Chapter Text
“Minho, baby,” his mother called from the entry of the shop. “Come help me with these boxes?”
Minho immediately stopped what he was sketching behind the counter — a random man’s face, half done. He dropped the pencil over the sketchbook, got up, and hurried to take the box from his mother’s hands. She picked up the other one from the floor, following him until the counter.
“I could’ve brought both, Mom,” he said, putting the box on the counter. When Minho opened it, it was full of new vases — the ones he had bought a week ago, after deciding they needed to replace the old flowers’ vases with new black ones.
“It’s okay.” She smiled, putting the other box next to his. Then she pinched Minho’s cheek, making him grimace. She moved around the counter and sat on the chair Minho had just left. He thought she was going to tease him about the drawing, but then he noticed Soonie had already sprawled across the open sketchbook. She patted the cat’s head. “Sweet boy. Such a comfortable place for a nap, huh?”
Minho chuckled, unboxing the vases and looking around the store for which flowers’ vases were too deteriorated or ugly to replace first.
“By the way,” Minho started, while unwrapping the bubble film from a vase, “I’m going out with some friends tonight.”
“Going out?” she asked, smirking. “You mean you’re going to Changbin’s, get drunk, and sleep on his couch?”
Minho gave her a look. “No,” he said, staring down at the black vase. “Chan and Felix are also going to be there. I think they’ll grill meat.”
“I see.” She held her teasing smirk. “So you’re going to watch those boys try to cook, get impatient and take over in the kitchen. Then, get drunk and fall asleep on Changbin’s couch?”
He groaned. “Why do you make it sound so pathetic?”
“I’m just teasing you,” she said. “You’re young. You should really be going out. You know, meeting people…”
“Just say you want me out of your hair,” he retorted.
She made a face, then stood up from the chair and stopped by his side.
“I never ‘want you out of my hair,’” she said, hugging him from the side. “You’ll always be my baby. I’m just afraid you spend too much time with your old mother and never get too far away from this flower shop.”
Minho set the vase on the counter and hugged her back. Sometimes he didn’t understand why she got so emotional about the prospect of his life being here — around her, around their flower shop, around his friends. Minho thought his life was comfortable and simple. He liked the way things were.
“I know,” he sighed, kissing the top of her head. “But I already told you everything’s fine. I love it here.” He paused. “With my ‘old mother’ that I love.” He chuckled.
She chuckled back. “Then I’m glad. But, still—”
“I promise I’ll try to get out more, your old lady…”
She smiled at him, running her hand through his hair. “Hm. I’ve raised such a beautiful man…” She sighed, staring deep into his eyes. “The people out there deserve to get a glimpse of you.”
That made him chuckle — she sounded so delusional sometimes. He gave her a final nod before going back to the vases.
──── ✿ ────
“So, you’re saying that if you didn’t know me, and we met, like, in a bar…” Chan tried to clarify again.
“I would totally hit on you,” Felix said, taking a sip of his drink.
“What? What changes if you know me or don’t?” Chan asked, exasperated. Minho chuckled.
“It changes everything! Why would I hit on you now that we’re friends?” Felix explained, perfectly serious.
“I don’t get it.” Chan rubbed his temples. “You’re saying that now that you know me, suddenly I’m not attractive anymore?”
“Well, that’s not—”
“Can you two stop with the nonsense?” Changbin cut in. “There’s something more important to talk about here.”
“Like?” Felix asked.
“Like I just burned one perfect burger,” Changbin said, sighing.
Minho got up from his seat, already heading for the pan to stop Changbin from doing any more damage to their food.
“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t waiting for you to rescue me,” Changbin chuckled at his side, watching him drop the burnt hamburger in the trash can.
“You were the one who suggested I shouldn’t cook tonight,” Minho glared at him. “Because ‘I always cook’ or something.”
“I mean, that was the idea!” He paused. “Before I burned the burger,” he added, pouting. Minho always had to hold back a laugh when Changbin looked upset. It was entertaining to see such a buff man pouting like a baby.
“It’s okay,” he reassured nonetheless. “I’d rather cook than keep watching Chan and Felix argue about how attractive they are to each other.”
Changbin chuckled, then nodded. “I don’t know what Felix is on. He’s always clinging to Chan and flirting with him anyway, so…”
Minho nodded. Changbin stayed quiet for a moment, then suddenly jumped as if remembering something.
“Oh! I forgot to tell you—Jisung’s coming back this week,” he said.
Minho stopped what he was doing to look at his friend. “Really?” Changbin nodded. “It’s been such a long time. Any specific reason?”
“He got a good job offer around here. He also transferred from college, so he’s gonna stay here. At least for a while,” he explained.
“That’s great,” Minho said, flipping another burger.
Changbin smiled. “I know. I’m so happy.” He sighed, looking away. “It’s been hard all these years, after our parents’ divorce. I’m glad that brat is coming back.”
Minho hummed, staring down at the pan. The last time he’d seen Jisung was when Changbin moved out of their parents’ house. Jisung had been sixteen at the time, he thought. He’d looked so sad watching his older brother leave.
Minho wondered how Jisung had been since then. Considering only six years had passed, maybe he hadn’t changed much. He found himself oddly excited to see that sweet, boyish smile again—the one that always seemed flustered in his presence.
“Let me know when he’s back,” Minho said, adding another burger to the pan.
“Actually…” Changbin started, smiling at him a little too weirdly. “I was hoping you could pick him up at the bus station…”
“What—” Minho turned to him with an exasperated gasp. “You’re only telling me this now?”
“Please, hyung!” Changbin gave him a wide-eyed look, clutching at his arms. Minho dropped his spatula into the pan. “I told him I’d pick him up, but I couldn’t get off work for it. Can you please do me this favor?”
