Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

nana;sung

rose｜Anna Tsuchiya
黒い涙｜Anna Tsuchiya
How - demo｜clairo
LUCY｜Anna Tsuchiya
Papa Plastic｜SEATBELTS
Flaming Hot Cheetos｜clairo
boy for the weekend｜marc indigo
I'm addicted to you｜Anna Tsuchiya
If You Want To｜beabadoobee
Heavenly｜Cigarettes After Sex

hachi;min

二十歳の恋｜Lamp
Falling Behind｜Laufey
Grace｜ADOY
2 Hold U｜clairo
Home Alone｜beabadoobee
Don't run away｜Motte
Life is Like a Boat｜Rie fu
Dance With Me｜beabadoobee
You're here that's the thing｜beabadoobee
+Matter｜ONE OK ROCK

Chapter Text

Somewhere in London.
How – demo (Clairo)

“Jisung… I’m sorry.”

His world collapsed in that same kitchen he knew by heart. The white tiles, the smell of vanilla and coffee he loved so much. And her, in front of him, eyes full of tears. Everything felt so bitter and sickening now. His frenetic brain, that never rested, felt void now.

“You mean that… you lied to me this whole time?” he asked, a nervous laugh escaping his trembling lips.

“No- no, I just realized recently. I swear… it’s not about you at all, it’s… Her. I think I’m in love with her.”

Jisung’s nervous smile faded, his lips trembling even more as his eyes dangerously filled with tears. She was crying too.

“You looked me in the eyes for more than a year, told me you loved me. And now you talk to me about her?”

She nodded. “I’m so sorry”, she replied.

He needed to get out of here.
And as she collapsed to the floor, Jisung, without thinking, grabbed the first jacket and boots that fell into his perspective and left into the dark night.
Well… the sky seems sad too, it’s pouring.
Just like what’s happening on Jisung’s rosy burning cheeks right now.
The good thing is, thanks to this torrential rain, the tears won’t even show- only his swollen, bloodshot eyes betrayed him.
He had left in a pitiful state, feeling betrayed, angry, while the girl he was in love with honestly just told him about her feelings and trusted him with it. Fuck, I really am the worst, he spat through his teeth, rummaging through his pocket for a cigarette. His thin, trembling fingers from his left hand held the cigarette in place between his shaking lips while his right hand desperately tried to get the stubborn lighter to work.
All of this in the rain, no hood, no umbrella, already soaked.
No strength left, too much shaking, the lighter fell to the ground- now useless. Nervous breakdown. New wave of sobs. Then, realization of everything that was actually happening.
He had left everything behind to live this life. His family, his friends, his studies- everything to live this love story in another country that turned out to be a one-sided love.
He was heart-broken, ruined, shattered, furious, completely lost. He felt like he was drowning from all the water pouring down his cheeks and the sky, suffocating.

There was only one remedy he could think about.
He, for sure, would know what to say, what to do.
With the same clumsy hand he searched his pockets again, sniffling and sobbing loudly.
He dialed the number he knew too well.
As usual, the first ring hadn’t even finished ringing when he was already picked up.

“Well hello you, callin’ kinda late today, everything’s alright?”

Chan’s voice stopped dead as he heard the small trembling voice call from the other end of the line, between the deafening sounds of the storm and sobs.

“Chanie hyung…”

“Hey… Hey baby, what’s wrong? Deep breath for me. What happened? Please?”

Rushed bed sheets could be heard on the other side- his best friend must’ve been in a panic getting a sudden call so unusual, at such a late hour.

“Lina.. She..” Jisung tried to speak, really, but every time he did, a painful cry escaped his trembling lips.

“She broke up..? Yeah..? Is that what you’re trying to say? Baby I’m sorry… Do you wanna talk about it..?”

Jisung nodded as if Chan could see him, his shaking hand crashing onto his face angrily to wipe most of his tears away despite the rain.
“I knew something was wrong but.. She.. S-she’s in love with someone else…”

“What?” Chan gasped.

“Her best friend-”

“Oh.”

And Jisung cried. For a long time. So long until the rain stopped. Until his voice was just a whisper.
Chan did his best to calm and comfort the younger one. Then took the time to explain that it wasn’t Jisung’s fault or Lina’s, that life sometimes just happens, that discovering yourself is a long and complicated journey and that Lina realized it a bit late, but that she made the right choice by being honest and telling the truth to Jisung about the way she felt, even if it hurt him. She chose to protect him, in a way.
And Jisung could almost understand.
But for now, it didn’t matter.
He had heard all the explanations and comforts from his best friend, who really sounded reasonable honestly, he really tried to understand, truly- But he didn’t. To him, it was his fault.
He probably wasn’t good enough for her, someone else obviously managed to be more worthy.
She had never really loved him the way he loved her. Probably.
He couldn’t remember anymore, all the memories blurred, his brain destroying them one by one, only screamed “lie” throughout these twenty-something months.

“Baby listen. Keep in mind what I said, we’ll talk about it again later. You need time. You need rest. I booked you a flight, first hour in the morning. The door’s open, you’re more than welcome to come back home.”

“Thank you, hyung…”

First thing he knew, the next morning Jisung was jumping on the first plane back to his hometown.

London, a golden late afternoon
Falling Behind (Laufey)

The sky feels heavy, but not in a sad way. Just… quiet. As if London wanted to whisper its goodbye softly.
Minho was now wandering alone in the streets near his hotel room, the post-rain fresh air gently hitting his face, hands in his pockets, in this neighborhood he slowly grew fond of these past few weeks.
The red bricks, the sudden rain every now and then, the fresh flowers at the corners of the markets… he loved it all.
Really.
But today, he mostly noticed what he hadn’t shared.

Around him, couples were taking pictures in front of colorful libraries, hands entwined in pockets, quiet laughter.
They spoke different languages, but they all understood each other.
It made him smile- at least a little.
And tightened something in his chest- quite a lot.
Love is beautiful.
But it gives a very strange feeling of loneliness when you’re not the one living it.

He stepped into a small café where he became “tea, extra honey and pudding” order guy.
I mean… Going to London without drinking at least one or two teas a day? Not a chance.
The barista sent him a hopeful “See you soon!” like she always dies, hoping he’d come back the next day like he had for the past two weeks.
He smiled politely, not really interested.
No, he wouldn’t see her again.

He sat near the window where it reflected the warm golden colors onto the table.
People passed by.
Hands held.
The soft rain returned.
He dipped his spoon into his cup and stirred, distracted.

A sickly romance in the air
Lovers stroll without a care in sight

The song played through the speakers and the jazzy sound filled the whole café, wrapping it in a soothing atmosphere.
As if someone was playing his playlist.

When he finished and stepped out of the café, a movement in the corner of his eye pulled him from his thoughts.
Right next to the door, on the wet sidewalk, an orange cat was staring at him a few steps away.
Soaked. Tiny. Proud. Curious, head slightly tilted.

Minho stepped out slowly.
“You got a lil lost too? Happens…” he asked, carefully crouching down, hand slightly extended toward the little furball.
Orange cats. He knew them well, he already had two. Soonie. Doongie. A third one someday wouldn’t hurt.

The cat blinked slowly. It didn’t run away.
Didn’t purr either.
It was just… there.

Minho pulled out a cat treat he always kept with him just in case: proof it’s always useful.
The cat sniffed it, but ignored it, walked toward him instead. Rubbed its head against his ankle.

A sigh escaped him. “I’m going back home soon, you know?”

He didn’t expect an answer.
But the cat meowed.
He almost took it as a me too.

He stayed there for a moment.
Fingers playing with the wet fur.
Heart at peace, just for a bit.
He wasn’t sad… just a little empty.
But not unhappy, just a bit bored.

Tomorrow on the plane, he’d be next to a stranger.
Then in South Korea, in his hometown.
Then with Seungmin, Changbin.
Their apartment, their stupid jokes, their nights talking about the most random topics in pajamas with beers and a yummy barbecue.
He couldn’t wait. He missed them.

He didn’t yet know that it wouldn’t be quite the same anymore.
That something would’ve changed.
He just hoped they’d wait for him.
That nothing changed.
And yet.

He thought back to the cat.
To that quiet kind of loneliness.

Maybe we’re not all made to walk in pairs. Not yet.
He brushed the thought away.
Too sad.

He went back to his hotel.
A suitcase to pack.
Memories to fold.

The cat followed him a few steps.
Then stopped, sitting, watching him leave.
It didn’t meow.
And Minho thought it understood him well.

What Minho didn’t know -because his phone was buried somewhere deep in his bag, and even if it wasn’t, there was no wifi anyway- was that Seungmin just sent him a text.
Can we talk when you get back? We have something to tell you.
A problem for tomorrow’s Minho.

Chapter Text

Minho noticed his empty seat at the back of the plane, where he dragged his worn out sneakers, his jacket tucked under his arm, kinda useless compared to the rain that had just poured outside, and his bag slung over his shoulder. A polite smile constantly glued to his lips, his gaze avoided the flight attendants and noisy passengers. He hated airports. Too many departures, too many goodbyes, too many faces he was never going to see again.

As he sat by the window he let out a painful sigh, staring out through it, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. He was thinking about Seungmin’s text he had just seen this morning before leaving the hotel. No way to answer it on time before leaving and now the airport wifi wasn’t working. Now he had to wait the entire flight, the taxi ride back to them and finally getting home to finally find out what was going on. He hoped nothing bad happened to his bestfriends, his family, his little cocoon.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when a boy slipped through the crowd and made his way to the aisle seat. He looked off. Literally off, like someone turned his on button- well- off. His clothes soaked from the rain and out of breath -probably because he just barely made it before boarding ended-. He had a black beanie low over his head, almost hiding his eyes red from the cold air, a large bag over his broad shoulders with badges of bands and artists all over it. He sat down in silence next to Minho, who was already smiling politely, but the boy kept his eyes on his own feet, earphones on.

Minho wasn’t the type to keep things to himself. And silence? Well, that wasn’t really his thing.

“Coming back from vacation is kinda rough right?” he asked turning his head toward the boy.

A shrug was the only answer he got. But he still smiled. He didn’t press the topic, not even sure the guy next to him really looked like someone who had been on vacation, but he kept talking anyway.

“I spent a month in London. Small single vacation. I love this city you know? There’s something in the air… The cold colors, the fog, the streets, the flower markets, the unique buildings, Harry Potter,” he chuckled slightly, noticing how those two last words were catching the attention of his seatmate for a moment, seemingly intrigued. “Oh and I almost adopted a cat yesterday,” he went on, “It was soaked, orange, way too cute, but not very talkative. He followed me for three blocks before disappearing. I think we understood each other tho.”

Jisung kept glancing at him from the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow, a faint glimmer of interest barely visible in his blank void eyes. He didn’t say anything but carefully removed one of his earphones, giving him his attention. Minho smiled and took it as an invitation to continue, what he did.

“What about you? Going back home? You’ve got that look… like someone who wants to disappear. I get that same face when I send a text I regret.” He pretended to shiver and laughed, pleased to spot the slighest hint of a smirk at the edge of the other's lips. Barely noticeable, but nothing escaped Minho’s catlike eyes. “I’m Minho, by the way,” he said still smiling softly.

A voice hoarse from the cold -or maybe something else?- could finally be heard as he replied, “Jisung.”

Short, but effective. The name hung between them, fragile and precious, for a few seconds.

Then, Minho talked again. About his shared apartment back in South Korea. His best friends. The message he received from Seungmin that had been bugging him, imagining thousands of scenarios. The cool clothes he kept stealing from Changbin. His cooking, which Seungmin liked even more than his own mother’s -but don’t tell anyone, he’d never admit it-. His questionable taste in reality shows, cooking shows, and animes. The terrace where they had their usual midnight barbecues with beers. He talked in a way anyone would talk to his train seatmate for example, a stranger: unfiltered, without stakes, as if there was nothing to lose. Because after all, they’d probably never see each other ever again.

And Jisung listened. With all his heart. He nodded from time to time. He didn’t know why he listened but he did. Minho radiated warmth, kinda like his best friend Chan, but slightly different. He didn’t really want to reply, he just kept listening to him. The yapper and the listener. Kinda like Hachi and Nana in that manga he kept rereading over and over again, his all time favorite. One in pieces, the other too bright.
For the rest of the flight, they didn’t really speak again. But they didn’t sleep either. Jisung watched the sky’s reflection on Minho’s cheek while Minho watched a random movie without the sound. Something floated between them. A sort of strange familiarity.

But as soon as the plane landed, barely back in Korea, Minho called Seungmin right away to let him know he just arrived and will make his way home, leaving his new acquaintance behind. He picked up his suitcase and took a taxi home to Seungmin and Changbin.
The moment he stepped through the door, he felt good to be back: the smell of fried chicken, beers on the coffee table, Changbin singing loudly in the kitchen loud enough to wake the whole building, Seungmin already complaining about the suitcase in the hallway.

“I hope you brought back an ugly magnet from London for our fridge tradition,” Seungmin said, rolling his eyes as he walked by, before hugging the oldest.

It all warmed Minho’s heart in the bestest way possible. He was finally home.

The barbecue started on the terrace, laughter could be heard, the jokes were flooding in the air. Everything seemed to be the same, but Minho felt something off, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the text he received and the fact that neither of his two bestfriends had mentioned it yet. There was a kind of tension. Like a floating bubble. It was Seungmin who ended up bursting it.

“Minho… there’s something we need to tell you.”

Sweaty hands, shifty eyes, Changbin set down his beer, clearing his throat. A look exchanged between them. Then carefully they started speaking.

“We’re moving in together. Like, as a couple. We didn’t want to tell you before you got back… but we found a place. And since rent here is too expensive for just one person, you’ll probably need to look for something else.”

Minho froze. Not because of the news- deep down, he had suspected it and already knew it. His two best friends were made for each other. But he froze because it meant one concrete thing: he was going to have to leave the apartment. His home. Potentially go back to his parents’ house- not that he disliked the idea- but he hated the feeling of being left behind. At least he’d get to see his cats more often.

Seeing Minho’s smile fading, even as he tried to keep it real, they explained and tried to justify that the two of them could handle a smaller rent, that it just made sense to them that they move in together, just the two of them, but that it didn’t mean they were leaving him out now. They just needed some privacy, but they’d still see each other like they always did, like they were actually doing now.
But Minho wasn’t really listening anymore. He just kept nodding. Smiled a bit. Congratulated them. But inside of his head were chaos going on. It wouldn’t ever be like ‘always’ ever again. He felt a sudden void, like the only stable ground beneath him had been pulled away. Back to square one, and he didn’t even saw it coming.

That night he didn’t fall asleep early like he usually did. He thought back about London. The hotel room where he was all alone. How his daily life would be without his bestfriends. Then he thought about his current room, in his home that would soon no longer be his. Then his teenage bedroom turned into a guest room at his parents’ house, which he’d likely have to move back into. Then he thought about his cats, the only source of light in all of this honestly.

He’d have to let his parents know. It was already 11PM, but they were probably still awake. He needed to call them before the day ended to tell them he made it back in town safely.
After a few rings, his mother picked up.

“Hello aegi? It’s been a while!” she said in her warm voice.

“Hey mom, I’m back, the trip was nice. Can I come by tomorrow? See Soonie and Doongie and also ask you and Dad for a tiny favor?” he answered, forcing a smile.

“Of course honey, you know you’re always welcomed here, I hope everything’s okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry, everything’s fine. I’ll let you know more about the whole thing tomorrow.”

“Yeah okay- Oh by the way, totally unrelated, but I thought of you today! I saw that flyer at the corner store. Wait let me send you the photo!” she said excitedly. Minho received it a few seconds later.

“TRAINEE PROGRAM. Open to all artists. Dare to try.”

Complete silence. Several seconds pass before his mom spoke again.

“Aegi, still there?”

“Yeah, sorry, I… I was just thinking. Thanks for thinking about me mom. It’s nice to know someone still remembers my childhood dream,” he said with a forced laugh.

“Minho I’m your mother, remember?” she answered laughing. “Of course I remember you wanted to become a dancer.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow alright? I’m a kinda tired. I’ll try to get some rest but… thank you.”

“Okay bye honey, we love you.”

“Bye mom. Give a kiss to Dad, and Soonie and Doongie too please.”

After hanging up, he kept thinking about it. A trainee program? Becoming a dancer or an idol or something like that? Literally his childhood dream. But seeing how hard it was, he’d given up quickly. Looking back at the photo again, he realized registrations were in less than a week and final selections would be done within the month. Dorms included. Classes in singing, dancing, rap, composition- everything an artist could dream of. It was too perfect, so perfect it caught Minho off guard. This opportunity might even provide the housing he needed. His brain buzzing with possibilities, he decided to try and get just a bit of sleep, trying to silence all the voices in his head.

They say the night brings clarity right?
And that night, Minho felt it was time to finally do something for himself. Just for him.

When Jisung comes back to Chan’s place, everything feels both familiar and painfully different. He knew this apartment. He had lived here. It felt more like home than anywhere else. But this time, he was coming back in pieces.
Chan welcomed him with a sincere smile and open arms. The kind of smile and hug that silently said, "You can fall apart here, you don’t have to force yourself, I’ll stay strong and standing for you." Jisung collapsed into this embrace, sobbing once again. He trusted him more than anyone else, he trusted him with his life actually.

Their old apartment hadn’t changed. But Jisung had.
He settled into the guest room. Opening his suitcase. But closed his heart. The following days were foggy. Chan pushed him to eat, go outside get some fresh air, and sleep. Which Jisung found pretty bold of him considering how many hours of sleep Chan himself lacked. But Jisung slept badly. Very badly. He has nightmares where she looks at him without recognizing him. Where she kisses someone else. Where he screams, but no one hears him. He wakes up every night drenched in sweat, his throat tight.

The only thing that gave him a little hope was his notebook. He scribbled lyrics, filling pages with ink. But everything was grey. He jotted down words. Lyrics without rhythm. Dark. Cold. Full of anger and emptiness. Even music betrayed him. Even music sounded wrong. So he picked up his guitar again. Singing a few songs in a low almost inaudible voice -beabadoobee being his favorite artist, he obviously started with one of her songs– leaning against the window, eyes lost in the sky. He tried to get his pieces back together. Gentle comforting songs that felt like bandaids. But he didn’t really believe in healing anymore.

When even that didn’t work and he felt too exhausted to do anything, he grabbed the small blanket lying on his bed and dragged his feet to his best friend’s room. He knocked once. No answer. He pulled out his phone and called him. Chan picked up on the first ring and at the same time Jisung heard rushed noises behind the door, which opened just then and Chan almost bumped into him, held back only by his headset still plugged into the computer. The fear in his eyes faded slightly when he realized Jisung was there, face to face, safe and sound, in front of his room. A relieved sigh escaped him.

“Relax, I’m okay, I just wanted to see if you were asleep and you didn’t hear me knock, so I decided to call your phone…”

“I thought something happened to you,” Chan replied still concerned. “Do you need something?”

Jisung felt small, like back then when he had run away from his parents’ house and taken refuge at his bestfriend’s, where he had lived ever since. He had been in a really bad state, in severe depression back then. Chan should be scared of seeing him spiral again.

“Can I sleep on the couch in your room..? I haven’t slept in three days, I’m really starting to crash.”

“Of course, come in, I’m just finishing a couple things on the computer anyway,” he smiled, letting him in.

“As always,” Jisung smiled weakly.
He knew he wouldn’t spiral again, not like before. Chan had taught him how to get back up, how to ask for help, and that’s exactly what he was doing. He wanted to fight. Fight for himself.

“You want to meet someone?” Chan asked one morning while pouring coffee into their mugs.

“I’m not ready to fall in love again, hyung,” Jisung said without lifting his eyes.

“You idiot. I meant a friend.”

“Oh.”

Then came Felix. And the smell of vanilla, overly long hugs, and that disarming sincerity he carried everywhere. The day he entered the apartment, Felix was brighting everything up in his path. Like a ray of sunshine. With his messy blond hair, soft voice and bright eyes. He laughed, loud and genuine, and hugged Jisung like they had always known each other, a bag of warm cookies in hand, ready to be devoured.
Jisung found himself smiling, unintentionally, and didn’t waste another second before tasting the snacks. Yes. He smiled. A real smile, small but sincere. He didn’t know why. Maybe because Felix didn’t try to see through him. He saw him as he was. He talked to him like he talked to a friend he hadn’t met yet.

They clicked instantly. They talked about music, movies, animes. They had the same quirks, the same silly obsessions. They played video games. Laughed at everything. Felix talked a lot, but never too much. He sensed unspoken things without pointing them out.
It wasn’t a romantic attraction, far from it. But a real soul chemistry. A blooming friendship. Like an obvious bond. Felix understood. Everything. Jisung didn’t need to explain.

In the days that followed, he came back without warning. With brownies, his specialty. With playlists. New games to try. With silences that felt good and needed.

And then Jisung started noticing. The glances between Felix and Chan. The stolen smiles here and there. The shared silences. The nights when Jisung would wake up from the couch in Chan’s room to go to the bathroom and see a bunch of blond hair poking out from the blankets, in the older one’s arms.
One evening, while the two new best friends were playing video games in the guest room, between two games, Jisung stared at his controller and asked timidly,

“You guys are together..?” No need to say who. Felix understood. Felix always understood everything Jisung said.

“We don’t need to put a label on it you know?” Felix replied in a whisper, smiling. “We’re just good together.”

Jisung turned to face him. Heart heavy but with a genuine smile on his lips. Felix always made him smile. It was new to him. It seemed so simple coming from his mouth. Yet Jisung, on his side, didn’t understand all of it. And it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. To him, everything had to be calculated and labeled. Like he thought love had to be clear. Defined. Precise. He was lost.

“But… did you always knew?” Jisung asked. The question was too vague, so he added, “I mean, your… sexuality? Is that how you say it?”

Felix shrugged, amused but happy to talk about it, he didn’t seem to have ever really thought much about it.

