Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jisung’s day at work was horrible. It was like everyone bound together to be miserable all in one place, and all the higher-ups thought it would be the perfect opportunity to pile an excessive workload onto Jisung’s shoulders. He understood that he was the person that would likely get it done the quickest, but couldn’t they have spread it out a little?

              Felix was still off, recovering from his concussion, since it wasn’t healthy for him to be looking at a computer screen yet. Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin all went round to his place the first day he got back home and made him comfortable with a myriad of pillows and blankets, adding to the stash that Chan left. Felix was certainly the most put out that he couldn’t play with his gaming console while he was off work, but at least he didn’t have to suffer through that nightmare of a day. Jisung hated how his friend got injured, but he’d do anything to shield him from the grumpy yelling of their manager any day. Luckily Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin didn’t get it as bad as him. Jisung would always happily take the brunt of it off their shoulders.

              Jisung honestly can’t wait to get to bed.

              However, when he opens his door to the sound of frustrated chatter, his stomach drops. Because he had completely forgotten that his family were coming back from their holiday today. Already, Jisung was lowering his head as he stepped fully into the hallway. His father, step-mother and brother were all standing around the pile of suitcases that they dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the floor. His father was grumbling about something that Jisung had no context about, and the others were nodding their heads sagely in agreement. Neither of them were really allowed to get a word in edgewise, anyway.

              Jisung took tiny steps in, pulling his shoulders inwards. He needed to make himself as small as possible. He tried not to let the floorboard creak below him, not wanting to agitate any of them in the first two minutes that they see him again. He momentarily panics that he left the house in a state, before realising that always made sure to clean any mess he made instantly after he made it. The only messy part of the house was his own bedroom, which he can never keep clean for the life of him. He needs to have some mess somewhere to reflect his mind, otherwise he might go even more insane.

              “Jisung?” Even though his father was all he could think about since he stepped into the house, his voice still makes Jisung jolt.

              He slowly raises his head and looks at them all. Their eyes are bright and alert, they look rested and chipper, despite all the moaning from his father. Jisung feels himself wilt in front of them. His body feels like it might collapse on him any second, exhaustion clings to his limbs like a sticker. His eyes are droopy, his knees almost shaking. Still, he hangs onto every word that may come out of his father’s mouth. “Welcome back,” he replies softly. “I hope you had a good trip.”

              “We did, but we’re tired from the journey back now. I need to you sort our bags out for us, since you’re not the one who’s been travelling for weeks.”

              “And while you’re at it, we’re very hungry from the long trip back, too. You won’t know, but airport food doesn’t compare. We’d like something filling tonight,” his brother piles on.

              “Best hurry with the laundry, we’d want to eat soon,” his step-mother finishes.

              That was all they saw fit to discuss with him. Afterwards, they stepped over their bags and disappeared in various directions. His brother stomped up to his room, slamming the door on his way. His father and step-mother collapsed onto different sofas. His father turned the television on while his step-mother pulled out an old magazine from the rack next to her sofa.

              Jisung’s breaths were coming out rapidly, his chest constricting and aching. He tried to breathe slowly and calmly, tried to ward off spiralling into intense panic. He placed a hand over his mouth, because the worst thing he could do now was whimper or sob where his father could hear him. Or his step-mother, who would undoubtedly then tattle to his father. He swallowed, hoping that his saliva would trample down his bubbling, unstable emotions. He couldn’t be too much in front of them. Passion or sensitivity in him had always been met with rebuke and dismissal – something about himself he needed to change as soon as possible. He didn’t think he could be anything else, so he tried to hide who he was as best as he could around them.

              Once he thought it was safe for him to move, once he thought he wouldn’t trip over his own useless, numb feet, Jisung got started. He took his own work bag upstairs first to dump in his room. Then he came back downstairs to start carting each of his family’s bags to the utility room. He stacked them by the washing machine for now, ready to sort in a bit.

              Firstly, he started with dinner. He thought he’d do theirs first to get it out the way, especially considering that they were all hungry after travelling. He was never the best cook, he was nothing like Minho or Felix or Chan or even Hyunjin, but he could warm a meal up. He thought he’d just make them some steak and chips with some vegetables, since he could do it mostly in the oven and it was filling for them. He got started sorting that out, darting between the kitchen and back to the utility room to start sorting his family’s washing into colour-coordinated piles.

              He got the first load started before his family had started to eat, so he put the last of his effort into plating their food up. He shuffled into the living room to inform his father that their food was on the dining table, and then the three of them were making their way to eat it. None of them thanked him, but at least there wasn’t anyone yelling at him that his food was inedible. With how fragile he was feeling, he might not have been able to stop himself from bursting into tears. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before. He was a constant disappointment to them all, the best punching bag to yell at or push around. He understood that they needed to let their frustrations out somehow, but he wished he was strong enough to take it. He’d always been weak, too much of a cry-baby who lets things get to him too much. At least, that’s what his father always said.

              While they ate, Jisung started washing up the cooking appliances. His feet were aching from standing, and his eyes were drooping. He was still shaky and had the beginning of a headache pounding in his brain. But he pushed on, because his stomach was also pained and lurching in hunger. He was so busy today he didn’t have time to each lunch, and he’d also skipped breakfast that day, too. Perhaps that also contributed to how shaky he was? But he knew that his family didn’t appreciate eating with him. His father told him repeatedly as a child that he was an embarrassment to be seen at the table with, considering how he filled his cheeks with food. Jisung had done his best to curve the habit, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. There was no other way to eat that was comfortable for him. In the end, it became easier to eat alone long after they’d all finished. And he never knew what to say during their dinner discussions, either. He was too uncoordinated and awkward to eat with. This routine was better for everyone.

              The first time he ate with Felix, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin, Felix had called his full cheeks cute. He didn’t really understand what he meant at first, but over time, he came to accept that his friends really didn’t mind them. Perhaps they were an acquired taste? Either way, Jisung was endlessly grateful for his friends.

