose, and finally to his lips, capturing them softly this time. Then he leans his forehead against Chan’s. “I want you to take me apart. I want to be yours.”

A breath hitches in Chan’s throat while his mind replays the words. “You are mine,” he simply says.

“Prove it, then.” A semblance of a smirk appears on Jisung’s expression, only to be replaced by shock as Chan suddenly sits forward. He squeals when Chan grips his veined hands around Jisung’s thighs and stands from his chair. Jisung loves that Chan can pick him up easily, that he feels so encompassed and protected in his arms. Chan walks them to his bedroom and lays Jisung down on the mattress, and he leans over to hungrily reconnect their lips. Chan moans against his mouth again, and the sensation does things to his already hardening cock underneath his pajama bottoms.

When Chan straightens up, his expression is new. His eyes trace over the length of Jisung’s body, drinking him in like he’s starving, and the way he eyes Jisung makes him feel vulnerable, laid bare despite the pajamas he’s still wearing. When he reaches his arms up to slip off his cutoff t-shirt, Jisung feels like he’ll die on the spot. He doesn’t know how he ever thought he only liked women, because Chan is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. His glittering eyes and strong nose, and now he could add his abs, his pecs, his shoulders to the ever-growing list. All Jisung wants to do is touch him, and he reaches towards him to make desperate grabbing hands at him.

Chan obliges, but not before slipping his gym shorts off of him. He leaves his black briefs on, though, probably for Jisung’s benefit. It probably is for the best, because the only word coming to his head is thighs, thighs, thighs—

“Can I take these off, Jisungie?” Chan asks him while gently tugging at the bottom hem of his pajama pants.

Jisung nods, trying not to overthink how Chan will be doing the same thing in a moment; looking over his thighs and calves. He’s been working out several times a week, but he hasn’t shown much progress, other than not being nearly as winded when climbing stairs. He’s definitely still not muscular like Chan is, whom he learned usually works out every single morning before going to work—barring the times when Jisung comes over.

He just hopes his boyfriend likes what he sees.

When his pants are slid off, Chan’s eyes do scan his legs, and his fingers seem to trail along his calf without thinking. ‘Perfect,’ his mind says, ‘he’s so cute—’ his thoughts cease in their tracks when he realizes Jisung can hear them, and they look up to meet each other’s eyes. Jisung’s face flushes while he laughs. “I think you’re perfect too, hyung,” he says.

“Shhh…” Chan tries to silence him as he climbs up onto the bed, and slowly hovers over him. “I don’t completely know what my thoughts are going to be like when we…you know, get into it, but I’ll do my best to—”

“—Don’t hold back,” Jisung warns. “I mean it. I love hearing you.”

“O-okay,” Chan nods. He sits on his legs, brushing up against Jisung’s waist, and his hands move to carefully undo the buttons of his top. Jisung lays there and watches him do it with intent; he sees the way Chan is purposely brushing his hands up Jisung’s stomach in a way that both tickles him and causes a warm sensation through his core. When Chan’s finished, he shrugs off the top and brushes it off the bed to join their other clothes.

They’re both only in their underwear, and Chan drinks in the shape of his shoulders, his pecs, down to his waist. ‘I need to ask him where to touch—’

“Everywhere,” Jisung answers his thoughts. “You can touch me everywhere. Please.”

Chan blinks, and then he shivers. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” he chuckles, then heeds Jisung’s words and starts to trail his fingers down from his shoulders to his pecs. He stops there, and swirls a finger around his nipple. Jisung’s breath hitches at the new sensation, and his body seems to heat at the sensitive touch. It feels good.

“Pinch it,” he suggests, and Chan listens to that, too. His other hand grabs at his nipple as well, and his fingers work in tandem to pinch and tease them. Jisung responds with a whine accidentally escaping from his throat, and his spine starting to arch itself off the bed.

‘He responds to my touch so well. I wonder if I were to—’

Jisung makes a series of incoherent noises when Chan suddenly brings his tongue to his bud and licks around it, still playing with the other with the other hand.