Minho shot him a tired glare but eventually nodded. Changbin immediately beamed.
“Just text me the details,” Minho said, grabbing the spatula again.
“Okay! Thank you so much, baby.” Changbin kissed his cheek exaggeratedly. Minho wiped his face with the back of his hand, shaking his head.
──── ✿ ────
random snow white’s dwarf [9:21am]:
Hey, hyung
Jisung’s coming this friday!
You have to pick him up at Seoul Station, 5 p.m.
Thank you so so so much again!!!!!!
You [9:35am]:
it’s fine
🙄
──── ✿ ────
When Friday finally arrived, Minho decided to close the shop a little earlier, not wanting to leave his mother working on her own. She insisted there was no need, but Minho convinced her that one more hour working alone wouldn’t make much of a difference, and she should just rest for the evening.
He texted Changbin once he arrived at the bus station to let him know he was already waiting for Jisung. Parking the car close to the exit, he figured Jisung would have no trouble spotting him. His phone buzzed with a call from Changbin, and he answered.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi, hyung!” Changbin’s voice came through the phone. “Thank you again for picking him up. I already told him you’re waiting for him.”
“Okay,” Minho answered shortly.
“Text me if you guys need anything. Bye!” Changbin made a kissing sound before hanging up. Minho chuckled.
He kept his eyes on the exit through the window, not wanting to miss Jisung if he walked by. He realized he’d forgotten to ask Changbin for a recent picture, but figured it wouldn’t be too hard to recognize him. Jisung couldn’t have changed that much.
Minho was wrong. Absolutely wrong.
Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of an older Jisung—jet-black hair in an undercut, arm covered in tattoos. He wore a black T-shirt that clung almost too tightly to his frame, showing off a narrow waist and broad chest. He looked buff.
What the fuck.
Minho dropped his phone onto the car’s carpet at the sight, completely clueless about how to react. He scrambled to grab it, but ended up hitting his head on the wheel. The honk blared through the car.
He guessed that if Jisung hadn’t found the car yet, the honk must have helped him. A second later, the man was opening the car door with ease, sliding in with a heart-shaped smile. At least his smile was still the same.
“Thanks for coming, hyung—” Jisung began, but the words cut short as he turned and saw who was behind the wheel. “What—Minho hyung?”
Now that he was close, Minho noticed the eyebrow piercing. And not just that—Jisung had a lip ring too. Minho’s mind was running wild.
Suddenly, he regretted his choice of clothes. While he sat there in a plain blue cardigan, black jeans, and his old All Stars, Jisung suddenly looked like someone completely out of reach.
“Uh—” Minho cleared his throat. “I… sorry—” Why the fuck was he apologizing? “Changbin said he couldn’t make it, so he asked me to pick you up—”
“Ah!” The younger nodded in realization. “I see. Sorry to bother you. Hyung didn’t tell me you were the one coming.”
“You’re—” He stuttered. Minho couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly so nervous. Sweat was gathering under his cardigan. “You don’t—don’t bother me.”
Jisung smiled again, this time with a subtle edge—almost seductive, almost a smirk. Maybe his smile had changed after all.
“Well, thanks for coming.” He beamed. “It’s been a while. How have you been, hyung?”
Minho shook his head and drew in a deep breath, steadying himself enough to start the car.
“Hm… I’ve been fine,” he answered shortly—only to regret it a moment later when he side-eyed the younger and caught his expectant expression. He sighed. “Not much is happening. Changbin graduated a year ago, so now he’s working as a personal trainer at a gym near his apartment. I don’t know if you’ve met some of our friends, they—”
“Hyung,” Jisung interrupted, chuckling as he looked at him pointedly. “I asked how you’ve been. I don’t wanna hear about what Changbin hyung’s been up to.”
“Ah, right.” Minho’s grip on the wheel tightened. “I’ve been working with my mom this whole time,” he said. “She owns a flower shop.” He added it quickly, as if hoping it would be enough for Jisung.
“Oh, that’s cool.” Jisung smiled—Minho caught it from the corner of his eye. “So you’re like… a flower boy or something?”
“I—what does that even mean?” He risked a glance at Jisung. The man only shrugged, offering no explanation.
Minho turned his eyes back to the road. If he kept looking at Jisung, he was sure he’d start sweating again. Maybe even blush. God, his stutter was already humiliation enough for the day.
“Anyways. That’s it. Nothing interesting is happening in my life right now.”
“Flowers are interesting.” Jisung let out a chuckle. “Working with your mother is interesting.” He added, grinning. “Also, driving a red Fiat Palio is really, really interesting.” He laughed again.
At that, Minho let out a shy chuckle of his own.
“My mom swears she got this one for a good price.” This time, he didn’t dare glance at Jisung. He knew he’d only find him absolutely stunning—smiling from ear to ear at his half-joke. Too handsome for Minho not to get flustered.
“Yeah, I bet she did,” Jisung said.
“And you…” Minho began, still keeping his eyes glued to the road. “How have you been all these years?”
“I’ve been fine.” Jisung sighed. “The first year was hard. But then I made new friends, and then I finished school, and then, before I even noticed, I was already in college. Time’s running fast.”
On that, Minho could absolutely agree, considering how Jisung had grown into the man now sitting in his passenger seat. All of a sudden, in what felt like the blink of an eye.
It went like that—Jisung seemed far too interested in Minho’s life, while Minho himself could barely bring himself to look his way during the drive.
After what felt like hours in the car (though, in reality, it had only been maybe half an hour), Minho finally parked in front of Changbin’s apartment. Only then did he notice Jisung was carrying just a black bag and a small piece of luggage. He was supposed to live here from now on—with that? All his belongings crammed into two bags?
