Archive of Our Own ^beta

Two more hours.

Just two goddamn hours left in this fluorescent-lit hellhole. The overhead lamps buzzed like a dying bee, casting that yellow glow that made Jisung’s eyes feel like sandpaper. Was this the worst shift he’d ever worked?

No.

But it was high on the leaderboard, right next to the time a drunk man tried to pay for soju with three dead bugs and a condom. 

And Jisung does like bugs. 

Still, 

hell no.

He sighed and flicked at his phone screen. Candy Crush. Candy-freaking-Crush.

How had it come to this?

He caught his reflection in the ceiling mirror. Puffy eyes, damp hair, shirt crumpled by hours of working. A scoff slipped out.

This was the price of capitalism.

He dropped the phone on the counter and rubbed his eyes like it might reset his life. It didn’t.

Ping.

The door chimed. He barely glanced up - probably another drunk office worker looking for triangle kimbap - when a blur of motion charged straight toward him.

And then, suddenly, a man vaulted over the counter.

Over. The damn. Counter.

Jisung flinched so hard he nearly launched a display of gum sticks.

Shit. This is it.

This is how he dies.

Not in some grand, poetic way - no, no. He was about to get murdered by a mystery man in a hoodie… behind a convenience store counter… under fluorescent lighting that made his skin look like boiled tofu.

Fuck his life. 

All because he took this godforsaken job to cover rent after the year from hell. It was either this or become a cam boy and honestly, maybe he should’ve just listened to Felix and gone with the webcams. At least that came with tips and compliments.

The stranger landed way too close, breath ragged, eyes wide. His hoodie was half falling off his shoulder, hair messy and - what the hell - his nose was glinting like it had been sculpted by God himself. 

Oh. My. God.

“ Lee fucking Minho?” Jisung blurted, blinking in confusion. 

It had to be a dream. Or a fever hallucination from too much instant ramen. But no - standing in front of him, was the Lee Minho. Korea’s heartthrob. Actor of the year. Walking Gucci campaign. The dude who made crying in a drama look sexy.

Minho didn’t even flinch. Just huffed out a breath, eyes darting to the front window.

“Hide me.” His eyes flicked to the door “ now.”

And look - Jisung could’ve made a rational decision. He could’ve pointed him to the emergency exit. Instead, he grabbed Lee Minho by the sleeve and yanked him under the damn counter.

The man folded surprisingly well, knees bumping Jisung’s calves, back hitting the metallic counter.

Two seconds later, the door swung open again. Loud, clunky steps. A sharp voice:

“Did he come in here?”

Jisung’s heart tried to escape through his throat. He slapped his hand on the counter like he was testing its stability, definitely not because his fingers were trembling. He casually leaned left, hoping his knee covered Minho’s ridiculously famous jawline that was currently resting way too close to his inner thigh.

“ Nah,” Jisung said, voice calm despite mild cardiac arrest. “ Just me, ramen and the spiders in the corner” 

The reporter lingered. Jisung didn’t move. Lee Minho didn’t breathe.

The man narrowed his eyes, scanning Jisung from head to toe like he was about to find some clues in his posture. His gaze flicked up to the mirror in the corner of the ceiling. Jisung casually shifted left. Just a bit. Enough to keep the man under the counter out of view without making it look like he was smuggling a celebrity.

The reporter stepped closer, reached into his jacket, and slid a small card across the counter.

“ Here’s my number. If you see Lee Minho,” he said, low and serious “ give me a call. I pay well” 

Jisung stared at the card. He didn’t even get a chance to lie properly before something grabbed his ankle.

Hard.

He choked on his own spit. His soul briefly left his body. He looked down like what the actual f -

Minho’s fingers were wrapped around his leg like a warning.

Jisung swallowed hard and squeaked out “ S-sure. Totally. Will do.”

The reporter gave him a long, skeptical look, then turned to leave with the slowest walk in existence. The moment the man disappeared around the corner, Jisung finally exhaled - loudly. So did the actor under the counter.

“ What the actual fuck” Jisung muttered, glancing down “ What did you do?!”

Minho looked up at him, lips slightly parted, the top of his hood now slipping down his stupidly perfect forehead. Jisung’s heart did something traitorous and annoying.

He scowled.

“ What the fuck, dude?” He hissed “ This isn’t a k-drama” 

Minho blinked  “I mean… it worked.”

Jisung grabbed the hem of his hoodie and tugged him up. Minho shuffled forward, already halfway to standing when -

“ Shit. Shit. There’s another one” Jisung whispered, eyes locked on the glass door. 

One more reporter. Right outside. Already turning their head toward the store. And Jisung? Jisung did not have time for this.

He panicked. Again.

He grabbed Minho by the head and yanked him right back down. 

Minho let out a muffled “Ow?!?” that definitely did not match his public image. Jisung crouched halfway with him, ducked behind the counter nd hissed through his teeth. 

“If I end up going viral because of your mess, I swear to God I’ll haunt your pretty ass” 

Minho groaned, rubbing his head. “You could’ve just tapped me”

“ There was no time” Jisung snapped back “ I’m not responsible for my reflexes!”

They both froze as the second reporter hovered outside, scanning the store through the glass. Jisung’s heart pounded in his throat. He slowly slid lower until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Minho beneath the counter. Minho stilled.

This was fine.

Everything was fine.

Just two strangers (one incredibly famous) hiding under a counter, practically sitting in each other’s laps. Super normal.

“They’re looking for me” 

Jisung didn’t even blinked.

“Why are we hiding then?” He whispered back.

Minho blinked at him. Slowly. Like isn’t that what I just said?

“I don’t know” Jisung whined again after a moment of silence “ I just panic” 

“ Get your ass up and check if he’s still lingering outside” 

Jisung peeked over the counter, one eye squinted like that would somehow protect him from being spotted.

“ Clear” he muttered. “He’s gone”

Minho didn’t move.

“ You can leave now” Jisung added, glancing down. “Go be famous somewhere else” 

The actor stayed exactly where he was, legs folded, arms resting on his knees.

“ Too risky.” Minho said casually „ I’m comfy now” 

“ Comfy?” Jisung repeated, voice cracking in disbelief. “ You’re sitting next to the box of expired kimbap”

Minho didn’t respond. Just tilted his head like a cat ignoring a human.

“ What time does your shift end?”

Jisung blinked. Then looked at the clock.

“ In an hour” 

The actor only hummed. 

One more hour of this shift. Sixty full minutes with a celebrity nesting under his counter - wearing clothes that probably cost more than Jisung made in a month. 

“ You're seriously just.. gonna stay there?”

Minho looked up at him, big eyes blinking slowly “Unless you’re kicking me out” 

Jisung groaned, dragging a hand over his face. For a few minutes it was quiet. Just the low buzz of the lamps. He counted the receipts. Then restocked soy milk. Straightened a shelf that didn’t need straightening. Eyes flicking everywhere to just not look at the literal celebrity under his counter.

„ So” Minho said suddenly „Do you have a name?” 

Jisung jumped slightly, then side-eyed the actor.

„ Why? Gonna thank me on your Oscar speech?”

Minho huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

„ Just wanna know who I owe now” 

Jisung snorted, then cleared his throat like he didn’t just panic-laugh in response.

„ You don’t owe me anything” a beat „Jisung” 

„ Minho” 

„ Yeah, I know” He muttered glancing to the snack shelf „You’re on the Pepero boxes” 

Minho raised an eyebrow, amused.

„ You think I look good?” 

 „ I think the Pepero looks good. I love the chocolate one” Jisung shot back.

Minho smirked, eyes gleaming.

„ You did say I had a pretty ass” 

Jisung blinked. His stomach did a stupid flip. Why. Why did his mouth betray him like this?

„You wish” he mumbled, shaking his head like it could shake the heat off of his face.

They fell into a rhythm after that. Small talk between customers. Jisung slouched behind the counter, Minho casually commenting on who bought what like a judgy neighborhood grandma.

„ That couple didn’t say a word to each other” Minho hummed „ breakup energy”

„ You don’t know that” Jisung muttered trying to stay professional.

A few minutes later, a man in a suit walked in. Dead behind the eyes. He tossed a lighter onto the counter and asked for cigarettes

As soon as he walked out, Minho whispered.

„ That one just dumped someone” 

Jisung raised an eyebrow as he bagged the change.

“You’re guessing again?”

“No, I’m certain. He’s going home to delete their photos, question all his life choices, and then like one of their old instagram posts by accident.”

Jisung snorted. “You cannot assign entire breakups based on cigarette brands.”

“I can and I am” Minho said smugly. “He bought the menthols.”

Jisung  turned away, laughing softly to himself.

He started mopping the floor, half-hearted swipes just to look busy. The store was nearly empty now, minutes from closing.

Then the door chimed one last time.

A woman walked in wearing a hoodie three sizes too big and the deadest expression Jisung had seen all night. She beelined straight for the freezer, grabbed two tubs of ice cream, and added a bottle of wine for good measure.

Minho said nothing at first. Then, quietly “Okay. I respect her.”

Jisung glanced over. “Why her?”

“That’s what I’d be buying if I wasn’t hiding under your counter.”

Jisung grinned.

“Wow. You’re really good at this.”

He kept mopping, watching Minho from the corner of his eye.

“It’s a gift” Minho replied, deadpan. “Years of press junkets and fake smiles gave me a sixth sense for loneliness and maybe a bit of poor coping habits.”

Jisung’s amusement faltered for a second.

The words landed heavier than he expected. 

He looked back at him. Their eyes met.

But then Minho smirked like nothing happened.

He stood up slowly, stretching with a quiet groan. The hem of his hoodie lifted just enough to flash a sliver of skin. Jisung immediately looked down at the floor, suddenly way more interesting. 

“Also,” Minho added, voice casual  “you missed a spot. Big ugly one - left side. Tragic, really.”

Jisung rolled his eyes and groaned.

“God, I liked you better when you were silently panicking under the counter.”

Minho grinned.

“No, you didn’t. I saw your face. You were totally into it.”

Jisung didn’t answer. Just swallowed - too loud in the now-empty store and pretended to mop with new intensity. There was a small pause. Not quite comfortable. Not quite uncomfortable.

Then Minho cleared his throat.

“Anyway.” He gestured vaguely between them. “Thanks. For the whole… hiding-me-from-the-media thing.”

“Yeah” Jisung said, scratching the back of his neck. “Anytime, I guess. If you ever need a… place to hide”

Minho huffed a laugh.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

He stepped toward the door, hands in his pockets, that loose-limbed confidence back in full force though maybe a little less put-together than when he arrived.

He hesitated just before pushing the door open.

“Hey,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder. “Do you always work late shift?”

Jisung blinked, caught off guard.

“Uh… yeah. Monday to Thursday.”

Minho nodded once, like he wasn’t sure what to do with that information but wanted it anyway.

“Cool. Good to know.”

And then he left.

Just like that.

The door chimed behind him, and Jisung stood in the middle of the store, mop still in hand, trying to decide if that was the weirdest or best shift of his entire life.

Maybe both.

###

Jisung didn’t tell anyone about his unusual shift.

Not that he didn’t try.

“I met Lee Minho on my late-night shift” he said, very calmly.

Felix, sprawled across the couch mid-stretch, barely glanced up.

“The old grumpy neighbor who yells at Hyunjin for breathing too loud?”

“No” Jisung deadpanned. “The actor. The hot one. From that drama you sobbed over last week.”

Hyunjin snorted from the armchair. “Right. And I was making out with Kim Seungmin on my dance class break.”

The pillow hit him square in the face before he could even dodge.

“Back off Kim Seungmin” Felix snapped. “I claimed him first.”

Hyunjin peeled the pillow off with a look of betrayal. “Claimed? What is this - second grade?”

Felix grabbed another pillow with dangerous intent.

“I swear I will deprive you of the rest of your hair - ”

“Yah!” Jisung cut in, louder this time. “Can you not turn every conversation into a war?”

They both blinked at him.

“You don’t even know Kim Seungmin!” Jisung added, pointing at Hyunjin.

“And you,” he turned to Felix “don’t even like baseball.”

“I know his name” Hyunjin said coolly. “And that he’s hot. That’s all I need.”

Jisung stared. There was a vein in his forehead doing unspeakable things. He threw his arms up with a groan.

“Anyway - what I was trying to say is - I met Lee Minho.”