              He heard his family leave the table, chairs squeaking, just after he’d finished washing up. He gave it a few minutes before they’d all settled back into the living room to watch some evening television before creeping past to collect their plates and cutlery from the table. He washed those up next, stacking them on the drying rack with everything else.

              Finally, he was clear to make his own food. By that point, Jisung was way too exhausted for much more than some noodles, which came in a ready-made packet for his convenience. His family doesn’t like it when he wastes the expensive food on himself, even if he is the one who usually buys it. He ate his food at the kitchen island once he was done, cleaning up his own utensils, bowl and cutlery once he was done, before wiping down the surface where he’d eaten. By that point, the first load of washing had finished, so Jisung didn’t get any more time to sit down before he had to go and hang it up.

              As he knelt down in front of the washing machine, his bones screamed at him, pulsing in displeasure. I know, he wanted to tell them. We’ll rest soon. He pulls their holiday wear out of the washing machine and carefully and meticulously folds it over the rack to dry. The worst-case scenario is that one of their shirts is left with a crease that has them yelling at him. He doesn’t want to risk it.

              It’s as he’s setting up the next load in the washing machine that Jisung almost collapses into tears again. He’s fed up. He hates this. He wants to run away. He wants to hide away somewhere far, in his own little nest, protected from anyone who might want to criticise and scream at him. He knows he’s a flawed person, so at least that way, no one would have to deal with him.

              Jisung doesn’t want to live like this anymore. He doesn’t want to live to serve his family. He wants to live for his friends, for people who are kind and gentle. He wants to breathe on his own, to have his hard work rewarded on himself instead of being stolen off of him. He wants to eat the nice food he buys, instead of settling for the lesser option because he’s the only one who won’t make a fuss about it. Jisung wants out. He’s too tired.

              Minho moved on. He’s courting Felix, he’s going to have a happy life. He’s going to be loved and adored as he should be. Jisung isn’t half as deserving, but he thinks he can stop being as miserable as he is. He can take it slowly. And he thinks he knows how to start.

Jisung remembers that he has a standing invitation. After work the next day, he decides to take Chan and Changbin up on it. He calls their studio up on his office phone, twirling the curly wire nervously as it rang. His fiddling only increased excessively when Chan picked up the call. He was confused at first, but after Jisung told him what he wanted, he grew exhilarated and Jisung could hear him bouncing a little down the line. A soft, fond smile made its way across Jisung’s face.

              Once work was finished that day, instead of traipsing home with his tail between his legs, Jisung makes his way across the city on a packed bus. His leg is bouncing the whole journey there. His overflowing notebook his tucked safely in his bag, but he can almost feel it burning a hole through the fabric. He can’t believe he’s doing this. It feels like a dream come true, something far too good for the likes of Jisung to access. But no matter how many times he pinches himself, he doesn’t wake up in bed somewhere else. This is real.

              Chan had told him to come over after work, as he and Changbin were always there until the early hours of the morning anyway – when they weren’t meeting up with the others. They told him all he needs to bring are his lyrics and himself, as they had everything else that they could need at the studio. His nerves ate at his skin and bones, but the thought of backing out made him feel sick. Just because there were some songs in his notebook that he had never shown anyone, not even Felix, was another matter. He was opening up to new opportunities, no matter how scary it was.

              Jisung arrived at a nondescript building, identical to all the ones surrounding it. The only mark of uniqueness surrounding it was the sign for Go Live Studio, meaning that Jisung knew he was in the right place. He stood around on the street in front of the building for far too long to be normal, just staring at the slabs of concrete stacked on top of each other. He took several breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. His legs were heavy. It felt like he was battling with the weight of the world trying to move them. It was too much. But staying away felt like being stung over and over, crushing in a different way. It wasn’t an option. Jisung stepped inside.

              The hallways were long and tight, and snaked around until Jisung was heading down the corridor that Chan and Changbin had instructed him to walk down. At the end of the eight or so hallways he walked down, Jisung finally spotted the door he was sure he needed. On the outside, there were two plaques with Bang and Seo written on them. Jisung sucked one more breath in and knocked on the wooden door.

              “Come in,” a faint voice sounded from indoors, and Jisung pushed the handle down and stumbled in. Chan and Changbin were sitting in two desk chairs in front of a desk filled with stacks of sound boards and a computer and keyboard and piles of notebooks and loose sheets of paper. There was a tatty, discoloured sofa pushed against the far wall with pieces of fabric peeling off. Behind the desk was a recording booth where a microphone was set up, sectioned off by a piece of glass. The button that enables the people outside to communicate with those who are inside was sprawled on the desk as well. Jisung’s cheeks pulled back as he smiles.

              “Jisung!” Changbin half cheered, half yelled. “You made it!”

              Jisung raised his hand in a pathetic attempt at a wave. “Yeah.” He coughed and stared at his shoes, letting the door shut behind him. “I don’t know if you need more time before we start.”

              “No, no, come sit down!” Chan pushed and wheeled himself back so his chair was resting near the sofa at the back. He reached across and slapped the sofa cushion a few times. Jisung’s smile remained on his face as he ambled across the room and slumped down on the sofa. “We’ve just been hanging around waiting for you. We haven’t really gotten anywhere with what we’ve been working on.”

              “Yeah, Chan and I keep disagreeing on the tone we want to set for this new song we’re working on.” Changbin pouted and pushed his own chair back too so that he joined Chan and Jisung, the three of them making some sort of clump at the back of the room. “I think it should be more aggressive, but Chan wants to mellow it out a little. I personally think that it will lose its punch, but Chan says that the song will be overwhelming with how intense it is.”

              “Give him a chance to sit down, Bin. God!”

              Changbin waved him off, instead starting intently at Jisung. “So? Will you take a look at it and give us your opinion?”