“I go with the flow,” and as if he already understood the storm of worries ravaging Jisung’s mind at that moment, he placed both hands on his shoulders, applying comforting pressure. “Jisung, it’ll come, alright? Shut that little voice in your head. If any kind of change is meant to happen, it will. And maybe it won’t you know? Do me a favor and turn down that suffocating noise I can hear all the way from here,” he joked, tapping his finger on the other’s forehead, making him laugh again as he rolled his eyes.

Another afternoon, as they were snacking on pastries Felix had made, the latter spoke up,

“Chanie, did you hear about that trainee program? I think we should go for it. Hyunjin wants to do it too.”

“A trainee program? Hyunjin? Who’s that?” Jisung asked, settling on the couch with his iced chocolate.
He would’ve loved to smoke right now, but smoking was forbidden in shared spaces- only in his guest room or on the balcony. He’d wait.

“Yes, Lixie,” Chan replied with a forced, amused smile, “I heard about it. I saw the poster at the GS25 in front of the building, but I didn’t bring it up on purpose because I know Jisung like the back of my hand, and I knew he’d want to dive into this even tho he’s not fully recovered from the past events yet. And if you’re doing it, then he’ll definitely want to join. And Hyunjin is… special, and I don’t know if it’s a good idea-”

“Relax, he’s not made of glass,” Felix laughed, getting a reproachful look from the older one.

“Who’s Hyunjin? What’s the program?” Jisung asked again, getting up from the couch, impatient, eyebrows slightly furrowed, intrigued.

“Hyunjin is a friend of ours. A bit special but super sweet,” Felix said, wrapping an arm around Jisung’s shoulders. “And the program is about getting training to become an idol and all that, like you see on TV. It’s not every day this happens. I saw you writing in your notebooks and heard you play guitar.. I don’t want you to miss out.”

Jisung turned his attention to Chan, who spoke again.
“Don’t rush into anything, okay? There are ups and downs to this kind of program. You’ll have to live with strangers. The lessons will be tough. So will the criticism. The pace too. You have to be ready for this kind of thing-”

“Chanie hyung. I’ve waited my whole life for this kind of opportunity, you know that. It’s literally my only reason,” Jisung said, eyes widening slightly at the opportunity in front of him. “How do we sign up?” he asked, turning to Felix.

“Next week. We should introduce you to Hyunjin too! It’s his dream too, and if you end up in the same dorm, at least you’ll already know him, one less stranger in the mix,” replied the blond, beaming with joy.

A few days later Jisung heard the voice before he even saw the face. A laugh, clear and slightly mocking, slipped down the hallway to his door.

“Hyunjin’s here!” Chan called from the living room.
Just as Jisung peeked out of his room –he was more or less managing to sleep alone by now– someone entered the apartment. Hyunjin. Arms full of food boxes, messy black hair tied up carelessly, tall and straight figure. Felix exclaimed excitedly: “Hyunjin-ah! Finally.”

Hyunjin. Magnetic. Insufferable. Too handsome to exist. Too present to ignore.

Jisung felt his stomach twist, his throat tighten. And when their eyes met, it was like the world turned down its volume for half a second. Just enough for his heart to turn way up. Hyunjin greeted him with a simple, “Hey, Jisung right?” but his eyes spoke another language. They scanned. They read. They provoked.

And Jisung… didn’t understand anything anymore. There was something in the way he walked, smiled, spoke. Something arrogant, graceful, almost irritating. Wait no- truly irritating to Jisung. He had that aura of people who know they’re attractive and don’t need to try.

Jisung felt tiny. And suddenly, he wanted to run. Or scream. Or hit something. He wasn’t sure.
Why was it so hard to breathe?
Why were his hands clammy?
Why did he want to shut him up every time he spoke but also keep listening, again and again and again?

It was absurd. He didn’t even know him. He didn’t want to know him. He didn’t want to feel anything. He shouldn’t feel anything. Good or bad. And especially not for a boy.
It was too much. Too soon. Too vague.

But there was this strange warmth in his chest. This twist in his gut. This mix of anger, irritation, and… something else. He didn’t dare name it.

When Hyunjin laughed, he wanted to smile. When Hyunjin looked at him, he wanted to hide. And when Hyunjin didn’t pay attention to him… that was even worse.
He didn’t know if he wanted to be him, or something else entirely. He didn’t even know if it was envy, hatred, or fascination. But he knew one thing: He didn’t like what Hyunjin stirred in him. He didn’t like the way he existed like a storm. And he hated the idea that he might still think about him even after he left.

He saw in him everything he wished he could be, and Jisung stopped at that conclusion for now, too afraid to dig deeper, telling himself that must be the reason he felt such jealousy toward him. That afternoon, he tried to keep smiling despite his awkwardness and Felix’s worried glances. He also tried to join the conversation without stammering or tripping over his words.

He was struggling.

And Hyunjin made a point of noticing it, for sure.

Chapter Text

Seoul, Chan’s apartment.

Ring... Ring... Ring…
Jisung’s dream -the first one in a while- shattered with the horribly fucking annoying ring of his phone, cutting through the quiet of the early morning. He was out there in some sort of fun dream in an advanced future setting… running around on a giant ball..? Was he some kind of hamster robot..? Anyway. He let out a frustrated groan, his arm lazily reaching out as he blindly patted the nightstand. His fingers brushed against one of his notebooks, a pair of headphones, and finally closed around his phone. Squinting against the brightness of the screen, his vision still blurry from sleep. The incoming call showed an unknown number.

“Yeah?” He mumbled, his voice deep and raspy from sleep.

The voice on the other end was formal and to the point. As they spoke, the fog in his head began to lift, replaced by the realization of what they were saying. His heart skipped a beat, blood roaring in his ears.

“You’re calling to confirm…” He repeated the words carefully, as if saying them out loud would make them real. “I’ve been accepted into the program? I made it?”

The confirmation came quickly, but Jisung didn’t need to hear it again. He carefully listened to the instructions that were given by the lady on the phone before she hung up. He shot upright, the phone slipping from his hand onto the bed as he stared into the dim room in disbelief.

“I made it..?” he whispered, before the words burst out louder. “ I made it! ”

With the adrenaline coursing through his veins, he threw off the blankets and bolted out of his room into the living room where Chan should be. His socked feet skidded slightly on the hardwood floor as he ran, rushing inside.

He hasn’t been this happy in forever.

“ Hyung! ” he shouted, his sleepy voice cracking and echoing in the living room.

Chan was sitting on the couch, phone pressed to his ear, his brows furrowed in concentration, and his lips set in a firm line. He glanced up at him but held up a finger, silently signaling Jisung to hold on and wait for him to finish.
Jisung could hardly stay still, practically hopping on the spot, struggling not to shout out his good news right here and there to his face, no matter how important that phone call he was on was. He hoped Chan would finish soon, as he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold it in anymore.

As soon as he hung up, Jisung repeated, “ Hyung ,” he paused for a few seconds before adding, jumping around, “I got in. I got in! ” His voice cracking with excitement.

Chan’s lips twitched, but his brow furrowed in mock concern. “That’s great baby. I’m happy for you. I really am…”

Something in his tone stopped Jisung dead in his tracks. He froze, his face draining of color as he mentally braced for the worst case scenario. His chest tightened. “Wait. Did you not…?”

Chan let out a long, heavy sigh, the sound laced with frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather his thoughts. For a moment, he looked up at Jisung with an unreadable expression. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched again, a hint of something mischievous dancing in his eyes. It grew into a full blown grin before he couldn't hold it back any longer and started laughing, a deep, warm sound that echoed in the room.

“Of course I got in, you idiot !” he said, tossing his phone onto the couch and standing to pull Jisung into a big hug.

Jisung smacked his shoulder, laughing despite himself. “ Hyung ! You scared the shit out of me for a second!”

Chan chuckled, pulling back. “Why would you even doubt it? I mean, come on , did you really think I wouldn’t make it?” He said, a smug grin spreading across his face.

Jisung grinned up at him. “Of course not. You’re too good at what you do, hyung. There’s no way they wouldn’t pick you.”

Chan ruffled Jisung’s hair affectionately. “And you’re not? Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve worked your ass off for this. You deserve it just as much as I do. I’m glad we ended up doing it, you seem happier than ever.”

Jisung couldn't wipe the huge smile plastered off his face. For the first time in his life, he felt like all his hard work had finally paid off. Even though this was just the beginning of a long journey and nothing was certain nor acquired yet, he couldn’t help but think that maybe , just maybe , all those sacrifices hadn’t been for nothing.

Suddenly, Jisung’s phone started vibrating, again, and again, and again, and at the same time, a stream of message notifications from Chan’s phone popped up.

Oh my fucking god… right… Thought Jisung. Maybe Felix got his answer too.
Oh and… Hyunjin. Yeah.

The four of them made a groupchat together a few days ago, Jisung didn’t talk much, just interacting with Felix and trying not to clench his jaw too hard when Hyunjin texted.

He swallowed hard, his smile fading as he quickly shifted back to a more serious expression. He glanced at his phone and opened their conversation, greeted by an overwhelming flood of messages in the group chat.

Felix : HAI MAAAAATES
Felix : I GOT INNN WOOP WOOP

Hyunjin : oh my god
Hyunjin : OH my god
Hyunjin : OHMYUFOSD I GOTI NT OO

Felix : translation: oh my god i got in too

Hyunjin : SHUTUIP IMS O EXCITED

Jisung : SO HAPPY FOR YOU LIXIE BABE

Hyunjin : What about me? You don’t praise me? Did you get in?

Jisung : yeah i got in

Felix : FFFFFFFUCK YEAHHHHHH
Felix : what about you babe???? @bangchan (100000% sure he made it but oh well still i have to ask)

Chan : Party. Tonight. Our place. 8PM. BRING YO ASSES OVER HERE

Hyunjin : FUCK YEAH LET’S GET DRUNK

Felix : YASSSSSSSSSSSS
Felix : THIS IS ABOUT TO GET INTERESTING 

Jisung closed his eyes for a second, shaking his head, a weird feeling in his chest.

“Hyung, I can’t handle alcohol, one beer and I’m gone-” he mumbled.

Chan patted his back. “I’ll be there, you’re safe here. Get ready. Things are about to change. ”

The admission news came with details: they had five days to pack and prepare before moving into the company’s dorms. It was a tight deadline, but it gave the trainees time to organize their things.

Even if the idea of sharing his space with possible strangers scared him to death, he had to learn how to deal with it. He wanted to start moving on his own, gain independence and this started by stopping relying on his best friend.

An hour had passed, and everything was finally ready for the party. The TV was on, displaying a Nintendo Switch game- probably Mario Kart, Jisung didn’t really pay any attention to it yet. Controllers were scattered across the table, surrounded by an endless array of snacks. In the kitchen, every type of alcohol imaginable was lined up on the counter waiting to be consumed -thanks to Chan, who said it was good for huh.. Motivation?- right next to three pizza boxes, ready to be devoured.

The two best friends had finished getting ready as well. Chan wore a pair of ripped blue jeans, a tank top showing off his muscles, and styled his rather long hair straight, which fell delicately on both sides of his face. Of course, he had accessorized with a few bracelets and a necklace.
Jisung, on the other hand, had gone for a more laid-back look. He wore one of his favorite oversized gray hoodies paired with black cargo pants and a black cap worn backward, hiding his long wavy messy hair that he hadn’t really bothered to style.

By the third round of drinks, they started to loosen up. Jisung still at his first beer. Felix, who had always been the touchy kind, grew bolder, moving closer to Chan, eventually even sitting himself on the older boy’s lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Seriously, Lix?” Chan said with a soft laugh, though he didn’t push him away and wrapped an arm around his waist as he continued to play.

“ What? You’re comfy,” Felix replied with a cheeky grin, hiding his delicate face into the nape of his neck.

Jisung blinked at the sight and instantly looked away, not sure how to react.

Hyunjin was the last one to arrive, as always. He walked into the apartment as if it belonged to him, tossing his bag on the couch, that smug smile plastered on his lips. Jisung barely looked up, he was getting used to that part of him.

He thought seeing him around so much and getting used to him would soften that kind of gut-deep tension he felt every time he saw him- he was wrong. It was’nt as violent as it used to be, sure. It was more… muted? Like an annoying background noise he ended up forgetting, until it suddenly gets louder without warning. Just like now. Hyunjin laughs at one of Felix’s jokes, and of course, the rest of his friends laughs with him. He draws attention without even trying. He takes up space. He has that kind of charisma you can’t ever learn if you ain’t born with it. That too, Jisung eventually kinda got used to it.

But sometimes, in moments like this: that laugh, that voice, the way he casually puts a hand on Chan’s shoulder, the attention on him and everyone else but Jisung- everything comes back to the surface.
The disdain. The envy. That old half digested grudge that never really disappeared.

Jisung got up, feeling inexistent to their eyes anyway, and went to pour himself a drink in the kitchen. No way he’s letting himself spiral tonight. They’re celebrating their admission. He was about to start living the beginning of his dream. They were supposed to be happy. And Hyunjin didn’t deserve that kind of energy.

He was starting to feel like he was too much. Or maybe not enough. Either way, it itched.
He opened the fridge, taking a random bottle.
Just as he twisted the cap off, a voice cut through the silence.

“Do you always run off when I show up, or is it just a coincidence?”

Jisung froze. Of course. Hyunjin.

Jisung turned around slowly, jaw tight and found the other one leaning against the doorframe as if it was a damn photoshoot. Hair perfect. Smug smirk. Eyes sharp. Jisung was staring.

“Didn’t realize you were tracking my movements,” Jisung muttered, pouring the alcohol into his cup, tearing his eyes away from him.

Hyunjin chuckled, stepping into the kitchen like he owns it too. “It’s hard not to notice when someone looks like they’d rather set themselves on fire than be in the same room.”

No answer. Jisung ignores him. But it itches. In the worst way.

“You still hate me that much?” he asked, almost softly.

Jisung took a long sip, holding back a funny face from the taste of the alcohol on his tongue, burning his throat, staring into the cup like it has something to say. “Nope,” he finally said, “worse. I got used to you.”

Silence again. Jisung kept his eyes on the cup, but he could feel Hyunjin’s presence, too close, almost intrusive.

“Used to me huh?” Hyunjin repeated, stepping around him to reach the fridge.
Jisung didn’t move. Didn’t even look at him. Not even when Hyunjin brushes past his shoulder, just barely- but enough- too much.

He opened the fridge, leaned in, took his time. He was doing it on purpose. Of course he was.

“Guess I should be flattered,” he added.

“You shouldn’t.”

That made Hyunjin turn around and face Jisung. He closed the fridge, drink in hand, but he didn’t step back. Didn’t give space . And Jisung’s guts fucking twisted once again. “Why not?” 

Jisung finally looked at him, really looked at him, his sharp defensive eyes looking into his, and the worst part of all of it is: Hyunjin didn’t even flinch. He held the stare like it was some sort of challenge. It made his blood burn. 

“Because getting used to you doesn’t mean I stopped wanting to fucking punch you in the face,” Jisung said almost too calmly.

Hyunjin smiled. A slow, confident smirk. “You’ve got a funny way of hiding it.” He winked.

Jisung involuntarily furrowed his brows in a confused manner. “Hiding what?”

“The way you look at me, for example.”

That landed like a slap on his cheeks, burning and just as pink as if it actually left a mark. For a second, just one, Jisung forgot how to breathe. He opened his mouth. Closed it.

“You’re crazy,” he finally spoke up with a chuckle.

Hyunjin hummed, unfazed, sipping his cup, still watching him. “Sure.”

And just like that, he turned and walked out. Leaving Jisung in the kitchen, his pulse throbbing in his temples, jaw clenched, and absolutely no idea what the hell just happened.

He needed Felix.

But once he came back into the living room he found Hyunjin playing video games alone and the other two quite literally making out on the couch. 

“Lix?” Jisung tried, stepping closer to the couch, but looking away from them, clearly embarrassed.

“Pfft.”

What was that? He turned his head so fast his neck almost snapped. He wasn’t crazy -at least not yet- Hyunjin had just straight-up laughed at his discomfort, clear as day.

“What’s so funny fuckhead?” Jisung spat through gritted teeth.

Hyunjin didn’t answer right away, his eyes curving into smug little crescents as he stared at Jisung, his elegant hand covering his pretty mouth. Jisung was so.. helpless, frozen, watching his two best friends make out like they were alone in the damn room.

“Don’t stare too long,” Hyunjin said, refraining to laugh. “Your bulge’s gonna double in size.” And he bursted out laughing.

Jisung gasped and immediately looked down at himself. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”
And when the hell did that even happened?

It definitely wasn’t because of Chan and Felix- god, no. That made him uncomfortable as hell. Watching them eating each other’s mouths didn’t turn him on, it made him want to disappear into his room and never come out again.

But now? Now he was humiliated. Hyunjin had noticed. Of course he had.
Jisung wanted to die. Crawl out of his own skin.

And Hyunjin’s stupid laugh kept echoing through the apartment.

Chan pulled back from Felix, concern flashing across his face, making Felix whine in protest.

“Felix,” Jisung snapped, his palms clammy, cheeks burning. “Can we talk? Please?”

Felix sighed, clearly annoyed and distracted, he had much better things to do- but being there for Jisung always ended up mattering more since they both knew each other.

“This better be important,” he muttered.

“It is,” Jisung said, already grabbing his arm and yanking him off the couch, dragging him straight toward the bedroom without effort. Jisung may be rather small, but he was strong.

The room was dim, quiet, almost too quietn and for a second, Jisung regretted pulling Felix away. Not because he didn’t need him, but because now he had to speak. Put words on what was going inside his chaotic brain. He dropped onto the floor without a word, pressing his back to the side of the bed, legs drawn in, palms sweaty.

“I left a very good making out session for this. So? What’s going on?”

“I’m losing my mind,” Jisung muttered, his voice sounding too loud in the small room. “He’s- Hyunjin- God. He’s fucking unbearable.”

Felix didn’t say a word. He just waited, like he always did. No judgment. Just that sharp, calm comforting gaze that missed nothing.

Jisung exhaled hard. “He laughs at me. On purpose. Like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling. Like he knows better than me.”

“Sounds like him,” Felix pointed out lightly.

Jisung looked up, “It’s not funny Lix. I- he said something about my- fuck .” He scrubbed a hand over his face, skin burning. “He made a comment. About me getting hard.”

Felix blinked. “...Were you?”

Jisung’s entire face turned red. “I didn’t mean to! I-I wasn’t enjoying anything! Not watching you and Chan. That’s not what this was I swear.”

“Then what was it?”

Jisung hesitated. He didn’t even know how it happened, he didn’t even realize it happened in the first place, or else he would’ve tried to hide it.
As he tried to find a reason, a knot formed in his throat. It would’ve been easier if it was just confusion. But it wasn’t. His stomach turned every time Hyunjin looked at him like he knew exactly how to unravel him.

“I think I just…” He paused. Swallowed. “I want to punch him and then-”

He cut himself off.

Felix raised an eyebrow. “Then what?”

Jisung didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“Jisung,” Felix said, voice quieter now, “you’re not in love with him.”

Jisung’s head snapped up. “Duh, I know that.”

“You’re not even close .”

“I know that.” He repeated, a bit louder this time, assuring the other one he damn knew he wasn’t.

Felix kneeled down, adjusting to Jisung’s height.. “But you’re attracted to him. Physically. Viscerally. And it’s eating you alive because you hate feeling that way.”

“What? No ?” Jisung said letting out a breath that sounded more like a bitter laugh.

Felix’s gaze softened, but not with pity. With understanding. “You want him. And you hate that you want him. And he knows. That’s why he pushes. That’s why he laughs. And he knows just how to get to you, and it works.”

Jisung dropped his head against the bed again, eyes shut tight. “ Fuck . This would actually explain a lot…”

“But that doesn’t mean he wins. Unless you let him.”

Silence fell between them. The kind that felt full of unspoken things.

Then Jisung whispered, almost too quiet to hear, “There’s something wrong with me.”

Felix didn’t flinch. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I’m turned on by someone I can’t stand. A man.”

“And? Congrats on being a human.” Felix gave him that small softest smile of his.

Jisung huffed a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “So what the hell am I supposed to do?”

Felix leaned down and nudged his shoulder gently. “You survive it. And one day, you’ll meet someone who makes you feel just as much- but without all the poison.”

Jisung didn’t answer, but for the first time in what felt like hours, he stopped shaking. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. He shifted on the floor, pulling his knees closer to his chest like they could somehow hold him together. Felix hadn’t spoken for a minute now, which should have helped, but it didn’t. Because Jisung could feel the question building inside him. The one he didn’t want to ask. The one that tasted like fear, shame, and something far too close to truth.

“Felix,” he said, voice low. “What if this means something?”

Felix looked at him, calm as ever. “Define ‘this’.”

“You know what I mean.” Jisung met his eyes for only a second. “What if being… physically attracted to Hyunjin means I’m…”

He couldn’t finish. The words hit a wall in his throat. Felix sighed gently and leaned forward, giving his shoulders a gentle comforting squeeze, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. “You remember what I told you last week?”

Jisung blinked. “Last week when?”

“That night. In that exact same room. When we were gaming and we ended up talking about me and Chan.” Felix’s voice softened. “You asked me if I always knew.. Y’know, about my sexuality.”

And just like that, it all came rushing back. At the time, it had made Jisung smile. Genuinely. It had sounded so easy coming from him. So simple. Too simple. Because for Jisung, nothing ever was. And now, seated on the floor of this dim bedroom, heart pounding like a trapped animal, Jisung realized that he still didn’t get it. He still wanted it to make sense.

“I thought I understood,” he murmured. “That night, I thought I was okay with not having the answer yet. But now?” He glanced toward the door, where Hyunjin’s and Chan’s laugh had echoed a few seconds ago. “Now I feel like my body is telling me things I’m not ready to hear.”

Felix didn’t laugh, certainly didn’t joke. He just gave him that same quiet grounding look. “Jisung, attraction doesn’t owe you clarity. You don’t need to decode it. You don’t have to overthink it. And you sure as hell don’t need to let it define you.”