“Channie— mmm,” Jisung groans as his hands reach up to grip at the roots of his hair, holding the soft strands in his fingers. He senses thoughts of pleasure, and he’s surprised to hear that they’re coming from Chan. He must really like when his hair is touched; something Jisung already knew, but didn’t know it extended to… here.

His mouth moves from his nipple to the center of his chest, where Chan begins sucking on the skin there. He seems to pause after a moment, though: ‘I forgot to ask, can I mark you?’

“Please,” Jisung whispers, his fingers tangling even further into his hair. “Please mark me, baby. I want to see where you touched me after this.”

Chan makes a small, guttural sound at the back of his throat at that. ‘Oh, god,’ he hears before Chan continues to suckle at his skin, painting him in faint bruises along his chest and stomach. It feels weirdly good as he’s doing it, and he knows Chan has been wanting to explore his body. So he lets Chan feel every inch of him, exploring him. And he knows he’ll get the opportunity to explore his hyung in return. He feels so loved.

He eventually makes his way to the divots in Jisung’s hips, and pauses in his ministrations, silently asking Jisung for permission to continue.

Jisung feels nervous all of a sudden. Chan will be the first person besides him to touch his cock, and he doesn’t know if he’ll live up to what Chan thinks. What if it’s too small or too weird-looking? “Um, yes,” he says, because he wants this with Chan, and if he’s going to have sex, then he needs to let him see it. “Can I…see you too?”

Chan blinks, then nods. “Sure, Sung-ah.” He shimmies off his briefs and lets them hit the floor. Jisung tries his best not to stare, but he does take in the size of his hardened dick, red at the tip and big. He tries not to feel intimidated, but the flustered feeling, the sense of insecurity settles on his chest. It’s not that he cares about Chan’s dick being bigger, it’s that he worries about whether it’s even going to fit. Or what if he’s not satisfying enough for him? He’s going to think all this is a mistake.

“Jisungie.”

“Hm?”

“Can I see you now? Please?”

Jisung nods, rather shakily, then slides his underwear down his legs and kicks them off his feet. Chan doesn’t even hesitate before he leans his strong body back in, and plants kisses and marks his hips. The sensation of his mouth down there causes Jisung’s mind to begin blanking as a small, smoldering fire begins to grow in his belly.

When Chan’s fingers brush along his cock, Jisung sucks in a breath. ‘His cock is so pretty and perfect…’ The older’s eyes flit up to look at him. ‘Do you like this, Sung-ah? Want me to suck you off?’

“Holy shit. Y-yes, please, if you want,” his words tumble out quickly, causing Chan to chuckle before he begins to fit his lips over the tip of Jisung’s cock, circling his tongue around it and giving kitten licks around the hole and the underside. “F-fuck,” he stammers.

‘Feels good?’

“Feels really fucking good,” Jisung strains to say.

He feels Chan laugh a bit more, while his mouth opens up to sink over the length of him. Chan lets it slide in, in, and Jisung feels disbelief as he continues to open his jaw even more until his lips brush against the base of his cock. “Holy shit, how can you do that?” is all he can think to say, because this feels so good. He could cum easily from just this alone, but no, Chan then has to hollow out his cheek and suck in.

His hands return to his curls to ground himself, to keep himself sane, and Chan groans when he experimentally pulls. ‘Harder,’ he thinks.

Jisung listens to him and tightly grips the strands around his fingers. He sees Chan’s eyes flutter and loll back into his head. The pornographic sounds he makes causes Jisung’s dick to twitch in his mouth. And before he knows what else is happening, he’s close.

“Ch-Cha-Ch–” Jisung can’t even string together a tangible name, and this only spurs his boyfriend on. He feels his tip skim along the back of Chan’s throat as his cock is shoved further down, and that sends him over the edge. “I-I’m coming— fuck, hyung!” He feels the heat spread across his body, and he loses control of his limbs as Chan sucks him through his orgasm, letting the cum slide down his throat without complaint.

When he’s spent, Chan slips off of his cock with a loud pop, and he opens his mouth wide, tongue-out, to proudly show Jisung that he swallowed all of it. 