              Jisung was probably gaping like a fish. Him? They wanted him to give them his opinion? They were the professionals; he was a nobody. What would his opinion matter? Chan scolded Changbin for making demands as soon as Jisung walked in the door, but he also looked at him curiously, with an imploring quirk of his brow. Jisung’s heart fluttered in his chest. He stumbled over his words as he asked to listen to what they had of the song so far, still processing the honour of getting to hear it and voice his opinion. Chan happily reaches over to the mouse and presses play on the song up on the computer and then the thick, heavy beats fill the room. Jisung loses himself in the music. With it, his brain turned on and became alive. He felt in his element, and the nerves ever so slightly edged out of him. He analysed the song as it played, tapping his fingers when a thought occurred to him, or he found something interesting. When the song came to an end, he had two expectant gazes locked on him, tense, anticipating his opinion.

              Jisung found himself being brave. He opened his mouth, and he gave it.

              They were at it for hours. After they had thoroughly dissected the first song, taking Jisung’s thoughts and suggestions on board like they meant anything, they moved onto pouring over Jisung’s lyrics and melodies that he bought with him. Jisung could still hardly believe it. Chan kept complimenting him, thanking him for his contribution and help. Changbin kept calling him a genius whenever he had a thought, and immediately went to write it down. Jisung got excited, spewing ideas excitedly and muttering nonsensically as he worked through his thoughts. But neither Chan or Changbin minded his outbursts or overenthusiasm. In fact, they seemed to relish in it. Their grins were almost as wide as Jisung’s.

              Jisung felt belonging. It was the kind of feeling he’d only ever had around Minho or his friends when they were hanging out outside of work. He felt reborn. It felt like a calling, like he’d finally come home.

              Chan and Changbin file through his work like it means something, like it was worth all the care and consideration they could give it. Jisung’s insides were feeling every joy at once, as well as disbelief. How could it be this easy to have something he’s always so desperately wanted at his fingertips? He had the chance to hang out in a real music studio and have two brilliant musicians compliment him. He couldn’t still be living the same life. There was no way. For once, Jisung was sure he’d absolutely made the right decision. He hoped that each time he had to choose, he’d pick the chance to take his music seriously, instead of locking it away as a dirty secret. Because when Chan and Changbin combined some of their work in progress to some of his loose verses, Jisung was part of something. Something that was impossible to feel ashamed of, for anyone to make him ashamed of. Chan and Changbin by his side, Jisung felt valued. Whether it was fleeting or not, Jisung was going to cherish that feeling for a long time.

              “We’ll need to all work on a song together,” Changbin announced, arms stretched out wide. “From scratch. The three of us. We’re really something.”

              Jisung hugged himself, squirming in his seat in glee. He takes a breath to try a calm himself down, and then he chooses himself for once. He chooses to make himself happy. “I’d love to,” he says.

              And Chan and Changbin keep their promise.

              They let him come by the studio as he pleases, waltzing in and out after he’s finished work and at the weekends on his days off. They were workaholics, so they were always there. Jisung couldn’t blame them. The place was like a drug, he couldn’t stop coming back. Whenever he has free time now, Jisung finds himself cooped up in the studio with Chan and Changbin working on songs together. They bring to life his existing ones on top of making completely new ones between the three of them. He balances his time in the studio with visiting Felix with Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin – or something just on his own.

              His friend recovers quickly and is back at work with them before they all know it. Jisung loves having Felix back in the office. It certainly makes the place a whole lot brighter.

              Occasionally, he sees Minho around the studio. His own dance studio where he and his troupe practises was nearby, so he often swings round to visit Chan and Changbin. Sometimes he even comes round when he hasn’t been dancing, just for the hell of it. Chan and Changbin always light up when he’s there with them, even if he doesn’t do anything more than lounge on the sofa at the back of the room or pop his head in to say hi before he disappears again.

              The first time Jisung encountered him there, Jisung was just rolling up after work, still shaking off the stress of his day. Minho was stalking out at the same time, having just visited Chan and Changbin. They met in the middle of one of the corridors, walls closing in on them, locking them face to face. When he stood before him, Jisung froze. Minho was also startled, blinking quickly at Jisung as he processed that he was before him. As they both considered they next moves, the world around seemed to come to a halt just for them.

              Minho stared at him, studying. Jisung was trembling ever so slightly, as it still didn’t take an awful lot to set him off. He stared back at Minho just as hard, however, wanting to commit each of his micro expressions to memory. He caught the exact moment that Minho concluded that it really was Jisung in front of him and correlated him to their location – the studio where Chan and Changbin worked. But instead of the disgust that Jisung had become accustomed to seeing on him when he was concerned, a sigh of relief left his lips, and he smiled calmly and serenely at Jisung. He gently brushed past him after that, going on his way as Jisung caught his breath again in the corridor. For the rest of the day, the air felt much thinner than it usually did, and his mind kept returning to that small, content smile.

It wasn’t often that Jisung found himself at the studio with just Chan or just Changbin, but today was one of those days.

He had finished work like normal, and decided to head straight to the studio where it was now common to find him after a hard or easy day at work. He waved goodbye to Felix as he was hurrying out the door and caught the first bus available to the studio. Once he barged inside, he was only a little startled to see one body hunched over the desk scribbling lyrics instead of two. Changbin’s muscular shoulders flexed as he wrote, completely oblivious to Jisung stumbling into the room. Jisung made as much noise as he wanted as he pulled the second chair up next to Changbin’s. He unceremoniously dumped his own notebook and pens out on the table, and still Changbin was scribbling away. Jisung hid his grin behind his hand.

After about five minutes, Changbin finally slammed the pen down in the centre of the notebook and stretched, groaning as he pulled his arms up over his head. It was only when he was bringing them down that he glanced and Jisung and violently flinched back. “Jesus! Where did you come from?” He brought his forearms up and caged them over his heart, wheeling his chair back a little, away from Jisung, who had started to cackle.

“I didn’t want to interrupt the great SpearB’s flow,” he teased.

“Yah!” Changbin pretended to hit him, edging closer to him again now that he’d determined that Jisung wasn’t a threat. “Seriously though, how long ago did you arrive?”

“Chill, dude. Like five minutes ago?”

Changbin groaned and slouched back in his chair.

Jisung’s grin widened. “Don’t mind me. You can go back to pretending I’m not here.”

Changbin hit him for real that time.

“Ow! That was very unprofessional, Changbin-hyung.”