Jisung stared at the floor, fingers twisting the hem of his hoodie. “But if I want him- I mean.. Physically really want him… doesn’t that mean I-”

“No.” Felix cut him off gently, but firmly, squeezing his knees now, “It just means you want him. And maybe it’s messy. Maybe it’s purely physical. Maybe it’s nothing at all. That doesn’t rewrite who you are unless you want it to.”

“But what if Chan finds out?” Jisung’s voice cracked a little. “What if he tells him? What if he already has?”

Felix scoffed. “And what? That Jisung, who Chan knows better than anyone else, master of overthinking, has a human body with human reactions? That you get turned on by someone you hate? Congratulations, you’re a chaotic bisexual cliché.”

Jisung groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Don’t say that word.”

Felix laughed softly. “Which one? Human? Or bisexual?”

“Fuck off.”

“Gladly,” Felix said, nudging his shoulder, “once you stop torturing yourself. Please?”

Jisung stayed in silence for a moment. Then he continued quieter. “Do you think he knows?”

Felix was already standing up. “Hyunjin? Oh absolutely.” He offered Jisung a hand to pull him up. “But he’s a game-player. And you’re letting him win every time you shrink in front of him.”

Jisung hesitated before taking his hand. “What if I can’t help it?”

Felix smiled. “Then you figure it out. Bit by bit. But stop treating it like it’s a bomb about to go off. You’re not broken, really. You’re just confused. And confusion is allowed.”

For the past few days, Jisung had been busy packing up his things for the big move to the dorms with the help of Chan. Between gathering essentials, triple-checking his lists, he barely had time to think. His mind was a chaotic mess. The excitement was real, but so was the tight knot of nerves he couldn’t shake off.

Tonight again, the four of them were hanging out at Chan’s place, the new usual spot for their group. They lounged in the living room, chatting aimlessly, but there was an unspoken tension in the air. Everyone was waiting for the calls that would determine where -and with whom- they’d be living for this future trainee program journey.

Jisung still hadn’t quite figured out his whole Hyunjin problem. But thankfully, Hyunjin had been giving him a bit more space lately, letting him breathe easier, which made things a little less complicated. Still, sometimes Jisung couldn’t help but stare at him, caught by that same stubborn feeling of longing that just wouldn’t go away. He was starting to think he’d have to do something about it soon, or else he’d lose his mind.

Anyways .

Felix’s phone rang first. The room fell silent as they all turned to look at him. He answered quickly, his voice unusually calm, though his fingers fidgeted against the edge of his phone. After a brief conversation, he hung up and literally jumped, wrapping his arms around Chan’s neck.

“We’re in the dorms together holy shit!” His excitement lighting up the room and Chan wrapped his arms around his waist. “We’ll be sharing with someone named Yang Jeongin. Don’t know him yet, but he sounds cool!”

Chan couldn’t help a giggle, and Hyunjin and Jisung both congratulated them, the tension momentarily replaced by collective relief and excitement.

It wasn’t long before Hyunjin’s phone started buzzing. He froze, staring at the screen, then took a dramatic audible deep breath before picking up. Jisung’s knee bouncing nervously.

What if. What if.

“Hello?” He said his voice filled with excitement.

The rest of them waited in anticipation as he spoke in low, clipped tones, nodding occasionally. Slowly, a wide mischievous smile spread across his face, and his eyes lit up.

“No fucking way. No yeah no need to call him I’ll let him know, he’s literally right next to me.” He said, winking at Jisung and giving his arm a playful smack, almost yelling silently into the phone.

Holy fucking shit.

Jisung looked at him with wide eyes, whispering, “Are we roommates?”

As soon as the woman hung up, Hyunjin stood up, “Okay, okay, listen to this! Guess who I’m rooming with?” He teased, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Jisung’s heart sank a little as he repeated. “Wait… It’s me, isn’t it?”

“Bingo,” Hyunjin said with a grin. “Looks like we’re stuck together, Sungie.”

Jisung forced a smile but couldn’t hide the knot tightening in his chest. Sharing a dorm with Hyunjin wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped for. Quite literally the opposite actually. Especially with all the messy feelings he was trying to sort out.

“Wait, there’s more,” Hyunjin continued. “There’s a third guy with us but I kinda forget the name.. Oops?” 

Jisung rolled his eyes.

“I think it was Minho or something or whatever.”

“Minho?” echoed Jisung.

Hyunjin nodded, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Jisung hesitated, his mind drifting back to that flight a few weeks ago. He’d only spoken to that guy briefly, but the memory seemed to be stuck with him: sharp, captivating features that somehow made him unforgettable. Contrasting with his soft, kind, yapper personality.

Still, Jisung told himself there were probably hundreds of guys named Minho out there, and this was likely not the same one.

What if.

Chapter Text

During the following days, Minho visited his parents just like he planned to, he told them all about his current situation and how he probably will have to come back home for a little while, just enough time to get back on his feet, rebuild himself again, find a new purpose, live life for himself for once.

As for the shared apartment with his best friends, the last few days weren’t easy for him. He always hated endings. But he usually loved beginnings tho, but not this time. Not when it meant the end of something so important. Everything was so blurry, that moment between two lives where everything was too sudden to be comforting.
He lived in this apartment for years, long enough to call it his home, their home.
But he had to respect and support his best friends’ choice.
When he closed the door for the last time, a huge bag on his shoulder and a suitcase next to him -the rest of the boxes were already sent to his parents’ house- he couldn’t hold back a sigh.

“Looks kinda empty..” Said Changbin who was standing behind him, a nostalgic smile on his face, a hand gently squeezing Minho’s shoulder.

Seungmin looked up to the corridor selling, trying to hide how emotional he was getting, “Minho’s probably crying on the inside, aren’t you?” He teased, giving the older one a light tap on the shoulder before suppressing a sniffle. Oh no, the great Kim Seungmin wouldn’t cry, not this time, he secretly made that promise with himself.

“I’m not sad, it’s just-.. Well yeah okay maybe I am a little sad,” Minho said, avoiding their gazes, locking the door for the last time.
He would never say it out loud but he would have loved not to leave alone. Even if his best friends kept reassuring him, telling him nothing was ever gonna change between the three of them, Minho couldn’t help but feel rejected, abandoned.

Back to square one.

When he entered his parents’ house, his doubts left his mind for a second. Everything was just the same as when he left when he was 18.
The soft comforting scent of lavender-scented laundry and clean sheets, the smell of a nice meal his mother was preparing in the kitchen, and a faint odor that anyone else would hate, but that Minho loved: the cat litter that hadn't been changed at the entrance.

He let his bag fall to the floor and his suitcase at the entrance as his two cats greeted him at home, half meowing half hissing, as if they were whining about how long he’d been away and sensing that this time, he’d stay for good.

“I know, I know, Soonie, Doongie, it’s been a while yeah..? My SoonDoong… I missed you too,” he said, as the cats kept meowing and rubbing their head against him everywhere while he showered them with little scratches and pets before pulling out some cat treats from his pockets -just like that time when he was in London and came across that orange cat, always carrying cat snacks around, you never know, it can always come in handy!-

“Aegi, you’re home?” his mother called from the kitchen, hearing the chaos the cats were making. “How was the trip? Not too crowded with your stuff?”

“Nah, it’s fine. What’s cooking? It smells good,” he replied, joining her in the kitchen, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before helping her with the preparation.

“A nice hearty dish with some meat to get your strength back!”

Minho, who loved meat, couldn’t help but do his happy dance on the spot, helping his mother for what was left to do.

Minho felt like he was back in childhood, waiting for his dad to come home after work, munching on some ice cream with his mom on the couch watching some random TV shows she loved. It felt so comforting, so soft. So reassuring. Until…

“So Aegi, what's the plan now?” his mother asked.

“The plan? What plan?” Minho replied, blinking several times, slightly furrowing his eyebrows as he turned to face her instead of the TV.

She shifted on the couch to face him, “Well, we’re happy to have you home, but you know you can’t stay here forever right?” she said gently before adding, “It’s not that we’d mind, but for your own sake, you can’t stay here too long. You know that right? You need a plan, something to figure out what you wanna do with your life.”

Minho’s little comfort bubble just popped, he simply nodded, zoning out as he blankly watched the TV screen.

He absolutely had no idea what to do with his life now.

“You could apply for the program, right? The one I told you about on the phone the other day. I even sent you a picture of the poster,” she said.

Minho kept nodding, but shrugged.
“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for it. That kind of thing is for the tough ones, sounds kinda intense…”

“And what about you?” she replied. “I’m sure you can do it. You’ve always loved singing and dancing, that’s your passion. Anyone can see that. It’s what you love to do, and trust me, you won’t get opportunities like this every single day. You’ve got talent. Even if things don’t go as planned, and even if it gets tough, you’ll have new experiences. It might change your perspective, and maybe even help you figure out what you really want to do.”

That night, Minho couldn’t shake the thought out of his head while getting ready for bed. He kept rewatching the dance and singing videos he had saved on his phone, a few of which he’d posted on Instagram too. Some were covers, some were his own creations. He wondered if he was really good enough, if he was truly capable of something like that. Around 11 p.m he settled into his bed, surrounded by old posters of bands he didn’t really listen to anymore and anime characters he actually still watched. His bed was filled with stuffed animals he’d had since he was little, he still loved them. He made himself comfortable on the bed and grabbed his laptop, turned it on, and without overthinking it, opened a new email form and started typing.

He attached the files.
He read it over and over at least three times.
Deleted two lines.
Added another one.

And with a dramatic gasp he sent it off at exactly midnight.
Well, worst case could be, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

It’s done now. No turning back.

He attached a video of him dancing one of his own choreographies to ‘1 Night’, and another one where he was singing a cover of his go-to song ‘Thousand Years of Love’. He loved singing it at karaoke, whether alone or with friends, feeling like it showcased the emotion and tone of his voice. He also wrote a few lines describing his personality and his love for cats -he hesitated to include that part- and then, exhausted, fell asleep almost right away, diagonally on his bed, half-covered by his blanket, his earbuds still in.

That night in his dreams, he was performing in front of thousands of people.

A few days later he received a phone call. The phone call.

He was munching on some fruits on the couch with his mother that morning when his phone started ringing.

“Hello, Lee Minho, right?” The woman on the other end didn’t even let him respond, continuing quickly, “We’ve read your email, and we’re impressed with your talent. I wanted to let you know you’re in- wait, is that a cat meowing in the background?”

“Y-yeah, that’s my cat, Soonie... I mentioned cats in the email…” Minho stammered, his voice small as he tried to process everything.

“ Oh , right, the cats. Well, congratulations, you’re in! You’ll be roommates with...” There was a rustling sound as she shuffled through papers. “Hwang Hyunjin and Han Jisung. You can move in in a week, two weeks at most. Any questions?”

The name stuck in his head for a moment.
Han Jisung ?
A flashback hit him- the tired, sleepless face, messy hair hidden under a black beanie, that hoarse voice, those empty eyes.

What are the chances anyway?

“Uh yeah actually one question. Can I get an email with all the details, like the address, the contract, and stuff like that?”

“Of course this goes without saying. You’ll have everything by the end of the week.”

After he thanked her politely and the call ended, Minho stared at his mother, wide-eyed, his mouth half open. She raised an eyebrow, questioning him.

“Mom… I think I got in…”
“You got in?”
“The trainee program thingy-”
“What?”
“I got in.”

She set her fruit bowl down on the table and immediately pulled him into a hug, her face lighting up with the brightest smile. It was the kind of smile that honestly offered him a little light of comfort in the middle of this uncertainty he was feeling about the next huge step in his life.

A few days later, Minho’s phone rang again while he was in the middle of packing. Seeing an unknown number, he figured it was probably the woman from the program calling him back for details or to sort something out. But when he answered, he heard a warm, friendly male voice.

“Hey mate,” the guy on the other end chuckled, sounding a bit shy but sweet. “I’m Bang Chan, we’re gonna be roommates soon, well, not me- my best friend Jisung and my other mate Hyunjin will be with you. Me and my boy-..friend Felix will be with another guy we haven’t met yet. The lady from the program gave me your number so we could sort something out.” He spoke a lot, and Minho hadn’t had a chance to say anything yet.

“Pardon?” He could only ask, blinking in confusion.

“What I mean is, we were thinking of having a barbecue at our place to get to know each other before the official move in. You in?”

Minho didn’t answer right away. He hesitated.

On one hand, he was dying for something new, to meet new people, to see if the Jisung he’d met a few weeks ago was indeed the same person.
But on the other hand, the unknown terrified him.

It was like the said Chan could hear his hesitation over the phone, because he quickly added, “You can bring some friends to make it easier for you if you want. Felix, me, Hyunjin, Jisung, and even Jeongin, the guy we never met yet, are all in.”

The name caught Minho’s attention again. Jisung.

“...Okay. I’ll come. I’ll check with two friends to come with me, if that’s okay?”

“Perfect! It’ll be fun! I’ll text you the address, are you free this weekend?”

“Yeah I think so?”

“Awesome! See you Saturday then!”

“See you?”

Minho stared at the wall of his room, wide eyed, blinking a few times as he processed what had just happened. His life was about to change, and he was going to have to accept it. At least they seemed nice. A barbecue couldn’t hurt, right?

But he wanted to keep all that to himself for now, he didn’t want to talk about the fact that he signed up for the program to anyone. He was afraid that the experience might end up not working for him, that nothing would go as planned, that he wouldn’t succeed, that his dream would be far too out of reach, that he wouldn’t be up to it. However, if he wanted some company during that barbecue, he was going to have to mention a few words about it to his best friends, which didn’t suit him at all. He was going to have to think of a plausible excuse without telling the truth. That’s why he had made up a whole story: he had supposedly met Bang Chan by playing online together, then in their conversation, the name of his best friend 'Jisung' had come up several times, Jisung being the same name as the boy Minho had met in the plane when he came back from London, he felt intrigued, later Chan had invited him to dinner at his place with that Jisung and other friends as well to get to know each other, and Minho really wanted to go to see if it was the same person, and of course he needed his best friends to come along.

The two of them found the whole story a bit strange at first but had eventually agreed, Changbin had agreed as soon as he knew it was a barbecue anyway, but Seungmin, seeing Minho insist on the meaning of it, couldn’t help but joke about how he must be having yet another crush again, Minho had only repeated that no, not at all, he just wanted to make sure it wasn’t the same boy because he was simply curious, and that he just wanted to make new friends. He wasn’t going to get someone stuck in his head when he didn’t even know if it was the same person, or if it wasn’t.

Still, he was having a hard time thinking about anything else…
Before D-Day, Minho had caught himself some evenings looking up a certain Han Jisung on social media, trying all kinds of spellings, nicknames derived from that name but nothing , he couldn’t find any profile that could possibly match that same boy he had met on the plane. Probably someone who used a pseudonym again, or a profile picture that had nothing to do with his angelic yet so sad face that Minho could still make out the features of if he closed his eyes long enough- well. Anyway . All he had left to do was wait.

Wait for Saturday when he received a message from his new friend Chan, texting him the confirmation and the address.

Minho had dressed up nicely, light blue jeans, a white t-shirt with a bright light blue oversized hoodie on top, accessorized with a scarf around his waist and some jewelry, he wanted to make a good impression. His brown hair had been slightly waved and his cat-like eyes accentuated with a bit of eyeliner, same for his plump lips now covered in gloss. Changbin whistled when he saw him arrive in the parking, where his best friends were parked, ready to go.

“You even dressed up? Wow, you're really going just for the barbecue, that’s for sure. Definitely not for the famous Han Jisung,” laughed Changbin, who got a smack on the shoulder from Seungmin, his boyfriend, sitting next to him, who was holding back his laughter. Both of them were dressed and ready in the simplest way possible, not really interested in anything but the food.

“Shut up, I just want to make a good impression,” replied Minho, rolling his eyes.

Once they arrived at the house and rang the front doorbell, Minho could already hear music and laughter echoing from there. Not sure if the host could hear it over the noise, he rang anyway, then decided to send Chan a text letting him know they'd arrived.
A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal an incredibly charismatic man: long, straight hair brushing the back of his neck, muscles visible under a tank top. He looked strangely but pleasantly like a wolf. God, he was gorgeous. Minho almost dropped his jaw.

“Lee Minho, I presume? I’m Bang Chan, nice to meet you. And your friends are…?” he asked with a warm smile, a dimple forming in his cheek.

Minho blinked and gestured to his two best friends, each standing on either side of him. “On my left, Kim Seungmin. On my right, Seo Changbin.”

“No freaking way! You’re the guy from the gym?!” Chan exclaimed, suddenly excited, reaching out to shake Changbin’s hand, which was returned just as enthusiastically.

“No way! Small world! It’s been ages. This guy always used to work out on the machine next to mine, that’s crazy!” laughed Changbin, who stepped inside with Seungmin following him, both already joking.

Minho, still standing on the doorstep, hesitated to go in.

“Come on in. No one’s gonna eat you, promise,” said Chan with a wink.

So Minho followed them through the house and into the backyard- but froze right in front of the wide open glass door. Seungmin turned around, raising a brow at him, silently asking why he wasn’t joining them.

But he was there.

Cheeks puffed full of food, crumbs from chips stuck to the corners of his mouth, his big round eyes wide open and staring directly at him. So different from the ones he’d seen on the plane… and yet literally the same. He looked less tired now, less shadowed under the eyes. Still just as expressive, but in a completely different way.
He had stopped chewing. Those boba eyes of his stayed fixed on him, and for a second, Minho forgot how to breathe.

And now that he knew for sure it was him- adorable, irresistible, somehow even more so than during their first meeting- what was he supposed to do? What now?

“Uh… is something wrong with you two?” asked a blond guy with long hair, eyeing them both in turn.

Chan’s gaze bounced between their faces. “Wait a sec. Do you two… know each other?” He pointed at Minho, then Jisung, as if drawing an invisible line between them.

Suddenly the center of attention, Minho let out a nervous laugh, feeling his ears and neck burn scarlet. “W-we bumped into each other on a plane, I think. Talked a bit. I just… wasn’t expecting to see him… here.”

Jisung slowly nodded. Way too slowly. “…So that was you… Yeah.” His voice quieter than usual.

Seungmin and Changbin both turned to Minho at the exact same time, mentally connecting the dots, realizing instantly that this was the same guy Minho had been desperately trying to track down by coming to this dinner. And now they were watching him fall for him, live and unfiltered.

Another man who seemed like a model with silky healthy gorgeous hair raised an eyebrow, amused. “You didn’t even tell me about this, Sungie. Were you embarrassed?”

Jisung let out a dry, nervous laugh. “Shut up.” And he looked away, a bit too sharply.
Was it the fact that someone had brought him up like that next to Minho that made him react so coldly? Or was it that other guy who annoyed him? He wasn’t really sure.

He wasn’t really sure of anything anymore anyway.

Letting his body go on autopilot, he sat down on the empty seat between Seungmin and the blond one.

“By the way, I’m Felix,” the latter said with a big, kind smile that helped Minho relax a little. “Don’t mind the tall one over there- Hyunjin’s a bit of a troublemaker. Jisung’s shy, but looks like you two already met. Oh, and that’s the newbie over there! Say hi, Jeongin!”

The one called Jeongin gave a shy little wave and laughed, his eyes forming tiny crescent moons, absolutely adorable. Definitely the youngest of the group. If Minho remembered right, he’d be sharing a room with Felix and Chan. And- oh. Right. The rooms. He’d nearly forgotten.
He was supposed to share his with Jisung and Hyunjin.
He wanted to bring it up, but couldn’t, not with Seungmin and Changbin sitting so close, watching his every move.

Later that evening, as the beer bottles slowly emptied, Minho wasn’t very talkative. His gaze kept drifting to Jisung, who was sitting at the far end of the table. The soft glow of the fairy lights made his skin look even more beautiful, and the oversized tank top he was wearing revealed strong arms and shoulders, less tight than Chan’s, but just as distracting.
And… was that ink Minho saw peeking out from the armhole of his shirt, just beneath his armpit? Yep. That was definitely a tattoo.
Minho swallowed hard and took a bite of his meat. God, he was literally drooling and eyeing up someone who was still practically a stranger.

When he looked back up, he caught those same eyes looking straight at him again, head tilted slightly down, round eyes sparkling.
And, oh god, he was red . Bright red. Had he been caught staring? Was he like that because of the third beer he was sipping?

Minho felt a kick under the table. From Seungmin.
“What are you waiting for you coward? He’s been making those stupid doe eyes at you for like thirty minutes.”

“H-huh? He has…?”

He glanced back at Jisung just in time to see him getting up, walking over to the barbecue, probably going for seconds.

Another kick, harder this time. “Ow!” Minho cried, drawing the attention of a few people at the table.
Seungmin gave him the sharpest look, a classic ‘Go. Now.’ energy.
Minho swallowed again, stood up, and headed toward the grill, grumbling, “Alright alright, I get it. This is gonna left a bruise!”

He reached Jisung, who jumped slightly at the sound of footsteps behind him.
“Oh- it’s you. You scared me,” Jisung said, voice tight. Up close, his face was even redder.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” Minho shyly mumbled.

Jisung kept piling meat onto his plate, then went to hand Minho the tongs, but paused. “Where’s your plate?”

Minho just smiled sheepishly and pointed back at the table.
Jisung shook his head with a soft laugh. “Just put it on mine, I’ll hand yours over when we sit.”

Minho nodded in agreement.
Jisung added a few extra pieces before breaking the silence, the fire crackling softly between them.

“You’re quieter than you were on the plane,” Jisung noted.

“And you’re the opposite,” Minho replied with a shy smile.

Jisung chuckled and shrugged. “I’m tipsy.” He paused briefly, then put the tongs down and started heading back. “Come sit next to me so I can give you your food. Chan can take your seat.”

And just like that, slightly dazed, Minho found himself sitting next to Jisung, but also feeling the unmistakable burn of Hyunjin’s eyes on him the second he sat down.