Minho insisted on helping with the luggage, even though Jisung kept saying it wasn’t necessary. They reached the elevator in silence, for the first time without Jisung bombarding him with a hundred questions about his life.
When they finally got to Changbin’s floor, Minho crouched down to fish the spare key from under the doormat.
“What—You’re kidding, right?” Jisung pointed at him, incredulous. Minho looked up, confused. “You’re telling me this guy keeps the key to his home outside? On the floor?”
“It’s under the doormat, actually,” Minho corrected. Jisung just stared at him, wide-eyed. “What? Why would anyone want to get inside his apartment besides us?”
“Are you serious? To, like, rob him maybe. Or kill him.” Jisung gestured with both hands as they stepped inside. “Do you guys not realize you live in the big city?”
Minho shrugged. “Well, you better get used to—”
“Oh!” A loud shout interrupted him. Minho turned to see Changbin at the doorstep, beaming. “My little bro!”
“Don’t call me that—” Jisung started, but his protest was muffled as Changbin suddenly pulled him into a crushing hug, pressing his face to his chest.
Minho couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.
“Oh, I missed you so much! Did you miss your hyung? Tell me!” Changbin kept shouting, holding Jisung around the neck and shaking him from side to side in a too-tight hug. Minho could see Jisung tapping desperately at Changbin’s arms, trying to make him loosen his grip.
“Hyung—let go of me—” Jisung managed, muffled. Minho laughed out loud.
“Changbin, let him go. You’re going to suffocate him like that.” Minho stepped closer and tapped his friend on the shoulder. Only then did Changbin relent and let the younger boy free.
Jisung rubbed his neck, scowling in a way that almost looked fond. Minho kept grinning. That was enough to set his head straight, reminding him that Jisung was really the teenager he’d met back then.
“Look at you, you’re all grown!” Changbin said after a moment of staring Jisung up and down. “Look at these tattoos! Oh, look at his chest! You’ve been working out, right?”
As if Minho needed the reminder. He’d spent the past hour trying to keep his wandering eyes away from Jisung’s figure, only for Changbin to point out every single feature right in front of him. He was going to die.
“Uh—yes,” Jisung answered shortly, probably shy from the attention. Only then did Minho notice the faint red blooming across his round cheeks. Cute.
“You should totally come work out at the gym I go to,” Changbin said, squeezing Jisung’s bicep with far too much enthusiasm, like he was already planning Jisung’s entire workout routine. “You’ll get really big!”
Minho furrowed his brows. His arms already looked plenty fit to him. How was he supposed to get bigger than that? Was Changbin insane?
“Minho, what do you think?” Changbin asked suddenly.
Minho blinked.
“Uh—” His gaze darted between Changbin and Jisung. “I think he’s already pretty built.”
“What?” Changbin gasped. He turned back to Jisung, who looked just as confused. “I was asking if you wanted to join us for dinner. What are you even talking about?”
Great. Had Minho been staring at Jisung’s arms so hard he’d tuned everything else out? His ears felt hot, and he was sure they were glowing red by now.
“I—I mean—” Minho stammered, trying to come up with something, anything, but no words would stick.
“Wait… are you still thinking about the gym thing?” Changbin asked, eyes widening with sudden realization. Before Minho could defend himself, he barreled on. “Oh! Are you finally interested? I knew it! I always say you should train with me. Your chest is already so nice—” Changbin waved a hand at him like he was showing him off, “—but if we focused on your thighs first, imagine how defined they’d look if—”
“Okay!” Minho cut him off, his voice an octave too high. “Yeah, that’s… cool. We can talk about it some other time.”
Some other time that would never exist. Still, at least Changbin thought he’d been staring because of a workout pep talk and not because he was being a complete weirdo about Jisung’s arms.
“Fine,” Changbin mumbled, clearly unconvinced but letting it drop. “Anyway, about dinner—you’re staying, right?”
Minho nodded quickly, more eager to escape the conversation than to actually eat.
Changbin ended up ordering takeout. Minho tried to argue that it wasn’t necessary—that they could just throw something together at home—but Changbin brushed him off, well aware that “homemade” would end with Minho doing all the work, as always.
A little later, Jisung emerged from the guest room, freshly showered and changed. He was dressed in loose black shorts and a baggy black T-shirt with some anime print Minho didn’t recognize. Even in something that casual, he looked unfairly good—his jawline sharp, his whole presence more striking than Minho remembered.
At least the looser clothes were a small mercy. They gave Minho a chance to try to act normal, to convince himself his thoughts weren’t crossing into dangerous territory. This was Changbin’s little brother, after all.
As they ate, Minho couldn’t stop staring at Jisung. He silently thanked God—and the universe—every time the younger spoke, giving him an excuse to look without seeming like a total weirdo.
He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Jisung—the little, skinny teenager he’d known—six years later, all grown, big, and covered in tattoos. So, so handsome. Minho felt like he might just grab his own hair and rip it out in frustration.
“Hyung, are you okay?” Changbin asked, still chewing his food. So polite. “You’re really quiet. Something on your mind?”
Ha. This guy must be messing with him. Of course he wasn’t okay.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Minho said, nonetheless. “I just feel like you guys have so much to talk about. Don’t really want to bother you two.” He tried to sound casual, which wasn’t entirely a lie.
“I’d rather listen to you talk, though,” Jisung said, eyes on his food. His voice sounded so… husky, for some reason. Minho felt like he was about to combust.
“Yah!” Changbin slapped his head playfully. “You can’t insult me in my own home!”