Changbin snorted and Jisung stuck his tongue out at him, and then the two of them leaned over one another to get a look at the lyrics they’d each been writing. Jisung was continually amazed by Changbin’s clever way with wordplay, and Changbin refused to stop complimenting how Jisung brought out the emotion in everything he wrote. Like clockwork, they compared and contrasted, and made something whole. As the hands ticked on, the two of them inched towards something monumental. Combining the pieces they had been working on over Chan’s beat, they reached their glorious chime.

Jisung didn’t know how late into the night they worked, but it was only as they were winding down that Jisung saw an opportunity to ask about Chan. “Where’s Chan-hyung this evening, by the way?”

“I think he said something about hanging out with Felix after work to help him pick out a new rug for his flat? I don’t really know.”

“Ah, right.” Jisung had no idea Felix was planning on getting a new rug.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few more moments until a fond smile was unmistakably slapped across Changbin’s face. It ramped up gradually, as if Changbin’s thoughts were slowly bleeding into focus. Jisung couldn’t help but lean closer to him, intrigued. He knew Changbin would speak his mind eventually.

“Felix gets on with Minho really well, doesn’t he?”

As soon as the words were out of Changbin’s mouth, Jisung feels himself clamp up. Because it was one thing to see it obviously with his own eyes, and for Felix to confirm it, but it was something entirely different to have someone else point it out. Somehow, it made everything more real. Much more real and much more crushing. Jisung’s chest pained once more, and he gulped when he felt his throat getting drier. “Yeah,” he manages to croak out, despite the turmoil inside.

Luckily, Changbin’s doesn’t seem to notice his pain. He’s staring wistfully at the other side of the room, a contemplative look on his face. “I’m so glad that Minho has found someone. Especially someone as unashamedly full of love as Felix is. Minho deserves someone like that, who’ll love him unconditionally. I was so worried that he’d never move on from his ex.”

Each word feels like another stab to Jisung’s heart. Guilt and shame at the centre of everything, Jisung bites his lip to stop himself from doing something embarrassing like crying in front of Changbin. He wouldn’t be able to explain that one away. He would hurt all the more considering how close he and Changbin – and Chan as well – have gotten in the time they’ve spent together. By now, he really considered them as close – no, closer – than brothers. He didn’t know what he’d do when he lost them. It would be another hole carved out of his chest. He just wants to shout out that hey, I’m so full of love too. I’m so full of love for all of you that I don’t know what to do with it, that I think it’s going make me explode and I’ll still be aching with it. Ever since he met Minho, he has never loved him less. His love for him has only ever grown, never dwindled. He doesn’t think it’s possible. He knows that he has no right to argue his case, but it doesn’t stop it from being the truth.

Because maybe Jisung wants to hurt himself more, because he feels like he deserves it, he pushes Changbin further. “What did Minho tell you about his ex?” His voice is soft, fragile. Changbin tilts his head as he thinks.

“Hm, Minho never told us much to be honest. Just that he existed, and it ended not long before we met him. Chan and I don’t really know any of the details about his relationship with him, but we did work out that the guy broke his heart completely and made it impossible for him to even look at, let alone consider, anyone else.” Changbin huffs, a dark cloud descending over his face as he scowls, eyebrows dropping in anger. “I swear, if I ever get my hands on him, I’ll throttle him for ever thinking of letting Minho go.”

Do you think I wanted to? Do you think I wanted to be so scared all the time?

Jisung nods in agreement anyway, because Changbin was right. When Minho eventually tells Changbin who he is, he’ll expect and welcome the throttling. He knows he deserves it. He never feels like he can breathe properly nowadays, anyway.

“Which is why I’m so happy Minho has Felix now. Your friend is a sweetie. They’ll make such a good couple. Much better than whatever sad sack of a pathetic worm his ex was, for sure.”

Changbin jumps up from his seat, grabbing his coat as he goes. Jisung’s fighting to keep his sob down, pressure building up around his chest, ready to burst. He must keep himself composed enough, as all Changbin does is lean down over him and pinch his cheek playfully. “Now that’s enough about him. How about I treat you for some dinner now, Hannie-ah? Don’t tell anyone, but you’re probably my favourite.”

Jisung’s days continue on, even though they feel numbered. Chan and Changbin and the music he creates with him are as bright as the first light in the morning, and his time with his friends at work is like the oxygen that keeps him alive. For a time, every day feels like a shining spring morning.

              He’s expecting his routine to change soon. And he was expecting it to have something to do with Minho. But it’s certainly not in the way he expects.

              It’s a normal day and he’s with Chan and Changbin in the studio. Like usual, they’d been working in tandem trying to finalise one of their songs. They’ve been trying to get as much done as possible because Chan and Changbin have another concert soon, and they’re going to have to spend a lot of their evenings at the venue running through their setlist. They’ve already granted Jisung access to the studio so he can still drop by when they’re not there to work on anything he wants to. He still doesn’t feel worthy of the honour, but it’s the happiest he’s been in a long time.

              It’s approaching the time that they usually eat, but Jisung knows that they’ll probably push it a lot later today. He’s got his headphones on over his head, bobbing to the sound of Changbin’s voice as he listens to the demo for the tenth time in a row. He thinks he gets what Chan means when he said that the bridge needed to be a little more melodic, and he’s about to say so when there’s a knock at the door. It’s so cutting that Jisung hears it even with those bulky headphones on. Three heads snap up like meerkats.

              “Come in?” There’s a confused lilt to Chan’s voice as he speaks up, but once the door opens and the figure steps in, a bright, fond grin takes over his face.

              Minho lets the door swing shut behind him as he makes his way into the room carrying a large container, which is steaming and smells so heavenly and aromatic that Jisung’s eyelashes flutter in euphoria. He catches himself when he remembers that Minho came attached to that bag, and it was a very tight room they were in. There was no place to hide or blend into the background in this room. Jisung was open and exposed, with no way of ducking from Minho’s mind. It must have been just as suffocating for Minho to have him here, encroaching on his friend’s space, not giving him ample time to visit. Has Jisung really been so selfish?