Oh, Jisung was completely gone.
Not just tipsy.
He was fully, undeniably drunk.

Leaning his head back in laughter at jokes, accidentally bumping elbows with Minho when he laughed a bit too hard. He was feeling good. Or at least, he thought he was. Until he felt it.

That stare.
Hyunjin, seated to his left, wasn’t looking away.
That lazy, half-smirk tugging at his lips, almost mocking.

Suddenly, Jisung couldn’t sit still. He started shifting in his chair, fidgeting, heat crawling up his neck. The alcohol that had once felt warm and pleasant now made his skin too hot, his head fuzzy, his thoughts disjointed.

He had really believed Hyunjin had stopped playing this game.
That he’d backed off. That he’d given him some space.

So why that look?
Why that damned smile?
Why that shiver down his spine the moment Hyunjin’s footpurposely brushed against his ankle under the table?

Jisung flinched. That was too much.

“I… I need to go to the bathroom,” he blurted out, standing up abruptly, ears burning, and rushed inside. But instead of heading to the bathroom, he went straight to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water, barely breathing.

He needed to calm down.

But Hyunjin followed. Of course he did.

“What? Are we not allowed to have a little fun anymore?”

Jisung stared at him, heart pounding in his chest like it was trying to escape.

“Now is not the time, Hyunjin.”

“It’s never the time with you. I gave you space, didn’t I? You can thank Felix for that but you know I like messing with you. And deep down…” He stepped closer. Too close. “You like it too.”

And then he was there. Close. Too close.
And Jisung’s back hit the counter.

It all happened too fast. Way too fast.
The next thing he knew, their mouths crashed together.

Jisung didn’t even register who had initiated it.
It was rough. Hungry. Thoughtless.
No hesitation. No tenderness. No care.

Hyunjin tasted like provocation. Like addiction. Like a need that burned too hot and too bitter.
And Jisung didn’t stop him.

Because he was tired, tired of asking himself questions.
Tired of feeling things he didn’t understand.
Tired of hurting since the breakup.
Tired of needing touch, attention, affection.
All he wanted in that moment was to feel wanted. To be desired. To go quiet inside, for once.

So he held on.

To Hyunjin’s neck. To his tongue. To this foreign heat.

But there was nothing.
No affection.
No comfort.
No satisfaction.

Just… something vaguely pleasurable, empty in every other way.

So he closed his eyes.

What he didn’t know in the meantime was that Minho started to worry. Not seeing Jisung come back, he’d leaned over to Chan.

“Hey, where’s the bathroom?”

“Just past the kitchen, down the hall!” Chan replied, Felix seated on his lap.

Minho got up, a distracted look on his face, an empty glass in hand. As he passed by the kitchen, heading toward the hall, he heard the sound of.. wet mouths? a soft moan? he stopped. And then he saw them.
The countertop.
The bodies.
Jisung’s neck tilted back under Hyunjin’s hand.

Minho froze.

It hit like a punch to the gut. His legs went weak.
And before he could even look away,

Jisung saw him.
Stopped dead.
Breathless.
Their eyes met.

Jisung's pupils were wide, almost scared, locked onto him.

Just long enough for something inside Minho to break.

He stepped back.

“Sorry. I didn’t see anything.”

He left before anyone could speak, walking away fast.

Back in the kitchen, Jisung, still breathless, let his forehead fall against the fridge.

He couldn’t say a word.

And Hyunjin still had that stupid smile on his face. “I won.”

Chapter Text

Minho went back into the garden, trying to remove the images out of his head but they were stuck. He always had a knack for liking the wrong people anyway: they were either unavailable, not interested, or in the worst cases, both. It was his own fault for catching feelings so fast every damn time. Probably one of his Hachi side.

Seungmin and Changbin immediately noticed something was off.
“Did you go to the bathroom? You good?” Seungmin asked.

Minho’s pale face and smile that looked more like a grimace weren’t reassuring them, like, at all. Seeing the others glancing at him too, he just nodded. “Yeah yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry. I think I just drank a little too much for tonight,” he said, pulling out his phone and subtly signaling to his two best friends to check theirs.

Minho : got worried because jisung was long to come back
Minho : turns out i just saw him making out in the kitchen with that hyunjin guy

Changbin : Oh shit

Seungmin : At least yk he isn’t straight :/

Minho : i felt like throwing up
Minho : btw i actually have to tell u something
Minho : i didn’t meet bang chan online i actually got in a trainee idol program and we’re gonna share dorms together..?

Minho looked up to check his best friends’ reactions. Seungmin’s jaw dropped into a dramatic silent ‘WHAT?!’ before typing it out anyway.

Seungmin : WHAT????
Changbin : Congrats????? Idk?????

Minho : so felix, chan, jeongin are roommates

Changbin : Wait don’t tell us...

Seungmin : Oh this is getting worse
Seungmin : You’re gonna third-wheel between the big ego and your crush.. Damn

Minho : i wanna ksm
Minho : *kms

Changbin : I want ksm too <3

Minho : ew get a fucking room
Minho : anyways i’m done for today ig
Minho : can yall drop me at my parents house?

At Seungmin’s signal, Minho tucked his phone away, stood up and started gathering his things like his crossbody bag and the blue hoodie he left on the chair.

Right as he was about to leave, Jisung stormed out of the living room, clearly panicking, with Hyunjin trailing behind him. The proud smirk Hyunjin had worn in the kitchen a few minutes ago was now gone, replaced by a frown and a rather confused expression, and Jisung literally looked like he was about to lose it.

“Felix. Lix. Please can we talk? I need to talk. Please, like, now ,” he blurted out to him still sitting on Chan’s lap.

Chan and Felix both exchanged a look before turning back to Jisung with worry. He was sweating, hands shaking, visibly on edge.

“Hey, okay, calm down, yes babe of course we can talk, let’s go,” Felix replied gently, standing up and taking his hand.

“Can I come too, please? It seems serious..” Chan asked, concerned.

Jisung hesitated before nodding, and the three of them left the garden for the living room. Minho had witnessed the entire scene unfold in a blur, his mouth opening and closing, wanting to ask if Jisung was okay, but never finding the right moment to do so. Now it was too late, they were already gone inside.

But through the glass door, he could still see them. Jisung was pacing, gesturing wildly, while Chan sat with a hand over his mouth and Felix tried to calm him. And surprisingly, it was working. The two of them had undeniable chemistry. Minho couldn’t help but watch.

“He’s fine, don’t worry. He’s just like that sometimes.”

Minho flinched at the voice behind him. It was Hyunjin.

“Oh. Okay. That’s.. good.. I guess?” Minho answered quietly. “I should go. Sorry again for earlier. I didn’t mean to... interrupt or anything.”

Hyunjin just shrugged and walked back inside, staying back while Jisung wrapped up whatever he was saying to his friends. He had visibly calmed down, was speaking more softly. Felix was rubbing his shoulders, and Chan even pulled him into a hug for a few seconds. Minho was curious, what exactly had they been talking about? Had Hyunjin and Jisung fought because of him?

When Jisung was done, he was even smiling a little. As the three of them headed back toward the garden, he shared a few quiet words with Hyunjin in passing. Minho could swear he saw their faces soften too. So they were fine now?

He shook his head to snap out of it when Seungmin gently tapped his arm. They said their goodbyes and were ready to leave. Minho felt too uncomfortable to stay after that anyway.

But as he passed by Jisung on the way out, the latter gently grabbed his wrist- so softly, like he was scared of hurting him or something. Minho’s heart sped up. Ridiculous. He barely knew the guy. And he was taken. Get it together, Minho.

“You’re leaving already?” Jisung asked, those same doe eyes locked on his, cheeks still very much pink from the alcohol.

“Yeah.. It’s getting late and I have to get home, take care of my cats and stuff..”

“Can I give you my number?” Jisung interrupted clumsily, letting go of his wrist and pulling out his phone. “So we can stay in touch before we move in together?”

Minho stared at him a second, then glanced behind him. Hyunjin was sipping water inside, totally unbothered, almost relaxed.
“You’re sure it’s… okay for me to have your number?”

Jisung blinked at him, confused, pouty mouth slightly parted, eyebrows pulled in.
“Uh… yeah? Of course. Unless you don’t want it?”

Minho smiled awkwardly and nodded, handing over his phone so Jisung could type in his number.

To Jisung, it felt nice, they’d get to know each other before the whole moving in and living together thing.

To Minho, it felt like slow torture.
But he decided he’d take what he could get for now, under Seungmin’s disapproving gaze.

Next day

Jisung had a raging headache. Words and moments from last night kept playing on a loop. Over and over again. Wandering hands, mouths colliding with no satisfaction, Minho walking in, the abrupt stop, the realization, the regret, Hyunjin’s one comment too many. Jisung snapping: “Not everything is a game Hyunjin!”

He couldn’t help it, he often felt like shit. Mostly all the time. Sometimes things felt fine, like when he was celebrating something good, surrounded by friends. But when anything reminded him of how lost and alone he still was, just like last night with Hyunjin pushing all the wrong buttons, reminding him how much he craved being wanted, everything came crashing back.

It was only a few months after the breakup, he was still so broken. Desperate for something to calm the fire, silence the rage inside him. But nothing helped. If anything, it made it worse.

Or maybe… better, in some sort of twisted ways.

Hyunjin had stopped the moment he realized Jisung wasn’t just some game. That he was just a lost one looking for something he couldn’t name. They were on different wavelengths, and Jisung didn’t just need that. Even if he did want it in the first place. Hyunjin couldn’t give him what he needed.
So since last night, Hyunjin had calmed down, stopped being annoying on purpose, and was at least trying to be more bearably present. They were going to be roommates anyway, so might as well try to make it livable.

For Jisung, there was clarity too, Hyunjin wouldn’t give him anything he needed.
When he kissed him and felt nothing, not even a spark, everything stopped. No satisfaction. The fire still burned inside him, untouched. He finally understood that not even Hyunjin could put it out. So what was the point of playing risky games?

Felix’s words came back to him.
One day, you’ll meet someone who makes you feel just as much- but without all the poison.

Perhaps that’s what he actually needed.

Shit. What he needed for sure right now though was to pee. But his migraine was so bad he couldn’t even sit up.

knock knock.

He realized someone had been knocking for at least a good five minutes. That’s probably what woke him in the first place after thinking about it.
He groaned, letting them know he was awake, but still very much not functional.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Chan chuckled, stepping into the room, his dimple showing as he smiled at Jisung’s half-dead face. “Here, take this, it’ll help with the headache. I made pancakes too.” He handed him a glass of water and some pills.

“You’d’best,” Jisung mumbled, rubbing his eyes and taking both.

“Take your time. Felix is here too, and not doing much better.” Chan’s laugh trailed back to the living room while Jisung sat for a full ten minutes before doing anything. Finally, he picked up his phone. First thing he saw was some random Roblox notification. Then three texts: two unknown numbers, and.. Hyunjin.

Starting with what could be the worst. But hopefully wouldn’t be anymore.

Hyunjin : hey sorry for yesterday again, and well all the other times too, i didn’t quite totally understand what you were going through, now i get it. i know we already talked about it yesterday but i hope we’re good, tbh even if you don’t like me that much i still think you’re a cool interesting guy, the program is gonna be fun :) /gen

The “/gen” made Jisung laugh out loud. Idiot. But cute. He’d reply later.

Next, unknown number.

??? : hi jisung it’s jeongin :] texting so u can have my number !! can u also give me chan & felix’s numbers since we’re gonna share the dorms?

Yeay, new friend unlocked too! Jisung saved his number and replied.

Jisung : no proooob, ofc here u go!

He had barely sent the contacts when Jeongin’s typing bubble appeared, then a message:

Jeongin : may i ask for hyunjin’s number too? pls

Jisung : huh yeah sure? here!

Jeongin : thanks :]]

He shook his head and moved on, only to find a longer message from another unknown number.

??? : hey. i’ve been thinking about the whole thing and… are you sure this dorm thing is a good idea?? like, i’m wondering if i should ask for a solo room for the program.. like, to give you and hyunjin some space??? :/

Eyebrows furrowing, Jisung reread the message twice. It was clearly from Minho. Wait- Minho thought the dorm wasn’t a good idea? To give him and Hyunjin space? Why? Oh no.

He got up, still half asleep, and stumbled into the kitchen, nearly bumping into the doorframe. His voice was still pretty raspy from sleep.

“Guys, I think Minho thinks I’m dating Hyunjin?”

Chan burst out laughing, and Felix, head buried in his cereal, raised a brow, not even looking up, his voice even deeper than usual.

“Babe, he literally saw you two basically eating each other’s faces. If I walked in on that I’d 100% assume y’all were a thing. And that you’re, like, into dudes?”

“I mean yeah, you can’t really blame him,” Chan laughed.

Meanwhile, miles away, Minho had been up for a while. He’d sent the message after thinking back to his chat with Seungmin the night before, about how he couldn’t possibly survive being the third wheel in an apartment with Jisung and Hyunjin. And Seungmin was right

He couldn’t stop replaying the images from last night in his head, they were truly stuck in there. And he didn’t even want to imagine what he’d see -or hear- if they lived together. God no .

Jisung was taking his sweet time to reply, and it was stressing Minho out. It had been, like, ten minutes already since he opened the message. Was he ghosting him? Was he being friendly yesterday night just because he was drunk?

Finally, the typing bubble appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then reappeared.
Then vanished again.

Minho nearly dropped his phone when the message finally came through.

Jisung: wait what?? nooo?? :( it was nothing with hyunjin we’re not together like as a couple or anything like that, we just had another disagreement last night but we’re good now. also i was drunk. i’m straight btw. anyway don’t worry about it. i’m totally fine with us being roommates :}

Minho nearly choked reading that last bit.
Straight?

“Great. Perfect. Wonderful.”

He didn’t reply right away. He needed time to process.
Instead, he screenshotted the bit of conversation and sent it to Seungmin.

Minho : ‘straight’… lmao i’m gonna kms

Seungmin : Hold on a sec Min you’re not telling me you believe him right??????

Minho : ???

Seungmin : Minho?????????? Do you kiss girls?

Minho : ew no omg why

Seungmin : EXACTLY MY POINT???????????

Minho : oh

Seungmin : Tbh if it was just a peck i’d give him the benefit of the doubt but from what you described?? Literally devouring each other like they were the actual damn meal?? Pls don’t tell me you believe that “i’m straight” bs. Like, maybe he likes girls too idk but STRAIGHT??? Lmao my ass
Seungmin : “we had another disagreement” he SAYS?? LMAOOO WHO TALKS LIKE THAT
Seungmin : He’s in deep denial imo and that’s okay

Minho : ugh you’re giving me a headache we’ll see

Seungmin : I’M LITERALLY TRYING TO HELP YOU DUMBASS??????????

Minho : thanks ily

Seungmin : Yeah me too

Chapter Text

Minho arrived first, alone.

With his two suitcases dropped by the entrance of the dorms, he walked in the apartment without making any sound, as if he didn’t yet let himself the right to feel at home. The place wasn’t huge nor anything special, but it was correct: at least they had three private bedrooms, a kitchen and a living room all together, the only inconvenience was the bathroom, all in one, no separate toilet. Oh and also the walls seemed extremely thin, he could already hear other trainee groups settling into the neighboring dorms.

He chose one of the two rooms at the back of the apartment, without really thinking too much about it. It just felt comfy, a bit away from the rest of the apartment, quiet for now, wondering who between Jisung or Hyunjin will pick the room next to his. He had hesitated, wondering if the two other guys would want to sleep in rooms close to each other, but he had arrived first, so, first come, first served. And Minho didn’t like the idea of Jisung sleeping in the room next to Hyunjin’s anyways.

Minho didn’t have much to unpack: a few clothes, his books, a bento box he had carried around for years, very useful, his own very important pillow -he couldn’t sleep without it-, pictures of his cats and one photo with Seungmin and Changbin, and a notebook where he sometimes jotted down song, cooking, or choreography ideas. His whole little world fit in two suitcases.

And yet, the first thing he did wasn’t unpacking his clothes or decorating his room.
He dropped his bags and pulled out a pot and some knives.

He hadn’t really spoken to Jisung since the last time. Just a kind of “oh, okay” text he had sent back without knowing what else to say, and a few brief exchanges about what time they’d each be arriving today. No real conversation since whatsoever. No “how are you?” or “what are you doing tonight?”, no questions to get to know each other. Minho didn’t dare, and he was sad that Jisung hadn’t made the first move either.

But above all… he hadn’t gotten an explanation.
Not that he was owed one anyway- Jisung didn’t owe him anything.

But he still didn’t understand what he had seen that other night in the kitchen. And he preferred not to think about it anymore.

So he focused on what he knew best after dancing: cooking.

A miso soup, plain white rice, thin slices of well-marinated beef that he had started preparing the night before. Nothing too fancy, but that was his way of saying: I’m here, I hope you’re okay, I hope everything goes smoothly for the three of us.

A way to start off on the right foot.

He had just turned on the stove and started cooking the beef when the front door opened.

“We’re here!” called out a voice he would now recognize among thousands.

And to be honest, when he turned around and saw him, his heart skipped a beat.

Messy hair, a heart-shaped smile that even showed his gums -a smile Minho had never seen yet before- Jisung walked in first, arms full of disorganized boxes, followed by Hyunjin, who seemed a bit more put together, carrying a single suitcase, three overflowing tote bags with clothes, and a large bouquet of flowers.

“Hey,” Minho called from the kitchen into the living room, smiling. He had a good feeling nonetheless.

Jisung dropped his stuff all over the living room. He had brought a guitar, mangas, notebooks, what seemed like hundreds of tangled cables, and a plushie, an alien one. Chaos.

Minho chuckled a bit at the contrast with Hyunjin, who calmly set his bags down in one of the remaining bedrooms, then returned to place the flowers on the coffee table, like it was some sort of hotel. The apartment was starting to feel alive either way, and it warmed Minho’s heart a bit.

“Smells so good…” Jisung said as he stepped closer to the kitchen, peering over Minho’s shoulder at what he was cooking. “Woah! You made all this?!”

Minho laughed, slightly embarrassed. “It’s nothing… Just some miso soup and a bit of beef. I figured you’d be hungry when you arrived.”

“That’s really nice,” said Hyunjin from the living room, which actually surprised Minho a bit. He felt like he was seeing him in under a new light.

“Can I try?!” Jisung asked, a little bit too impatient.

Minho laughed, trying not to look at him. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes, just wait a little, okay?”

No response. So he gave in and turned his head- That face. Absolutely adorable and devastating, eyebrows slightly furrowed, chin tucked in, wide doe eyes staring at his cat-like ones. A pout that could get him out of anything.

Don’t look at me like that, please, please, please -   “Alright,” Minho sighed, looking away, his heart racing, ears probably bright red. “Just one spoonful and a bite of meat, okay?”

“Yay!”

Thank God Jisung grabbed a spoon himself and helped himself to a small portion of each dish as Minho finished cooking and payed attention to the food. Because if Minho had had to feed him by hand, he was sure his heart would have given out. Jisung didn’t seem to realize the devastating powerful effect he had, thankfully, but Minho could hardly contain the joy he felt just seeing him that happy and smiling.

He looked radiant, fulfilled.

Minho wanted so badly to learn more about him: his background, his personality, how he ended up here. Was this just a challenge for him, or the dream of a lifetime?

To be honest, Minho didn’t know much about him. And that was his biggest regret yet.

But he was determined to change that. If he had one goal during this program -if not obviously, try to make it out alive and do something with his life-, it was to look out for him and do everything he could to make this a good experience. That’s just how he was, he got attached too easily, cared too much. But that’s what made him happy.

Jisung almost bounced in place as he tasted the food, his heart instantly warmed. Minho’s dish felt like something home-cooked, delicious and comforting, something a parent might make for their kids, the kind of meal Jisung had never had the chance to try, but had always wanted to.
Minho’s thoughtful gesture had deeply moved him. It was like he instinctively knew what to do at the right time. His caring, attentive side was already obvious, and even if Jisung just thanked him casually, he already had a feeling they’d get along well.

It was already feeling a bit different than with Felix, though he wasn’t sure why yet.

Felix and Minho were both like cats somehow, but very different kind of cats.

Jisung was a bit confused by it, but he loved being taken care of, and Minho definitely seemed like the kind of person he could rely on. So he was determined to do the same. They were going to live together for months, after all. And Jisung caught himself looking forward to getting to know him.

What he liked a bit less, though, was the subtle gaze he felt on him and Minho.

Hyunjin.

But it wasn’t like the usual, he had completely stopped trying to flirt or tease him. Thank god.

Still, for some reason, he couldn’t seem to stop watching the two new roommates from the corner of his eye, a knowing little smirk stuck on his face.
Jisung glanced at him a few times, eyebrows raised as if to say “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”, but Hyunjin would just shake his head with a “Nothing, never mind” type of chuckle.

What had he done to deserve that kind of look again?

But whatever . At the end of the day Hyunjin was Hyunjin and he couldn’t do anything about it. He had decided not to let it bother him, he was finally starting to live his dream, putting together the project of a lifetime, and he wouldn’t let him get in the way.

Anyway, once the meal was ready, the three of them ate in a surprisingly comfortable silence.

Jisung looked relieved to finally sit down. To eat something hot.

After five minutes, Hyunjin pulled out his phone, clearly deep in conversation.

Minho watched them with a slight smile on his lips, his new life beginning.

He was just happy they were eating. That no one refused. That the awkwardness of still being strangers seemed mutual but not uncomfortable.

And god , he was never going to get used to how cute Jisung looked with his cheeks full of food and crumbs at the corners of his mouth. Sitting across from him really wasn’t his best move. He couldn’t stop staring.

Around 9 p.m Hyunjin left, telling them he was going to visit Jeongin, who was with Chan and Felix a few rooms away. Jisung insisted on going with him to say hi to his best friends too, and immediately invited Minho, but Minho politely declined, saying he wanted to settle in and unpack a few stuff before anything else.