“I’m not insulting you! I just agree that Minho hyung is too quiet!” Jisung defended himself, rubbing the spot Changbin had just hit.
“I already told you there’s not much to say,” Minho said, putting his chopsticks down. “Not much has changed since you left. At least not for me, so…”
“You’re such a liar,” Changbin smirked. “A lot has changed. We discovered Minho’s insanely talented—his drawings are crazy! But of course, I stumbled across them since he didn’t bother showing me any…” He arched his brow.
“Why would I talk about that of all things? And I’m not even that good—”
“Really? You draw?” Jisung’s interest piqued, and suddenly he was looking at Minho eagerly. “Can you show me sometime?”
“Uh—sure,” Minho agreed easily, feeling his ears heat up again. Changbin playfully whistled.
“Good luck with that. He’s a man of no word,” Changbin chuckled.
“What else? He told me he works at a flower shop?” Jisung asked, still staring at him with wide, sparkling eyes. He looked like an eager puppy. What the hell more did he want Minho to say?
“That’s it, there’s not—”
“Oh, yes,” Changbin nodded. “He’s also insanely good at making bouquets—they’re all so, so pretty.” He sipped his water, then kept rambling. “Also, he’s been rescuing some stray cats. Now they’re always hanging around the flowers. It’s so cute.”
“What? This is so cool!” Jisung said, looking at him with something like admiration in his eyes. Minho must be imagining things. Why would he look at him like that, when he’s the successful one here? “When I asked, Minho hyung didn’t want to talk much.” He pouted.
“He’s just like that,” Changbin dismissed. “But his friends are here to talk about how great he is for him, right, baby?” He pinched Minho’s cheek, using a ridiculous high-pitched voice.
Jisung’s expression suddenly fell.
“Baby?” he repeated, as if asking a question. Minho and Changbin stared at each other, confused.
“I’m just teasing him,” Changbin chuckled. “His mother still calls him a baby all the time.”
“Ah, I see—” Jisung looked flustered. Minho didn’t understand why. “That’s… cute.”
Cute? Cute?
What was cute? Changbin teasing him was cute? His mother calling him a baby was cute? What in the absolute hell was cute about any of this?
Changbin only nodded, then shifted the conversation to a completely different subject. Minho let him ramble, choosing instead to gather up the pile of empty delivery boxes. After tossing them into the trash bin and putting some order into Changbin’s chaotic kitchen, he figured it was best to call it a night.
His head was still spinning, clouded with thoughts of this new, updated version of Jisung. The tattoos, the piercings, the boyish edges of his face all but gone—replaced by something sharper, harder to look away from. It was too much to process at once. Better to head home, breathe, and try to clear his mind.
Before he could return to the living room to say his goodbyes, Minho bumped right into Jisung on his way out.
“You’re not leaving already, are you?” Jisung asked, his eyes carrying a hint of something almost pleading.
“Uh—actually, I was,” Minho admitted. Jisung pouted, and Minho froze on the spot. “It’s just that—it’s getting late. Better for me to go.”
Jisung bit his lip. “Okay. Guess I’ll see you when you come around again.” His gaze dropped to the floor. “Right?”
“Yeah. I—” Minho stared at him, the edges of reality blurring. He still couldn’t shake the feeling he was dreaming, none of this quite real. “I’m around a lot.”
At that, Jisung smiled. A smile too pretty, almost unfair. Minho felt his heart grow heavy in his chest for reasons he couldn’t name.
Jisung stepped aside to let him through. Minho gave a quick goodbye to Changbin, and just as he was about to leave, Jisung pulled him into a hug.
Jisung. Huge. Biceps. Holding him tight. Minho swallowed hard. Maybe it would be safer not to be too around after all.
“See you, hyung!” Jisung beamed at him before opening the door and letting him go.
Minho drove home with his head full, replaying every damn moment of the day like a broken record. When he finally walked through the door, Dori was already waiting, curled right behind it like he knew the exact second Minho’d arrive.
“Hi, love,” Minho murmured, patting the cat’s head. “Missed me?”
“Minho? Baby?” his mother’s voice called from the kitchen.
“Yes, mom. I just got here,” he answered from the doorway. Soon enough, she appeared, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Did everything go fine?” she asked. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Hm. Had dinner at Changbin’s,” he soothed her.
“Good.” She leaned against the wall, watching him closely. “How’s Jisung?”
“He’s fine.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly suspicious of how short he kept his answer.
“You must be tired.” Her expression softened into a smile. “I’ll let you rest.” She stepped forward, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and whispered, “Good night. Sleep well.”
He nodded, slipping away toward the bathroom. After a shower and a change into his pajamas, he lay in bed, but sleep refused to come. No matter how many times he rolled from one side to the other, Jisung’s smile kept flashing in his head. That damn tattooed arm. That lip piercing. Fuck.
Minho groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He was absolutely sick. There was no fucking way the sight of Jisung was what was keeping him up at night. If Changbin ever found out… he’d kill him.
Just as he felt himself finally drifting off, his phone buzzed against the pillow by his head. He groaned, fumbling for it and muttering a curse when the screen lit up—Changbin’s name flashing beneath some random new notification.
random snow white’s dwarf [11:32pm]:
Hyung, thanks again for picking Jisung up.
He’s really thankful too, haha.
He asked for your number, so I sent it to him.
Hope you can also help him get settled here 💪🏻
Minho for sure would go insane.
──── ✿ ────
A few days later, Minho found himself back at Changbin’s apartment. He’d promised himself he would stay away for a while, but that went out the window the moment Felix ambushed him at the flower shop. Felix had begged him to tag along—something about Changbin lending him his camera for Felix’s college project—and Minho had already promised to help with the recording, after all.