              Changbin’s voice temporarily distracts him from his panic. “Is that food?”

              Minho rolls his eyes. “Yes it is, you glutton. I made it when I got back from dance practise, and I know that you guys would be starving yourselves in here, so I thought I’d bring it round to share.”

              Minho dumps himself on the sofa next to Changbin, who doesn’t let him relax before he starts to fish through the container for his portion. Minho slaps his hand away and begins to decant the bag, placing the plastic containers on the sofa cushions around him and Changbin. Chan pushes his chair closer to the two of them, sniffing the air and sighing in ecstasy. “Minho! You shouldn’t have!”

              Minho rolled his eyes once more and silently shoved one of the containers against Chan’s chest, following it up with a pair of chopsticks. “Just eat your dinner.”

              Minho was wearing jogging bottoms and a plain t-shirt which exposed his taunt muscles and prominent veins. He wore his hat backwards on his head, and strands of his hair were still sticking to his forehead. It was the exact same thing he used to wear whenever he’d finish dance practise back in high school, Jisung remembers the look well. Just like he remembers how mouth-watering Minho’s food was. He used to cook for Jisung just because he wanted to, a satisfied expression on his face whenever Jisung started to tuck into it. Since then, Jisung had lost the right to indulge in such pleasures. Which was why his chair remained stationary by the table, frozen as he gazed over at them all. His heart clenched in longing, but this privilege was no longer catered to him. He should probably leave to let Minho eat with his best friends in peace.

              He was just about to stand up and bid his farewells when he met Minho’s eyes across the room. They narrowed on him intently, rooting him to the spot. “Did you not want any? There is plenty for four.”

              Jisung almost laughs in surprise. He doesn’t really know what else to do. Minho wasn’t chasing him away? He was inviting him to join them? He dithers, still in disbelief.

              “Come on Jisung, you need to try Minho’s cooking. It’s divine.” Changbin’s loud voice nudges Jisung into movement. He copies Chan and wheels himself over to the other three, closing their makeshift circle with his chair. His leg is bouncing, and his hands are shaking. He balls them up in his lap, hoping they’re not too noticeable.

              A palm encases his trembling hands and Jisung’s head shoots up. Minho is reaching across to him, caressing his palms as he opens Jisung’s hands enough to slot a Tupperware container on them. Its warmth loosens the tension from his shoulders, and its weight soothes the nerves in his hands. Minho sits back without saying anything and picks up his own container, ears red as he begins to shovel his own food into his mouth. Chan and Changbin are lost in their own food worlds, which Jisung is glad of. He didn’t think he had the energy to hide his red cheeks.

              Jisung pops open his lid and gathers his chopsticks, picking out a piece of chicken from the sauce of his curry. Some grains of rice were still sticking to the bottom of it, as well. Jisung opens wide and places it on his tongue. It tastes exactly like he remembers. Jisung’s eyes water a little as he chews, letting the taste erupt in his mouth. Minho’s food tastes like everything vibrant and serene simultaneously; like the best kind of nostalgia, the kind that made you feel like you were coming home. He never thought he’d get to experience Minho’s food ever again. It takes all of Jisung’s strength not to cry then and there. Instead, he moans.

              His eyes open comically wide as Chan and Changbin laugh at him. “Told you it was divine,” Changbin teases.

              Jisung hunches his shoulders and drops his head down, shovelling more food in at the same time. If Jisung wasn’t so mortified, he might be able to come up with a decent compliment that was a fraction of the praise that Minho’s food deserved. Instead, he couldn’t give anything, like a complete waste of space failure.

              “Leave the squirrel alone,” Minho barks.

              Chan and Changbin splutter, and Jisung looks up again, doe eyes still remarkably wide. But this time, they were locked on Minho’s calm expression. Like that time in the hallway, his smile was soft as he gazed at him.

              “Minho-yah!” Chan exclaims, exasperated. “Don’t worry, Hannie. Your cheeks only protrude a little bit when you eat, it’s not that noticeable.” Minho snorts and Chan quietly screams in abject disbelief. “He doesn’t mean it badly, Jisung-ah,” he tries to reassure.

              Jisung can’t fight his own smile, muscles loosening as he relaxes. The sky brightened again, and the sun’s rays warmed his chest. “I know he didn’t,” Jisung states. Minho would always tease that he looked like a squirrel. He used to joke that he wanted to feed Jisung all the time just so he could catch a glance at his full cheeks. He even left an acorn on his bed once. How he got past his father, he’ll never know, but it was still the funniest thing that had ever happened to him. He and Minho can’t stop staring at each other. “And the cheeks are very noticeable. I’ve just been waiting for one of you to point it out.” Someone always did, sooner or later. Jisung learned to stop hating it when he was with Minho before.

              “They’re adorable,” Changbin squealed.

              Jisung’s smile was subtler now, but no less content. “I know.”

              “I want to pinch them all the time,” Chan admits.

              “You can whenever you want.”

              “I’ll bring food round more often,” Minho offers, and the world stops. Jisung is hanging off the edge, with the wind in his hair. It was a suggestion. He was putting a feeler out, so see how Jisung of all people would take it. As if there would be any other reaction than the one he’ll give. He wants to cry again. He’d let go, enjoyed the fall, and been caught by the softest blanket. He experienced the prettiest view. Perhaps he wouldn’t be losing everything he cares about, after all.

              “Please,” he confirms, and Minho nods.

              And from that moment, the four of them had a tradition.

              Whenever Minho finished dance practise, he’d go and cook or heat up meals he’d previously prepared. He’d box it up and bring it to whichever combination of the three of them were in the studio. Most often, it was all three of them together. And they ate, and talked, and hung out. And gradually, it was normal. And Jisung was loosening the chains weighing him down. Minho didn’t look at him with vitriol. In fact, there was something new there. They played their work for him – something that Chan and Changbin had always done; and Jisung, too, back in the day – and he nodded and said it was good every time. Jisung knew Minho never said anything he didn’t mean.

              Every time, Jisung and Minho would stare at each other. But Jisung was still too scared to consider what it meant.