“You’re insane, hyung,” Jisung tells him tiredly. “Get over here.”

Chan grins and crawls up the bed, and Jisung loops an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a sloppy kiss. He tastes like what his cum must taste like. It’s not necessarily a pleasant taste, and yet, it stirs something in his stomach, a weird possessive claim on him. Chan is his, and the proof is on his tongue.

Jisung’s hand twitches towards Chan’s cock, hard and leaking a bit of precum from the tip. He glances up briefly, asking silent permission to touch it, to jerk him off.

‘Actually, I want to stay turned on like this while I open you up—you do want to be opened up, right?’

“I do want it,” Jisung tells him earnestly. “I’m just…kind of worried that I can’t be.”

“Hey—” Chan speaks up, his voice hoarse from swallowing the length of him. “If you can’t today, we’ve got lots of other options. This isn’t the last time, okay? Not by a long shot.”

Jisung nods up at him. “Okay.”

“I love you, Jisung.” ‘Hold on a sec, while I get the supplies.’ Chan slides over to his side of the bed and pulls out his lube and a condom from a drawer.

“Hyung, have you been tested recently?”

Chan looks at the condom, then nods at him.

“Then put that away. I kind of want you to…fill me up.”

He full-body shudders in response. ‘Ugh, don’t say things like that! I’m going to cum on the spot.’

Jisung smiles. “Okay, fine. Then definitely don’t think about me being so full of your cum, it leaking out…”

Chan makes a disgruntled noise and in response, he grabs Jisung’s arms and pushes him up on the bed until his head rests under the pillows, his hair scattered around wildly. “You know, I thought you would be more innocent than this. But no—you’re just as much of a pervert as I am.” Chan lets out a laugh, and his hands grip around Jisung’s knees to spread them apart.

Jisung’s face turns red immediately at the angle, at Chan sitting at his ass and about to poke and prod at his hole. He’s only stuck a finger or two in there every so often, just to try it out. The angle of his hand and the odd position of his fingers never made for a satisfying experience. He wonders how it’s going to be with Chan’s long, expert fingers sliding in and brushing against a prostate that’s probably there. He wouldn’t know.

If he felt vulnerable with Chan eyeing him with pajamas on, then that feeling has now increased times ten as he’s completely stripped bare, and the man staring at his hole like he’s lucky to be seeing it, while he slicks up and warms the lube in his fingers.

“Hyung, please stop looking at my ass like that,” Jisung whines. Chan blinks up at him and giggles.

“Sorry—got lost in the moment, I guess. Are you ready?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Then Jisung feels a finger touching him there, and he immediately shivers and tries to close his legs on instinct.

Chan just lifts an eyebrow at him. ‘You kind of have to keep your legs separated for me, baby.’

Jisung realizes the only part of his skin that Chan’s touching him is on his hole. His power is so weird. He’s fully flustered now, but there’s no turning back. He takes his thighs in his hands and hoists his legs up for better access. His eyes drift to the ceiling and he sucks in a breath when Chan slowly inserts a finger, his other hand massaging the skin on his upper thigh with his thumb, soothingly, with the intent to get Jisung to relax.

He’s not going to lie—the feeling is weird. But he settles his shoulders and lets out a long breath, finding his calm. The older’s finger is halfway inside, and he’s moving it around experimentally, making sure Jisung isn’t in any discomfort before he moves it further in. When his finger reaches to his knuckle, it starts to burn somewhat, especially as he’s coaxing it around the walls and starting to stretch him open even more. Jisung can feel every single movement of the finger and he knows exactly where it is and what it’s doing. It doesn’t feel good yet; it just feels like an intrusion. Jisung wouldn’t be surprised if he were somehow an outlier; somehow born without a prostate, making this all for nothing. Well—not nothing. He’ll make a good cocksleeve for Chan.

“How are you feeling, Sung-ah?” Chan reaches down and lovingly kisses his thigh. ‘He’s so gorgeous like this.’

“I-I’m okay, hyung.” A true statement. As strange as he feels, he doesn’t want Chan to stop. “You can try adding another finger.”