When they got there, Minho unlocked the door with Changbin’s spare key and dropped onto the couch while Felix went hunting for the camera.
He knew Changbin was at work, and judging by the silence, it seemed Jisung wasn’t home either. From the bedroom came Felix’s muffled voice, muttering to himself as he wrestled with the chaos of Changbin’s room, probably buried in the mess trying to track down the camera.
“Found it!” Felix came back, clutching the camera. “Jesus, I knew his room would be messy, but I didn’t think—”
His words cut off when, out of nowhere, a very shirtless Jisung appeared from the hallway.
He wore only a towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water sliding down his chest and tracing the ridges of his defined abdomen before disappearing beneath the towel. Minho blinked. Then blinked again.
His mind combusted at the sight—not only because of what he already remembered, but because now he could see the ink curling across Jisung’s skin. Tattoos on his chest. More along his side, black lines starting beneath his ribs and disappearing under the towel.
What the fuck.
What the absolute fuck.
“Uh—who are you and why are you naked?” Felix blurted, gawking at him.
“He’s Jisung, Changbin’s brother,” Minho managed after swallowing hard. He tore his gaze away, trying and failing to be subtle.
“Sorry, I thought I was alone—” Jisung rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you guys just unlock his door and walk in all the time?”
“No—we—” Minho stammered, nerves fraying. “We just came to grab Changbin’s camera. He knew we were coming. Sorry for intruding.”
“We’re not intruding, Changbin let us insi—” Felix started, but Minho was already on his feet, yanking him by the arm.
“We’ll be going now. See you!” he blurted, practically shoving Felix out the door and speed-walking to the elevator. Only when the doors closed behind them did Felix speak again.
“Changbin’s brother, huh?” he asked, a teasing smirk spreading across his face.
“What about it?” Minho muttered, avoiding his gaze.
“What about it? Hyung, you were completely ogling that fucking god we just saw naked.”
“I—” Minho gasped, then exhaled sharply. “I wasn’t ogling him. He just… surprised me.” He insisted. “You were the one ogling him.”
“I absolutely was ogling him,” Felix said flatly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We saw the same man, right? Why the hell wouldn’t I ogle him?”
“He’s Changbin’s little brother!” Minho argued as they stepped out of the elevator.
Felix nearly laughed. “Little brother? Hyung, there’s nothing little about that man. Are you blind?”
No. Minho wasn’t fucking blind. He had seen every bit of Jisung’s firm, defined muscles. He had seen the black ink etched across his skin, the broad shoulders, the narrow waist. He didn’t need Felix spelling it out to drag the images back into his head.
“Forget it. Let’s talk about your project,” Minho muttered.
“I can’t just forget it!” Felix gasped. “I have to talk to him—”
“Felix!” Minho snapped, louder than he meant to. “Jisung is Changbin’s brother. He’s going to be around all the time now. Don’t you think you guys will become friends? Didn’t you tell Chan you wouldn’t hit on a friend?”
He prayed the words made sense inside Felix’s head, because they sure as hell didn’t inside his own.
“Uh—maybe you’re right.” Felix bit his lip, thoughtful. “It would just turn into something complicated, huh?”
Minho nodded, relieved. But before he could fully exhale, Felix was talking again.
“How about you? You find him attractive, don’t you?” Felix elbowed him as they walked.
“I—no. I don’t,” Minho said firmly.
“How could you not—”
“He’s too young for me, okay?” Minho blurted out. “I knew him when he was sixteen. He’s Changbin’s family. There’s no way I could be attracted to him.”
Felix’s smirk faded as he studied him, then he nodded slowly.
“I guess. But we don’t control those things, hyung.” His tone softened. “It’s okay if you think he’s hot.”
“I don’t,” Minho repeated.
Felix let it drop, saying nothing more.
──── ✿ ────
Staying away from Jisung was way harder than Minho thought.
He should’ve known, really. It wasn’t like he could suddenly stop seeing his best friend. But he hadn’t expected to deal with this situation so soon.
This situation being his absolute thirst for Jisung, which hadn’t gone away after a few days like he planned. Especially not after seeing his naked torso that one time. The image had burned itself into his brain just like the tattoos inked into Jisung’s skin.
And “soon” meant only a week later, when he was hanging out with Felix and Chan at Felix’s dorm, drinking cheap beer while being tortured by whatever football game Chan insisted on watching. Someone knocked on the door, and Minho figured it had to be Changbin.
But when he stood up from his spot on the floor to open it, he saw not only Changbin—but Jisung too. Of course.
“Hey, guys,” Changbin said, tapping Minho’s shoulder as he passed to flop down next to Felix on the couch. “I brought my brother, Jisung. He needs to make some friends here now that he moved.” He was already cracking open a beer.
Jisung stood awkwardly in the doorway, eyes down, mumbling something Minho couldn’t catch. He looked uncomfortable.
“Come in,” Minho said, offering him a smile that was most probably awkward. Jisung stepped in, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Hi, guys. Nice to meet you,” he said, standing a little awkwardly in the middle of the room. Didn’t Changbin think he’d feel uncomfortable being thrown into this?
“Hey, man.” For the first time, Chan tore his eyes away from the game. “Nice to meet you. Changbin told me you’re in music at college?”
Jisung nodded. “Yeah, I just transferred here. I’m in my second year.”
“That’s great,” Chan said with a small nod. “I did music in college too.”
Jisung’s eyes widened, suddenly lit up with excitement. “Oh, really?” He finally stepped further into the room, dropping down on the floor beside Chan. “What do you do nowadays?”
“I work as a producer,” Chan said with a shrug.