But they were already too deep into bickering, pillows flying, accusations of “delusional bias stealing” echoing across the room. Jisung just sighed, stood up, and walked out.

“You guys don’t deserve the truth” he muttered on his way to the kitchen.

And Lee Minho.

Lee Minho walked back into Jisung’s life exactly three weeks later.

And yeah - Jisung had almost moved on.

Not that there was anything to move on from, really. It wasn’t like they kissed under the neon lights or exchanged phone numbers. Or basically nothing happened. But still.

It was halfway through his shift. Jisung was curled up on the stool behind the counter, deep into a Twitter thread about some idol drama he knew absolutely nothing about but had already chosen a side in , when the door chimed.

He didn’t even look up at first. Then he did.

And froze.

Because there he was. Again.

Lee Minho. Hoodie. Grey this time. Cap. But a few loose hair strands were visible around his eyes. Jisung blinked like the universe was glitching. Minho strolled up to the counter, leaned in with both arms like he owned the place. 

“Why aren’t you wearing a name tag, Jisung?”

Jisung blinked again. “Huh?”

“Name tag” Minho repeated, tilting his head. “Cashiers usually wear them .”

Without thinking, Jisung muttered “Yeah. I got hit by customers too often. Boss made me take it off.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Jisung tapped his own cheek, deadpan. “You see that face? I’m telling you, I could steal your spotlight. Probably get cast as Sexy Cashier in your next drama.”

Minho laughed, soft and unexpected. The airy „ahh” followed the laughter.

“Is that so?”

Jisung shrugged. “World’s not ready.”

There was a pause. A look. The kind that made him feel like he stood naked in the middle of the store.

Minho leaned in a little closer. “So was that a lie?” He tilted his head.  “Or did you really get flirted with a stampede of snack-craving ajummas?”

Jisung hesitated, then laughed too loud. “Okay, fine. I lost it.”

Minho’s eyes lit up. “Lost it?”

“I got drunk with Felix - my roommate- after my shift and it fell into a gutter somewhere between here and the karaoke bar.”

“Classy.”

“I never said I was classy.” Then he awkwardly smiled  “Sorry to disappoint.”

“You don’t” Minho said, not missing a beat.

Jisung blinked. Then blinked again. What the fuck.

He opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a wheezy laugh that definitely did not sound as cool as it did in his head.

A customer saved him - sort of - bursting in with a determined march. She grabbed a bag of Pepero, a can of iced coffee, and a few random snacks before approaching the counter. She glanced at Minho.

Then at the Pepero box. Then back at Minho.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion bubbling.

Minho turned his head to the fridges like they were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

“Do you need a bag?” Jisung asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“No, thank you” she said quickly, gaze still darting between them as she paid. She gave Minho one last squinty-eyed look on her way out.

The door chimed. Silence fell.

Jisung turned his head toward Minho.

Minho turned his head toward Jisung.

They just stared at each other for a solid beat, both pretending they weren’t on the verge of laughing.

“So,” Minho finally said, his tone light, “how’s your shift going?”

Jisung raised an eyebrow, eyeing him. “Oh, just great. Super quiet. Nothing strange happening.”

His gaze dropped, then slowly traveled from Minho’s sneakers all the way up to the brim of his cap. “Besides… you.”

Minho smirked, leaning back on the counter like he had all night. “You think I’m strange?”

“Dunno” Jisung hummed, arms crossed. “Your sudden reappearance is strange. What are you even doing here? Do you live nearby or something?”

“Not really.” Minho shrugged, then glanced casually toward the snack shelf. “Just came to grab…”

His eyes landed on the first thing within reach. He picked it up without looking.

“…this.”

“You risked public exposure for a whipped cream?”

Minho looked at the label, frowned.

“Apparently I have excellent taste.”

“You have some kind of taste” Jisung muttered, ringing it up anyway.

But Minho didn’t leave.

Instead, he shifted his weight, leaning against the counter, hip pressed to cold metal. “What time do you have your break?”

“I don’t have actual breaks” Jisung answered, trying to sound casual despite the fact that Lee freaking Minho was standing there like they’d planned to hang out. “If no one’s here, then it’s basically break time.”

Minho hummed, slow and deliberate, eyes sweeping around the empty aisles. “Seems like now.”

Jisung followed his gaze, even though he already knew damn well they were alone.

He shrugged, lips twitching. “Not really. You’re here.”

Minho tilted his head, unfazed. “Did you eat already?”

And that’s when it really hit Jisung. One late-night run-in was weird enough. But a second time? A second time felt deliberate.

And Jisung had no idea what he was supposed to do with that.

They ended up sitting side by side, cups of steaming ramen balanced between them. He still couldn’t decide if this was completely stupid or kind of… nice.

Of all the people to share cheap instant ramen with, it had to be Lee Minho -  the guy who, until recently , was a rumor more than a real person. And now here he was again, tearing open a pair of disposable chopsticks to pass them to Jisung  like they’d done this a hundred times before.

It should have felt awkward. But it didn’t.

It felt weirdly comfortable, like Jisung could breathe a little slower.

Minho spoke first, after a few bites. “You’d rather be an alien living alone in a human world, or a human living with aliens?”

Jisung almost choked on the noodles. “What kind of question is that?”

“Answer.” Minho’s gaze didn’t waver, chopsticks paused midair.

He swallowed, wiping broth off his lip with the back of his hand. “Uh… alien living in a human world, I guess.”

“Why?”

“So I could watch people and nobody would know what I really am.” Jisung tilted his head.. “Your turn. Cats or dogs?”

“Cats” Minho said, without missing a beat. “They mind their business.”

“Figures” Jisung muttered, grinning despite himself.

Minho shifted, turning slightly to face him. “Jumping out of the plane or living in a lighthouse for a year?”

“You’re really going for the weirdest ones, huh?”

Minho just raised a brow, waiting.

“Lighthouse” Jisung answered. “I’d probably end up making friends with seagulls and crabs. You?”

“Lighthouse” Minho echoed. “Sounds quiet. No people.”

“But if we both end up in a lighthouse, then it’s still people” He teased, tapping a chopstick against his chest. “Me.”

Minho’s mouth curved, slow and almost amused. “Or,” he drawled “we could just live in different lighthouses.”

“What if we end up in the same one?”

For a moment, Minho didn’t say anything. Then he tilted his head, gaze fixed on Jisung in a way that made something flutter and unexpected, under his ribs.

“You really want to live with me that badly, Jisungie?”

The words were teasing, but there was a softness to the way he said it.

Jisung’s breath caught. “I - I was just saying…”

“Mm.” Minho hummed, leaning back a little but not looking away. “Your turn.”

Jisung blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. “Uh… would you rather fight Vecna or get smacked in the face by a ball thrown by Kim Seungmin?”

Minho let out a soft laugh, surprisingly warm and real. “Kim Seungmin. But only if I get to throw it back at him.”

Jisung snorted, shoulders loosening. “That’s still a terrible choice.”

“Maybe” Minho said, mouth twitching. “But at least it’d be fun.” 

Then without missing a beat “All right” Minho drawled, twirling his chopsticks lazily between his fingers. “Would you rather never be able to listen to music again… or only be able to listen to your own singing?”

Jisung’s jaw dropped. “Wow. Wow, okay, that one’s downright diabolical.”

Minho smirked, tilting his head. “Answer, Jisungie.”

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his lips. “Fine. My own singing. At least I’d never get bored.”

“Oh?” Minho hummed, eyes narrowing slightly. “You can sing?”

Jisung wiped his palms against the fabric of his pants - a stupid nervous habit he’d picked up over the past year. “Umm… yeah. I mean, I think I’m a pretty good singer.”

“Confident” Minho teased, one brow arching.

“Says the guy who just threatened to throw a ball at Kim Seungmin’s head” Jisung shot back.

Minho’s smile softened, something almost fond flickering there. “Seungmin deserves it sometimes.”

He let out a laugh, still half in disbelief this was actually happening. Then something clicked, and his head snapped up. “Wait - you know each other?”

Minho just shook his head, laughing under his breath. “If you could eat only one thing for the next week, what would it be?”

Jisung blinked, caught off guard. “Cheesecake.”

“Cheesecake?” Minho repeated, eyebrows raised.

Jisung slurped the last of his ramen, nodding. “It’s a superior cake.”

“Cute” Minho murmured under his breath.

Jisung froze, brain short-circuiting.

Did he really just - ?

His heart slammed against his ribs so hard it almost hurt. This wasn’t some random guy teasing him. This was Lee Minho. Lee freaking Minho calling him cute, like it was the most normal thing in the world. For a second, all he could do was stare, mouth half-open, completely forgetting how to exist.

The door opened with that familiar ping that usually annoyed the hell out of him but this time, Jisung was glad for whoever came in.

He shot a quick glance at Minho, and their eyes met for a moment too long.

“I need to - ” Jisung mumbled, thumb jerking over his shoulder.

“Yeah, of course” Minho said after a second, then added, with an infuriating wink, “Go on, don’t want you to get in trouble.”

He just blinked, too stunned to form actual words. He turned away too fast, bumping straight into the shelf stacked with soda cans on his way back behind the counter.

The customer handed him a few things, and Jisung forced himself to breathe, scanning them and mumbling polite thanks. Halfway through ringing them up, another customer walked in. From the corner of his eye, Jisung watched Minho toss their empty ramen cups into the bin and start gathering his things. 

After he finished with the second customer, Minho wandered back over and leaned against the counter again, way too casually for someone who’d just scrambled Jisung’s entire brain.

“Gotta go” Minho said, tilting his head slightly, eyes flicking over Jisung.

Oh.

“Okay” He blurted, voice embarrassingly high.

Because really, what was he supposed to say? Are you coming back? Why do you keep looking at me like that? 

“It was nice to see you again” Minho added, and that stupidly soft smile curled at his lips. “Get home safe later, Jisungie.”

Jisungie. 

“Yeah - you - uh - you too” Jisung stammered, words tripping over themselves on the way out.

Smooth. Fucking poetry.

Minho’s smile just widened, dark eyes locking with his for one dizzying second before he turned away without another word.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Jisung smacked his forehead against the counter. Loud. 

“What the actual fuck” he hissed under his breath, ignoring the confused look from the guy waiting to pay for an energy drink.

###

And Lee Minho kept coming back.

Not on any schedule - his visits were as random as they were nerve-wracking.

He showed up again on Thursday, two days after his last appearance when he casually cracked open Jisung’s entire sense of reality. And this time, Jisung wasn’t just zoning out behind the counter - he was actually working, struggling to wrestle a heavy crate of beers onto the top shelf

Which was exactly when a body appeared behind him, close enough to feel the warmth, and two hands braced on either side of the Jisung to hold the crate, steadying it.

Jisung’s heart absolutely stopped. His head jerked up, breath caught somewhere in his throat.

And there he was. Lee Minho. Looking just perfect in that impossibly casual way, eyes locked on Jisung like he had all the time in the world.

“Hi” Minho said softly, voice stupidly gentle for someone who’d just materialized behind him from nowhere.

“Hi” Jisung squeaked back, still clinging to the crate like it was the last thing tethering him to the earth - knuckles white, brain offline, what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.

Minho helped him slide the crate onto the shelf, but didn’t move back afterward, still standing too close, still making heat crawl up Jisung’s neck.

“Did you eat?” He asked, voice soft but direct.

Jisung blinked, brain lagging. “What?”

“Food. Dinner.” Minho clarified, tilting his head like he was the confused one.

“Oh - no, not really” Jisung stammered, then frowned. “Wait - your manager doesn’t let you eat junk food, so you sneak here to eat ramen with me?”

Minho’s brows shot up, and for a second he actually laughed, quiet and breathy. Then he lifted his hand, and Jisung finally noticed the takeout bag dangling from his wrist. “No - not exactly.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “You brought dinner? To a convenience store?”

Minho’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “ What - am I breaking some convenience store law or something?”

Jisung’s mouth opened, closed, opened again. “No! I’m just - who does that?”

Minho just shrugged, completely unbothered. “Felt like eating here. Thought you might be hungry too.”

With you, his brain helpfully clarified and warmth spread through his chest so fast it was embarrassing.

“Okay - uh - ” Jisung floundered, then gestured toward the counter with the stools where they’d shared ramen last time. “Let’s… eat?”

So he awkwardly perched on the stool, catching his own reflection in the window in front of them and immediately regretted every single life choice that led to leaving the house without fixing his hair.