“Okay, baby.” Chan carefully slides in another finger, inching it in just like the last one. Jisung sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth—it stings worse than the last one.

‘Remember to relax,’ he thinks. ‘You’re doing so well.’

Right, relaxing, Jisung forgot about that already. He breathes out again. The fingers are both sliding around inside, making scissoring motions to prod him open. Chan starts thrusting them in and out, getting him used to that sensation. His index finger rubs hard against an area that suddenly causes Jisung to jolt and shiver.

Then he blinks in surprise. “Was that—”

“Oh, good. There it is,” Chan grins, and now that he has found the prostate that Jisung has after all, he’s insatiable. He begins massaging both fingers against the area, and the feeling causes Jisung to whimper and begin writhing on the bed, his skin crawling and heating up. It’s so new and overwhelming and he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t hold onto his legs any longer; he needs to grip at something else. The comforter works for now—he clenches the soft fabric in his fists.

Chan’s thoughts are jumbled; he can only watch Jisung come apart with a mixture of pleasure and fascination. ‘Pretty.’

He tries to make sounds that are distinguishable as words. “Channie—p-please. I don’t know—”

“I’m going to add another finger,” he says to that.

“Fine! Fine—” he barely registers when Chan begins to slide his third finger in, he’s so wholly consumed by the rubbing sensation against his prostate. Jisung feels so hot, his insides melting and turning to putty. He doesn’t think he can cum like this; untouched, as he’s never done it before. But his dick has returned to a full hard-on, desperately leaking at the tip like it hasn’t already cum once before. “S-stop, hyung—” he whines. “I want to cum on your cock.”

‘Fuck, that’s hot.’ “Okay, Sungie,” Chan nods. He somehow slides in a fourth finger, and the burn hurts. But Jisung is still breathing heavily, the burning turning to pleasure within himself. He’s had a taste of what it will feel like when his boyfriend is filling him up with his cock instead, and now he’s impatient. He wants the burn that will come with it. “Hyung, I’m ready, I think— please—”

Chan tuts. “You might be ready, but I think you need a bit more.” His tone is amused, a tad condescending, as if Jisung’s being petulant and he’s not taken seriously. It’s a new tone, and he can’t deny that it stops him in his tracks. It’s kind of hot, being forced to wait, being told off a bit. So he plays into it.

“You’re so mean,” Jisung huffs, garnering a laugh that tells him Chan doesn’t feel sorry for him at all.

The fingers inside him coax him agonizingly slow, and he’s all too aware that Chan is taking his sweet time now. He’s being pushed to the edge, over and over again, and the whines that continue to escape his throat when Chan occasionally brushes against his prostate only seem to spur the older onto his behavior.

Jisung is a mess of sweat and frayed nerves and precum and wrinkled bedding by the time Chan stops. “Okay, Jisungie, are you sure you’re ready?”

“Please, hyung,” Jisung almost sobs, “I need you in me.”

He doesn’t know how Chan has held on this long. His dick looks fully red, painful, the veins prominent. His eyes seem glassed over and unfocused as he pulls his fingers out with a lewd, squelching sound. He leans over Jisung and kisses him rather roughly. Jisung desperately meets his lips, and his arms and legs wrap around him, not wanting to let him go. “I want you this close when you fuck me,” he murmurs against Chan’s lips.

Chan’s mind flashes to potentially getting Jisung to flip around, so that it’s easier and less painful, then stops himself when he registers what Jisung means. He wants this position when Chan fucks into him. He wants to see Chan. ‘Fuck, I want you like this, too. I need to see your expression when you cum again. You’re so beautiful.’

If Jisung could turn redder, he would. “I love you, hyung.” His hand reaches over and feels through his soft hair.

‘I love you, Jisung.’ he preens at the touch, his mouth forming a fond smile down at him. Chan pecks his lips once more, and then he moves down to squeeze lube over his cock, maybe too much, because it drips down onto the sheets. Jisung’s grateful, though—it’ll be a much easier glide. He angles his cock against Jisung’s hole, then starts to press in.