The day that Chan, Changbin and Minho are performing at Runner’s High’s concert, dread coiled in Jisung’s stomach as he took the bus home. He could go to the studio, but he soon found that it was eerie and empty without Chan or Changbin there with him. He’d still go there over forcing himself home, but his father had specifically requested that he return from work that night. And Jisung didn’t want to face his wrath if he denied him.

              His leg bounced on the bus home, rattling the seats around him. His work rucksack was a life-saving weight on his lap, preventing him from spiralling completely. Whenever his father requested that he returned home, it was never a good sign.

              The clouds were grey and overcast as he stepped off the bus, and the sky only seemed to get darker the more steps he took towards his house. The storm surrounding it never ebbed, just like the thundering of Jisung’s own heart inside his chest. He took a breath before he passed the threshold, preparing himself for whatever might await him. Finding his father pacing the living room, his step-mother hovering with her arms outstretched and his brother sat disinterested on the sofa wasn’t too far-off from some of the scenarios that Jisung was picturing. Like he suspected, whatever was going on, it was about his father. It always was.

              “Jisung,” the old man snapped. “What took you so long? We need to prepare.”

              He bit his tongue to hold back his immediate response of I got the first bus back from the office. If you worked as hard as I did, you’d know that you can’t just finish the workday whenever you’d like. Instead, he bowed his head and apologised. He’d learned long ago that it was just easier to tell him he was wrong and say sorry than to fight for what he knew was right. He always got hurt a lot less that way. But his father’s words loosened his tongue a bit; he was uninformed about something.

              “What do we need to prepare for?”

              His father shot him a glare, appalled that Jisung didn’t read his mind and know automatically what was happening. Jisung knew the drill by now. That it was his fault, too.

              “The Malaysia Hans! They’re coming to visit and stay with us for two weeks. We need you to make sure this place is spotless and stock the fridge and freezer with all the food they could possibly want. Remember, it has to be up to their standard. You can’t slack like you do with us.”

              Jisung goes cold. And then he wants to laugh. The thought that he slacks with them is amusing. He gives them the majority of his monthly pay, leaving himself with nothing but scraps. He thought he needed to pay them back because he owes them something as a member of the family. He just didn’t know how much he’d need to give up. Perhaps he should have realised when he lost Minho. Perhaps he’s known since before Minho ever walked into his life. He was nothing but a servant to them. He wasn’t his father’s son, he was his servant.

              The Hans who lived in Malaysia were their rich relatives who his father was always trying to impress and get in the good graces of. Jisung suspected that he thought that if he bedazzled them, they would invite him, his wife and favourite son out to spend time with them and their rich friends, letting them indulge themselves and leech off of them. Jisung didn’t know what his father was thinking. All he knew was that he wanted no part of it anymore.

              Ever since he took up Chan and Changbin’s offer, he has been building his courage to work his way towards his own freedom. Maybe this was the day he cut the final chain link and let himself float off. His money was his, his job was his. If he didn’t transfer his money to his father, he’d never have to get it again. He’d cancel the standing order for all his bills for the house and stop paying them. If he wasn’t down as a tenant anymore, he wouldn’t have to. Jisung sucked air into his lungs, breathing for the first time in years.

              He grits his teeth. Finally, he’s had enough.

              “Well, I have plans tonight.” And it wasn’t a lie. Hyunjin had invited him round after work to watch Runner’s High’s concert on his new television. Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin already had plans with other friends and family. He really hated to let him down. But maybe now he wouldn’t have to.

              His father freezes in his tracks, then silently turns to Jisung with a venomous glare. “What?”

              Jisung stands a little taller. It didn’t do much, but it was more than he’d ever done to stand up to him in his life. The fresh air in his lungs must be doing him good. “I said, I had plans tonight. I only came back home to change before I headed out again.” His work clothes were uncomfortable.

              His step-mother glanced between them fearfully, and even his brother looked up from their own TV. His father’s face was turning redder, almost purple by the time he was spluttering again. His step-mother had begun to whisper soothing words to him about how Jisung was just a spiteful child, and would learn one day. But Jisung could tell that he wasn’t listening. The only thing his father heard was the sound of his own rage.

              “You ungrateful, selfish little prick.” His father stalks towards him, stomping like a toddler throwing a tantrum, with the strength of a stampeding elephant. Jisung steels himself for whatever’s coming. He’s not entirely surprised when his father reaches him, reeling his hand back before back-handing Jisung across the face. He’s thrown to the side, head ringing and cheek stinging with the force of the slap. He stumbles away from him until his shoulder connects harshly with the wall, which he uses to hold himself up while his father continues yelling at him. His ears are still filled with static, so he can’t make out what he was saying. He didn’t think he’d missed anything he hadn’t heard before, though.

              “-never appreciate anything! You’re never thankful for the nice life you’ve had. That I’ve given you.”

              Maybe Jisung’s father hit him harder than he thought, because Jisung starts to laugh. It’s a sad, mourning kind of thing, but it still shuts him up. The shock and confusion on his face lead Jisung to believe that he can’t quite comprehend what’s funny about what he just said. But Jisung had never heard anything more ridiculous.

              “That you’ve given me? I’m the one who pays for everything around here.”

              His father’s eyes were fiery, a defensive wall immediately surrounding them. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that. Have you no respect?”

              “For you? No. Not anymore. Not for a long time.”

              His father raises his hand to hit him again, but Jisung ducks under his arms just in time. His father catches himself against the wall, and spins around to glare at him. Jisung can practically see the steam blowing out of his ears. “And even if you did pay for this house, I’d still choose to leave. Because if I had to pick between an affluent life and a happy one, I’d pick the latter each time. I’m done picking the first to please you.”

              Before his father could reach for him again, Jisung darts up the stairs. His father wouldn’t chase him, he’s too old to hunt him down to give him a punishment now. He can’t catch up to him anymore. He’d just humiliate himself. And his father would never do that willingly. Still, Jisung locks his bedroom door behind him just in case.