“No way!” Jisung gasped. “That’s so cool. I wanna be a producer someday.”
“You already produce music, Jisung,” Changbin cut in, sipping his beer.
“Yeah, but I mean a professional producer.” He shook his head.
“You will be in no time,” Chan chuckled. “We could even work together sometime, if you’d like.”
“What?” Jisung gasped again, jaw dropping. “Are you kidding? Of course I’d want that!”
“Are you going to stay by the door, Minho hyung?” Felix suddenly called out.
Only then did Minho realize he was still standing there, frozen, watching Jisung and Chan talk like some kind of weirdo. Huh.
“Of course not,” Minho chuckled, a little embarrassed, closing the door behind him. He dropped down beside Chan, reaching for his half-empty beer.
Jisung and Chan slipped back into conversation easily, Jisung practically glowing with excitement at the idea of working with a professional producer. His voice was animated, hands moving as if the words alone couldn’t carry his enthusiasm.
And Minho… Minho found himself staring.
It maddened him how cute Jisung was—how his round cheeks squished up when he smiled, how his eyes widened when he spoke about music like it was the most important thing in the world. So open. So eager. So painfully adorable.
Minho took a longer sip of beer than necessary, letting the bitter taste burn his tongue, hoping it would drown the thoughts circling in his head.
When Minho felt too overwhelmed sharing the same space as Jisung, he excused himself to the bathroom.
He braced his hands on the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His face was flushed—whether from the beer or the way Jisung had walked in wearing that black leather jacket, he couldn’t tell. Jisung looked even more breathtaking than Minho remembered, carrying that devastating heart-shaped smile.
Meanwhile, Minho was standing there in a pink shirt patterned with cartoon cats—a shirt he once thought was funny. Now it just made him look… ridiculous.
Why did he suddenly feel immature? Like Jisung had gone away, grown into a man with purpose and a whole life ahead of him, while Minho… Minho was still stuck. Drifting. Dressing like a twelve-year-old and wondering when exactly he’d his life came to that.
What the absolute hell was he even doing with his life?
“Hyung?” Felix’s voice came from the doorway — only then did Minho realize he’d left the door wide open. He tore his eyes from the mirror, turning to him.
“You okay?”
Minho gave a slow nod. “Yeah,” he muttered.
“You’re not drunk, are you?” Felix chuckled. “You barely drank anything—”
“I’m not drunk,” Minho cut in quickly. “I’m fine. Just… fine.”
Felix tilted his head, clearly not buying it.
“This isn’t about Jisung, is it?” he asked.
Minho’s brows shot up. “What? No. Even if it wasn’t fine, it wouldn’t have anything to do with Jisung.” His voice was clipped, eyes dropping back to the sink.
Felix hummed. “I don’t know, hyung. I saw the way you were looking at him. That day at Changbin’s. And just now—”
“Felix!” Minho snapped, patience breaking. He shoved past him, storming out of the bathroom. “Stop with this nonsense, would you? Jisung is Changbin’s little brother. He’s too young for me. I would never feel that way about him. Got it?”
Felix’s face twisted strangely, like he’d seen a ghost.
“What now?” Minho barked.
“Uh—well, it’s just that… Jisung—”
“What about him?” Minho shot back.
“He’s behind you…” Felix whispered.
Minho froze. His stomach dropped. Slowly, he turned — and there Jisung was, standing with a couple of beer cans balanced in his arms.
“Uh—sorry,” Jisung mumbled, eyes flicking between them. “Changbin asked for more, so… they told me to grab these.”
“It’s fine,” Felix rushed in, flustered.
Jisung gave a polite nod, then turned back toward the living room. Minho’s hand immediately smacked Felix’s arm.
“Ow!”
“This is your fault!” Minho hissed. “I told you to drop it, but no, you had to start again—”
“I was just trying to help! I know you’re into him—”
“Felix, for fuck’s sake!” Minho groaned, smacking him again. “How the hell am I supposed to look him in the eye now? What’s he gonna think of me?”
Felix winced. “That you’d never dream of hooking up with him?” he offered weakly.
“Felix!”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Felix whispered, throwing his hands up. “If Jisung’s upset, I’ll take the blame. It’s on me, hyung. I swear.”
Minho let out a wordless groan. Together, they walked back to the living room. Chan was still deep in an explanation, Jisung nodding along. But the second Minho entered, Jisung’s eyes flicked up, finding his.
Minho almost forgot how to breathe.
Guilt sank like a stone in his chest. What had Jisung heard? What was he thinking?
He sat stiffly beside Chan, forcing his gaze onto the TV, anywhere but Jisung.
Fine. He’d avoid him. Completely. It was safer that way — after embarrassing himself this much, it had to be.
Maybe it was for the best.
──── ✿ ────
“Baby, where did you put the yellow tulips that came this morning?” his mother asked while wiping down the counter.
“I left them out back,” Minho replied, already moving to fetch them. “Where do you want them?”
“By the entrance.” She pointed toward the glass door. “They’re gorgeous. I want them to be the first thing people see when they walk in.”
Minho nodded, arranging the tulips where she wanted before retreating behind the counter and sinking into the chair with a quiet thud.
“Everything alright?” she asked, glancing up at him. “You’ve seemed… I don’t know. A little down, these days.”
He exhaled, long and tired. “It’s nothing.”
Her look said she didn’t believe a word of it.
“I’m fine, really,” he insisted, forcing a small smile.
“Did you and Changbin fight?” she asked gently.
“No, Mom. We’re good.” His smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Promise.”
In reality, the only thing gnawing at him was that damn scene with Felix. The way he’d lost his temper. The way Jisung had walked in at the worst possible moment. Minho was certain he’d heard every word. And if he had… then why hadn’t he said anything?