Jisung understands now why Chan had been so adamant about taking their time. He feels stretched, and he hasn’t even slid it all the way in yet. He yelps and squints his eyes when his cock moves further in, slowly yet unrelenting. It’s tight, and he almost feels winded from the pressure. He can’t believe he’s doing this, taking another man’s cock. He can’t believe that he’s having sex. If he stops to think about it, it doesn’t feel real that a gorgeous man with veins running up his arms is leaning over him; that he wants to be with him so entirely. Jisung can’t believe he’s with Chan, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever figure out how he got so lucky.

His vision grows fuzzy, and he feels tears forming at the corners of his eyes—a combination of the feeling of himself being split open, and the overwhelming love he has for the man doing it. Chan’s eyes meet his and catches onto the tears. He cups Jisung’s cheek in his hand and leans in to kiss the corner of his eye. “You’re doing so well, baby,” Chan says in a soothing, controlled tone. “You’re so incredible. I feel like I’m going to cum any second.” He coughs out a laugh, hesitant, and Jisung matches it. His boyfriend certainly looks like he’s going to cum, too.

Finally, his cock sinks in completely, and Jisung’s legs are back to entangling around Chan’s waist. The older stays still for a few moments, letting Jisung get used to the feeling. He doesn’t know if he ever will—filled doesn’t even begin to cover it. He feels like Chan has settled in under his skin and lives there now. And Jisung is perfectly okay with that. Chan reaches down and kisses him with his reddened, swollen lips. Their tongues slip into each other’s mouths and their teeth occasionally clack together. It’s messy and uncoordinated and wet and perfect.

Then Chan starts to grind his hips against Jisung’s. He slides his cock almost out, then thrusts it back in, and the action hits right along his prostate and causes an embarrassing whimper to slip from Jisung’s throat that’s muffled inside Chan’s mouth. Their kisses turn more to brushes against each other’s lips, and Jisung’s eyes squint shut as Chan continues to grind along his walls and teeter him right on the edge.

More tears stream from Jisung’s eyes and he babbles a string of curses under his breath. It’s so overwhelming that he almost wants Chan to stop when he loses control of all faculties of his brain save for the pure pleasure; and at the same time, he better not fucking stop.

He doesn’t stop, thank god. His hips continue to rut against Jisung’s, his cock sliding in and out relentlessly. Jisung clings to him, his short fingernails digging into his back and the bracelet on his wrist creating a mark indented into his skin. He grinds his hips along Chan’s cock, making sure it hits him inside, right there.  

Chan doesn’t tell him when he comes, which he would find odd, except he finds that his own orgasm punched through him quickly after, much more potent than the last. His back arches and he groans while the ecstasy erupts from his hips, and travels up to his spine to his brain. His jaw locks up for a moment while the orgasm shakes through him. What’s more—he feels Chan shudder above him and he feels warm and wet when his cock twitches into his hole, filling him to the brim.

“Sh-shit,” Jisung says when he finally comes down from the high. He feels so spent and pliant in Chan’s shaking arms, and he can’t help but sink into the mattress.

Chan gently kisses his cheek freckle, then carefully pulls himself out, trying not to make a mess. He can immediately feel the cum trickling out of his hole, and he tries to clench to keep it in, but his hole is much too gaping right now for it to make much of a difference. He’s also sore, and the act of clenching makes him cringe. He’s going to feel this for a couple days—good.

“Sungie,” Chan whispers. “Let’s go take a shower.”

“Nrgh,” is his reply. “Can we take one later? Please?”

Chan sighs a bit, but Jisung knows he’s not serious. “Okay, have it your way, then.” He ducks out of the room and grabs a towel, then brings it back in to gently wipe the sweat that’s formed on his forehead, then leaking cum from his ass. Chan kisses where he’d just wiped the towel, right on his forehead, and climbs back into bed. Jisung can’t help but immediately snuggle up to him and bury his face in Chan’s chest. He feels so lethargic that he starts to fall asleep immediately. Jisung’s brain searches to tune into Chan’s sleepy thoughts, the way he always does…

…and he’s met with radio silence.

Odd.