Thankfully, Jisung hadn’t used the pout destructive power on him this time -otherwise Minho would’ve been forced to say yes- and had simply followed Hyunjin, assuring him they wouldn’t be back too late in order to rest.

And sure enough, around 9:30 p.m, Minho received a message from Jisung.

He was a little surprised at first, but not that much actually, the younger one already seemed to feel at ease with him. And when Minho read the message, a dumb smile spread across his face and his ears started to burn.

Jisung : minho-nim we’re leaving the other dorms, we’ll be there in a few minutes !! :}

Minho : minho-nim what am i ????? 40 years old ????? please just call me hyung, jisung TT

Jisung : yeah
Jisung : right haha
Jisung : thought ‘nim’ was a bit too much too ngl :’)
Jisung : see u minho hyung!

Minho looked like a total idiot, bouncing around the living room, kicking his feet and giggling like crazy, eyes locked on his phone screen.

Minho Hyung Minho Hyung Minho Hyung…

He wondered what it would feel like if Jisung said it out loud. He might actually cry. Oh he was clearly not okay… Clearly craving attention and love and whatever… Or was he just pathetically already developing the biggest crush on him- Anyway.

When the two other ones got back, they finished off the leftovers from earlier and then all headed to their rooms.

Minho wanted to spend more time with Jisung, to talk with him, but he didn’t dare intrude.
And honestly, he didn’t know what to say anyway.

So he just retreated to his new room too.
He read a bit. But nothing stuck. He was already reading that same sentence for the third time.
His heart was beating too fast, and for no real reason.

Jisung, on his other side of the dorm, was tossing and turning.
A horrible headache.
Thousands of doubts and dark thoughts invading him without his usual anchors, alone in the dark, without the comforting smell of his apartment, without his Chanie Hyung, without his Felix.

After a few hours, Minho gave up.
He quietly left his room, carefully avoiding the creaky floorboards so he wouldn’t wake his new roommates. In the kitchen, he boiled some water, silently. He only turned on a soft nightlight in the living room, just bright enough to read, not enough to wake anyone with light creeping under their doors.

Curled up on himself in a blanket on the couch, he opened the manga he was currently reading.
Bleach. He had read this part at least five times already.
His brain wasn’t absorbing anything anymore, he hadn’t even heard one of the doors open.

“You’re not sleeping either?” came a hoarse, exhausted voice behind him.

Jisung, wearing oversized pajamas, his hair even messier, looking a little lost. And god that fucking deep sleepy voice, oh . Minho had to answer, quick.

Jisung rubbed his eyes with a yawn.

“Not really,” Minho answered simply, trying to focus and not to let his brain wander too far as he looked at him.

Seriously, it should be illegal to look that good.

Jisung walked toward the bathroom, probably to pee, then stopped in front of the couch after double-checking.

“Wait.. Are you reading in the dark?”

“Mostly pretending,” Minho replied, a breath that sounded a bit like a soft laugh escaping his lips. The light really was obviously too dim to read properly.

Jisung laughed. A real laugh this time. The kind of laugh that made his eyes sparkle like stars and his smile into a big heart. A soft burst in the quiet of the night.

“You’re weird,” he suddenly said.

“I’m not weird?” Minho replied, feigning offense.

“But I like weird-” Jisung said a bit too bluntly, then cleared his throat. “I’m kidding. Anyway, I gotta pee or I’m gonna piss myself, so-”

Minho looked up, a little surprised.

Was that… flirting?

No. That was just Jisung.

He had that way of saying things that hovered between serious and joking, Minho had figured that out already.

So Minho laughed too, a bit nervously.

While he was gone, Minho switched his manga for the anime version, much more suited to his tired brain and the low light. At least this way, he didn’t have to think, just read subtitles for the two or three Japanese words he didn’t know, and the screen’s brightness was perfect for the dark.

When Jisung came out of the bathroom, Minho glanced away from the screen and dared to ask, softly “What about you? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I don’t really wanna talk about it, if that’s okay.”

Ah. Too soon.
Minho understood and nodded, not asking further and respecting his boundaries.

“Want some tea?” he offered instead.

“I prefer coffee,” Jisung smiled.

“Sungie… it’s three in the morning,” Minho laughed- before even realizing. Sungie .

He could’ve sworn Jisung’s cheeks turned pink, a smile blooming across his face, making his cheeks pop. He didn’t say anything tho, thank god he didn’t mention it, or else it would have been awkward, right..?. Instead, he went to the kitchen, made himself a quick coffee, and sat down on the same couch, same one as Minho, but at the opposite end.

A safe distance between them.

Just right.

“What are you watching?” Jisung asked, pointing to the tablet on the coffee table.

“Bleach.” Minho was sure Jisung only asked out of politeness, because what weeb wouldn’t recognize Bleach when Ichigo was front and center, surrounded by Hollows?

“That’s cool, I love Bleach. Can I?”

“Of course,” Minho replied instantly, nodding a bit too eagerly, tilting the screen toward the middle of the table for both to see.

The episode played on, but Minho couldn’t focus on it at all, but not from tiredness this time. He was pretty much wide awake now. Especially when Jisung sat cross-legged and accidentally touched his leg, making him jolt. Jisung muttered an apology and shifted slightly to avoid it happening again.

There was a strange tension, but it was calm, comforting.

Minho pulled his legs up and tried to ignore his pounding heart.

Good thing he had already watched Bleach a hundred times and didn’t really need to focus- he couldn’t.

The living room was peaceful. A bit too dark, but that was perfect.

In their own little bubble, their own little world, the voices of the anime playing softly.

They weren’t looking at each other. But they were sharing the moment.

Jisung was smiling. He didn’t really know why, or how. But for the first time in weeks… he felt less alone.

Minho, meanwhile, wondered what country he had saved in his past life to end up in a situation like this, with the same guy he had randomly met on a plane, the one who had shaken him deeply afterward.
It was everything about him that made Minho fall.

From his point of view, the other man was seriously perfect. He touched him, emotionally speaking. And he attracted him, physically speaking, more than anyone ever did.

And suddenly, Minho started wondering what meal he could be cooking for him tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Jisung was woken up by the horrifying sound of the coffee machine from the kitchen. He cracked his eyes open with difficulty, trying to adjust to the daylight-…Wait. Daylight? But he could have sworn he’d closed the blinds last night. Why was there daylight? And why was the coffee machine so fucking loud ?

He rubbed his temples, only to realize his back was sore- Hold on. Why was he sitting ?

When his vision finally cleared, he noticed he was in the exact same spot as the night before in his last memories, curled up on the couch. Except now, there was a blanket draped over him. That part, he didn’t remember at all. He looked around, confused. No sign of Minho. But he definitely didn’t remember covering himself up.
…Could Minho have done that for him?

“Minho Hyung..?” Jisung called softly, his voice still hoarse and deep from sleep.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty,” Hyunjin chuckled as he set down two mugs of coffee, placing one on the coffee table for Jisung. “Minho’s not here. I think he went out to the convenience store. We have class in two hours.”

“Sleeping Beauty?” Jisung repeated, looking disgusted. “I’m not a princess. And besides, Aurora’s not even cool- I’d rather be, like… Merida. Or Mulan. Or whatever.”

“Slept well?” Hyunjin asked, smirking in that way that meant far too many things Jisung still couldn’t decode.

“Uh… yeah..? You?” Jisung replied, raising an eyebrow.

He didn’t really listen to the answer. Instead, he pulled out his phone, opened Instagram, and started scrolling through reels without paying attention to a single video. His mind was elsewhere.
So, he’d fallen asleep on the couch. And Minho… probably tucked him in?
Why did that tiny little detail made him smile like an idiot and feel weirdly warm inside?

Wait… Had Minho also slept on the couch?

He opened his messages and started typing.

Jisung : minho hyung, thanks for covering me up last night lol.. you didn’t have to! i could fall asleep anywhere i swear haha sorry..

Less than a minute later, the older one replied, several messages in a row.

Minho : it’s fine don’t worry haha i don’t mind ^^
Minho : you passed out halfway through the second episode, i didn’t want to wake you up when i went to bed so i gave you one of my blankets :)

So Minho didn’t sleep on the couch. Jisung felt ridiculous, grinning at his phone. He literally felt like the luckiest man ever, less than 24 hours of being roommates, and his new friend was already sooo considerate. He’d have to return the favor someday.

Just as he was about to head to the shower to get ready before the program started, another message popped up.

Minho : btw, i’m at the convenience store, want anything before class?

Jisung : do they have cheesecakes?

A moment later, Minho sent a picture of the cheesecake shelf.
So many flavors for a too little tummy.. Strawberry, mint choco, choco chip, double chocolate, cookie, cherry vanilla bean, blueberry, salted caramel, even pumpkin pie cheesecake.
But Jisung’s eyes immediately locked onto his favorite- Basque cheesecake.

Jisung : bottom right corner !!!!! basque cheesecake please !!!!!!!!!!
Jisung :  can you also buy me a pack of cigarettes? seven stars please? biggest one they have lol
Jisung : just finished mine yesterday before moving in and i feel like i’m gonna die if i don’t get one, especially with the stress of the program starting and everything :’)

Minho: i got you sungie, i’ll  be there in 10!

Jisung : thank you hyung :]

Jisung was still smiling stupidly at his screen without realizing he’d already walked into the bathroom and stripped without even bringing a change of clothes. His mind was too busy thinking about the cheesecake he was going to eat, the cigarette he’d finally get to smoke again, and, more than anything, Minho being so stupidly kind to him.

When he turned on the water and started to wash his hair, Jisung didn’t even notice how fast his heart was beating.

Meanwhile, Minho had just wrapped up his little morning routine, a quick stop at a café to get a matcha, a short walk, then his trip to the convenience store to stock up for the busy days ahead and stuff for Jisung.

He unlocked the dorm door and stepped inside, bags of groceries in hand. Hyunjin was lounging on the couch. Minho gave him a polite nod, his “Hi,” almost sounded like a meow, as he walked past toward the fridge.

Just as he passed in front of the bathroom door, it opened.

Jisung, not paying any attention to his surroundings, walked right into him. The impact made one of the grocery bags drop to the floor. Minho was about to pick it up when he felt… drops ? On his shirt?

“Oh my god- sorry, hyung!” Jisung quickly bent down to pick up the bag, holding it out for Minho.

But Minho didn’t take it. He was frozen, mouth slightly open, as if Medusa herself had turned him to stone.

Jisung stood there, still damp from the shower, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
His chest was bare -to the detriment of his sanity- big muscles sharply defined, collarbones casting subtle shadows under the light. His shoulders were super broad, his traps actually were actually freaking huge and oh so perfectly shaped, arms sculpted with smooth lines that freaking flexed as he moved. It should be illegal to look this freaking good, fuck , thought Minho again and again as he kept staring. Water ran down Jisung’s neck -suddenly looking very edible somehow- down to a compass tattoo over his right pec. Holy shit. Next to it, the word ‘ blessed’ in black gothic lettering. Beneath that, a delicate italic script, too small for Minho to read in that moment.

Lord have mercy, please. Minho’s eyes betrayed him, trailing downward. Jisung’s torso tapered into a narrow waist, a V-line cutting deep above his hips. And then there it was- the massive tattoo covering the entire left side of his ribs, the one Minho had only glimpsed under a tank top at the barbecue the other night. Resplendent- something, Minho couldn’t read it, the tattoo actually continuing down below his hips, damn.

His pulse spiked instantly. His face heated so fast he was sure his cheeks, ears and neck were literally crimson . If he didn’t look away right now, he’d risk an embarrassing reaction from his body he’d rather die than have in front of the younger one. Seriously, he could literally have a boner just from the sight.

“Hyung…? Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I’m sorry I forgot to take my clothes with me and wow- Your face is really red-”

“I’m okay- I’m fine, really,” Minho cut in quickly, his tone a little too sharp as he snatched the bag from Jisung’s hands, careful not to let his fingers brush against his damp skin.

He quite literally panicked and ran away to the kitchen, stuffing groceries into the fridge at record speed before retreating to his room, leaving the pack of cigarettes on the counter.

Hyunjin, who had seen the entire thing, couldn’t help but laugh. “I know, right? He’s so sexy…” he whispered with a mischievous grin.

Minho shot him a look, a mix between ‘ why would you say that’, ‘mind your own business’ and ‘ stop staring at him’ .

He locked his door behind him and leaned against it, forcing himself to take deep breaths. The image of Jisung, wet skin, sculpted muscles, that impossible waist, was burned into his mind in crystal clarity. For a second he wondered how he tasted like- Stop. Stop. Stop.

The more he tried not to think about it, the worse it got. He tried to take out his phone and put on the same current anime he was watching yesterday with him, Bleach, hoping to distract himself, but now in addition to his exposed body, all he could think about too now was Jisung’s adorable sleeping face from the night before, the way he’d been curled under Minho’s blanket.

How could someone be so sexy but so cute at the same time. Unfair, so unfair.

Groaning, Minho tapped his forehead lightly in frustration, ignoring the butterflies going crazy in his tummy and how actually insane the younger one was making him feel. He told you he’s straight. He’s not interested. Stop it Minho.

A few minutes later, there were two soft knocks on Minho’s door.
His throat went dry instantly- there were only two people that could be, and none of them were actual good situation.

“Minho hyungie..?”

Crap.
Hearing the younger one call him that out loud for the first time made his chest tighten painfully. He had thought about how it might sound in real life before, when he called him that over texts, but actually hearing it? Just like he said- he could cry. No, like, he really, literally could start sobbing right here if he didn’t get a grip. Oh god he needed help.

He stepped toward the door with hesitant, careful movements, forcing his expression into his best fake smile before taking a deep breath and opening it.

“Yes, Sungie?” he asked, doing his best to meet the younger one’s eyes.

Jisung was fully dressed now, thank god. But the images in Minho’s head -the towel, the tattoos, the water on his skin- were still very much there, haunting him like unwanted polaroids.

“You’re not mad at me, right?” Jisung asked, pulling his usual devastating pout, the one with slightly furrowed brows and those shining boba-like eyes locked on him. And just like the other times, Minho’s heart gave a painful lurch. Don’t look at me like that. Please.

“No, why would I be mad?” Minho replied, still smiling in that practiced way, even though his eyes probably gave away the distress he was in.

Apparently, Jisung didn’t notice, he just sighed in relief. “Good. I was worried I hurt you or something, you were acting weird earlier, so I got a little concerned.”

Minho let out a nervous laugh, the memory flashing through his mind again.

“Anyway, thanks for the cheesecake and the cigarettes! I saved you a small piece of cheesecake, and… well, I’m guessing you don’t smoke, but I thought I’d offer anyway?”

He held the open pack toward Minho, a cigarette halfway out, his own now dangling loosely between his lips.

“Ah, hm… No thanks, Sungie. I don’t smoke,” Minho said, smiling for real this time, genuinely touched by the offer. “And you could’ve just finished the cheesecake, it’s fine, it was for you.”

“Yeah, but… how can I repay you? The cheesecake’s fine if you wanna gift me that, but I’d feel bad taking your money for cigarettes.” Jisung replied, his words slightly distorted by the cigarette between his lips- and Minho couldn’t stop staring .

He opened the door wider and gestured for him to come in. He waved a hand in front of his face as if to shoo away the concern. His room was pretty clean, the bed neatly made, everything in its place. On the nightstand, a framed photo of his cats sat proudly on display, partially hiding another frame, a fishing trip photo with Changbin and Seungmin.

Jisung stepped inside cautiously, and Minho closed the door behind him.

“Keep your money, you’ll need it. Here, sit here,” Minho said, pulling his desk chair closer to the window and cracking it open.

Jisung raised an eyebrow. “You know I can smoke in my room, right? I don’t wanna leave the smell in yours-”

“I just wanted to talk a bit before the program starts. I don’t mind,” Minho cut in, in his usual high pitched soft voice when he spoke to the younger one.

Jisung lit his cigarette with a Vivienne Westwood lighter, now that Minho looked closer, it was actually a lighter necklace . Something about it nagged at him; he’d seen it somewhere before. Then his eyes caught the little padlock pendant next to it, and he thought back of the brand of cigarettes, and suddenly, the pieces clicked together in his head.

“You like Nana?” Minho asked, sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching him.

“You know Nana?!” Jisung snapped his head around so fast his cigarette almost flew from his mouth, fingers scrambling to catch it.

“Not really. Never watched it, but I know some of the characters. My best friend, Seungmin, the one I talked to you about on the plane, he’s a fan. He calls me Hachi sometimes- Apparently I look like the main girl- She’s the main girl, right?” Minho laughed.

“You’ve never watched it?! You’re talking to a specialist,” Jisung grinned, pointing to himself in mock pride. The ridiculous smirk made Minho giggle. “Now that I think about it, yeah… you kinda do remind me of Hachi.”

“You think so too? Minnie says I’m just as naïve as her sometimes, just as impulsive and very talkative, and that I tend to fall head over heels for every guy I get close to, and-”

Minho stopped mid-sentence, cheeks heating as he realized exactly what he just admitted. He caught the slight lift of Jisung’s brows and a blink of surprise, but the younger didn’t comment, just silently took another drag of his cigarette.

Minho’s fingers fidgeted with the sleeves of his sweater nervously, watching the way the cigarette burnt between Jisung’s lips. He found himself wondering, if a cigarette could keep the taste of its smoker’s mouth.. Even just slightly.. Then smoking with Jisung, from his cigarettes, probably wouldn’t be that bad..? 

“People tell me I’m kinda like Nana,” Jisung said, breaking the silence, exhaling the smoke. “I come off cold at first, but underneath I’m just as vulnerable. Not as charismatic as her though,” he laughed. “God, I wish I could be Ren, she’s hot.”

And I wish I could be Hachi if you’re Nana, Minho thought immediately. Seungmin’s voice echoed in his head, a big fan of Nana and animes in general himself, insisting that in Nana, Ren might have been her love interest, but the real unspoken love was always between the two Nanas, Nana and Hachi. He would send Minho hundreds of reels and posts about the two and type-screaming ‘LESBIANS!!!’ or stuff like ‘MOTHERS!!!!!!!’ all the time, sending him Hachi content a few times too, typing ‘this you’.

Jisung’s thoughts were running too. Now that he thought about it, Minho really did have a strong Hachi-like vibe, talkative, sociable, kind, sweet- pretty. He’d even noticed it during their first meeting on the plane. Which by the way- Meeting on public transport, then ending up living together in the 808 dorm weeks later… Their situation actually looked like it was straight out of Nana, with some twists.
He almost brought it up, but stopped. If Minho hadn’t seen the anime, he probably wouldn’t get the reference.
His mind replayed Minho’s words on a loop instead, so he was interested in guys? Or had he just been speaking as Hachi? Who was into men- Wait.. was Hachi even really into men? Half of his online friends swore she’d been in love with Nana the whole time whenever they spoke about the manga. Then, uninvited, an image surfaced, his ex, and her best friend who had stolen her away. Their love which leaded to his heartbreak. The fresh wound in his chest ached again.

He cleared his throat and sniffed, his cigarette now extinguished in his hand.
His nose suddenly feeling pretty itchy as tears threatened to fill his eyes.

“We should probably get going soon. I’m gonna hit the bathroom before we leave,” he said abruptly, standing and heading for the door without another word, without even looking at Minho.

“Oh, okay,” Minho murmured, caught off guard, watching the younger leaving, confused.

At the doorway, Jisung turned back, meeting Minho’s eyes for a brief moment. For the second time, Minho saw it again, a hollow sadness, a flash of hurt. Everything had been fine moments ago, so why did he suddenly look so broken just like back then in the plane?

“What did you wanna talk about, anyway?” Jisung asked, voice flat, lifeless.

“...Nothing, Sungie. It can wait. Are you sure you’re okay tho?”

Minho’s catlike eyes searched his, lashes fluttering slightly, still confused by the sudden change. Jisung gave him a thumbs up with a smile so obviously fake that Minho’s brows furrowed. Then the younger slipped out, leaving Minho alone with his questions.

Had he said something wrong? Talked too much? Or not enough? Did Jisung find him boring?
He’d wanted to talk more today, to learn more about him, but instead, he was left with even more questions than he’d started with.

Maybe tonight, after the program, they could go back to watching another episode of Bleach together.
He could only hope to talk to him then.

Jisung surely didn’t want to be like this on the first day of the program. And yet here he was, crying quietly on the bathroom floor, phone in hand, open to his photo gallery. He made up his mind: he was finally going to delete all the pictures with his ex girlfriend.

He’d been stuck in the bathroom for nearly ten minutes now, trying to cry silently, but the sniffles were getting a bit louder. Jisung has always been someone very emotional and easily moved to tears anyways.

A gentle knock came at the door.

“Jisungie, I need to pee before we go. You okay?” Hyunjin’s voice was soft, concerned.

Jisung sniffed, took a deep breath, then answered, “Yeah, one sec, I’m coming out.”

“ Coming out? Woah Jisungie finally congrats!” gently teased Hyunjin.

“Shut up,” scoffed Jisung, rolling his eyes even though the other one couldn’t see him.

He stood up from the floor and walked over to the sink just after he pressed ‘deleting’, and splashed cold water on his face to soothe his swollen eyes and calm down a little bit. He blew his nose with some toilet paper and breathed deeply again before stepping out.

“Sorry, go ahead,” he said, holding the door open for Hyunjin, moving aside.

But Hyunjin reached out and gently grabbed his arm. “Hey, are you really okay tho?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” Jisung replied, forcing a smile before sitting down on the couch to wait for their other roommate.

After a few minutes, Jisung felt Minho’s quiet but steady gaze on him as he walked out of his room. He looked up and caught Minho glancing at him shyly from the corner of his eyes, worry written all over his face.

To reassure him, Jisung gave a small, genuine smile this time, letting him know it wasn’t his fault. Minho returned the smile, a little awkward and shy, quickly looking away and pulling out his phone, just as his own phone vibrated in his pocket.