Meanwhile, Minho started pulling out containers from the paper bag, the fancy Levanter logo looping across it in big, pretty cursive.

Jisung’s eyes went round. He cleared his throat as Minho set one of the boxes in front of him. “My - uh - my friend Hyunjin used to work there. As a waiter.”

Expensive as hell. Definitely not instant noodles.

Minho hummed, almost like he was filing it away. “Used to?”

“Yeah - he…” Jisung trailed off, deciding fucked the manager and it got messy probably wasn’t good opening to the conversation. “He quit. A while ago.”

“My friend owns the place” Minho offered casually, opening a box to reveal perfect, almost too-pretty-to-eat sushi rolls. “I hope you like sushi.”

Jisung blinked, the words taking a second to land. Then a soft, slightly stunned smile curled at his lips. “I love sushi.”

“Good” Minho murmured, meeting his gaze as he handed over a pair of chopsticks. “Because this one’s the best in the city. Almost as good as my favorite spot in Osaka.”

Jisung managed to pick up a roll - hands shaking only slightly - and popped it into his mouth. 

And holy shit - holy shit. 

Saying he was fighting not to moan out loud was an understatement. A sound still slipped out, a soft, stupidly happy hum he couldn’t swallow down. Minho’s eyes lifted immediately, catching the expression on Jisung’s face and for a second, Jisung swore he saw something warm and pleased spark there before he turned back to his own food.

And Jisung sat there, still chewing, still blushing, brain quietly screaming. What the fuck is my life right now?

They ate in silence for a moment, the only sound the quiet hum of the fridges and the faint rattle of passing cars outside.

Jisung found himself watching Minho in the window reflection trying very hard not to just turn his head and stare.

“So - ” Minho started, chopsticks pausing mid-air. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“You’re not going to ask me if I’d rather marry a giant octopus or drink from a dirty puddle or something?”

Minho’s mouth twitched, and he let out a quiet laugh. “Maybe after dessert.”

“It’s Howl’s Moving Castle” Jisung admitted after a beat.

Minho’s brows lifted, genuinely surprised. “Didn’t see that coming. Thought you’d say Spider-Man or something.”

“Okay - first of all, I am a huge anime fan” He shot back, chopsticks wagging at him. “And second, I do love Spider-Man. It’s a great movie.”

“Which one?” Minho tilted his head slightly, gaze steady. “Aren’t there, like, three versions now?”

“The amazing one” Jisung hummed. “Because Andrew Garfield is hot.”

Minho’s eyebrows shot up, and he let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “You should watch When the Lights Dim, then.”

“Why?”

“The main lead’s hot too” Minho hummed, almost too casually.

Jisung blinked, brain catching up a beat too late. “Isn’t that the movie you starred in?”

His mouth curved into a lazy smirk. “Exactly.”

“Oh my God” Jisung burst out laughing, smacking Minho’s arm without thinking.

“Okay, do you have a favorite song?” Minho asked, shifting to prop himself up on one elbow, cheek resting in his palm, looking way too comfortable for Jisung’s sanity.

“Oh, now we’re talking!” He perked up, practically bouncing. “Let Me Let You Go by One Ok Rock. Do you know them?”

Minho’s mouth twitched. “I might’ve heard about them. But I’ll definitely check them out more when I get home.”

“You should” Jisung said, words tumbling out too fast. “And also Bad by Wave to Earth. It’s so good - like, really good.”

“I know that one” Minho hummed, nodding.

“What’s yours?”

“Hallucination by In” Minho said smoothly.

Jisung narrowed his eyes. “Wait - did you star in the mv or something?”

Minho shook his head, lips quirking. “No. But my good friend sings it, so lately it’s my favorite. You should listen.”

Jisung’s jaw dropped, mock gasp. “Oh my God. Is this product placement? Are you secretly getting paid for this conversation?”

Minho barked out a laugh, low and breathy. “Maybe” he teased, leaning closer, voice dropping, “but I still want you to listen.”

The store was quiet that night, unusually calm. No customers drifting in, no drunk people rummaging through snack shelves, no one bursting through the door with that annoying chime. Just them and too much time to let the conversation flow.

Minho turned out to be a surprisingly good listener, asking question after question. Some were ridiculous (“Would you rather be a ghost or date one?”), some were oddly specific (“What did you want to be at age seven?”), and some were normal - little things that built a blurry picture of who Jisung was outside of the ugly uniform vest and fluorescent lights.

And Jisung answered. Maybe because it felt weirdly easy. Maybe because some part of him wanted Minho to know, even if his life felt painfully average next to the kind of stories Minho must have. Or maybe, Jisung thought with a quiet groan, because he was just a chronic oversharer who couldn’t shut up once he started.

But it wasn’t one-sided, either. Minho let slip a few pieces of himself too - nothing deep, nothing heavy. Just small things that felt oddly intimate when they added up. Like how he liked his coffee with no sugar and oat milk, that the company gave him a driver but he still preferred to drive his own car, or that he blinked faster when he got flustered (which Jisung absolutely noticed and tried very hard not to point out).

And then there was the cat thing: that Minho had three cats back at his family home in Gimpo, but was thinking of adopting one for himself because coming back to an empty apartment sometimes felt too heavy.

Somewhere in between, Jisung also realized what Minho smelled like - vanilla, cardamom, and something like bergamot. Warm, soft, and a little expensive. And the thought slipped into his head, completely uninvited, that he wanted to bury his face in Minho’s hoodie just to breathe him in.

He immediately told his brain to shut up but the thought stayed anyway, curling in his chest.

Minho checked his phone and let out a quiet sigh. “It’s getting late. I’ve got something planned in the morning, so I gotta go.”

Which - okay. That was perfectly reasonable. Of course Lee Minho would have things to do, a life to get back to. But knowing that didn’t stop the frown that tugged at Jisung’s face or the pout that formed before he could stop it.

“Don’t do that” Minho said, looking right at him.

“Do what?” He tried, voice embarrassingly small.

Minho lifted his hand, pressing his thumb gently between Jisung’s brows to smooth out the crease. “That” he murmured. Then his thumb slid down, grazing along the bridge of Jisung’s nose until it caught on his bottom lip. “And that.”

Jisung froze, breath caught somewhere between his ribs and his throat. His lips parted under the gentle press of thumb, and for a second - just a second - Minho’s dark eyes dropped to his mouth.

Only for a moment.

But his heart slammed in his chest so hard it almost hurt. If it had claws, it would’ve clawed right out of his ribcage. His mind screamed please, please, please.

But then Minho’s hand dropped away, and he cleared his throat, looking to the side.

“Anyway” He said, voice back to something lighter, almost teasing. “Before I go - there’s actual dessert for you, too.”

He set another small container on the counter in front of Jisung.

“Get back home safely later, yeah?”

“Umm - okay” Jisung breathed, barely more than a whisper, still too stunned to string a proper sentence together.

“Bye, Jisungie.”

And just like that, Minho turned and walked out. The door clicked shut behind him, and the store felt suddenly too empty.

Jisung let out a shaky breath, blinking a few times to steady the wild rhythm of his heartbeat. Then he looked down and opened the container and couldn’t even fight the stupid, soft smile that tugged at his lips.

Because Minho had brought him cheesecake.

###

After their third meeting, Minho showed up again - almost a week later, on Wednesday. And somehow, it still caught Jisung off guard.

But this time, at least, he was glad he’d actually spent a few extra minutes in front of the mirror before heading to work. He’d even dabbed a bit of sparkly eyeshadow in the corners of his eyes, something that earned him a surprised but warm compliment from the older lady living next door.

“How’s my favorite cashier today?” Minho drawled the moment he stepped inside, leaning against the counter.

“Oh?” Jisung shot back, one eyebrow arched. “You say that to all convenience store staff?”

“Nah” Minho replied instantly, nose wrinkling into that small amused smile. “Only you.I can have only one favorite” 

“Wow. Lucky me” Jisung deadpanned, but his cheeks betrayed him by burning red. “Should I print you a loyalty card next?”

Minho chuckled, low and warm. “Do I get a free snack after ten visits?”

If I say yes, will I have you for six more nights still?

The thought barely finished in Jisung’s head before someone loudly cleared their throat nearby, snapping him right back to reality.

Right. He was at work. In a convenience store. And his boss, of all people, was currently doing inventory just a few shelves over. Not something that happened often but of course it had to happen now, perfectly timed with Minho’s visit.

Jisung glanced at Minho, then flicked his eyes quickly toward his boss, silently trying to communicate please act normal, don’t make this worse.

Minho raised an eyebrow at him, then tilted his head slightly to clock the man pretending to count stock but very obviously eavesdropping.

“You need to buy something” Jisung hissed under his breath, barely moving his lips.

“Right” Minho murmured, lips twitching with a half-suppressed laugh. Then he turned, casually plucking a few random things from the nearest shelves.

Jisung swallowed, trying to steady his breathing, and took the first item to scan it - fingers brushing just a little too long against Minho’s.

Jisung took the first thing Minho handed over and immediately frowned at the packaging.

“Seriously?” he muttered. “Cat food?”

Minho shrugged, completely unbothered. “I did mention thinking about getting a cat.”

Jisung huffed and scanned it anyway. Then the next item landed on the counter: a single can of whipped cream.

“Oh my God” Jisung sighed. “ Again?”

Minho’s mouth twitched. “Maybe I really just have sophisticated taste.”

Next came a family-sized pack of seaweed chips.

“I don’t even want to ask” Jisung mumbled, but scanned it anyway, fighting the urge to laugh.

Minho leaned a little closer, voice dropping low and amused. “Want me to just buy the whole aisle? Make your boss really happy?”

Jisung shot him a look, mouth pulling into an exasperated smile. “Please don’t” he whispered, “I really don’t want to scan all of this”

Then Minho placed the last thing on the counter -  a box of Pepero. 

He bagged everything quickly, trying not to look like his heart was doing gymnastics from Lee Minho standing in front of him while his boss was looking at them. But as he reached for Pepero to drop it in the bag, Minho’s hand shot out, covering his.

“Not that one” Minho murmured, voice softer now.

Jisung blinked, confused. “Huh?”

Minho tilted his head, smirk pulling at his lips. “That one’s for you.”

And Jisung stood there, frozen, clutching a box of Pepero - chocolate one - his favorite,  like it was the most precious thing in the universe, absolutely forgetting how words were supposed to work.

Something crashed to the floor with a loud thud. Jisung’s head snapped around just in time to see his boss on all fours, scrambling to collect the can he’d dropped.

And in that moment - while no one was watching - Minho leaned in, so close. His lips almost grazed Jisung’s ear, warm breath skating across his neck and setting every nerve on fire.

“You look so pretty today, Jisungie” Minho murmured, voice low enough it felt more like a secret than a compliment.

Jisung froze. His heart slammed so hard it rattled his ribs, and for a second all he could hear was pretty pretty pretty - he said pretty, what the actual hell - 

Before he could even think of a response or remember how to speak at all, Minho was already leaning back, face settling into that calm, almost bored expression. Then, as casually as if he’d just asked for a receipt, he picked up his bag, nodded once, and turned toward the door.

“See you around, Jisungie. Get home safely” he tossed over his shoulder, voice light, almost teasing.

The dooor clicked softly as it swung shut behind him. And Jisung stood there, chest heaving, palms clammy on the counter, desperately trying to remember how to breathe.

What the fuck just happened.

###

And then Jisung got him again for the fifth night, and the sixth too.

Not for long, because both days Minho had something scheduled early the next morning. He even admitted, half-laughing, that Changbin - his manager - might actually kill him if he overslept.

But it was long enough. Long enough to share a meal together. One night it was just instant ramen again, because Minho had been on the road all day and didn’t have time to pick up anything fancier. But he still made time to stop by and that alone kept a stupid, giddy smile stuck on Jisung’s face until the end of his shift.

They talked. About everything and nothing. Random questions, dumb jokes, half-serious confessions that slipped out between mouthfuls of noodles.

Across those nights, Jisung ended up learning a surprising amount about Lee Minho. Not the glossy, interview-perfect things everyone could just google in two minutes -  but all the smaller, softer details that felt almost private in how casually Minho offered them.