The lack of response haunted Minho more than he would like to admit. He barely even knew Jisung, and the man had vanished for six years. He shouldn’t care this much about what Jisung thought. So why did he?
“If you say so.” She hummed, still looking a little unsure, though it seemed she’d let it drop.
──── ✿ ────
“Thanks again for helping me with the project, hyung,” Felix murmured as they picked at their lunch trays.
Minho just nodded, his eyes fixed on the video playing on Felix’s phone—the very project he’d helped him with. They were tucked into a small restaurant near Felix’s campus, the kind of student hangout that smelled faintly of fried oil and artificial juice. Felix had insisted on paying, still feeling guilty about what had happened back at his dorm.
“Hyung,” Felix said suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice carried that edge of curiosity he clearly couldn’t hold back anymore. “Did… you talk with Jisung after that day?”
Minho’s shoulders tensed. He exhaled through his nose, eyes flicking away. “No. I haven’t been to Changbin’s since then,” he muttered.
“What?” Felix gasped, nearly choking on his food. “You’re always at Changbin’s!”
Minho shot him a sharp look.
“First of all, I am not always at Changbin’s.” His glare deepened at the blond. “Second—what do you expect me to do? I don’t even know how to look at him after that day! What the hell am I supposed to say to him—”
“Is that him?” Felix interrupted suddenly, his eyes darting over Minho’s shoulder.
Minho froze mid-sentence, heart skipping. Slowly, almost against his will, he turned his head in the direction Felix was staring.
There he was—sitting just a few tables away. White tank top, black cargo pants. His hair was a little messy, but in that deliberate, maddening way that made him look even more charming. He looked so hot Minho genuinely wanted to cry.
He was surrounded by a small group, friends Minho assumed were from campus. Jisung laughed at something one of them said, head tilted back, eyes sparkling. So fucking beautiful it made Minho’s chest ache.
“You don’t have to stare that hard to notice he’s here, hyung,” Felix teased, his voice low but pointed.
Minho snapped his gaze back to him instantly, ears burning.
“Shut up,” he muttered under his breath. “Let’s get out of here. He can’t see me.” He was already half out of his seat.
“Wait, hyung—” Felix’s hand shot out, catching his arm. His voice softened, but his eyes stayed sharp. “Don’t you think you’re making this a bigger deal than it is? You can’t avoid him forever.”
Minho knew he was being unreasonable—but he also knew he wasn’t ready to face Jisung. Not yet. He was certain Jisung thought he was insane after what he’d overheard. As if Jisung would ever be attracted to him, for Minho to need to blurt out to Felix that he would never be attracted to Jisung. The whole thing was ridiculous. Humiliating. He wanted to crawl into the floor and stay there forever.
“Felix, I don’t want to talk about it right now. Can we please just go?” he asked, voice tight.
“But—”
“I’m only in this mess because of you. Please, let’s just go.” His eyes pleaded more than his words.
Felix exhaled, shoulders sinking. He gave a small nod, not daring to push further. Without another word, they slipped out of the restaurant.
──── ✿ ────
Damn Felix for always seeing right through him. And damn him again for saying Minho couldn’t avoid Jisung forever—because the worst part was, he was right.
Chan had been pushing them all to go to a party on Saturday night. At first, Minho was firmly against it. He didn’t do parties. He hated the noise, the mess, the press of sweaty strangers who always seemed to multiply as the night went on. But the more he thought about it, the less appealing the alternative became: sitting at home on a Saturday night, wallowing in his own head, while his mom crocheted in front of the TV and the cats used him as their personal pillow. Yeah. Maybe enduring a party with his friends wasn’t the worst option after all.
Changbin commenting that Jisung would be busy that night had nothing to do with Minho’s change of heart. Absolutely not.
But the second he walked in with Chan and saw Changbin and Felix already there—talking with Jisung—he knew something had shifted.
Oh my God.
“Hey, guys!” Changbin called out, waving them over. Minho forced his legs to move, each step dragging as he trailed behind Chan’s tray.
Jisung’s eyes found him first. Ugh. Minho instantly averted his gaze, too humiliated by just being seen.
And of course, Jisung had to look like that. A long-sleeve black button-up, the top few buttons left open at his chest, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms and ink. Under the lights, the glint of a silver chain peeked out. Effortlessly handsome.
Minho’s stomach twisted. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself in front of him again.
“I’m going to get a drink,” Minho said, distancing himself before Chan could say he wanted one too. He was already feeling stressed out by the situation.
He sat at the bar and ordered the same drink the person beside him had just asked for. Discreetly, he glanced back at his friends and saw a girl had joined their conversation. She was pretty, wearing a flirty smile. It looked like she was hitting on Jisung, since she was all over him.
Minho sighed. What the fuck was going on with him? Thirsting over Changbin’s little brother. Minho suddenly felt hesitant about hanging around his own best friend, because he was turning into some insane creep who couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering. His mouth from running too much. His mind from chanting Jisung’s name all the time.
“Hey, pretty.” A guy approached him. “What’s someone like you doing alone?”
Minho looked him over. He was kinda cute. But Minho hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol to forget how overwhelmed he was—and just start flirting with a random guy.
“Actually, I came with my friends,” he said with a small smile.
“Really? And they left you on your own?” the guy asked, stepping closer. Jeez.
“I just needed a moment.” Minho stood, earning a disappointed look from him. “I don’t feel so good. Think I’m going to get some air.” He smiled politely before slipping away, leaving the guy behind as he headed out for a bit.