A message popped up:

Minho : sungie, i hope i’m not the reason behind that sad pout of yours :(

Jisung : no nooo ofc no you’re not! why would you even be??

Minho : idk.. everything seemed fine earlier when we were talking and suddenly you seemed upset.. :(

Jisung : minho hyungie you did nothing wrong don’t worry :]

Jisung looked up from his screen and met Minho’s eyes again. A shy sheepish smile was fixed on his face. Jisung couldn’t help but mirror it, feeling an unexpected warmth. He hardly believed it, but at a time like this, Minho had actually managed to make him smile, to make him feel a little better, a little less alone, barely doing anything. He wanted to talk to him about his story, about what happened, about how broken he was. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to, but he was planning on doing it tonight, after the whole program thing.

“If we’re both not tired tonight, would you mind watching Nana with me instead of Bleach?” he asked quietly, just as Hyunjin stepped out of the bathroom and the three roommates got ready to leave to meet the other trainees.

Minho stood up and shrugged. “Why not? I’ve always been curious about that anime anyway, might as well watch it with the expert,” he said in his soft high-pitched voice especially for Jisung, smirking.

“Cool,” Jisung smiled, standing too as the three of them headed out the apartment door.

The building smelled new. Minho walked through the corridor, closely followed by Jisung, while Hyunjin had gone off on his own, they weren’t quite sure where. They had large nametags hanging around their upper bodies, when a cameraman signaled them to slow down. Minho obeyed, trying to look natural, then felt Jisung move a little closer to him, his arm brushing against his.

It was easier said than done when you knew a camera was pointed at you. Minho wasn’t very comfortable, and when he turned to glance at the younger one, it seemed to be just the same for him, his beanie pulled down over his head, eyes on the floor, hands shoved in his pockets.

In the hall, about thirty trainees were waiting, some already in small groups, others on their phones. Minho searched for familiar faces but Jisung saw them first: Felix and Chan with Jeongin, then Hyunjin, who had apparently joined them before they arrived.

Introductions with the organizers were quick, the day’s schedule briefly explained, and they were already heading toward the first activity: vocal lessons.

The studio was modern, all light wood and glass, with soundproof panels on the walls. Jisung felt at home there, much more than before despite the cameras, it kinda reminded him of Chan’s office-studio, which was kinda like his safe place.

Minho, on the other hand, felt like he had walked into a museum where everything was too perfect to even dare to touch. For him, dance rooms were the real thing, he had never set foot in a recording studio before.

The coaches asked each of them to sing a little so they could hear their voices.

Minho got a slightly tricky part, a bit too long and fast for his taste. Jisung, standing just behind, watched.

“Take your breath earlier,” he whispered as Minho returned to sit.

Minho turned his head. “How?”

Rather than explaining, Jisung gently placed his hand on Minho’s chest. So delicate it was as if the slightest touch could break him, so attentive. Minho felt his heart leap in his chest and hoped Jisung hadn’t felt it.

“There. Feel it? Breathe here, not just with your throat, and do it a second or two before.” The contact was brief, but enough for Jisung to feel the warmth and the drum of Minho’s heart rise into his palm. He let out a small, nervous laugh before joking, his cheeks slightly pink. “Feels like a weird youtube tutorial.”

“Easier said than done,” Minho replied, looking away, ears and face burning red.

A camera slowly zoomed in on them, capturing what seemed like an ordinary moment. But both knew it had a special taste.

A few hours later, they were sitting side by side in the cafeteria, each with a tray. Their first day meal provided by the program was still steaming in their plates.

Hyunjin arrived and dropped down across from them as if he were at home. Soon followed by Jeongin, Chan, and Felix.

“So, working hard?” he teased with that smile that meant, ‘ I know something you don’t.’

He started teasing Jisung about the faces he was making during vocal warm ups. Minho just ate quietly, but his gaze frequently flicked between the two, analyzing every single one of their movement. He wanted so badly to talk about what he’d seen, what had happened that night, what was really going on between them?

Once they finished their meals, the group headed to the large dance studio: light wood floor, mirrors covering one wall, bright white lights.

Jisung didn’t like the place much, it felt too impersonal, too big. Minho, on the contrary, seemed to breathe so much better. His body swayed automatically to a background melody in the back of his head, moving with such ease that it drew the fascination of everyone, including Jisung, who seemed unable to take his eyes off him.

When the instructor asked them to pair up, Jisung sighed. Minho stood behind him.

“If you want, we can do it together? Unless you’d rather be with Hyunjin or-”

“No, not at all! We can pair up, Minho hyung! Anyway, Hyunjin seems to have already chosen Jeongin, and Felix and Chan are obviously together so-”

“So I’m your filler?” Minho teased, pretending to be offended.

“N-no, not at all. I wanted to be with you anyway-”

“I’m joking, Sungie.” His hands adjusted Jisung’s shoulders position during the first steps following the dance teacher, then moved to his hips to correct the angle. “You’re too tense,” he murmured.

“Well yeah, you’re close, normal that I tense up,” Jisung replied. Minho held back a giggle but didn’t step back, watching Jisung in the mirror as his cheeks flushed pink. In the reflection, Jisung met Minho’s intense gaze, which made him even more nervous than the hands on his body. He swallowed slightly, focusing on the steps, wondering internally why it affected him so much.

They returned late, drained, exhausted, but satisfied with themselves.

Back at the dorms, Hyunjin went with the other group, leaving Minho and Jisung alone, a bit awkward as they entered the apartment.

“You killed it today,” Jisung started once the door was closed. “Dance… is really your thing.”

“I’m passionate,” Minho shrugged, cheeks slightly pink from the compliment. “And… your rap was amazing by the way. Thanks for helping me during vocal lessons…”

“Pfft, stop. You did all the work, I just gave you some advice. I should thank you tho, you really helped me with the dance steps.”

A pause. Not too long, but long enough for their eyes to meet more than necessary.

“So you wanna… watch Nana ? Or are you too tired to do anything…?” Minho asked.

“I don’t mind an episode or two, but I want to chill doing nothing for a bit first,” Jisung replied.

“Oh, no problem. I won’t bother you; I’ll go to my room and-”

“You’re not bothering me,” Jisung cut in. “I didn’t say I wanted to be alone. I liked this morning when we sat in your room while I smoked a cigarette and we talked.” He smiled faintly, taking out his pack of cigarettes.

“You wanna do it again?” Minho asked incredulously, not thinking the younger one had enjoyed that moment so much, even worrying he might have been annoying.

“Yes, but in my room this time, if that’s okay? It’s kinda messier, but the window’s bigger, I have two chairs, and at least I won’t leave cigarette smell in your room,” Jisung explained.

Minho nodded, thinking, ‘ But I like it when you leave your scent in my room’, but said nothing, simply following him to his room where he invited him in.

A few minutes later, they were seated -Jisung had left his comfortable desk chair for Minho and chose the wooden stool- and the younger took out his pack of cigarettes.

“Still not smoking?” he asked, offering the open pack to Minho with a sly teasing smile.

“Nope,” Minho giggled. “Not yet.”

Jisung raised an eyebrow, smiling but didn’t comment.

They stayed silent for a good minute, which felt like an eternity for both of them.

Then, at the same time…

“Oh, by the way-”
“I wanted to ask-”

They both laughed before passing the question back and forth with “No, you go!” “No, you!” until finally, Jisung got the last word, forcing Minho to finish his sentence.

Minho swallowed before asking, treading unknown territory, unsure if he’d say something wrong or bring up the wrong topic. He started gently, “I wanted to ask… about you and Hyunjin… Are things okay between you two..?”

“Minho hyungie,” Jisung replied incredulously. “That’s what I was going to talk about too.” His big round boba eyes fixed on Minho’s cat-like ones, making his heart skip several beats, as always.

Jisung paused a moment before continuing, uncertain. “You’ve said you wanted to talk with me several times, so I guess you want to get to know me a little better, right…?”

“Of course, of course I would. I appreciate you a lot, Sungie. I want to know the real you,” Minho said without thinking, hoping Jisung wouldn’t be bothered by his honesty.

“Okay, good, me too,” Jisung replied, reassured, closing his eyes briefly before taking a breath. “So I guess I can start by telling you what happened with Hyunjin.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” encouraged Minho, finally going to get the answer to the question that had been consuming his brain for days.

“Well, it all started when I came back to Seoul a few weeks or months ago. Chanie hyungie introduced me to Lixie first- absolute angel, by the way,” he added, making Minho giggle, and continued, “then they both introduced me to Hyunjin, and it kinda all went wrong.”

Minho listened intently as Jisung spoke about him for the first time.

“Honestly… as soon as he walked in and I saw him for the first time, I knew it was gonna be complicated between us. It wasn’t just that I hated him… it was worse. And he kept provoking me. All the time. He taunted me, drove me crazy… even his jokes were cruel sometimes.” Jisung spoke calmly, choosing his words carefully, while his body language said the opposite, his knee kept bouncing, hands slightly trembling as he took long drags from his cigarette between sentences. Minho felt the tension but noticed Jisung used the past tense, so it must be better now.

“And the worst part is, I ended up giving in. Once.”

Minho straightened in the chair, more attentive than ever, if that was possible. “The night of the barbecue?”

Jisung nodded. “I didn’t feel anything tho. Nothing. Just emptiness… And yet I wanted it at the moment… I can’t even explain why I did. I’m straight and yet my body- well, anyway.” He shook his head while Minho’s eyes stayed fully opened, focused entirely on him. He had even unconsciously moved the chair closer to be nearer, so attentive.

“Since that day, we both calmed down. He stopped teasing me. He understood I didn’t need that, that I had enough problems to handle, and he apologized. I apologized too, for all of the tension and, despite myself, it was also my fault… But even today I still can’t understand why I gave in. I’m not like that, hyung. I’m not supposed to be like that…”

Minho stayed silent for a few seconds, staring into Jisung’s eyes, trying to read between the lines. The younger ended up looked away, smoking and watching the sun set outside the window.

“When you say ‘I’m not supposed to be like that’… what do you mean, Sungie? That you don’t accept giving in because you were craving attention, touch, affection, human warmth…? Or because it happened to be with a guy?”

Silence. Jisung continued to smoke quietly, opening and closing his mouth a few times, unsure what to say. Minho bit his lip slightly before speaking more softly.

“I know you’ve got this ‘straight’ label tattooed on your forehead, but… we’re not fixed boxes, Jisung. We’re human beings, and sometimes… we just want to feel desired, loved, touched. And there’s nothing shameful about that.” He hesitated but continued, “You can blame yourself all you want for that night, but it won’t change the fact that you needed something. That you wanted something. And that’s human.”

Jisung turned his head towards him, his eyes strangely softened, his face more relaxed, his pupils searching for his, almost glimmering with emotion, while Minho kept going, trying his best not to let his voice crack under the sudden attention the younger was giving him.
“Love, attraction… these aren’t a logical equation. You can’t decide in advance who you’ll fall for, or who you’ll want to give in to. It’s not a weakness, Sungie. It’s just… you. And you should never hate yourself for being you.”

“Being me..?” Jisung echoed. “I don’t even know who I am anymore tho..? I don’t really know, actually… Since…” he took a sharp breath, emotions surging.

It was stronger than him- Seeing his knee bouncing like crazy, Minho placed a hand on it, exerting a small, comforting pressure. “Too soon, Sungie. Take your time, mh? You can tell me tomorrow, or in a week, or months from now, I can wait.”

Jisung instantly relaxed under his touch, his knee stopped bouncing right away. He smiled, silently thanking Minho. He himself felt it was still too early, not necessarily because of Minho, but because of himself. It was still too raw, the wound still too deep and fresh.

A comfortable silence settled between them after Minho’s soothing words. Jisung kept smoking slowly, his knee still bouncing, but only a little bit, since Minho removed his hand.
Minho, meanwhile, was staring absentmindedly at the cigarette between his lips. That strange idea of his crossed his mind again, it had been haunting him since the morning.

He gathered his courage.
“Would you… would you let me try?” he asked softly, eyes fixed on the cigarette- or rather, more precisely, on the lips wrapped around it. 

Jisung nearly choked as he exhaled the smoke. “The cigarette? Seriously??”

“Mm.” Minho shrugged, trying to make it sound unimportant. “Just once. Just to try.” he replied simply, though in his mind he thought ‘Just to taste’.

Jisung pressed his lips together, hesitating. “I don’t wanna be a bad influence on you, hyungie… You know smoking is stupid, it ruins your lungs and all that.”

Hyungie. Stupid butterflies in Minho’s stomach. A smile tugged at his lips.
“I didn’t ask for a civic class, Sungie. Just one drag. Please?”

With a resigned sigh, Jisung handed him the still glowing cigarette. “Okay… but it’s on you if you start coughing like an old man.”

Minho took it carefully, his fingers brushing Jisung’s in the process. It was brief, but on the patch of skin revealed by Jisung’s rolled up sleeve, Minho noticed the younger shiver at the contact. Oh. That was far from leaving Minho indifferent, as he felt the same shiver himself. He inhaled and brought the cigarette to his lips.

The contact was immediate. He froze, surprised by the subtle, fruity, almost sweet taste. Nothing like the bitter ash he had expected. His heartbeat quickened. It was ridiculous, but he knew it wasn’t the cigarette he was tasting. It was him. Jisung’s lips.

“Careful, hyung… you breathe in gently, don’t drag too hard or you’ll choke. Let the smoke pass through your lungs, then release. Oh, and try exhaling through your nose… If you can’t, that means you probably kept the smoke in your mouth…” Jisung instructed nervously, watching him with worried, apprehensive eyes.

Despite the advice, Minho took a clumsy drag. Either way, he was too disturbed by the taste he had felt just before to really care about smoking properly. His mind was elsewhere. The smoke burned his throat instantly and he burst into a dry cough.

“Told you!” Jisung laughed, a little more relaxed now, patting his back gently. “You can’t inhale like you’re trying to swallow the whole world hyungie!”

Minho raised a hand, trying to catch his breath, also trying to ignore Jisung’s hand on his back- even when patting, it was softer than anyone else’s touch. Then, he discreetly licked his lips. The warmth going straight to his chest and doubled.

“…Are you wearing something cherry flavoured?” he finally asked, as if needing confirmation.

Jisung froze for a second, his cheeks tinting pink. “Ah… yeah. Well… my lips are a lil cracked these days, so… I use lip balm. Sorry…”

“Sorry for what?” Minho replied with a small smile, his ears bright red. “Mine’s strawberry.”

Another silence wrapped around them, heavier this time.

Jisung brought the cigarette back to his lips one last time, though it was already almost already burnt out. He inhaled softly, as if to prolong the moment, then released the smoke in a long, tired sigh. His brain knew he didn’t need it, that he could have easily skipped this almost nonexistent drag, but curiosity won. Maybe he actually just wanted to check and taste that strange mix of tobacco, cherry… and strawberry.

Minho, on the other hand, didn’t even blink. Scared to miss a second of this. His gaze stayed locked on the movement of those rosy lips, slightly shiny from the balm, the soft curve of his mouth as he exhaled. It was ridiculous, completely irrational, but he felt like every motion, every wisp of smoke, every glow at the end of the cigarette was pulling him closer and closer to him.

Jisung stubbed the butt into the ashtray on the windowsill, then let his hand drop onto his knee. He leaned back, eyes a little lost, as if absorbed in thought.

Minho swallowed hard. His heart was beating too fast, far too fast. He found himself wondering, almost ashamed: ‘ What would it feel like if I tasted that strawberry, cherry-tobacco taste directly from his lips?’ He shook his head ever so slightly, as if to banish the thought, but his eyes refused to leave him.

Jisung turned his head toward him at that very moment, and their gazes met. For a second, nothing else existed. Not even the city noises outside the window, nor the ticking clock, not even the sound of the front door opening- Hyunjin, probably. Who cared? It was just the two of them, trapped in that silence, their breaths almost synchronized.

Jisung, a little embarrassed at being stared at, gave a shy smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, voice soft but tinged with nervousness.

Minho blinked, pulled himself together, and turned his gaze down to his intertwined hands. “Huh nothing…” he simply said, his voice lower than he would have liked it to be.

But inside, he knew that “nothing” actually meant everything.

Jisung didn’t say anything tho. He simply stood up and held out a hand to Minho, “Wanna watch Nana?”

Minho lifted his head, blinking several times, his eyes flicking between Jisung’s face and his hand, completely thrown off. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he said, taking his hand to get up, cursing his clammy palms. But once again, Jisung didn’t comment.

They both went to the living room, where Hyunjin had just arrived, a plastic bag in his hand. “Brought you leftovers. Chan hyung gave me some meat and Felix… well, some brownies.” He set everything down on the coffee table with a satisfied little grin.

“Hyunjin, I gotta admit, you’re saving us,” Jisung said as he immediately sat down on the couch, his eyes already drawn to the box with dessert inside.

“Thanks,” added Minho, polite but more reserved, as he took his seat beside the younger one.

Hyunjin didn’t sit. He leaned against the kitchen counter instead, arms crossed, watching them. That eternal little smirk on his lips.

Jisung deliberately ignored him, too busy pulling out the tablet and launching the first episode of Nana anyway . He was so eager to make Minho discover his favorite anime.

They ate quickly in silence, the screen’s light illuminating their faces. Jisung was almost whispering the lines along with the characters, unable to hide how familiar he was with the anime. Minho, on the other hand, was discovering it. His eyes stayed glued to the screen, absorbed- but his brain was running elsewhere.

Two girls meeting by chance, on a train. Splitting apart, only to find each other again later. Ending up under the same roof, room 707.
Minho’s stomach twisted.
A plane. A dorm. Room 808. No way…

And then this energy. That chemistry pouring out of the screen. It wasn’t just friendship- he felt it immediately. As if their glances, silences, and weighty smiles told more than words ever could.
He briefly thought of Seungmin, his best friend, and in that moment, he understood why he loved it so much, why he kept sending him those reels about the two girls nonstop. And he could also understand why his heart beat a little faster every time Jisung shifted next to him, close enough for his arm to brush his.

Jisung, on his side, had already had that thought once before. But this time, rewatching Nana with Minho right there, it felt different. Like he was seeing it from another perspective. Yes, maybe those two girls felt something more than friendship, and no, the idea didn’t hurt this time. On the contrary, it soothed him, gently, like balm over a still open wound. At that moment of the anime, they were still happy, good for them.

When they completely finished the leftovers, Jisung pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them. His eyelids grew heavy, and he let himself be lulled by the familiar voices of the show. His body relaxed unconsciously, and his head slowly fell… onto Minho’s shoulder.

Minho froze at the sudden weight. His eyes went wide, his heart pounding so fast he feared it would actually be audible. Now what? Do I breathe? Do I move? Do I cover him with a blanket like last time? Do I wake him up? Do I tell him to go to bed?
His brain was in full panic mode, unable to process this closeness. The woody scent of Jisung’s shampoo, the warmth of his cheek pressed to his shoulder, it was all too much. Way too much.

Then a sharp clatter rang out from the kitchen behind them. Hyunjin, clumsy as ever, had just dropped a spoon while trying to toss it into the sink. “Oops,” he muttered with a nervous laugh, though his gaze immediately shifted back to the couch. The smirk was back.

The noise startled Jisung awake, and he sat up suddenly, still a bit dazed. He brought a hand to his mouth when he realized a bit of drool had started to escape. “Oh shit- sorry hyungie! I didn’t mean-”

Minho shook his head, despite his red ears, his voice was gentle. “It’s fine. I don’t mind it, really.”

Jisung stared at him for a few seconds, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. His cheeks warmed, but he quickly looked away. “I think… I should go to bed. I’m exhausted,” he said as the ending of the first episode played on the screen.

Hyunjin, still leaning on the counter, raised an amused eyebrow watching the whole thing but kept quiet.

“I’ll head to bed too… yeah. I think I really need to sleep,” Minho added, standing with an awkward smile. “Good night, Sungie.”

“Good night, Minho hyung… sweet dreams.”
Oh, that I will, Minho thought.

And so, each of them went off to their rooms. Jisung was completely drained, but sleep took its time to come: once he was alone, the negative thoughts always found their way back.
Meanwhile, Minho laid wide awake too, tattoos, muscles, the phantom weight of his head still on his shoulder and of his hand on his chest during the vocal session, his heart pounding, the scent of his shampoo, cherry flavour still on his lips, Nana replaying in his mind.

Chapter Text

5 a.m.

The city outside his window was silent. A few birds sang here and there as the moon slowly disappeared through the clouds.

Jisung sat by the window, another cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling into the end of the night. His eyes stung, his whole body felt heavy, but sleep refused him.

He had tried lying down earlier, tried letting himself fall into the arms of Morpheus, but the silence pressed too hard on his chest. Too different from his Chanie Hyungie’s place, too quiet without the hum of his best friend’s computer late into the night, and too lonely without Felix sprawling across half his bed.

Here, the walls only echoed his thoughts back at him.
And fuck, there were too many.

Lina’s voice, cracking when she said she loved someone else. Minho’s eyes catching his after sharing that cigarette, carrying something Jisung didn’t want to think about. The program. His feelings. His fear. His everything. It was unbearable in the dark, when he was all alone.

He tried writing some lyrics, but every line came out messy, ugly. The page ended up crumpled in the corner, joining his dirty clothes on the floor. Even music betrayed him tonight.

So he smoked. And hummed -just barely a sound- something similar to Nana’s ending theme, the one that played last night when he accidentally fell asleep against Minho’s shoulder.

For a second, he thought about texting Minho. But what could he even say? He didn’t have words for what was eating him alive, and what could Minho do anyway? He didn’t have a magical way to fix the hole in Jisung’s chest. And yet… Jisung knew Minho had this way of arranging the world around him, of finding a path through, of comforting, of caring like no one else did. It was unfair, the hope that flickered in his chest.

By the time the sky shifted from pink and gold into a clear blue, his eyes burned but still refused to close. He stubbed out another cigarette, ran a shaky hand through his tangled hair, and finally dragged himself toward the door. They had class today, another session that would be aired live for the program, just like yesterday. He should at least look presentable. Maybe coffee would trick his brain into believing he had slept.