His eyes flicker up to see a Chan that’s definitely settled in to fall asleep. His nonsense thoughts should be all over the place right now.

Jisung suddenly sits up, and the action jostles Chan. “Mmm…are you okay?” He grumbles, eyes still closed.

“Um,” is what he says to that. Jisung puts his whole hand on Chan’s arm. Nothing. He shifts his body weight onto Chan, his body slumped over his boyfriend’s. Silence.

Chan groans a bit and opens his eyes now, wheezing slightly with Jisung on top of him. “What’s going on, baby?”

“I don’t—” Jisung takes Chan’s face in his hands and squeezes his cheeks.

“Jisung?” He laughs in disbelief and at how weird he’s being.

“I can’t hear you,” he finally answers.

“What?”

“Your thoughts,” Jisung explains. “They’re gone. I can’t hear you.”

 That wakes him up. “Really?” He suddenly sits up and takes the blankets off of them, then encompasses Jisung in his arms and legs, squeezing him a bit. “What am I thinking?”

Jisung tries to concentrate. “I don’t…I don’t know, hyung. Nothing.”

Chan doesn’t relinquish his hold, but he lifts his head up to settle his chin on Jisung’s shoulder. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Um, weird.” That’s the best way to put it. Jisung tries to process the reason—and it immediately clicks. “I must not be a virgin anymore,” he mumbles, embarrassed at his own words.

His boyfriend freezes, then giggles. “You’d better not be.”

Jisung laughs. “No, you took care of that, hyung.”

“Was it good? Even though you lost your magic power over it?”

He turns his head to kiss Chan on the tip of his nose. “Are you kidding? I loved it. And this magic power has me so stressed out all the time. Crowds and buses have been terrible. But…honestly, I’m going to miss hearing your thoughts.”

“Mmm. I’ll just have to say things out loud more often.”

“Okay,” Jisung smiles. “Like what?”

“Pretty.” Chan replies, leaning forward to kiss him. “Pretty. Pretty.” He says, over and over, followed by a littering of kisses across his face. Jisung laughs and yells, and Chan only laughs back at him while continuing to kiss him and call him pretty, again and again.

Chapter Text

“Seungmin, help me, please—” Jisung tries not to panic, but his arms can’t fit through the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, and he’s freaking out. He shouldn’t have gone to the gym this month. Everything’s going to be ruined!

“Calm the fuck down.” Seungmin rises from his seat and moves over to him. “Seriously, relax. It’s you tensing that’s keeping the shirt from fitting over your arms—not your gains.” He pats Jisung’s bicep. Working out with Changbin the past few years, occasionally taking breaks but getting back into it when his hyung persisted, made for his body to shape back into something resembling himself in the military. ‘Something resembling,’ because he’d been twenty in the military, and now he’s…thirty-three. No one remind him.

His best friend manages to slip the shirt over his shoulders and adjust it until it’s no longer highly uncomfortable. When Jisung buttons it up, the fabric strains against his arms and chest, but…maybe that’s a good thing. He does want to look his best for Chan today.

The tuxedo jacket is next, and that slips on much easier than the shirt. He knots the tie expertly in front of the mirror—years of working at an office built up the muscle memory in his fingers.

He tames his hair back into place, and examines himself in the mirror. Jisung realizes there’s no more to do. He’s ready. The nerves immediately start to eat up his insides.

“You’re going to be fine.” Seungmin senses the change in the mood, and he moves closer to grab his hand. Jisung thinks back to the months of when he’d do that, and they could hear each other’s thoughts. It’s a bit wild to think about now, when all he can hear now is the sound of the radio playing on the counter.

But Seungmin had lost his virginity to Minho not long after he did, and there went the magic powers.

Jisung still feels shaky, so Seungmin continues while squeezing his hand to ground him. “Think about what you’re doing. You’re marrying Chan-hyung. You’ve basically been wanting to do this since you started dating him.”

That’s true. Several months into their relationship Jisung’s lease was finally up, so they made the decision to move into a new apartment together. And with their combined income, they could afford pet rent. Berry and Bbama were their babies and the light of their lives. Living together with their dogs, Jisung felt like a little family. He knew he wanted this life with Chan forever.