              He heaves a breath out and places a cool palm over his flaming cheek. He can tend to that properly later. He just needs to get out of here first. Jisung knows that he doesn’t have much time. He grabs his biggest suitcase and empties his wardrobe into it, then he piles his socks and underwear on top. Then he grabs another duffel bag for all his notebooks, keepsakes and toys he wants to hold onto. Then he rummages for his guitar and puts in in its case. Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbing the handle of his suitcase and guitar case, Jisung makes his way back through his house.

              He passes his family in the living room. His father is sitting in the armchair, swatting the frantic hands of his step-mother away as she tried to tend to him – for what, Jisung doesn’t know. His brother has gone back to paying attention to the television. They all look up when they hear his footsteps walk past.

              His father had never looked at him with as much hatred as he was now. Jisung was shocked by how little it affected him anymore. “Your mother will be so disappointed that you let us lose the house. We built this home together.” At the mention of his mother, his step-mother retracts her hands, stung. She must know that she can never compare to her in his father’s eyes. She must have always known that. Jisung thinks about it. His doesn’t remember much of his mother. But he knew that she loved his father more than she loved either of her sons. She hardly ever looked at Jisung when she was alive.

              “Then maybe you should do what you can to keep it. But you’re not getting any more help from me. You’re not getting anything.”

              None of them had anything more to say. Jisung adjusted his bags and left for the bus stop.

              Half an hour later, he turned up on Hyunjin’s doorstep with a bruised cheek but a blinding smile. Hyunjin pounces on him and demands to know what happened. Jisung falls into his friend’s arms and cries, but he’s smiling the whole time. Hyunjin brings him in and pulls him onto his lap to cuddle. Like they planned, they watch Runner’s High’s concert on Hyunjin’s new television, and order take away. Jisung asks if he can stay on Hyunjin’s couch for a while, until he can sort out his own place. “Of course,” Hyunjin is quick to answer, arms flailing about haphazardly. Jisung giggles. “Anything you need, Hannie.”

              Jisung’s heart was full.

It was recording evening at the studio, and Jisung was shaking with excited jitters. He always was before recording. But once he was in there, he was as calm as anything. He was doing the thing he was born to do. That day, Jisung was packed into the recording booth with his guitar, which now pretty much lived at the studio with him. When he was at home, he’d usually just steal Hyunjin’s now. Chan and Changbin were on the other side of the glass, giving him a thumbs up. Changbin pressed the button on the desk and his voice boomed over the speakers inside anyway. “Ready whenever you are, Hannie.”

              Jisung nodded and then began the first strums of his guitar. He closed his eyes as he played, leaning closer to the microphone. When he felt the outline of the mic closing in on his lips, he halted his movements and started to sing instead. It was one of his latest songs called Run, and he was pretty proud of how it turned out. He’d recorded the demo before, but they were recording the final version today. He poured all of his emotions into the fabric of the song, and hoped they came across when he listened back to it. He lost himself as he was singing and rapping, absorbed in the little world he created.

              When he opened his eyes again, he was done, and the world might have been brighter than before. It took him a while to blink his eyes open fully without it hurting. When he did, he looked through the glass to see three figures watching him instead of two. Jisung’s heart fluttered. Minho had come to visit early, and he was standing behind Chan and Changbin, watching him through the glass. Jisung looked down at his guitar, focusing on placing it back into his case, ready to be carried back out of the booth. “That’s a wrap, Hannie! You were great,” Chan’s voice informed him this time. He stuck his thumb up to show he understood and then made his way out of the booth.

              His head was still bowed as he approached the other three, purposefully missing Minho’s intense look until he’d garnered enough courage to look back. “Perfect take, Hannie!” Changbin affirms. “Chan and I will probably work on recording one of ours now, if that’s ok? Chan will just save yours for now.”

              “Of course! Thanks, guys.” He high fived both Chan and Changbin and then stumbled past them to let them get their own song loaded up to begin recording. However, it meant that he had to step closer to Minho again, and they almost came chest-to-chest in Jisung’s attempt to get to the back of the room. Jisung had to scurry to the side to avoid a collision. In the process, he raised his head from his feet and noticed Minho’s red ears for the first time. Their eyes also locked onto each other for the second time that day, but this time, Jisung didn’t flinch away.

              Jisung didn’t count how long they stared at each other with their mouths open, only that Minho was the first one to cough and look away. “You sounded great,” he mutters, refusing to look at Jisung.

              Biting his lips, Jisung represses a grin. It shouldn’t make him so happy. Minho’s compliments were purely platonic now. But he couldn’t help the way his mood soared and his head span. He wanted to soak and bathe in Minho’s good opinion of his voice, as he once did. All he could do was nod back at him. “Thank you,” he squeaks out.

              Chan and Changbin were lost in their own world trying to wrestle their track into submission. Jisung and Minho smile fondly, and then wordlessly join together on the sofa, purposefully sitting at opposite ends. Jisung gazes away only to be brought back moments later, catching Minho’s eyes once more. They share smiles, before one of them looks away again, only to find themselves in the exact same predicament as before. They don’t talk much; they just watch and listen to Chan and Changbin. But it’s comfortable, like it always was. The two of them only ever needed each other to feel safe and entertained.

              “I heard that Friends is only going to have another season or two,” Jisung comments, because he’s comfortable.

              “That’s probably for the best,” Minho adds on. “I don’t know how much oomph that show has left in it.”

              “I agree. I hope Ross and Rachel don’t end up together, though.”

              “You and every sane person on the planet.”

              They share a smile, and Jisung thinks back on the two of them.

“Come back here, you little shit! Let me show you what creatures like you deserve!”

              Jisung didn’t stop running. The group of boys had been chasing him all the way from their high school. His feet and lungs were burning, but he couldn’t stop. Not when they could still catch him and beat him further. He ploughed down the street, darting past other pedestrians on the pavement and down side alleys, hoping that he would lose them. But he never did. They were always gaining on him.

              The boys had been tormenting Jisung for years. Ever since he started high school, they’d singled him out as different. He was shy and socially awkward, and much preferred to keep to himself inside than run around with the rest of the boys. Especially when the rumour about him being gay started to spread around – how they found out, he’d never know, he kept the secret as close to his chest as possible there – everything got worse. When he wasn’t being punched or kicked or thrown against lockers, he was being hunted down so those things could happen.