He opened the door.
And at the same time, the one on his right did too.

Minho stepped out, hair sticking in every direction, hoodie pulled halfway on like he’d given up. His eyes were slightly red, probably from the lack of sleep, but his mouth twitched into a soft smile at the sight of Jisung, a messy mirror image of himself.

They stared at each other for a heartbeat before breaking into quiet giggles.

“Coffee?” Minho asked, voice soft and high-pitched, but rough with exhaustion.

Jisung only nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

They sat at the table with mugs in hand. Minho made tea for himself, but still took the time to prepare Jisung’s coffee, just like every morning now, a small detail that shouldn’t matter, but made warmth flood Jisung’s chest anyway.

For a while, the only sound was the hum of the fridge.
And Hyunjin’s snoring.

Minho leaned on one hand, eyes heavy lidded, blinking slowly. His cat like gaze rested openly on Jisung, unhidden, steady. Jisung looked up by mistake and caught him, then snapped his gaze back down instantly, staring at his mug like it might save him. Oh. The way Minho looked at him was… different. Special. And it made him feel.. something. The same kind of shiver he felt when their fingers brushed last night while sharing the cigarette.

He wanted to say something, anything. But his throat closed.

“Sungie,” Minho murmured gently, “do you have trouble sleeping?”

That tone. Jisung had noticed it before too. A soft high pitched tone that Minho reserved only for him. He’d never heard him talk like that to anyone else. Well… maybe to a stray cat. Once. On their way back from practice. He even had a cat treat ready in his pocket. Cute. Anyways.

Jisung shrugged, sipping his coffee, avoiding eye contact.

“You’ll get used to it,” Minho said, voice still warm. “Sleeping alone in a new place. It’s hard at first, but… it gets easier.”

The words sank heavy in his chest, like a stone into water. Jisung nodded faintly, swallowing hard. It felt like Minho knew without even asking. Like he could read him like an open book. How could that be so scary and yet so comforting at the same time?

Then, his phone buzzed against the table. He swiped without thinking, and the screen filled with notifications: articles, trending tags, Felix’s name flashing at the top with a link and way too many exclamation marks.

He clicked.

Felix : look babe !!!!!!!! u’re famous holy shit 10 articles after the first live episode of the show !!!!! this is twice more than me & chanie !! also u seem to be close to minho hyung, i’m glad u two get along so well, how’s the dorm life ?? miss our yapping sessions

Videos. Clips from their first training classes. The dance lesson. Minho behind him, guiding his hips, hands firm and steady. The vocal class. His own hand pressed on Minho’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, but also remembering the frantic beating underneath that only he could feel. From a third person perspective, it looked… intimate. Way too intimate. And people seemed to love it.

His stomach flipped. Heat climbed his neck, flooding his cheeks, his ears. He shut the tab quickly, leg bouncing beneath the table, chewing the inside of his cheek. For once in a long time, he was feeling good, and of course something had to ruin it. Now he was too self-conscious, too aware of how intimate and domestic they already seemed.

“Everything okay, Sungie?” Minho tilted his head.

“Yeah. Just… dumb stuff.” The lie cracked in his voice.

Minho didn’t push. Just sipped his tea, quiet, respectful as always. Jisung loved that from him- and hated how much he needed it.

Then Minho’s phone buzzed too. He glanced down, and immediately choked, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, ears turning bright crimson.

Seungmin : congrats guess what! 'minsung' is literally all over the internet. did you finally get him?

Jisung’s eyes widened. “What?”

“N-nothing.” Minho stuttered, smile shy, red ears and neck betraying him. His thumbs darted quick across the screen, hiding it.

Jisung did push tho. Suspicion tugged at him. He drained his coffee in one sip and stood up almost right away, stepping closer to peek, but only ended up catching a faint scent of his strawberry perfume. Minho shifted the phone out of reach anyway, giggling nervously.

“Seriously. It’s nothing, Sungie. Just Seungmin joking about.. something.”

“Something,” Jisung muttered. A nervous laugh escaped. “Didn’t know you and Seungmin were that private.” The words slipped sharper than he intended. Minho’s smile faltered, eyes narrowing slightly in question.

Jisung panicked inside. Why did it bother him so much, the idea of Minho keeping something from him? Seungmin was his best friend. Minho and Jisung barely knew each other. Of course Minho would have things with Seungmin that weren’t Jisung’s to know. So why did it sting?

He turned away quickly. “It’s fine. Not like I care anyways.” Congrats, asshole, he thought bitterly. You just made it worse. If only the internet hadn’t made him see things differently. They were fine before. Now all he could think about were their photos and ship name plastered literally everywhere.

He carried his mug to the sink, washed it in silence, and went into his room. He told himself to think about what to wear for the program. But his brain only screamed at him to go back, to apologize for the harshness in his tone. Minho’s pouty face, the hint of hurt and confusion in his gaze stuck in his mind.

In the end, he opened his phone again and texted Felix.

Jisung : lixie can i come over bfore class? need to talk

Felix replied almost instantly:

Felix : ofc babe <3 come over, but fyi the others are here too

Jisung threw on some clothes quickly, ran his fingers through his hair and left his room. As he slipped on his shoes, Minho’s voice stopped him.

“Sungie.”

He looked up. Minho was sitting on the couch, his cat like eyes shadowed with worry. His hand reached out, catching Jisung’s wrist with care.

“Actually… Seungmin just saw the first episode and was teasing me about it. That’s all. Sorry for not telling you earlier.”

Jisung froze, wide doe eyes locked on Minho’s. His chest twisted- because Minho wasn’t supposed to be the one apologizing, probably. Jisung had been the asshole, but here Minho was, explaining himself anyway.

“No, Minho Hyungie, you don’t have to-” Jisung’s words fumbled, his stomach flipping once again. “You don’t have to give me a reason. Sorry if I sounded rude earlier, I didn’t mean it. He’s your best friend, you don’t have to tell me everything. That was dumb of me.”

“It’s okay then?” Minho’s voice was small, his sharp eyes searching his.

“We’re okay.” Jisung nodded, smiling weakly as he carefully pulled his wrist back only after making sure Minho seemed reassured, before leaving the apartment.

A few minutes later, Felix opened the door to his dorm with a wide grin, pulling Jisung straight into a hug.

“Morning sleepyhead. What’s up?” His brows furrowed with concern as he pulled back just slightly to look at him.

Jisung shrugged, glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot. Then he sighed. “Didn’t get any sleep. Overthinking. Weird reactions. Brain malfunctioning. Too self-conscious. Need to talk.”

“Damn, that’s a lot,” Felix said softly. “Come on, my room.”

Jisung followed him, only to burst into faint chuckles when the door opened to reveal Chan still in bed, hoodie on, bare legs poking out.

Felix squeaked, flustered, shoving him up. “Nope! Gossip session. No other men allowed. Byeee!”

Chan groaned, shuffled out, and shut the door behind him, laughing. “You stole my best friend, Lixie!”

Finally, Felix sat on the bed, patting the space beside him. Jisung sank down with a sigh, rubbing his eyes.

“So,” Felix said, voice soft, “tell me. Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Jisung hugged a pillow. “Kinda the same as when I crashed in Chanie Hyungie’s room… but worse. More to overthink about, I guess.”

“Okay. So. Loneliness, the breakup…” Felix ticked off calmly, “Hyunjin still a problem?”

“No. Not Hyunjin.” Jisung answered too quickly. “Hyunjin and I are okay now. I guess.”

Felix’s eyebrow shot up. “Not Hyunjin? Then what?”

Jisung hesitated. “I don’t even know, I swear.”

Felix leaned in, patient. “Okay. Bit by bit then. Start where it hurts the most.”

Jisung groaned into the pillow, muffling his words. “It just… it won’t stop. My head keeps spinning in circles. Every time I close my eyes it’s like-” He snapped his fingers, quick, sharp. “Boom. Lina. Loneliness. Confusion. The program. Min-” He bit the last syllable off and hid his face deeper in the pillow.

Felix didn’t miss it. Of course he didn’t. His grin was small but way too knowing. “Min…?”

“Don’t,” Jisung muttered, voice muffled.

Felix tilted his head, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make Jisung peek out from under the pillow. “Not Hyunjin. Already mentioned Lina. So that leaves… Minho.”

Jisung groaned again, dramatic, falling onto his back. “I said don’t.”

“That’s not a denial,” Felix said, his tone still very gentle. “Come on, Sungie. Tell me what’s eating you alive. Is it… the internet thing..?”

Jisung winced. Even thinking about the clips made his stomach flip in weird ways again. He covered his face with his arm. “It’s so stupid.”

Felix leaned closer, voice dropping. “Hey. Nothing you feel is stupid. Not to me. Try me.”

Silence stretched. Jisung shifted, restless, until finally he blurted out, “It’s just- Minho Hyungie. He’s… he’s really nice to me. Like, too nice sometimes. He cares. And I like when he does. He makes me coffee every morning, he listens, he… talks to me like I’m not crazy. Yesterday we even…” His voice trailed.

Felix tilted his head. “Even what?”

Jisung sighed, he probably sounded pathetic. “Shared a cigarette. In my room. Even tho he doesn’t smoke, he wanted to try. So we shared. He was wearing a strawberry lip balm or something. And then later we… watched anime together. It kinda became our thing. He let me lean on his shoulder when I fell asleep. It was-” He cut himself off again, ears starting to burn just thinking about how people would view those moments and comment online. “Whatever. The point is, it felt normal in the moment. But then I saw those clips yesterday and…”

“And?” Felix pressed softly.

“And it looked weird, okay?” Jisung sat up, running a hand through his hair. “From the outside, it looked like… something else. People keep saying it. The way he was holding me during dance practice, the way my hand was on his chest during vocal lessons- it didn’t feel like that in the moment, but on camera? Everyone online thinks it’s something. They’re pairing our names together. And now I don’t know how to act around him. Pretty sure he saw the articles too this morning and almost choked on his tea.”

Felix stayed quiet for a second, studying him. Then he smiled gently. “So… you’re saying you liked the moments when it was just you two. But seeing them through everyone else’s eyes makes you uncomfortable?”

Jisung hesitated. “…Yeah. Kinda. Like- why would people even think that? I mean, I’m straight. He’s just… very nice to me. Caring. And I like that. But it’s nothing.”

Felix hummed, unconvinced but not pushing. “Okay. Then it’s nothing.” He reached out, nudged Jisung’s arm. “But Sung, it’s not a crime to like that someone cares about you, y’know? You don’t have to justify it, or explain it to anyone. If Minho makes you feel less alone, and you like it, then let him.”

Jisung’s throat tightened. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

Felix smiled softly again. “Besides, the internet always makes everything weird. You can’t let random strangers decide how you’re supposed to feel about your… friends.”

Jisung let out a shaky laugh, burying his face in his hands. “Why do you always make it sound so simple?”

“Because it is.” Felix beamed, bumping their shoulders. “Now drink water before you pass out during practice later. You look like a freaking zombie.”

Jisung muttered, “Shut up.” But a small smile tugged at his lips despite himself.

The practice room smelled faintly of disinfectant, probably scrubbed just before the broadcast, mirrors reflecting the harsh lights. All the trainees were called together as the organizers clapped their hands for attention.

“After reviewing yesterday’s footage,” one of them announced, “we’ve decided to assign practice pairs differently for this round. The audience responded well to certain dynamics, and we want to highlight that.”

The screen behind them lit up with clips.
Jisung and Minho.
The dance practice.
The vocal class.
The same clips Jisung had seen that morning- but now larger-than-life on the studio wall.

The room buzzed with whispers. Then more pairs appeared: Felix and Chan, Jeongin and Hyunjin, names Jisung barely heard because he wasn’t listening anymore.

His chest tightened. His name was called alongside Minho’s at some point.

Minho’s ears went red immediately, lips pressing into a thin line as he ducked his head, trying to hide the shy curve of his smile. He seemed nervous. Too nervous.

Jisung bit the inside of his cheek, forcing his face into neutrality. Just be chill, don’t make it worse, don’t react. He plastered on a grin when the instructor gestured them together, ignoring the heat crawling up his neck.

They were paired. Publicly. For everyone to see.

Felix, standing with Chan, flashed Jisung a thumbs up.

Jisung swallowed hard and stepped closer, careful to keep a polite distance, but the instructor ruined that instantly by pushing them shoulder to shoulder.

“Yes, like that. Natural. Just like yesterday. Keep this energy.”

Minho’s hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to move but didn’t. Jisung’s stomach flipped, awkwardness buzzing in his veins.

The rest of practice blurred together: choreography where Minho’s hands inevitably found his waist, harmonization where they had to face each other, close enough for the cameraman to be satisfied. Every time Jisung tried to focus on the music, his brain replayed the articles, the trending tags, the way it all looked from the outside.

By the end, he was drained.
And Minho was quiet. Too quiet.

Back at the dorms, the air felt heavy. Jisung dumped his bag in his room but didn’t sit. His chest buzzed with restless energy, the kind that only eased when he talked.

He found Minho in the living room, scrolling on his phone.

“Minho Hyung,” Jisung started, voice tighter than he meant.

Minho looked up immediately, soft as ever. “Yeah, Sungie?”

“I… I wanted to say-” Jisung rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking everywhere but Minho’s. “About the internet stuff. The program. The videos. The pairing. It… doesn’t mean anything. People just make things weird. So you don’t have to feel shy about it. You seemed so quiet today. Don’t worry about it, okay?” He forced a laugh, thin and nervous. “Felix said the same thing earlier. Like- it’s dumb to let strangers decide how we act with each other. So. Just… please don’t be awkward about it.”

For a moment, Minho just blinked at him. His expression unreadable. Then he nodded slowly, lips pressed tight. “Okay.” His voice was a bit more quiet than usual.

Because for him, the shyness wasn’t about embarrassment. It was about liking Jisung. And hearing Jisung brush it off as “nothing” stung a bit sharper than he wanted to admit.

He could’ve said something. Could have asked: what if it means something to me? But instead, he swallowed it down and asked instead, “What did you talk about with Felix? Earlier.”

Jisung hesitated. “Just… about my insomnia.”

Minho tilted his head, smiling softly. “Would you mind telling me too?”

The question cracked something open. Jisung exhaled, heavy, and for once, he needed this more than anything. After a whole day of Minho being silent, he wanted the care back. He sank onto the couch beside him, eyes fixed on his hands.

“My ex,” he began, voice low. “I… lived in London with her. I thought we’d last forever. And then she told me she was in love with her best friend. A girl. And she left. Just like that. And I-” His voice broke. Minho’s hand came to rest gently on his knee. Jisung pushed through. “I came back here because there was nothing left for me there. But it broke something in me. And then Hyunjin happened, and… everything else piled on top. My head just won’t stop.”

Minho listened silently, eyes soft and steady.

Jisung swallowed, continuing. He felt the need to let Minho to get know him, what made him this way. “When I was younger, I left my parents’ house early. Bad terms. I couldn’t stand it anymore. So I ended up living with Chan. I’d sleep in his room, on the couch by his desk, unable to sleep in the guest room at first. He’d stay up late on his computer, and just… having him there was enough. I could fall asleep easier. I didn’t feel so alone. It-” His throat tightened. Minho squeezed his knee gently. “It saved me, in a way. I had a really dark phase. I almost-” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. Chan saved me.”

Minho’s chest hurt. The thought of Jisung being that close to giving up twisted his stomach, broke his heart in ways he couldn’t explain. He shifted on the couch to face him fully. “And now?” he asked softly.

“It won’t happen again.” Jisung said quickly, almost too quickly. His eyes darted up, desperate for Minho to believe him, finally meeting his worried gaze. “I promise.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but not unbearable. Minho wanted to reach out in another way, to take his hand, to say I’ll save you too. Instead, he squeezed his knee one last time and offered something smaller.

“…Do you want to watch Nana?”

Jisung blinked. “Now?”

“Yeah.” Minho shrugged, casual. “In my room. I’ve got the tablet. Unless you want to go to your room and stay awake for the whole night.”

Jisung hesitated, teeth worrying his lip. But he nodded. “Okay.”

They both went to his room. Minho pulled out the tablet from his bedside drawer and propped it on the neatly made bed, settling back comfortably against the pillows. He looked at Jisung expectantly until the younger climbed onto the bed too, stiff at first, then loosening when Minho hit play.

They watched in silence, the glow of the screen washing over their faces. Slowly, Jisung’s eyes began to close, his head tilting.

“Hey,” Minho said softly, pausing the episode. “If you’re tired… you can sleep here. The bed’s big enough. And maybe it’ll help.”

Jisung froze. His chest suddenly heavy. The offer was gentle, simple, kind. So very Minho-like. He wanted to say yes. He appreciated Minho so much, and needed some sleep. But all he could think about was how it looked. Two boys. Same bed. Too close. Too obvious.

“I-” He fumbled, cheeks hot. “I don’t… I mean, it’s fine, I’ll be okay.”

Minho’s lips twitched, like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t push. “Alright. But if you change your mind…” He left the rest unsaid.

Jisung nodded quickly, eyes glued to the screen, pretending not to notice how much Minho actually wanted him to say yes.

At some point, too tired to keep watching, Jisung left for his own room.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

Jisung lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, eyes burning, his body buzzing like it was full of static. Every time he shut his eyes, the thoughts came back louder: Lina’s voice, the clips online, the way Minho’s gaze had softened earlier, the silent promise he’d made to Felix to let himself be cared for.

But he couldn’t. Not here. Not alone.

The clock ticked past 3 a.m. He rolled over, burying his face into the pillow. His chest ached. His brain screamed for sleep, but it wouldn’t come. Almost twenty-four hours without rest now. He felt like he was going to snap. On the verge of tears, exhausted.

Finally, he threw the blanket off, grabbed it along with a cushion, and padded silently to the room next door. His heart hammered so loudly he was worried it could wake the whole dorm.

He stopped at Minho’s door. Pressed his forehead against it. Listened. On the other side: nothing but soft, steady breathing. Minho was asleep.

Jisung swallowed hard, knuckles brushing the wood in the faintest tap. A ghost of a knock, not even enough to stir a cat. Just enough for him to feel like he asked for permission.

When nothing moved inside, he slowly, carefully turned the handle. The door opened with a quiet click.

The room smelled faintly of strawberry and fabric softener. The tablet screen still glowed with Nana’s ending credits, probably abandoned when Minho had fallen asleep. He was curled against the headboard, chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm.

Jisung’s throat tightened. He set his cushion on the floor, right side of the bed, laid his blanket over himself, and curled small against the carpet.

The floor was cold and uncomfortable. But it was okay. Near enough to hear Minho’s breathing, near enough that the silence wasn’t empty anymore.

For the first time in two days, his body unclenched. His eyes finally closed. And just like that, he finally fell asleep.

The next morning, Minho woke up. His back ached from the way he’d slept. He stretched, rubbed his eyes, reached for his tablet to check the time. But then, out of the corner of his vision, he saw a small bundle on the floor.

Jisung.
Fast asleep, curled under his blanket with his cushion tucked under his cheek, breathing slow and even. Right there, on the right side of the bed.

Minho blinked. His chest squeezed tight, then softened. Slowly, carefully, he reached down, tugged the blanket higher over Jisung’s shoulders. His fingers lingered a moment too long, brushing against fabric, against the faint warmth underneath.

A tiny smile tugged at his lips. He came. He actually came. Maybe not on the bed, maybe not the way Minho had offered, but close enough. Close enough to feel like acceptance.

He bit back a laugh, giddy in a way he knew too well when it came to boys- but this time, it felt different.

He stood, slipping silently from the room. He would talk to Jisung later about how sleeping on the floor wasn’t an option. Next time, Minho would take the floor himself if he had to. But for now, he just wanted to bask in the quiet happiness curling in his chest.

In the kitchen, he put water on the stove, making tea for himself and coffee for Jisung. The sound of the coffee machine and clinking mugs must have carried, because behind him, footsteps shuffled softly.

Jisung appeared, messy hair, blanket draped over one arm, pillow tucked under the other. He froze for a second, caught mid-sneak, before clearing his throat.

“Uh… morning,” he muttered, low morning voice rough as he tried to edge toward his room.

Minho turned, ears red, lips curved into the sweetest smile. “Morning, Sungie.” His voice was soft, light, like nothing happened. “Coffee’s ready.”

Jisung blinked at him, then chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. Minho looked so happy and so proud it was adorable. “…Thanks.” He set his cushion on the couch, pretending none of it mattered.

They sat across from each other, sipping quietly. Minho’s gaze kept flicking over, smile tugging at his lips no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Jisung’s stomach twisted with a mix of embarrassment and warmth.

Before either of them could say more, the group chat exploded with notifications.

Chan : PARTY tonight at the club, we’re celebrating properly this time
Hyunjin : FUCKING FINALLY LET’S GET WASTEDDDD
Felix : oh my god YESSSS PARTYYYY!!!!!
Jeongin : will be there drinking soda so i can drive yall home
Hyunjin : my babyyyyy so caring
Chan : Jisung? Minho?

Jisung read the messages, a smile pulling at his lips. He needed this. To drown his head in music, laughter, drinks. To stop thinking for a while.

Jisung : i’m in, kinda need this tbh :,,)

Almost instantly, Felix spammed ten exclamation marks and a hamster partying gif, making him laugh.

Beside him, Minho typed into the chat, then glanced at Jisung, nervous. “Uh… do you think it’s okay if I ask to bring Seungmin and Changbin again?”

Jisung raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t it be? If that makes you more comfortable.”

Minho shrugged, scratching behind his ear. “…Just checking. Thanks.” His voice was casual, but his ears burned red.

Jisung chuckled into his mug, shaking his head. “You’re weird, Hyungie.”

“Yeah, but you said you like it,” Minho teased back, finally letting his grin show. “You’re not so normal either, Sungie.”

“Compared to you? I’m normal.” Jisung chuckled, smiling brightly.