Like how Minho couldn’t fall asleep without some background noise playing quietly on his phone -  usually a cat purring video or the quiet hum of the city on those youtube ten hour long videos. How he hated mornings, absolutely despised them, but still set three alarms just in case Changbin called him earlier. That he had an old pair of sneakers he kept wearing until the soles were practically paper-thin because they were just lucky. 

In return, Jisung found himself spilling things he’d never planned to say out loud. How he still got stage fright just thinking about his high school music contest days. That his favorite comfort meal was fries -  because there was a time when he, Felix and Hyunjin would eat only that.  How sometimes, when the store was empty and the night felt heavy, he’d quietly rap under his breath just to keep himself awake. And that he still kept small plushies on his bed - a habit he laughed off as “dumb” but Minho had only softly smiled at.

By the sixth night, Jisung realized he was waiting.

Every new shift started the same way: a quiet, restless hope curling in his chest, anticipating the sound of that familiar door chime and Minho stepping through it. And every time Minho didn’t come, there was this dull, stupid disappointment sitting heavy in his ribs that he couldn’t quite swallow down.

But when Minho did show up, it felt like someone had switched the harsh fluorescent lights for sunlight itself - warm, blinding, and impossible to look away from.

And that night, Jisung finally admitted to himself that Lee Minho was dangerous.  Dangerous to his too-quick attachment, and to his already fragile heart.

But Minho still walked in anyway, carrying another paper bag from that fancy restaurant Jisung couldn’t even step into without leaving half his paycheck behind. And somehow, despite everything, Jisung couldn’t help but smile.

“I hope you’re hungry” Minho said with a grin, placing the bag on the counter.

“I’m starving, actually” Jisung admitted shamelessly, already leaning over to peek inside. “Ahh, you’re my savior, Lee Minho.”

They moved to their usual spot - two stools pulled up by the window, city lights blurring against the glass. Minho settled in first, elbows resting on the narrow ledge, while Jisung carefully unpacked the food.

The containers clicked open to reveal steaming pasta  - ribbons of fresh tagliatelle tangled in creamy sauce, still warm despite the late hour. Jisung’s stomach practically growled on cue, and he ducked his head in embarrassment.

Minho just laughed softly, handing him a fork. “Eat before you pass out on me.”

Jisung rolled his eyes, but the smile creeping up on his lips was impossible to hide. “Yes, sir.”

They dug in side by side, knees bumping every so often under the narrow counter.

They ate quietly for a minute. At some point, Minho turned his head, fork paused mid-air, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You know” he drawled, voice low with amusement “you look ridiculous right now.”

Jisung blinked, cheeks stuffed full of pasta. “Huh?” he managed, half-choking.

Minho’s grin widened. “Like a chipmunk” he said, completely unbothered “but, you know… cute.”

Jisung’s face flushed so fast it almost hurt. “Oh my God - shut up” he spluttered, swallowing quickly.

Before Minho could add anything else, Jisung shot him a glare and stabbed his fork straight into Minho’s container. “Fine. If I’m a chipmunk, I’m stealing your food too.”

Minho just laughed, deep and genuine, leaning back to watch Jisung steal a mouthful. “Greedy” he teased, but there was nothing sharp behind it, only that warm fondness that made Jisung’s chest tighten.

Jisung smirked, chewing victoriously. “Worth it.”

“You know” Minho drawled, voice low and maddeningly calm “if you wanted mine you could just say it. I’d give it to you. I’d give you whatever you want.”

Jisung’s smirk froze halfway, blinking as heat pricked up the back of his neck. Are we still talking about pasta? his brain screamed.

But before he could stutter out something embarrassing, Minho’s eyes softened, and he leaned back a little, tilting his head. “All done?”

“Uh - yeah.” Jisung mumbled, shoving the empty container aside, trying to act like his heart wasn’t pounding.

They tossed the trash, and the moment the clatter of plastic cups faded, the air between them felt… different. Charged.

“So,” Minho murmured, elbows resting on the counter, gaze flicking lazily over Jisung’s face. “Now that you stole my food… what else are you going to steal from me, huh?”

Jisung coughed, caught off guard by the bluntness. “I - uh - what?”

Minho’s mouth twitched into a smirk, chin propped in his hand. “Come on, Jisungie” he teased, voice dropping lower. “If you’re going to be bold, don’t stop now.”

“Maybe I’ll steal your hoodie next. I like it” Jisung blurted before he could stop himself, words tumbling out fast and awkward.

Minho’s eyes sparkled, clearly amused. “My hoodie?” he echoed. “I think it’d look good on you.”

Jisung’s breath caught again. “Don’t test me, I will do it” he shot back, trying to sound confident even though his heart was galloping, again. 

“Oh, I’m counting on it” Minho hummed, voice soft and teasing, and for a second his gaze dropped - not quite to Jisung’s lips, but close enough that Jisung’s heart nearly stopped.

And Jisung found himself drawn in pulled by something quiet and magnetic in Minho’s gaze until they were only inches apart, close enough to almost share the same breath.

For a moment, Jisung’s eyes flicked down to Minho’s lips. And Minho’s gaze followed, the realization flickering across his face before softening into something gentler, almost vulnerable.

Jisung’s heart slammed against his ribs. It’d be so easy, his mind whispered. Just lean in. Just - 

Please, please, please.

The door chimed.

Both of them jolted apart like they’d been burned, Minho twisting his body just enough so he wouldn’t be visible from the entrance.

Jisung cleared his throat, heat still burning at the tips of his ears, and hopped off the stool, forcing his hands to stop shaking as he turned toward the new customer. He forced a polite smile for the girl, scanning items with hands that still felt unsteady. His heart was still rattling against his ribs, the echo of please, please, please stubbornly refusing to quiet down.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Minho still half-hidden by the shelves, watching him for just a moment longer. Their eyes met - briefly, achingly - and Minho’s lips curved into a faint, almost regretful smile.

Then, quietly, Minho turned and slipped away toward the door. No teasing comment this time, no casual “See you, Jisungie.” Just the click as the door swung open and shut behind him.

By the time Jisung finished ringing up the customer and turned around, the store felt emptier than before. Colder, somehow.

And all he could think, stupidly, was:

We were so close.

###

He wasn’t mad. Or sad. He definitely wasn’t sulking. No, really - he wasn’t.

“You’re sulking” Felix’s voice cut through the room, as blunt as ever.

Jisung’s head snapped up from the half-finished essay on his laptop, blinking. “What?”

“What’s up with you?” Felix pressed, scooting closer until he was practically in Jisung’s lap, one leg draped over him like a cat. “Are your professors being assholes again? Or is it that guy? Should I go talk to him?”

Jisung huffed a laugh despite himself. “No - it’s not that. And definitely no, don’t do that. He gave up ages ago, I’m fine.”

“So,” Felix drawled, eyes narrowing in suspicion “what is it, then?”

“It’s nothing - really” Jisung muttered, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans.

Because what would he even say? That he’s kind of seeing Lee Minho? But is he? Nothing happened but Minho had just slipped out so fast it left him blinking at the door, heart still in his throat? And that maybe, just maybe, it got into his head a bit.

Just a bit.

“I just didn’t sleep well” he finally offered.

Three more days until his next shift. Would Minho come on Monday? Would he come at all?

Jisung sighed, staring down at the cursor on his screen. Felix watched him silently for a moment, then tapped the edge of the laptop. “Do you actually need to finish this tonight?”

“I should” Jisung admitted. “But honestly? I can’t focus for shit.”

Felix’s mouth quirked into a grin. “Movie, then? There’s one I really wanna watch.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, shoulders relaxing just a little. “Yeah. Okay. Sounds good.”

They made themselves a makeshift bed on the couch, blankets and pillows thrown into a soft mountain. Felix disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared triumphantly with a bowl of popcorn so big it could feed an entire movie theater.

Apparently, the smell was strong enough to summon the dead because Hyunjin shuffled out of his room, hair sticking up and eyes half-lidded with a yawn.

“What are we watching?” he mumbled, dropping down next to Jisung and immediately curling into his side like a cat.

“Lix gets to pick tonight” Jisung grumbled.

And of course. Of fucking course it had to be When the Lights Dim.

Because obviously what Jisung needed on top of the absolute carnival in his head was to watch two full hours of Lee Minho being stupidly hot while falling in love with Hwang Yeji on screen.

Fuck his life.

Felix pressed play, and not even ten minutes in, Hyunjin let out a low whistle. “Damn, he’s hot.”

Jisung’s head snapped around so fast he almost got whiplash. “Can you not?”

Felix snorted. “He is though.”

Jisung opened his mouth to argue and then immediately closed it again, because unfortunately, they were painfully right. And because every time Minho appeared on screen, Jisung’s mouth dropped open before his brain could stop him, like some pathetic reflex.

Two hours of side-eyeing his friends whenever they commented, glaring at the screen whenever Minho got too close to Yeji, then immediately leaning forward in the next breath just to see Minho’s face a little clearer.

By the end, his legs were half-asleep under Hyunjin, his heart was in absolute shreds, and the bowl of popcorn was nearly empty in Felix’s lap.

But mostly, he realized he’d watched every single second Minho was on screen with his mouth slightly open, heart doing stupid little flips.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. And still, when the credits rolled, all Jisung could think was God, he’s so fucking pretty.

Lee Minho. Just gorgeous. 

And Lee Minho didn’t show up on Monday.

Or Tuesday.

By Wednesday, Jisung was already annoyed at basically everything, drifting through his shift on autopilot. Cleaning shelves, mopping a floor that had been spotless since morning, repeating the same polite phrases to every customer who walked in.

His eyes flicked to his phone on the counter. Still more than an hour left before he could leave this hellhole.

With a sigh, he turned back to the chewing gum display and started organizing them by color - because why not? Who was going to stop him?

The door clicked open. Jisung rolled his eyes, the usual “How can I help you?” forming on his tongue as he turned around - mouth already half open - 

-and there he was. Minho. Finally, on a Wednesday.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, waving a takeout bag in front of him.

Jisung blinked, caught off guard.

“Jisungie” Minho tried again, softer this time.

“I’m sorry” He blurted out before the awkward silence could stretch any further.

Minho’s brows shot up, surprise flickering across his face. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know if I did something wrong” Jisung admitted, shoulders tensing in a small shrug. “You just… left last time without even - ”

Bye, Jisungie.

Minho’s expression softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Shit, sorry. I got a message from Changbin that my morning schedule changed. Had to rush home - we were starting at night instead.”

Oh.

Oh. 

Fuck. He was being stupid whole weekend. 

“Oh” Jisung mumbled, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a bit.

“Come on” Minho said, nodding toward the stools. “Sit. Eat with me.”

They settled down, the smell of warm food filling the tiny shop. Minho sat closer than he really needed to, close enough that Jisung could feel the brush of Minho’s sleeve against his arm every time he moved.

As Jisung unwrapped his portion, Minho leaned in, resting his chin on Jisung’s shoulder for a brief moment, voice low. “You really thought you did something wrong?”

Jisung’s ears burned. “Well… yeah.”

Minho chuckled under his breath, the sound soft and almost fond. Then he nudged Jisung’s knee under the table. “Eat before it gets cold.”

They sat like that for a while. Jisung chewing on his dumplings. Minho kept stealing bites from Jisung’s box instead of his own, like it was the most normal thing between them.

Jisung glanced at him, the words already forming before he could stop himself. “Okay. Your turn to start.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “We’re doing that now?”

“Yeah” Jisung said, voice a bit shy but stubborn. “It’s been a shitty weekend. I need it.”

Minho’s brows furrowed like he wanted to ask something, but instead he hummed, pretending to think. “Alright… would you rather only be able to walk backwards for the rest of your life, or have to say everything twice?”

Jisung blinked, nearly choking on his rice before dissolving into laughter. “What the fuck, hyung”

“Answer” Minho insisted, leaning in closer, his knee pressing against Jisung’s under the table.

“But… am I repeating the whole sentence or every single word?” he asked, brows knitted in concentration.

Minho hummed.  “Like ‘I like you, I like you,’ or ‘I I like like you you’?”

Jisung froze, pulse skipping. 

“Walk backwards” Jisung wheezed out finally, cheeks warm, giggling to hide the awkward flutter in his chest. “I’d rather look stupid than annoy the shit out of myself.”

Minho’s grin softened, gaze lingering on him a little longer than it probably should. “Fair.”

Jisung drummed his fingers on the table, recovering. “Okay, my turn… If your life was a video game, what would your useless side quest be?”