When the cool night air hit his face, Minho sighed in relief. He needed to do something about this situation, or he was going to lose his mind. He needed to—
“Oh—hyung.”
A voice came from behind him. He turned, only to see Jisung. Great.
“Hey,” Minho muttered with a nod. He leaned back against the wall, carefully avoiding Jisung’s gaze.
“Is everything fine? You seem—”
“Yes!” Minho cut in with a quick smile. “You?”
“I just needed to smoke,” Jisung replied, holding up a cigarette. Huh. Minho hadn’t known that.
“I… didn’t know you smoked,” Minho said hesitantly.
“We haven’t seen each other that much, so…” Jisung answered without much thought.
Funny. Minho actually felt like they’d been seeing each other way too much for his own sanity.
“Yeah, maybe,” he muttered, watching Jisung light it.
Jisung took a slow drag, then exhaled. Why the hell everything about him was so hot?
Clearing his throat, Jisung started, “So…”
“So?” Minho echoed, bracing himself for whatever might come next.
“I’ve been meaning to ask…” Jisung took a drag, exhaling before continuing. “Are you… uncomfortable when I’m around?”
Minho gasped. “What? No, of course not, I—”
“Then—” Jisung tilted his head, unconvinced. “You guys said you used to hang out at Changbin’s, but you’ve never come around since I moved. And then—” He sighed. “Then, you always give me this deer-in-the-headlights look whenever you notice me, and—”
He stopped, eyes locking onto Minho’s. The cigarette burned between his fingers, forgotten.
“And that day, you—you said I was too young for you. That you wouldn’t feel that way about me.” His voice stumbled, for once sounding genuinely flustered. “Did I… did I make you feel like you had to spell it out for me?”
Minho swallowed hard. Oh no.
“Jisung—” Minho took a moment, sighing. “You don’t make me uncomfortable. I’m sorry for making you feel like that.” He bit his lip. “It’s just that—”
Jisung leaned in, attentive. Oh god. It was now or never.
“Uh… Felix thinks you’re hot,” Minho blurted out. It wasn’t a complete lie. “And, like… I don’t know why, but he wanted to know if—if by any chance I’d be into you too, so—” He chuckled, as if the idea itself were ridiculous. “So, I had to tell him that wasn’t the case. Obviously.”
Jisung stared at him, a little confused.
“Felix is into me?” Jisung asked slowly, as if trying to process it.
“Uhm,” Minho murmured. “Well, he was, but now that you’re friends I don’t think that’s the case anymore.” He nodded, hoping Jisung would buy it—hoping this whole nonsense would just end.
“And…” Jisung placed the cigarette between his lips. The smell was starting to cloud Minho’s mind. “You meant what you said that day?”
“Huh?”
“About me?” Jisung pressed.
Minho stared at him, lost. He had no idea where this conversation was heading anymore.
“Yes, I meant that,” he muttered. At some point, he realized his gaze had fixed on the cigarette dangling from Jisung’s lips.
“Well, that’s a shame,” Jisung said, taking another drag.
Minho blinked. A shame? What was a shame?
Had he said something wrong—too distracted by how Jisung looked smoking?
“What?”
“It’s a shame that you see me like that,” Jisung explained, his expression serious.
Minho’s brows furrowed. “Sorry—” he rubbed at his neck, nervous. “I don’t get it—”
“I don’t want you to see me as Changbin’s ‘little’ brother, hyung,” Jisung said, biting his lip.
“But—” Minho chuckled in disbelief, still confused. “How else am I supposed to see you—”
“Well.” Jisung sighed. “I wish you could see me as a man. Just like you.”
Minho froze.
It couldn’t mean what he thought it meant. Right?
Right?
“Jisung, I don’t think you—” Minho tried to reason, but his thoughts scattered the moment Jisung stepped closer. “Jisung—”
“Is that too hard?” Jisung asked, eyes locked on him, gaze impossibly intimate. “Too impossible?”
Minho was caught, trapped in that look. Maybe he wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe he was reading this all wrong. That had to be it. He must’ve drunk more than he realized—yeah. That was the only explanation.
“I don’t know,” Minho mumbled, his eyes fixed on Jisung’s lips. Jisung’s gaze softened.
“You should think about it,” he said, leaning closer. Too close. For a second, Minho thought he was about to kiss him. Instead, Jisung’s lips brushed the corner of his mouth. His eyes lingered on Minho’s dazed face. “I’ll wait.” He smiled, slipping the cigarette back between his lips.
Minho furrowed his brows, completely lost. His body burned. God, he wished Jisung had kissed him properly—even if the thought was insane.
“Oh, there you guys are.” Changbin’s voice cut in. Minho immediately stepped aside, putting space between them. “We were looking for you.”
“I needed a smoke, and Minho-hyung was keeping me company,” Jisung said with a smile toward his brother.
Minho tensed at the sound of his name.
“Ready to head back in?” Changbin threw an arm around him, grinning wide.
Minho nodded, still dazed from Jisung’s nearness, from that almost-kiss. He felt like he might pass out.
“How much did you drink? You’re red as hell, man,” Changbin teased, studying his face.
Minho didn’t answer. His mind was too crowded with Jisung—who looked far too satisfied with himself, judging by the smirk tugging at his lips.
“Tell me when you’ve given it some thought,” Jisung suddenly whispered in his ear, careful enough that Changbin wouldn’t notice. Minho was certain he was about to pass out.
He made his way to the bar, ordering another drink just to process the night. Thank god Felix and Chan seemed too wrapped up in each other to notice his state.
He took a slow sip, praying the alcohol would blur out Jisung’s warmth still lingering at his side. His words. His kiss. The way he made Minho feel.
Minho was absolutely fucked.