They wanted the engagement to be perfect, though, so they both waited over a year until the right time. That came during a vacation to Jeju, where Jisung got on one knee on the deck of their vacation house and asked him the question…only for Chan to rush inside and run back out with his own ring to give Jisung. It was perfect. Chan had teased him; if only he could have read his mind and saw that Chan was going to propose, then Jisung didn’t need to go to all the trouble too. He’d been silenced with kisses and a push to the bed.

“I do want to marry him,” Jisung tells Seungmin. “Really badly.”

He feels a clap on the shoulder. “You get to do that today,” Seungmin replies. “That’s kind of cool, huh?”

“Really cool.” The nerves jumbled in his stomach shifted to excitement, but only for a fleeting moment.

The door opens, and his other two groomsmen, Minho and Changbin, come in with a bottle of whiskey and glasses. “Let’s gooo—!” Minho starts to yell, then stops when he sees Seungmin standing there in his full tuxedo. “Damn, what’s your name, sexy?”

He pushes in his glasses. “Seungmin.”

“Seungmin!” Minho sets down the bottle of whiskey and moves closer to him. “How about you and I get engaged, hm? We can do it right during Jisung-hyung’s reception.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Yah!” Jisung protests, taking a step away from the couple and towards Changbin. “If you get proposed at my wedding, Chan-hyung and I are going to announce a pregnancy at yours.”

Seungmin smirks, looping an arm around Minho’s waist. “Aw, Chan-hyung’s going to be absolutely glowing.”

Changbin’s loud and infectious giggle echoes across the room, and he hands off glasses to each of them. “The first of many toasts,” he declares. “To Jisung. A man who needed magical interference to find a husband. Look where you are now.”

“Dude, you are banned from toasts,” Jisung scoffs as he unfortunately raises his glass to that.

“I only speak the truth, Jisung-ah,” Changbin adds sagely, tipping his glass back. The rest follow in tandem.

They decided they would both be going down the aisle, Chan first with his dad, followed by Jisung with his. Still not allowed to see his future husband, Jisung stands in a room in the large house they’d rented, with his dad. He seems uncomfortable in a tux, and Jisung doesn’t blame him. His skin itches with anxiety, so he tries to control his breathing.

His dad drapes an arm around his shoulders. “You look great,” he tells Jisung. “You’re actually holding yourself together really well. I’m not going to tell you what I did before I got married to your mom, because I don’t want you getting any ideas, but it wasn’t pretty.”

“Thanks, dad,” Jisung mumbles to his shoes. It’s times like these that he’s very grateful he can’t read minds anymore—because whatever his dad did, he’s definitely thinking about it. 

He listens to the music outside in the blissful silence, instead of his dad’s thoughts. They’re guitar instrumentals of various songs that he and Chan like, and the Wherever You Are by ONE OK ROCK doesn’t work like it should to calm his fast-paced heartbeat. It especially doesn’t work when the song switches to an instrumental of I’m Yours by Jason Mraz, and his dad is looping his arm around Jisung’s to guide him out of the room and out the doors. Is he ready for this? He doesn’t feel ready. He’s too young and unprepared. Maybe he needs to at least be forty when he gets married—that sounds safe. He’ll definitely have his life together and be the right person for Chan by then.

It feels like everyone he knows is here, standing, waiting for him. He tries not to trip over his feet when he offers a shaky smile to the people in the back, making eye contact with Felix and Hyunjin, who give him thumbs-ups. He goes around the corner and takes in more people closer to the front—the groomsmen, Jinsol and her wife, his aunts and uncles, Jeongin, his older brother, his future mother in law, and his mom—and he freezes in place when he looks at the end of the aisle.

He’s been growing out his dark brown hair until it’s wavy and curls beautifully around his ears and neck. His tuxedo has been ironed to a crisp and fits perfectly to his body. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he spots Jisung, and he forms a wide smile, eager and waiting for him. 

All of a sudden, Jisung doesn’t know what he’s been so worried about. It’s Chan. His Chan. His everything.