Minho’s mouth twitched. “Petting every cat I see. Even the mean ones.”

Jisung’s expression melted, warmth flooding him despite himself. “That’s actually cute.”

“Shut up” The older mumbled, ducking his head, the tips of his ears going pink.

Jisung popped the last dumpling into his mouth, humming with satisfaction. He nodded at the empty container. “That was really good.”

“Yeah” Minho said, glancing at the takeout bag. “I ate there once and thought of you. Figured you’d like it.”

Something fluttered in Jisung’s chest. Was Jisung just imagining this as something it wasn’t?

“Another one of your friends’ places?” He asked, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, no, not this one” Minho said, rummaging in the bag. “But I brought dessert. Their chocolate cake is to die for.”

Jisung lit up immediately. “Cake? Hyung, don’t play with me.”

Wait. When did he start to call him hyung so casually? 

Minho pulled out a small box and slid it over. “Here. Try it.”

Jisung opened it, eyes going wide at the sight of the thick slice. “Holy shit” he whispered, stabbing it with the fork. The first bite practically melted on his tongue, rich and sweet. “Oh my god, this is heaven.”

Minho watched him, one elbow propped on the table, chin resting in his palm. “You’re so easy to please” he teased softly, but there was something fond in his gaze that made Jisung’s stomach do a small, stupid flip.

“What about your weekend?” he asked. “Did you do anything fun?”

Jisung’s smile faltered a little. “Not really. University stuff kicked my ass, to be honest.”

Minho blinked. “University? You study on weekends?”

“Mm-hm” Jisung nodded, scraping up another bite of cake. “Music production. Classes run Saturday and Sunday.”

Minho’s brows rose, surprise flickering across his face. “You’re studying music production?”

Jisung shrugged “Yeah. It’s kind of tiring, but… worth it, I think.”

“You’ve said before that you’re good at singing” Minho mused, like he was piecing something together out loud. “You’re actually good with it. Good enough to study it properly.”

“Maybe” Jisung mumbled, eyes dropping to the table. “I guess we’ll see after I graduate.”

Minho tilted his head, gaze sharpening with curiosity. “Would you let me listen to your singing sometime?”

Jisung froze, a forkful of cake halfway to his mouth. “What-”

Minho’s lips curved into that small, cat‑like smirk. “Come on, don’t act like you didn’t hear me, Jisungie.”

“I… I don’t know” Jisung stammered, the words tumbling out too quickly. His face felt hot all of a sudden. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Minho echoed, leaning in until his shoulder brushed Jisung’s again. “Or do you just not want me to hear it?”

Jisung spluttered, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. “That’s not - “

Minho laughed softly, the sound low and teasing. “Look at you” he murmured “You get shy so easily.”

“Shut up” Jisung hissed, trying to hide his face behind his arms but Minho only chuckled more - knee pressed against his under the table.

The door clicked open because of course it did.

Jisung sighed, leaving Minho at the table to head back to the counter. An older regular came in to buy a beer. They exchanged a few words about the weather and local gossip, the kind of nothing‑conversation they’d repeated a dozen times before.

When the man left, Minho wandered closer, leaning against the end of the counter, his usual perch whenever he wanted to tease Jisung from uncomfortably close range.

But the door swung open again, almost banging the bell off its hook.

“Han Jisung, baby, you need to save me with something!”

Jisung’s eyes went comically wide. His head whipped toward Minho, who was frowning, clearly confused.

“Oh fuck, fuck” Jisung hissed under his breath. “You need to hide!”

Minho didn’t even argue. It was like flight‑or‑die mode activated - he jumped over the counter the same way he had the first time they met, landing with a quiet huff as he ducked under it.

Hyunjin stumbled up to the counter, dramatic as ever, hands suddenly braced on the edge. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he asked,tilting his head. The, deadpan serious, he slapped a hand to Jisung’s forehead. “You good? Fever? A little demon possession?”

“Fuck off - don’t do that!” Jisung batted his hand away, face burning.

Hyunjin snorted. “Relax, princess. Anyway, I need condoms. And I ran out of cigarettes. You know, the usual.”

Jisung stared, deadpan. “The usual? You literally said you quit last month.”

Hyunjin leaned in closer, lowering his voice to something that was probably supposed to be seductive but mostly sounded like he had a sore throat. “You won’t kiss me if I didn’t quit?”

Jisung recoiled so fast he nearly elbowed the cash register. “Stop it, you fucking - ”

Hyunjin only made even sloppier kissy faces, smacking his lips dramatically while Jisung tried to look anywhere except at Minho’s hiding spot.

Rolling his eyes so hard it hurt, Jisung tossed a pack of cigarettes and condoms onto the counter. Hyunjin raised his brows suggestively. “Don’t look at me like that” he grumbled, lowering his voice. “He’s got a friend, you know. If you finally wanna get laid instead of rotting in celibacy.”

Jisung’s face turned crimson. “No. Thank you.”

“Come on, Sungie” Hyunjin whined, dragging out the last syllable. “Live a little. It’s not a crime to - ”

“Shit - argh!” Jisung hissed when he felt fingers suddenly wrap around his ankle under the counter.

His heart nearly stopped. Right. Fucking Lee Minho was still there. Listening to all of this.

Hyunjin flinched, eyes flicking to Jisung’s expression. “You good?”

“Boss at the back” Jisung lied so fast it burned his tongue.

“Shit. Didn’t think he’d actually be here” Hyunjin muttered.

“Because you don’t think” Jisung shot back, voice cracking with mortified panic.

Hyunjin just smirked, completely unbothered, as Jisung scanned the items with trembling hands. “Okay, okay, no need to get violent” he purred, snatching up the bag. “I’ll be back home tomorrow.”

“Get out” Jisung barked, barely resisting the urge to fling the receipt at his stupid, pretty face.

The door clicked shut as Hyunjin finally stepped out, still making obscene kissy faces through the glass until he disappeared.

“Idiot” Jisung muttered under his breath, cheeks still burning.

Then he dropped into a crouch, peering under the counter where Minho was still hiding, dark hair mussed, knees pulled in awkwardly.

“Hi” Minho said softly, voice almost breathless, big dark eyes locked on Jisung’s face.

“Hi” Jisung echoed, a bit dazed. His gaze flickered from Minho’s eyes down to his mouth - upper lip a little fuller, softer‑looking than the bottom.

“Sorry” He rushed out, voice low and shaky. “That was my roommate - he was just being stu - ”

Minho’s hand shot out, fisting in the front of Jisung’s shirt. “Fuck it” he breathed.

And then he yanked him forward, crushing their mouths together under the counter.

Jisung barely had time to gasp before he felt lips on his, hot and insistent, tasting faintly like the chocolate cake they’d shared earlier. The kiss was messy, breathless, all teeth and the desperate press of bodies in too‑small a space.

Minho’s fingers twisted tighter in Jisung’s shirt, pulling him closer until there was barely air left between them. They broke apart after a moment, panting. Jisung’s eyes widened, lips parted, chest heaving.

“Shit” Minho whispered, his voice wrecked. “Fuck, I’m so sorry - I thought we were on the same pa-”

“We are” Jisung cut him off, breath hitching. His hand curled around the back of the actor's neck, tugging him in.

And he kissed him again and again, harder this time, heat sparking between them, words dying on tongues as they melted back into each other.Their teeth clicked, noses bumped, and it was messy as hell but Jisung just couldn’t stop. 

Didn’t want to.

When they finally pulled back, it was only for a split second - foreheads pressed together, breathing hard, Minho’s lips red and swollen in the prettiest fucking way Jisung had ever seen.

Their eyes met, and Jisung couldn’t stop the grin pulling at his mouth, wide and stupid. Cool was dead and buried somewhere under Minho’s hoodie.

Then Jisung leaned in again, kissing him slower, softer, just because he could. Because Minho was still right there, letting him. His fingers curled into Minho’s hoodie, tugging him closer, needing him impossibly closer.

Minho let out a breathy, shaky sigh that sounded way too much like a moan, and Jisung felt it spark heat right down to his… toes.

They stayed like that until the door at the front clicked open again.

Of fucking course.

“Shit” Jisung whispered, voice rough, lips brushing Minho’s. “I really don’t wanna get up.”

“You need to” Minho whispered back, lips ghosting over his jaw.

“I refuse” Jisung shot back, stubborn and breathless, thumb still hooked in Minho’s hoodie.

“You’re being a little dramatic, baby” Minho teased, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Baby, baby, baby. 

“Says the man hiding under a counter” He hissed back.

“Fair” Minho allowed, utterly unbothered.

Another beat. Then, above them, a polite but impatient ahem.

Jisung rolled his eyes so hard it hurt, but didn’t move. “Maybe they’ll go away if I don’t look at them.”

“They won’t” Minho muttered, sounding unfairly amused. Then he started tracing slow kisses on Jisung’s jaw. 

“You’re not helping!” Jisung whispered harshly, cheeks burning.

“I’m not trying to” Minho whispered back, smirking.

He let out a strangled groan, then finally pushed himself up - popping over the counter with hair messy, lips swollen, and expression that screamed please don’t ask.

“Hi!” he drawled, politeness snapping right back into place.

God, he just wanted to crawl right back under the counter. And live there. Forever.

“Just this” the woman said, sliding an energy drink across the counter.

“Right” Jisung mumbled, scanning it so fast he nearly dropped it. “That’ll be 2,300 won.”

“Thanks” she said, handing over exact change - mercifully.

Jisung almost sighed in relief, ready to yeet himself into the stockroom and pretend none of this ever happened.

Then, as she picked up her drink, she paused.

“Have fun” she added, voice perfectly casual, and tapped the counter twice with two fingers - right over where Minho was still crouched. “You too.”

And Lee fucking Minho giggled. Out loud.

###

Minho drove him home. For the first time.

Jisung had tried to protest - half‑hearted at best - mumbling something about “I literally live like three streets away, hyung, I can just walk” but Minho ignored him completely. Just dragged him by the wrist to his stupidly fancy car parked a minute from the store. 

And they kissed some more in the car. Slow and heated, under Jisung’s building, after Minho made a show of scanning the street to check there were no nosy reporters lurking around. Jisung very nearly lost the last bit of self‑control he had left, fighting the ridiculous urge to climb across the console and settle on Minho’s lap right then and there.

When Minho finally pulled back, breath warm against his jaw, Jisung swallowed hard, brain half fried.

“Hyung” he started, voice rough and a little too wrecked “you wanna… come up?”

Minho raised a brow, smirking faintly. “And do what, exactly?”

Jisung blinked, then smirked right back. “I dunno” he drawled, messy hair falling over his forehead. “Super innocent stuff. Drink water. Look at my cheap ikea desk. Bend me against it - who knows?”

Minho actually choked on a laugh, which only made Jisung braver.

“C’mon” Jisung urged, curling a hand into Minho’s hoodie and tugging. “Stay the rest of the night. Hyunjin’s out. Felix probably dead asleep anyway.”

They ended up tip‑toeing up the stairwell, Minho trailing behind, trying (and failing) to look unbothered while Jisung hissed quiet instructions over his shoulder.

“Okay, okay - don’t step on that one, it creaks like a bitch” Jisung whispered, pointing at a random floorboard in their hallway.

Minho arched a brow. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously shhh!”

They barely got the door to Jisung’s room clicked shut before he spun around, breath hitching, grin splitting across his face.

Minho’s eyes softened and he leaned in, catching Jisung’s mouth in another kiss. Slow at first, lazy and warm, lips sliding together. Jisung smiled into it, breath catching on a laugh, and Minho smiled back, noses bumping clumsy.

Another kiss was hotter, needier. Jisung’s back bumped into the edge of his bed and he just let himself fall, collapsing backward into the blankets with a breathless laugh.

Minho hovered over him, hair falling into his eyes, lips curved in that dangerous, cat‑like smirk. “No desk?” he teased, voice low and shameless.

Jisung’s face flushed hot, heart hammering. “Maybe for the second round” he rasped out, hands fisting in the front of Minho’s hoodie, tugging him down until their mouths nearly met again.

“ Let's see if your stamina matches your tongue” Minho murmured, tracing kisses down Jisung’s neck, pulling a moan out of him. 

Jisung has always been sensitive there. 

His fists curled around the fabric of the hoodie, voice dropping, rough and impatient “Off.”