Later that day, after spending the morning and afternoon watching anime with Hyunjin, the three of them started getting ready.

Minho asked Seungmin and Changbin to pick him up. He wanted to prepare with his best friends, under their expert eyes, with their advice, because tonight, he had a plan.
He was going to drive Jisung crazy.

After nearly an hour of debates between two equally sexy outfits, Minho finally chose: a sheer black shirt, see-through if you looked closely enough, a black corset cinching his waist, tight vinyl pants hugging his thighs -Changbin insisted they looked amazing- and Seungmin’s heeled boots to finish the look. Rings, a choker, dangling earrings, the details that basically made it art.

Makeup came next. Minho wanted it himself. Seungmin smudged out a perfect deep brown smoky eye, stretched feline like toward the edges, dusted him with highlighter, pressed glitter at the inner corners so the club lights would catch. Gloss too, shiny and vanilla flavored this time.

Then Changbin styled his hair, slicked back with a wet look, a single strand falling loose to soften it. Sparkles glinted in the strands.

“Wow. If he popped a boner just from seeing Hyunjin the other night, I can’t imagine what mountain he’ll grow in his pants when he sees you like this,” Seungmin laughed, nearly choking on his water.

“Don’t remind me,” Minho rolled his eyes. Hyunjin wasn’t the memory he wanted. “Hopefully he doesn’t bother him tonight… or fall back into something for no reason.”

“With you like this? Impossible, trust me,” Changbin shot back instantly.

Meanwhile, Jisung didn’t have that kind of help. And yet, to his own surprise, he knocked on Hyunjin’s bedroom door to ask for advice.

Hyunjin had agreed immediately, grinning the whole time, which almost made Jisung regret the choice, but he stayed anyway.

They decided on something that felt comfortable but still, in Hyunjin’s words, “irresistible.”

Black oversized tank top, the deep cut armholes showing off his rib tattoo. Black ripped jeans, cinched with a Vivienne Westwood belt. His favorite lighter necklace. Chunky black platform boots, the ones Hyunjin claimed he’d “love to be crushed under.” Rings, a bracelet, his hair styled into soft waves, messy but intentional.

Hyunjin insisted on black nail polish. Then cherry gloss. “You wear cherry lip balm all the time, it’s the same thing- just prettier!” he’d said until Jisung gave in.

He stared at himself one last time in the mirror. Not that bad. He had to admit.

“Of course you look good, now move your ass,” Hyunjin teased, jingling the keys. “Before I change my mind and keep you here for myself.”

“Ew, stop,” Jisung muttered, pouting, trailing after him.

They met Jeongin in the parking lot, behind the wheel, with Chan and Felix already in the back.

“I’m taking the front!” Hyunjin yelled, running for shotgun.

“That’s fine, I was gonna sit at the back anyways” Jisung chuckled, sliding in on the right, Felix in the middle, Chan on the left.

Everyone complimented him, Hyunjin proudly reminding them he had done the polish and the gloss.

When they arrived, Jisung noticed no sign of Minho nor Changbin’s car, so he texted.

Jisung : hi hyungie, we’re here where are you?
Minho : inside !! we saved two tables, number 7 & 8 !! first drinks are free !!!!!!

Jisung chuckled nervously. Seven and eight. Nana and hachi.

Inside, the music hit instantly. The group found the tables. But Jisung froze.

Jesus fucking Christ. Lee Minho.

“Hey,” Minho said sweetly, loud enough to be heard over the music, moving towards him.

Jisung’s throat dried up. Breathing suddenly felt impossible. His lips parted, eyes drinking in every detail. He could only admire, his natural beauty so perfectly highlighted. The makeup, the glitter, the outfit, that corset- was that his chest showing through the shirt under the club’s dim lights? Shit. Why was Jisung staring at him like that?

“Hi? Sungie?” Minho repeated, smiling wide.

Jisung glanced around, like maybe Minho couldn’t possibly be speaking to him. Finally he croaked, “Hi… You- you look great.”

“Great?” Minho raised a brow, playful. “It took me hours to get ready.”

“Pretty! I mean- you look really pretty. Beautiful, actually.” Jisung corrected fast, cheeks hot.

Minho burst into giggles. “I’m kidding. Thank you, Sungie. You’re handsome too. Nice polish.”

“Oh… thanks.” Jisung chuckled nervously, silently thanking Hyunjin for insisting in the end.

“You want a drink?” Minho leaned closer to ask, lips near his ear, strawberry perfume flooding Jisung’s senses.

“Yeah, need one,” Jisung muttered nervously. “It’s okay, stay here, I’ll grab it and be back.”

“Alright, I’ll be waiting,” Minho grinned, settling back at the table.

As soon as Jisung turned away, Seungmin and Changbin celebrated like madmen, high-fiving at their success, while Minho dissolved into hysterical laughter remembering Jisung’s reaction. He liked it. Of course he did.

Jisung sat at the bar, needing a break, and most of all, a drink. What he had felt when he saw Minho, that rush, that attraction- it was strange. Nothing like what he’d experienced with Hyunjin a few weeks earlier, tho. This was completely different. It felt purer somehow, but no less consuming in the moment. He needed to get away, just for a moment, to clear his head. Besides, he didn’t want to think about any of this anymore. He was tired. For once, he just wanted to have fun.

“Try the Bloody Cherry,” a feminine voice purred beside him. “Vodka, black cherry liqueur, cranberry, grenadine. Wanna taste?”

Jisung turned his face to the left to see where the feminine voice had come from. A stunning blonde woman was clearly flirting with him, sliding her glass toward him. Jisung raised an eyebrow and placed his hand over hers around the glass- why not. “Can I?”

She nodded, and Jisung carefully took the glass from her, tasting the liquid that burned his throat in a way he had missed. Very good, sweet, fruity, just the way he liked it.

“You shouldn’t leave your drink unattended, tho. I’m serious,” he said more seriously, though that playful gleam still shone in his eyes.

She just shrugged. “You’re hot. I just want to dance and have fun, I wasn’t going to finish the drink anyway.”

Jisung raised an amused eyebrow, grabbed the glass, and downed it in one go, feeling the alcohol already rising to his head. He offered her his hand and led her to the dance floor. Immediately, Jisung got carried away, determined to clear his mind, have fun, and enjoy himself, and since she was on the same wavelength, he wasn’t going to hold back.
They hit the floor, she swayed pressed against him, bodies moving close and Jisung bit his lips, not having been this close to anyone -well, except for the Hyunjin incident- for months. Then, caught up in the heat of the moment, his arms ended up grabbing her waist, hers his neck, and their lips colliding in a kiss, meaningless, but satisfying, clearing his mind.

At the tables, Hyunjin spotted them first. “Holy shit, Jisung didn’t wait a minute!” he howled, Felix and Jeongin cracking up, Chan watching carefully in case things went south.

“Fuck, that’s bad,” Seungmin muttered.
“Really bad,” Changbin added, then turned. “Minho are you- Wait, where’s Minho?”

Seungmin shot up, excited. “Holy shit, he’s going in there! He’s gonna get him!”

“Get who?” Felix asked, already leaning in for gossip.
“Who else, dumbass? Jisung,” Seungmin replied playfully, rolling his eyes, and that’s how he ended up getting closer to Felix, gossiping about their best friends together for the rest of the night.

Now everyone knew Minho wanted Jisung, except Minho himself, who didn’t know yet Seungmin had literally told everyone, and obviously Jisung, who was completely unaware of it- yet.

Because Minho reached the dance floor, irritation clear. He went to see him. Well, to see her, first. Rolling his eyes, he tapped her shoulder -gently but firmly- forcing her to remove her disgusting vacuum-mouth from Jisung’s pretty lips.

“Your boyfriend’s over there,” he lied smoothly.

She gasped. “Shit! He can’t see me here! Thanks!” She bolted without another word.

Jisung blinked. “…Why did you just-”

“I was waiting for you,” Minho said softly, smiling.

“Minho, I was actually having fun. Why would you take that from me?” Jisung’s tone sharpened. “I just wanted one night to forget how messy my brain is. Just one fucking night.”

Minho froze, mouth opening, closing. He mumbled something, head lowered. “I’m sorry…” The rest was drowned out by the music.

“What? I can’t hear you- speak louder.” Jisung leaned closer.

Minho tried again, still too soft.

“Louder,” Jisung repeated, sighing, leaning all the way in, ear practically against Minho’s lips.

Minho’s chest lit up like fire. Jisung’s neck right there, warm, smelling intoxicating. So tempting, yet untouchable. He swallowed, then repeated in a tiny voice, his warm breath brushing Jisung’s neck, making his skin shiver under the words. “I waited for you like you said. But you didn’t come. So I came instead… sorry.”

Jisung froze, feeling the sweet scent fill his nostrils again, his warm breath burning against his skin, his body shivering at the sensation. Making it almost unbearable. For a second he almost recoiled, panicked. Then he sighed, trying to regain composure. Why was he the worst friend in the world?

He stepped back just enough to see Minho fully, placing his hands on his shoulders and squeezing them gently.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. Thank you for coming. I’m really clumsy, forgive me, okay?” he said calmly, softly, but loud enough to be heard.

Minho lifted his head, a faint smile on his lips, nodding. He tried not to think again of anyone else who had had the privilege of tasting Jisung’s lips so easily, while he barely dared to approach him.

“Want another drink?” Jisung asked.

Minho shrugged, then mimed smoking instead.

“You want another cigarette? You sure?” Jisung exclaimed, blinking. “Drink and smoke outside, then. Fine.” He finally agreed, heading toward the bar, Minho following closely. He grabbed two Bloody Cherries, then headed outside, making sure Minho stayed close as they reached the club’s parking lot, quieter and more private. He handed a drink to Minho, then pulled out his pack of cigarettes with his now free hand.

He took out two cigarettes, but Minho stopped him.

“No- I want to smoke after you,” Minho blurted, shocking even himself. “I mean- same one as you. I mean- I don’t really smoke, one whole cigarette’s too much. Just… a bit of.. yours. Please.”

Sharing a cigarette. Again.

Jisung’s heart skipped. His gaze softened, confused by the sudden warmth flooding his chest, as if he were seeing Minho in a completely new light. “Alright,” he said quietly. He lit the cigarette, took a drag, exhaled, then offered, “We’ll take turns. You stop whenever you want, alright?”

Minho’s stomach fluttered. He could already imagine the cigarette passing from one mouth to the other, each taking indirect tastes of each other. Even if he was unsure if he’d taste the same cherry flavor under the gloss Jisung seemed to be wearing, Minho was still in heaven just thinking about indirectly touching his lips, leaving his vanilla gloss on it this time.

Jisung handed him the cigarette, their fingers brushing, sparks visible along Jisung’s bare arm. Minho felt it like lightning.

The moment Minho’s lips met the cigarette, he felt his heart leap out of his chest. Not only did he still taste the cherry, but it was twice as intense as the first time.

Damn. How could he not ask to kiss him right there, the same way he had kissed that random girl and Hyunjin, without questioning why? Why couldn’t Jisung let himself go with Minho like that?

But Jisung didn’t treat him like those others. That was the difference. Minho already mattered a lot. Jisung would hate himself if he ruined this for no reason.

Anyway, the drag Minho took was far less chaotic than the first time they had shared a cigarette. He still coughed, but he got the main idea. Jisung watched him with an intensity that was almost disorienting, noticing every little gesture, ready to help if needed. After a few coughs, Minho laughed and passed the cigarette back to Jisung. A kinda goofy smile appeared on Jisung’s lips, and Minho could have sworn he saw his eyes sparkle.

When Minho handed the cigarette back, he purposely lingered a second too long, locking eyes with Jisung, letting their fingers brush before finally letting go. Jisung didn’t break the eye contact either, his boba eyes slowly shifted into a more… intense, stronger gaze. He brought the cigarette to his lips and froze. No words, no movement-
Vanilla. Probably Jisung’s third favorite flavor after cherry and strawberry. It was driving him crazy. Why did the mix of tobacco, cherry, and vanilla tasted so perfect on his lips right now while his eyes never left Minho’s? The thought flashed in his mind: kiss him.

Wow. Hold on.

The internet had probably gotten into his head, people had changed his view of Minho, of them together. He was probably imagining things, the attraction he felt was probably an illusion, a mental construct shaped by outside opinions.

“…You okay?” Minho tilted his head, worried. Fuck. Too cute. Too much. And it wasn’t even his fault anyway.

But at the same time, Jisung couldn’t just make it all up. Impossible. Minho’s glances, the tone he used with him, his actions, his kindness, his jealousy over the girl earlier -Jisung wasn’t naive-, his heart beating too fast everytime they were close, his constantly flushed ears- too many signs that Jisung had deliberately chosen to ignore. Easier that way.

Felix’s words echoed: If Minho makes you feel less alone, and you like it, let him.

His head throbbed, alcohol buzzing, smoke burning sweet in his lungs. “Vanilla,” Jisung muttered, passing it back.

“Yes. And you’re still cherry,” Minho said softly, cheeks pink. Instead of taking the cigarette, he gently caught Jisung’s wrist, guiding it toward his lips, enjoying the closeness.

“H-hyungie… what are you-” Jisung panicked.

Minho froze, cigarette inches from his mouth. He looked up, eyes wide, asking silently ‘Can I?’

Jisung’s stomach flipped violently. That gentle, almost pleading look begging him to allow it. He seemed desperate, yet he waited for permission. Fuck. Minho was so sexy. Jisung inhaled sharply, feeling his lower stomach twist violently, and without a word, pressed the cigarette to Minho’s lips himself. Eyes fixed on his hand, fingers brushing over Minho’s plump lips as they closed around the cigarette. Minho didn’t break eye contact. Damn- Jisung needed to calm down before his body reacted even more. His eyes drifted to Minho’s necklace, looking way too tight.

Shit. Pause.

Jisung snatched it back quickly, trembling. “That’s enough. I don’t wanna have a bad influence on you. You don’t even enjoy it.”

And it was true. Minho wasn’t smoking properly, barely enjoying the cigarette, coughing before the smoke even reached his lungs. Meanwhile, Jisung inhaled deeply, letting it fill his lungs, paradoxically finding some relief after that. The nicotine started to calm his racing thoughts as he exhaled the smoke in one long breath, eyes closed, trying to steady himself, finishing it with a gulp of alcohol.

Minho pouted. “…One last time? Please?”

“No.”

“You should have warned me it was the last one- I could have-” Minho trailed off, unable to find the words.

Jisung cracked a shaky laugh, boot tapping nervously. “Minho, stop. You don’t care about the cigarette.”

Minho froze. The way he said Minho, not Hyungie. His chest squeezed, “…What do you mean..?” he asked, a nervous smile on his face.

“We both know this is not about the nicotine, I’m not stupid.”

His chest squeezed, eyes dropping to the ground. Jisung knew. How long had he known? What exactly did he know? Or think he knew?

They stayed in silence after that, finishing their drinks, the air heavy with words unsaid.

When the cold became too much -they had actually been outside for almost an hour- Jisung guided him back inside. Hyunjin was already drunk asleep, his head resting on Jeongin’s shoulder, Felix still gossiping with Seungmin, and Chan casually chatting with Changbin. The table was a mess of empty bottles and crumbs.

“Oh, there you are. I was starting to get worried,” Chan said to Jisung.

Jisung faintly smiled, a hundred questions running through his mind. Minho was right behind him, looking so… defeated.

“Do you want me to take you home? Hyunjin’s already asleep anyway,” Jeongin asked.

“Would that be okay?” Jisung murmured. He wasn’t in the mood for party anymore.

Jeongin glanced at Chan and Felix, they were supposed to go back together, but apparently weren’t ready to leave yet. Changbin spoke up.

“I can drop Chan and Felix off, no worries. You can take them home,” he said, pointing at Minho and Jisung.

Jisung turned toward Minho, a bit caught off guard. He wasn’t sure if Minho wanted to go, speaking only for himself, but two empty spots in the car meant they could leave together.

“Is it okay if I head back to the dorm too?” Minho asked, almost inaudibly.

“Yeah, yeah, of course… You don’t wanna stay?” Jisung asked softly, worry written all over his face.

Minho just shook his head. Jisung placed a hand on his arm, gently squeezing it. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m not mad, alright?”

Minho finally met his gaze, looking up. His eyes sparkled as he searched for any hint of annoyance in Jisung’s stare, but all he found was genuine concern and a quiet, questioning curiosity. He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Jeongin carefully woke Hyunjin and lifted him up, while he did so himself. Hyunjin immediately rested all his weight on Jeongin, giggling and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“Jeonginnieee, you’re sooo warm… you smell so gooood-”

“Hyung, you stink,” Jeongin replied, smiling, cheeks pink as he tightened his grip around his waist to steady him.

Minho, sober enough to notice, arched an eyebrow. The youngest wasn’t pushing Hyunjin away. If anything… he seemed shy. Minho looked at them with a small, knowing smile. It must feel nice to be wanted like that.

“Come on,” Jeongin said firmly, glancing at Minho and Jisung. “I’ll drive you guys back.”

The car ride was quiet, except for Hyunjin’s drunken murmurs against Jeongin’s shoulder. Jisung stared out the window, head heavy from alcohol, body buzzing with exhaustion. Minho sat beside him, silent, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt. He couldn’t believe Jisung figured out. But did he really? What was he thinking? Thinking about all that gave Minho a headache, a wave of nausea threatening.

When they finally reached the dorm, Jeongin helped Hyunjin out first, walking him carefully toward the other building. Minho noticed the way Hyunjin leaned closer, and how Jeongin’s ears glowed red in the streetlight.

Once they reached the dorms, it was only the two of them left -Hyunjin stayed at Jeongin’s- the door clicked shut behind them. The sudden silence was almost too much after the chaos of the party.

Jisung tossed his jacket aside without a word.

Minho stayed where he was, hesitating. “You can sleep in mine… I swear I don’t mind, if that’s okay with you… really, it’s fine.”

Jisung’s breath hitched. The memory of last night, the quiet comfort of Minho’s presence washed over him.

He nodded, barely audible. “…Okay.”

After taking turns in the bathroom to clean up and change into pajamas, they were ready for bed.

Coming out of the bathroom, Minho saw Jisung dragging his blanket and pillow toward his room out of habit. His steps were clumsy but determined. Minho frowned at him, watching as Jisung spread the blanket on the floor like it was the most natural thing to do in the world.

“No,” Minho said firmly, crossing his arms.

Jisung blinked up at him, confused. “What? I thought you were okay with-”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor again,” Minho stated softly but stubbornly. “Not when there’s a bed right there.”

“I… it’s fine…” Jisung muttered, looking away. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do.” Minho crouched, tugging the pillow from Jisung’s hands, careful to avoid touching him in the process, and tossed it onto the mattress. “If someone’s taking the floor, it’s me.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “No way, that’s even worse! It’s your room, and you could get back pain or something.”

Minho chuckled, eyes sparkling at him. “I’ll survive.” His gaze softened, more serious. “But I’m not letting you sleep on the floor when you’re dead tired, Sungie. Not happening.” His tipsy tone made it even cuter.

Jisung’s throat tightened. He wanted to argue, to insist he was fine, but Minho’s stubbornness was a wall he couldn’t break. His chest fluttered at the thought of taking the bed, and the closeness it implied.

“I… I can’t,” he whispered, voice almost gone.

Minho tilted his head, cat like eyes narrowing gently. “I won’t eat you.”

Jisung froze. Every nerve in his body sparked. Minho’s tone was calm, teasing, but the words made his ears burn.

The silence stretched.

“I-I was joking…” Minho added after a minute, “I said I don’t mind, really…”

The blanket and pillow slipped from Jisung’s hands as Minho pulled them onto the mattress. For a moment, he wanted to argue again, but exhaustion won. Fighting Minho felt impossible.

“…Fine,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. “I’ll sleep on the bed.”

Minho’s lips curved into a quiet, triumphant but gentle smile. “Good.” He pulled back the blanket and climbed in first, patting the other side with a small nod.

Jisung huffed, but slid in beside him.

And suddenly the bed seemed much smaller than it had looked just a few seconds ago.

Jisung shifted onto his side, trying to put a safe distance between them, but his shoulder brushed against Minho’s anyway. His broad frame took up more space than either of them had expected.
Minho felt the contact like electricity. His heart skipped, then picked up, thundering in his chest so loud he swore Jisung could hear it. He kept perfectly still, biting the inside of his cheek, afraid that even breathing too loudly would give him away.

Jisung sighed, sinking deeper into the pillow, mumbling something incoherent.

“Sorry, I’ll sleep on the floor, it’s okay-” Minho blurted, panicked at the thought of bothering him, already ready to leave the bed- but Jisung grabbed his wrist.

“No. Stay.” His voice was firm yet gentle, a trace of distress at the thought of Minho leaving.

“Are you sure..? I really don’t know what you think of me, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just want you to sleep well-”

“Forget it. I don’t wanna think about it yet.” Jisung cut him off, gently tugging his wrist trying to pull him back under the blanket.

“I know you’re straight, and I’m not going to… jump on you or anything. I know you don’t want me. Honestly, I don’t care. I’m a little attracted to you, but I’ll try to stop and-”

“Please. Minho. Not now.”

Jisung tugged harder on his wrist, almost guiding him by force beneath the blanket.
Once he finally got him back, he wrapped an arm around Minho’s waist, pressing himself against his back, resting his forehead in the crook of his neck.

Minho swallowed hard. His heart had never beaten this fast in his entire life. His body trembled, breath quickening until he felt warm drops hit his skin.

“Sungie..?”

Jisung simply tightened his hold around him, his breathing uneven from tears. Minho stayed silent, gently resting his arm around Jisung’s that was wrapped around his waist. Tracing invisible patterns against his skin, trying to comfort him.

Gradually, Jisung’s breathing evened out. His arms never loosened, but the tears stopped.

A few minutes later, as he began to drift off, Jisung murmured softly, “I don’t understand anything right now. But when you’re here… it feels lighter. So just… stay. Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Sungie.”