Minho’s smirk widened, eyes glittering, and for a heartbeat he didn’t move - just looked at Jisung like he was the best thing he’d ever seen. Then he sat up on his knees, fingers curling under the hem, and pulled the hoodie up and over his head in one smooth motion.

And Jisung’s breath caught, eyes raking over him, pulse hammering so hard he felt dizzy.

Minho barely got the hoodie off before Jisung surged up, grabbing him by the waist, pulling him right back down. The older’s breath stuttered against Jisung’s lips as he pushed him back onto the bed, following him down, pressing them chest‑to‑chest. Jisung’s hands roamed over the warm skin, over the line of Minho’s shoulders, slipping around to drag nails lightly down his back. And Minho shivered, a high , wrecked sound humming in his throat.

They kissed like they couldn’t get enough. Jisung’s head spun, blood roaring in his ears, every nerve alive under Minho’s touch.

“Fuck” He gasped when Minho nipped his lower lip, rolling it between his teeth. “Hyung - ”

“Tell me” Minho murmured, lips brushing his jaw.

“I want/ ” Jisung’s voice cracked, impatience bleeding through. His fingers hooked into Minho’s waistband , tugging like he could pull him closer. “Want you. Want all of it.”

Minho’s breath hitched before he leaned in, kissed Jisung stupid all over again. Deeper this time, tongues sliding, stealing the words right out of Jisung’s mouth.

He felt hands slipping under his shirt, palm warm on his stomach, and Jisung’s whole body jumped, heat coiling low in his gut. “Off” Minho breathed, and his hands scrambled to pull the shirt over his head, tossing it blindly aside.

Minho’s gaze raked over him, hungry and a little stunned, before he dipped back down, kissing over Jisung’s collarbone, mouthing at the edge of his throat, teeth scraping just enough to make Jisung gasp.

His legs parted instinctively, thighs caging Minho closer, hips canting up for more, more, more. 

“Fuck, Sungie” 

Jisung could barely think - just nodded, biting back a moan. “Yeah” he rasped, nails digging into Minho’s shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

And Minho didn’t.

Jisung’s whole body burned, skin too tight, shivers running his body under Minho’s mouth.

“Fuck - Minho” He gasped, voice cracking, hips bucking up helplessly.

But Minho only hummed, deep in his chest, like he had all the time in the world. One hand slipped lower, fingers teasing just above Jisung’s waistband, not quite touching where Jisung was already painfully hard, leaking against the fabric.

He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to keep some shred of dignity, but it shattered the second Minho’s thumb dipped under the waistband, brushing just enough to spark white‑hot heat down his spine.

“Hyung - fuck, please - ” Jisung choked out, voice breaking on the last word.

Minho pulled back just enough to look at him, lips swollen “Please what, baby?” 

Jisung’s breath hitched. “Please, please, please - touch me” he rasped, the words tumbling out embarrassingly fast, desperate, needy.

Minho’s lips curled into the smallest, softest, filthiest smile. “Like this?”

And then his hand slipped fully under Jisung’s waistband, wrapping around him warm, firm, perfect and Jisung’s whole body arched off the bed, a broken moan ripping out of him.

“Fuck - fuck, hyung-“ Jisung gasped, thighs trembling, head tipping back into the pillow. Minho’s thumb teased over the leaking tip, and Jisung saw stars, breath shattering into ragged little whines.

“Look at you” Minho murmured, voice wrecked but still teasing, hand stroking slow and deliberate, just enough to drive him insane. “So fucking pretty when you beg.”

 “Hyung - please, don’t stop, please -”

And Minho didn’t. His hand worked him in steady, maddening strokes, every drag slick and perfect, while his mouth moved over Jisung’s collarbone, teeth grazing just enough to make him jerk and sob under the touch.

Jisung’s fingers clawed at Minho’s back, blunt nails leaving little crescents in his skin, voice dissolving into choked moans and gasped “please, hyung, please” 

Jisung was so close it hurt, breath breaking into raw, strangled gasps, hips stuttering up into Minho’s fist.

“Hyung - fuck, please - I’m gonna -”

And then Minho stopped.

Just like that. His hand pulled back, leaving Jisung throbbing, flushed and leaking and so close he could taste it, the sudden emptiness so sharp it felt like a punch.

“What. What the fuck?” Jisung nearly sobbed, voice cracking into a whine.

Minho leaned in, lips brushing Jisung’s ear “Not like this, baby” he rasped. “Not in my fucking hand.”

Jisung blinked, brain short-circuiting “Wh -what?”

Minho pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, pupils blown so wide they swallowed the brown. “Get up” he ordered.

Jisung’s heart stuttered, heat flashing so hard through his veins it left him dizzy.

“Get the fuck up, Jisungie”

Jisung scrambled up on shaky legs, chest tight, breath coming in fast little gasps. He stumbled to the edge of the bed, bracing himself, and Minho was right behind him - hands grabbing his hips, holding him until he was facing the desk.

The stupid fucking desk he’d joked about.

“Hyung..” Jisung breathed, voice barely there.

“Bend over” Minho said, hands pressing between Jisung’s shoulder blades, forcing him forward until his chest hit the cool surface of the desk.

Jisung obeyed so fast it made the chair clatter aside, palms splayed on the wood, hips arching back into Minho’s grip.

“ Is this still okay?” Minho leaned closer, breath grazing Jisung’s neck. 

“ Fuck, yes, yes” 

At this point Jisung’s brain already packed and left.

Minho’s breath shook behind him, warm against the nape of Jisung’s neck. “Fuck, Jisungie” he rasped, hand trailing up his spine, making him shiver all over. “Been thinking about this since the first fucking day.”

Jisung’s mouth fell open around a broken little moan, body trembling with want, cock aching and still leaking against the edge of the desk. “Hyung, please -”

Minho’s hands slipped around, fumbling Jisung’s pants open, dragging them down just enough to bare him, to see all of him. Jisung hissed, back arching, wanting more, wanting everything.

“Gonna rail you so hard you forget your own name and start to use that fucking name tag” Minho breathed.

Yes. Yes. Please.

“Do it” Jisung gasped, eyes fluttering shut, cheek pressed to the desk, whole body strung tight. “Fuck, hyung, please. Do it, do it, do it - ”

And then Minho’s hips pressed flush against his ass, hardness that made Jisung’s knees go weak. Then his hand slipped down, between Jisung’s thighs, palm sliding over sensitive skin slick with sweat.

“Gotta get you ready, baby” Minho rasped, snatching the bottle of lube from Jisung’s desk.

And maybe - maybe - if Jisung wasn’t so painfully, embarrassingly hard right now, he’d have the decency to feel mortified about leaving lube right there in plain sight next to his open laptop.

But all he could think instead was a breathless, delirious thank you, past Jisung, you disgusting little perv - you really came through for us today.

“ just - please, hurry” he choked out, knuckles white on the edge of the desk, hips rolling back into Minho’s hand like he couldn’t help it.

His fingers pressed in, quick and a little messy, pushing past tight heat until Jisung gasped sharp and high.

“Relax” Minho murmured, thumb stroking over the dip of Jisung’s lower back, trying to soothe even as his voice sounded like it was about to snap.

“I am relaxed - fuck, hyung, more” Jisung bit out, voice pitched embarrassingly high, forehead pressed to the desk, body trembling.

Minho’s breath came ragged, hot curses slipping between his teeth. His fingers worked Jisung open fast, twisting, scissoring, stretching him until Jisung’s knees nearly buckled.

“God, you sound so fucking good” Minho rasped, thumb brushing that spot that made Jisung’s vision spark white. “So tight, Jisungie, fuck”

He let out a strangled sound, hips pushing back into Minho’s hand shamelessly, desperate for more friction, more stretch, more of anything.

Just more, more, more. 

“Please, hyung, please” he babbled, words spilling out “I can take it, please, I’m ready, I’m ready, fuck me ”

Minho’s hand stilled, fingers buried deep for just a second, breath shaking. “Yeah?” he murmured “You want it, baby?”

“Yes, yes, fuck, Minho, please - ”

Minho pulled his fingers out, messy and quick, breath catching on a sharp, helpless sound as he lined himself up, head catching against stretched, slick heat.

And then Minho pressed in, slow at first  but Jisung’s body gave under him. His mouth fell open around a broken moan, forehead pressed hard to the desk, nails clawing at the wood like it could anchor him. “F-fuck - hyung - ”

Minho moaned, a high sound that sent a wave of pleasure right to Jisung’s cock. His hips pushing forward until he bottomed out buried so deep Jisung could barely see straight.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking tight” Minho panted, voice cracking, one hand gripping Jisung’s hip so hard it’d leave bruises, the other flat on his back, holding him down.

“Move. please, hyung, don’t fucking tease” He gasped, thighs already trembling under the weight of him.

Minho pulled out almost all the way, cock dragging slow and slick until Jisung whimpered, then slammed back in  the slap of skin loud in the quiet room, punching the air right out of Jisung’s lungs. He choked, body jerking forward, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the desk.

Minho set a rhythm quick and rough, hips snapping into him with a messy force that rattled the desk against the wall. His breath came ragged against the back of Jisung’s neck, curses falling from his lips like he couldn’t stop.

“God, look at you” Minho rasped, hips stuttering just to watch Jisung take it. “So fucking pretty when you beg.”

Jisung couldn’t even answer -  just moaned, loud and open, back arching, ass pushing back to meet every thrust. His vision blurred, heat pooling low and fast until every nerve burned.

Minho’s hand slipped under him, wrapping around his cock, stroking quick and tight. “Come on, baby, wanna feel you come around me” 

“Fuck, hyung -  I’m gonna, I’m gonna-” Jisung gasped, voice breaking, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Minho slammed into him harder, deeper, cock brushing that perfect spot until Jisung’s whole body seized. Vision going white, mouth falling open in a silent, wrecked moan as he came hard over Minho’s hand, legs almost giving out under him.

Minho cursed, thrusts going ragged until he buried deep one last time and spilled inside a condom, hot and shaking, forehead dropping against Jisung’s shoulder.

Minho pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, voice still rough. “Fuck. You feel unreal, you know that?”

Jisung half‑laughed, half‑whimpered, face flushed and still pressed to the desk.

Maybe after this he really would have to start wearing a name tag.

###

Minho stayed the rest of the night. The sudden lack of warmth behind him made Jisung sleepily blink awake.

“Nooo - ” He whined.

“Shh.. ” Minho hushed him, already pulling him back in and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Nooo ” Jisung tried again, voice muffled against the pillow.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in an hour” Minho muttered, and Jisung finally blinked his eyes open just in time to see the actor with a phone pressed to his ear. “Stop yelling. I said I’ll be there.”

Another kiss landed on Jisung’s cheek, then one to his ear, then down the side of his neck.

“Just coffee” Minho murmured, mouth still brushing his skin. “And bring me clothes, I’ll change in the car.”

Jisung turned fully, meeting Minho’s eyes, still glazed with sleep. On the other end of the line, someone’s voice was rambling at full speed. Then, Minho pressed a lazy kiss to Jisung’s lips, smiling between kisses as he spoke into the phone.

“Mmhm… no, I’m not fucking anyone right now. But if you give me, like - ten minutes - no, twenty - then maybe -”

Jisung’s eyes flew open, mouth dropping in shock.

“Okay, okay! I’m coming, calm your tits. Bye, Changbinie.”

“Minho, I swear if you fucki -” Changbin’s voice exploded through the speaker before Minho hung up.

Minho tossed the phone somewhere into the blankets, turned back to Jisung, and grinned like he hadn’t just threatened to be late because of morning sex.

“Morning, baby. Did you sleep okay?”

“Mhmhm” Jisung mumbled, burying his face in Minho’s neck just to breathe him in. “You’re not staying for breakfast?”

“Depends” Minho hummed, thumb brushing lazily over Jisung’s side. “Would you let me bend you over the kitchen counter?”

Jisung slapped his arm, but it was half-hearted and barely made a sound.

“I can’t” Minho sighed after a beat. “It’s already almost noon and I’ve gotta catch a flight. I’m kinda… a little bit late.”

“You’re leaving?” Jisung pulled back just enough to see his face properly, brows furrowed. “Where?”

“London” Minho said, still sounding maddeningly calm.

“How long?”

“Just a week” he answered, brushing his nose against Jisung’s cheek. “But you’ll have to sneak me out before your roommates see me.”

Jisung frowned, a pout creeping onto his lips before he could stop it. Look, he couldn’t control it, okay?

“Don’t do that” Minho groaned, pressing his thumb to Jisung’s mouth. “Makes me wanna stay and I don’t think the guys from Gucci would understand ‘sorry, I had to fuck my adorable, clingy Jisungie instead.’”

It didn’t make Jisung stop, obviously. If anything, he pouted harder.

“Here” Minho sighed, shoving his phone into Jisung’s hand, the contact tab open. “Put your number in.”

“Gonna text me?” He asked, tone all suspicious sweetness.

“No, I’m gonna sell it to telemarketers. Yes, I’m gonna text you” Minho shot back, rolling his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“And you’ll actually reply?”

Minho tilted his head, pretending to think. “Mmm… probably. Unless you say something stupid.”

“I always say something stupid.”

“Then it’ll be very one-sided, huh?” Minho teased, leaning in to steal another kiss.

“You’re the worst” Jisung muttered against his lips, but he typed his number in anyway, thumb hesitating before saving it.

Outside, they could hear the shower still running so Felix was occupied and no sign of Hyunjin’s voice echoing through the hall yet. Perfect timing.

“You seriously have to go?” Jisung asked, voice softer now, thumb hooking in the hem of Minho’s shirt like he could just keep him here by force.

“I seriously have to go” Thw other confirmed, gently prying his hand off.”

At the door, Minho paused just enough to kiss him again. His palm cupped Jisung’s cheek, thumb brushing the skin under his eye.

“Don’t pout the whole week” he murmured against his lips. “I’ll text when I land.”

“You better.”

“One more” Minho whispered, and kissed him again, then again until they were both laughing, forehead to forehead, out of breath.

Then Minho finally pulled back and nodded at the door. “Okay. I’m going before I do something that makes me even later.”

Jisung watched him go, heart doing something stupid and fluttery, and barely stopped himself from calling Minho back.

So, a whole damn week without Minho.

Is it weird that he’s already missing him?

###

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Hyunjin asked, squinting suspiciously from the kitchen doorway. “Are you watching some kinky shit again?”

“What?” Jisung’s head snapped up from his phone, blinking like he’d been caught stealing.

Then he hesitated. Because explaining the truth felt, somehow, worse.

So he cleared his throat and muttered, “Actually… yeah.”

“No - I’m done” Hyunjin groaned, grabbing his mug of tea and stalking back to his room, muttering under his breath about “degenerates” and “needing new roommates.”

Jisung let him go, barely biting back a grin that practically split his face in half. Because what would he say otherwise?

“Oh, nothing! Just texting Lee fucking Minho, who’s been messaging me for three days straight after railing me so hard over my ikea desk I still can’t look at it without blushing.”

Yeah. No.

His phone buzzed in his palm, screen lighting up with Minho’s name.

Minho: Did you miss me today? 

Jisung tried to keep his face neutral but failed spectacularly. His thumbs flew over the screen.

Ji: Nope. Not at all. Busy living my best life

The reply came back almost instantly.

Minho: Liar. Bet you’re still sitting exactly where I left you. Probably still got desk-shaped bruises on your hips.

Jisung choked on nothing, face going beet red.

Ji: YOU CAN’T JUST TEXT THAT WHEN I’M CHILLING IN THE LIVING ROOM

Minho: Baby, I can text it anywhere. Want more? 

Ji: STOP

Minho sent back a string of laughing emojis. 

Minho: Okay okay. Tell me what you’re doing.

Ji: Literally nothing. Felix is out, Hyunjin ran away because he thinks I’m watching porn.

Minho: So… you’re alone?

Ji: Technically yes. But no. I’m not sending you anything.

Minho: Didn’t ask, but thanks for clarifying 

Ji: I hate you

Minho replied with a picture of his coffee cup next to what looked like a meeting room table.

Minho: Thinking about you. Even here.

He stared at the photo for a second longer than he’d admit even though it was just a fucking cup. His heart did that stupid flutter thing anyway.

Ji: You’re at work. Go do something productive.

Minho: Talking to you is productive. It keeps me from telling my coworkers to fuck off.

Jisung hugged a pillow to his chest, cheeks burning. His whole body felt stupidly warm in that tingly, too-happy way.

Ji: Bet you look dumb smiling at your phone right now.

Minho: I do. Your fault.

Jisung grinned, heart hammering, because yeah - that got him. More than he’d admit.

Minho: Four more days, Jisungie.

Ji: Yeah. Don’t get jet lag. You owe me round two on that desk.

Minho: Round two? Baby, I’m planning round four in my head already.

Ji: Pervert.

Ji:  And delusional. 

Minho only replied with a quick, slightly blurry selca snapped under the table -his hair a bit messy, but the stupid, confident smirk on his face still crystal clear.

And that was how it went. Minho was busy as hell in London, but somehow he always found time to text. Sometimes it was nothing more than a photo of a random cat he saw somewhere. Sometimes it was a stack of pastries on a hotel plate, with a caption like “wish you were here to steal these.”

Sometimes it was something soft like: 

Minho: just walked past the shop with the ugliest alien sweaters. Thought of you 

And well, thanks ? But well, Jisung was pathetic so he grinned so much his cheeks hurt - but fuck, Jisung missed him.

So, so much.

Especially when his own shift came and he had to spend the night in the store, alone, knowing damn well Lee Minho wasn’t about to push the door open this time. But still, he caught himself glancing at it, heart tripping like an idiot.

And Minho was just… sweet. So stupidly sweet, in a way that knocked the breath out of Jisung’s chest. Even when he wasn’t teasing, even when he was dead tired, the texts still came:

Minho: you okay? 

Minho: let me know if you get back home safely. And send me a pic, need to remember how my favorite cashier looks like 

Minho: sleep well, baby 

Jisung would bury himself deeper in the blanket, phone screen lighting up his face in the dark and smile like an idiot, cheeks warm, wishing he could just bury his face in Minho’s chest instead. 

Minho had been texting every damn day since he landed. Morning, lunch, midnight. Despite the time difference, he kept at it. Sometimes it was a photo of whatever he was eating, sometimes a quick snap of the view wherever he happened to be, and sometimes just a tired voice message saying “Still alive, Jisungie. Gotta go to sleep.”

It was stupid how quickly it became part of Jisung’s day. Like blinking.

And then day six came.

Nothing.

At first, Jisung tried to be cool. Tossed his phone on the counter. Picked it back up a minute later.

Maybe Minho was busy. Maybe meetings. Maybe his battery died. Maybe London fucking exploded, who knows?

Ji: You okay? Did they make you walk the runway?

No read.

Ji: ?

Still nothing.

The clock crawled forward. His stomach curled tighter. His chest felt like it was being wrung out.

Ji: did Changbin steal your phone?

Still no read.

Ji: For real Minho, just text me you okay. 

The messages looked pathetic stacked on top of each other, his stupid worried voice echoing into the void.

Jisung locked his screen. Unlocked it. Locked it again.

Don’t be that guy. Don’t be that clingy, embarrassing guy. Don’t. 

Too late, apparently.

Ji: Okay, never mind, ignore me.

That one hurt the most, because it looked like a lie even to him.

He went home after his shift, collapsed on his bed with his phone in hand, screen turned up like it might suddenly glow with Minho’s name.

It didn’t.

His thoughts turned ugly.

Maybe he’s just over it. Maybe it was fun for a week but now you’re boring. Maybe he finally saw how fucking pathetic you are.

Because honestly… why Jisung? Minho could have anyone. He was gorgeous, bright, funny and right now, he was at a fucking Gucci event.

Maybe you weren’t really his to miss in the first place.

Jisung clenched the phone to his chest, eyes burning, and hated himself for how badly he still wanted it to light up.

Just once. Just so he could breathe again.

Waking up to no message from Minho made his chest ache more than it had any right to especially when, if he was honest, they barely even knew each other.

But still.

He pushed himself through the morning on autopilot: took a shower (and honestly, he couldn’t even tell if the wet on his cheeks was steam or hot tears), spent two hours staring blankly at his history of music project, telling himself don’t check your phone, don’t check, don’t check.

He failed. Over and over. Screen stayed dead.

Two hours before his shift, he ended up slouched on the couch, bowl of cereal balanced on his lap. Felix sat at the other end, half-watching tiktoks and other things, cereal resting on his thighs.

Then Felix’s voice cracked the quiet,

“Oh my fucking God - ”

Jisung raised an eyebrow, spoon paused halfway. “What?”

“Bang Chan is dating someone” Felix practically squealed, eyes huge.

“That Bang Chan?” Jisung deadpanned, but his heart was barely in it.

“Yes! That Bang Chan” The blonde hissed, looking like his entire teenage years flashed before his eyes.

“I thought you were Kim Seungmin’s lover now” Jisung mumbled around a spoonful.

“I am” Felix shot back “but Bang Chan was, like, the blueprint, okay? The origin of my fanboy era. My forever soft spot.”

“Jesus” Jisung muttered, rolling his eyes.

Then Felix’s jaw dropped. “Oh fuck - oh fuck. He’s dating a guy?!”

“Congrats to him, I guess” Jisung yawned, spoon clinking against the bowl.

Felix was vibrating. “What a power couple. They look gorgeous - ”

“Who’s he dati-”

Felix spun his phone around so fast the screen blurred, shoving it toward Jisung’s face.

And Jisung choked.

The cereal went down the wrong way. He coughed so hard his eyes watered, chest burning.

Because what the fuck.

Bang Chan reportedly dating star Lee Minho.

And the photo - God, the fucking photo - Minho in London, at some shiny restaurant, leaning in close to Chan, both of them laughing, Chan’s hand on Minho’s hand.

Felix kept rambling, oblivious. “Look how happy they look! Oh my God, I’m gonna cry, Chan finally found someone - ”

Jisung forced air into his lungs, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Stay calm. Stay normal. Don’t let it show.

“That’s nice” he croaked, voice too rough.

Felix didn’t even notice. “Holy shit, do you think it’s real? Or just rumor? Ugh, I hope it’s real, they’re so pretty - ”

Jisung stared at the screen, cereal going soggy in his bowl. His stomach twisted, sick and hollow.

Because it wasn’t just Lee Minho in that photo.

It was his Minho - or the one he’d been stupid enough to think might be his. The one who texted him every morning. The one who kissed him breathless, who rasped “baby” into his ear like it meant something.

And now?

Now the phone stayed dead.

No new messages. No “miss me?”

Just a silent screen and a picture of Minho smiling at someone else.

Felix kept babbling, screen bright between them. But Jisung barely heard it anymore. 

Inside, something cracked open. Ugly, hot and hurt.

Of course he was never really yours. Of course he could have anyone. And he did.

Jisung swallowed hard, blinking fast so Felix wouldn’t see his eyes burn. He forced another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, though it tasted like cardboard now.

After that, he muttered some weak excuse about getting ready for work and fled the living room.

He left the apartment a whole hour earlier than he needed, wandering aimlessly around the park until his shift actually started.

He ran his shift on autopilot. Tried not to look at his phone. Failed. Tried again. Failed again.

And before 11 p.m. his stupid, weak heart betrayed him anyway.

Ji: are you fucking kidding me?

No reply. Nothing.

He told himself not to be pathetic but what else was left?

So in his free time, he read every single article, every dumb tweet thread, even watched the ship edits on tiktok just to twist the knife in deeper.Because if he was already hurting, then fuck it - let the void eat him whole.

On the day Minho was supposed to come back from London, Jisung called in sick and took two days off. Then he turned off his phone.

Was he a sulking mess? Absolutely. Did Hyunjin and Felix notice something was wrong? Also yes.

But they didn’t push him for more than he was willing to say.

Instead, they just sat with him and watched Howl’s Moving Castle.

And if Jisung was curled up inside a hoodie Minho had left behind that last - and only - night he’d been at Jisung’s place… And if Jisung had quietly claimed it as his…

Well. That would stay between him and the fucking universe.

###

Jisung woke up late. He showered, ate, then settled on the couch and ended up watching an entire season of Sandman.

Hours passed, slipping by as the golden evening light slowly faded into night, until only the dim glow of the streetlamp spilled in through the windows.

Then something knocked, soft and quick, against the window glass.

And Jisung was in the middle of absolutely nothing then - just lying on the couch and scrolling through Netflix  -when Hyunjin’s voice cut through the half-dark living room.

“Okay, am I tripping or Kim Seungmin is throwing rocks at our window?” Hyunjin’s tone was so baffled it didn’t even sound like him.

“What?” Jisung blinked, sitting up.

Felix, looking equally confused, nearly tripped over the coffee table as he scrambled to the window. “As insane as this sounds… Kim Seungmin really is throwing rocks at our window. Sung-ah, come here!”

Jisung’s heart dropped straight into his stomach. He was already halfway across the room before he knew it, pulse thudding painfully.

“Who’s with him?” Hyunjin asked, leaning dangerously over Felix’s shoulder.

“Oh God - is that Bang Chan?” Felix breathed out, voice a full octave higher.

“That idol?” Hyunjin’s eyebrows shot up.

“No, your maths teacher from sixth grade. Of course that idol!” Felix shot back, still gaping.

Jisung pushed past them to see for himself and, of course, there he was -  Minho. Just standing there like it was the most normal thing in the world to show up on Jisung’s street at what had to be close to midnight now.

“He’s insane” Jisung muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

Felix squinted harder. “Who’s with them?”

Jisung’s teeth ground together. 

Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed “I don’t fucking know. Wait -”

His brain short-circuited a bit because, yes, it really was Minho. The same Minho he’d been missing. The same Minho whose name was currently floating all over the internet linked to Bang Chan in every fucking gossip article imaginable.

He wrenched the window open so hard it rattled. Cool night air rushed in, and so did his anger.

“Are you out of your mind?” he demanded, glaring straight at Minho.

“You - ” Minho started, but Jisung cut him off.

“Couldn’t you contact me like a - ”

“Like what? Text you? Call you? Your phone is fucking disconnected!” Minho shot back, voice sharp and raw.

“Like a normal person! Without making fucking Kim Seungmin almost break our damn window?”

“He’s got a better aim than me” Minho deadpanned.

“That’s true” Seungmin’s voice floated up from below, calm as ever.

“What the fuck is going on, Sung-ah?” Hyunjin hissed behind him, voice a weird mix of panic and fascination. “Is that Lee Minho?”

“I told you I met him at work” Jisung muttered, not bothering to look back.

“I thought you were making shit up - oh my fucking God” Felix whispered, like he’d just seen a unicorn.

Down below, Minho’s eyes stayed locked on his, and it made Jisung’s chest feel like it was collapsing.

“Jisungie” Minho called, softer now.

“What?” Jisung snapped, trying and failing to keep his voice steady.

“Can we talk? Please?” Minho asked, desperation bleeding into every word. “Don’t make me shout it for the whole street. Because I will.”

Jisung hated how that stupid nickname made his resolve wobble. He exhaled through his nose, chest still tight.

“Fine” he muttered, voice low and miserable. “Get inside.”

He slammed the window shut and turned to find Hyunjin and Felix staring at him, jaws practically on the floor.

“You’re letting him in?” Hyunjin whispered, scandalized.

“Shut up” Jisung groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Just - don’t say anything stupid, please, okay?”

He stormed off to unlock the door, heart hammering loud enough it felt like it might bruise his ribs. Because Minho was coming up. Minho was here. With fucking Kim Seungmin and Bang Chan in tow.

And Jisung was still so mad he could scream.

But also part of him just wanted to see Minho’s stupid face again.

They made it up the stairs somehow.

And Jisung’s heart pathetically squeezed when Minho turned to Seungmin and said “Don’t step on the left side of the desk, it creaks.”

He remembered that? Fuck.

Jisung pulled the door open, face burning, and let them file in one by one because hell no, he was not about to end up plastered all over twitter tomorrow if someone got a shot of literally three celebrities standing at his doorway.

The faint smell of Minho’s spiced vanilla cologne brushed past him when he walked by, and Jisung’s stomach twisted sharply.

In the living room, Jisung hovered, awkwardly flapping his hand toward the couch. “Um. Please - sit. Wherever.”

Seungmin shot him a bland look, but shuffled in,m without a word. 

And fucking Chan, who looked unfairly gentle in real life, dipped his head a bit and smiled. And he has a fucking dimples. 

How is that fair? 

Jisung felt like crying again. 

His gaze jumped to Felix - who was pale as paper, lips pressed so tight together they nearly disappeared, hands clenched around each other like he might snap in half.

And Hyunjin - of course, fucking Hyunjin - didn’t miss a beat, the second Seungmin and Chan sat, Hyunjin drifted over with that lazy, catlike grin, fluttered his long fingers and breathed out a soft “Hi.”

Jisung rolled his eyes hard. His gaze caught Felix’s, and Felix looked like he was about to do something unhinged, so Jisung mouthed, Behave.

Felix jabbed a finger at his own chest, eyes wide “Me?”

He opened his mouth to hiss back but then felt fingers wrap around his wrist. And the voice, soft and familiar, so fucking clos.

“ Jisungie -“ 

He turned, heart hammering.

Lee Minho, standing there like a fever dream. Dark eyes catching the light, lashes too long, mouth parted like he had a thousand things to say.

Too close. Way too close - especially with fucking Bang Chan sitting not even a meter away, watching them.

“You - ” Jisung snapped, heat flooding his face. He grabbed Minho by the elbow, grip tighter than he meant. “You. We’re going to talk. There.”

Seungmin, brow raised “Should we, uh… give you five minutes?”

Chan let out a low, breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Make it ten. They seem like they need it.”

Hyunjin shot a wink over his shoulder, Felix still frozen stiff beside him, and Jisung could barely breathe as he tugged Minho down the hall. 

“Why are you ignoring me?” Minho blurted the second the door clicked shut.

“Me?!” Jisung hissed back, voice cracking from how fast it shot up. “Me?! You’re the one who went dead fucking silent!”

He didn’t even mean to raise his voice this much but fuck, the anger had been sitting in his chest for days, boiling like poison.

“And you - you - ” Jisung jabbed a shaking finger into Minho’s chest, too close, too hot. “You brought your fucking boyfriend to my apartment? What the fuck, Minho?”

Minho blinked, visibly taken aback, but caught Jisung’s hand before it could jab him again, curling his fingers around Jisung’s wrist to hold him in place. “What?”

And fuck him - fuck him for looking confused and soft and gorgeous right now, when Jisung wanted to throw something through the wall.

“Bang Chan” Jisung spat, voice cracking again. “Sitting on my couch like - ”

Minho just stared at him for a beat. And then a soft laugh slipped out, and then a louder one, his eyes crinkling, shoulders shaking.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Jisung snapped, breath coming too fast, face burning.

Minho had to take a second to catch his breath, hand still wrapped around Jisung’s wrist. “Oh my god, Jisungie - Chan? As my boyfriend?!” Another laugh spilled out, this time loud enough Jisung wanted to slap a hand over his mouth so Felix and Hyunjin wouldn’t hear.

“Don’t fucking laugh!” Jisung barked, voice sharp and embarrassingly shaky. “It’s all over the internet, Minho! You went silent and then this - ”

Minho sucked in a breath, grin still tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Jisungie, baby, no - listen. Chan is like - fuck, he’s practically my brother. We’ve known each other since we were like ten, when he used to visit his aunt in Korea every summer. And he’s probably fucking my manager - which I shouldn’t tell you but ew, Chan is - no. God, no.”

Jisung glared, still fighting to breathe. “Then why the fuck didn’t you text me?”

Minho groaned, letting go of Jisung’s wrist just to drag a hand through his hair. “Because I’m an idiot, okay? I lost my phone.”

Jisung opened his mouth to yell again but Minho was faster. 

“No - like, actually lost it. I left it in the goddamn building where we were doing prep stuff, and by the time we found it again, it was literally the day of my flight back. And then your phone was off, and you didn’t show up at the store - ”

“So what, you just decided to show up here?!” Jisung cut in, voice pitchy.

Minho lifted both hands, half surrender, half exasperation. “Yes! Fuck, yes. I was going insane. You turned off your phone, didn’t even come to the shop. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Jisung’s heart was still hammering, chest aching so badly it felt bruised. “Why the fuck did you drag Bang fucking Chan and Kim Seungmin with you?!”

Minho’s mouth twitched. “Moral support” he muttered.

“Moral support?!” He echoed, voice cracking for the thousandth time.

Minho tried and failed to bite back another grin. “And Chan came in case you thought I was lying about the rumor. And because Seungmin threatened to come either way. And because if I knocked on your window alone like a fucking stalker, you’d probably call the cops.”

Minho stepped a little closer, voice still breathless from half-laughing, eyes locked on him. “Baby, Chan isn’t my boyfriend. Never been. You are the only one I want.”

His shoulders slumped, anger folding into something smaller His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. “Fuck you.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’d rather fuck you, but if you insist -”

Jisung swallowed, throat too tight. “Shut up.”

Minho’s grin softened into something gentler. “Only if you make me.”

And from behind the door, Seungmin’s deadpan voice floated in, muffled but clear “They’re either fighting or fucking. Give it two more minutes.”

Jisung let out a short, shaky laugh despite himself, chest still aching.

Then Minho pulled him closer, arms slipping around his waist, holding him tightly. His fingers brushed gently over the nape of Jisung’s neck, making him shiver. A moment later, Minho pressed a warm kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m sorry” A murmur, breath tickling his hair.

Another kiss, softer this time, brushing his temple.

“Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Then another, lower, almost on his cheek, lips barely grazing skin.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Jisungie.”

Jisung stood frozen, every breath catching in his throat, his heart beating so stupidly loud it hurt.

Minho tilted his head back, eyes warm and teasing but softer than Jisung had ever seen them. “Can I say something without you telling me to fuck off?”

Jisung swallowed again, voice cracking. “Depends what it is.”

His lips twitched, then curved into a real smile, small and a little shy around the edges. “I want to date you. Properly.”

Jisung’s breath hitched.

“Not just sneak around the store” Minho added, voice softer now, thumb brushing lightly over Jisung’s wrist. “Not just quick fucking on desks - though don’t get me wrong, that was amazing - ”

Jisung let out an embarrassed huff, face flushing red, but Minho kept going, words gentle and stupidly sincere.

“I want to actually be with you, Jisungie.”

Jisung’s heart was hammering like it might punch through his ribs, mouth dry, Minho so close he could feel every warm breath against his skin.

Outside the door, Seungmin’s voice floated in, flat and annoyed “Do I need to go in there to speed it up?”

“Do I need to remind you that you begged him to tag along?” Chan shouted back, sounding way too pleased with himself.

Jisung let out a strangled laugh, ducking his head but Minho’s thumb hooked under his chin, tilting his face back up, eyes dark and stupidly soft and a little desperate.

“Say something, Jisungie” Minho whispered, voice rough. “Anything. Even if it’s ‘fuck you’ again.”

Jisung blinked, chest squeezing so tight it hurt. “Yeah. I… I want that. Want everything with you.”

And then Minho kissed him. Finally.

After days of craving it, after nights of replaying it in his head yes, yes, yes.

And Jisung melted, instantly, hopelessly, embarrassingly so.

When they stumbled back to the living room, still flushed and messy, Minho practically glued to Jisung’s back, hands tangled - Hyunjin rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t stick, but a grin tugged at his lips anyway.

Chan cleared his throat, trying and failing to look stern. “You two okay?”

“Everything’s great” Minho sing-songed behind him, sounding far too smug. “We’re gonna head back home. But I’ll be back during the day to take my boyfriend on the date he deserves.”

My boyfriend. 

Jisung’s heart skipped so hard he nearly tripped over the coffee table. Then his gaze snagged on Felix - beaming so wide he looked about to ascend - and on Kim Seungmin, bright fucking red, eyes glued to the ceiling like he’d rather die.

“Wait - ” Jisung frowned. “Are you two okay?”

Seungmin awkwardly cleared his throat, face still scarlet. Felix brightened even more, practically vibrating. “Just go back there and make out or something, okay? I just need, like, two more minutes, Sung-ah. I almost convinced Kim Seungmin to sugar baby me - just two minutes - ”

Minho wheezed out a laugh. Seungmin slapped both palms over his face, mumbling something that sounded a lot like “Kill me now.”

And then Minho was tugging Jisung backward, back toward the hall, and the second the bedroom door clicked shut - Minho smashed their mouths together again, swallowing the startled sound that ripped from Jisung’s chest.

God, Jisung wanted him so bad.