              But Jisung ran. He tried to get away so he wasn’t hurt as much as he possibly could be.

              Jisung found himself stumbling in a different direction than usual, hoping it would confuse them. He ran alongside the black, spiky fence that contained one of the local parks. He frantically looked for a gate or an opening, wondering if he could hide amongst some foliage or shrubbery. Trees hung over him, casting the path in shadow. Perfect. Perhaps they’d have a more difficult time finding him now?

              Jisung was still looking up and down the long fence as he ran that he didn’t think to pay attention to someone purposefully approaching him from the other direction until he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. When the other’s skin made contact with his, however, Jisung flinched and almost tripped over and fell onto his face. He snapped his head up to look at who had grabbed him, heart hammering, for a second wondering if it was one of his bullies. But when he looked up, a pair of cat-like eyes met his own, which was accompanied by a sculpted face – maybe the most beautiful, handsome face he’d ever seen. Jisung gulped. The man was running backwards as he dragged Jisung along, expertly stepping back as he directed him without even looking where he was.

              Jisung trusted him without a second thought. One look in those eyes, and Jisung knew that this boy wasn’t out to harm him. He was in a school uniform like Jisung was, with the same school crest. They must go to the same school. It was a big place, so it was no wonder that they’d never met before. And this boy looked a little older than him. He had an air of maturity Jisung hadn’t felt for himself yet. In his own mind, he thinks he’ll always be a scared little kid.

              The boy leads him into the park and takes him deep amongst a circle of trees. There are leaves on the ground covering the grass, a bit like a picnic blanket. The leaves on the branches were wide, obscuring them. The branches themselves hung low, and the boy had to turn around to brush them out the way so they could slip past them. Amongst the little, secret haven, the two of them were hidden and safe. Jisung’s legs were still shaking even when they finally came to a halt. He could still hear his classmates’ curses and slurs off in the distance, but they weren’t nearly as close as they were before. Wherever this new boy had taken him, it was fooling them well enough.

              Jisung took some time to take some breaths again. By now, the other boy had dropped his wrist and stepped back to give him some space. Jisung missed his warmth already. Right then, he just wanted to be held. But he also didn’t want this stranger to think he was weird. This stranger who had just saved him, by the way. The stranger who was still looking at him intently, by the way.

              “I’m Minho,” he introduced, nodding once like it settled everything. When Jisung didn’t respond right away, he shrugged and continued anyway. “I know them from school, too. The leaders of the group are in my year. It’s always best that we run and find a hiding spot away from them.”

              Minho seemed to speak from experience, so Jisung nodded rapidly, to show he understood. One side of Minho’s mouth lifted in a smile, and he beckoned Jisung deeper into the trees with one hand. Like Minho was dangling a piece of candy on a string for him to follow, Jisung stumbled after him like he was in a trance. Luckily for him, Minho wasn’t a serial killer or anything. The two boys sat down on a pile of leaves against one of the trees, shoulder to shoulder.

              “I have some pudding if you want some,” Minho said, pulling his rucksack off his back and unzipping it to pull out two pots of vanilla pudding. Jisung’s mouth salivated at the sight. The bullies had stolen his lunch today, and his father wouldn’t let him waste their breakfast food, so he hadn’t eaten all day. “I only have one spoon though, so we might have to share if you don’t mind. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s more sanitary to pass things to each other with our mouths, anyway.”

              Jisung shook his head. “I don’t mind,” he promised, and it was the truth. He would cope with some germs for a taste of one of the puddings.

              Minho shrugged again and handed Jisung one of the pots. “We can pass the spoon between us. One mouthful and you have to pass it back over.”

              Jisung levelled a serious stare at him. “But what if one person only takes half a scoop? What if we get to the end, and one person has a lot left and one person doesn’t. Then one person will be hogging the spoon at the end and won’t have to wait. The doesn’t seem fair to the person who had to wait for each of their mouthfuls.”

              Minho hummed. “I suppose we’ll have to monitor the size of each other’s spoonful’s.”

              “Are you any good at maths? Because I can’t measure volume or whatever it is.”

              “No. But I am a pudding connoisseur, so I think I can manage.”

              “Then don’t get upset if I have more pudding at the end than you.”

              “Perhaps I’ll make it so that I have more pudding at the end.”

              “Then I’ll call you a cheater.”

              “But there’s nothing to win?”

              “How about the biggest pudding satisfaction?”

              Minho grinned. “I suppose you have a point.”

              Jisung scoffed at the obvious, but he was grinning soon after. He hadn’t known Minho for long, but he could already tell that he was going to be a lot of fun.

              “I’m Han Jisung, by the way.”

              “Lee Minho,” Minho introduced again, holding his hand out for Jisung to shake. “And you can come and hide here anytime they’re picking on you.”

Jisung held Minho to his offer. Almost every day after school, they’d come to their secret place in the park to hang out. Whether it was to do homework or get to know each other’s interests, they’d mess around while they were at it. Jisung learned that Minho wanted to be a dancer; Minho learned that Jisung lived and breathed music. They learned what shows they both liked to watch, and what ones they wanted to start watching together. They made all kinds of plans for how they wanted their lives to go, and what they wanted to achieve. And their plans managed to wrap around each other like intertwined vines flawlessly. Soon, they were inseparable.

              Jisung knew he started to look at Minho like he hung the stars in the sky and was finding it harder and harder to be apart from him. Minho stared back at him with a forest of feelings in the depth of his eyes. It made Jisung’s knees weak to be perceived so passionately, yet so gently, by someone else. Jisung didn’t feel safe in many places in this world, but Minho’s arms and their secret place was the safest place in the world.

              As the weather got cooler and it started to rain more often than not, the two of them found solace at the shopping centre or the library. Anywhere they could tuck themselves away from the world and just exist with solely each other. Minho loved treating him for food, be it his own or taking him out to restaurants. At little hole in the wall places, they could disguise themselves perfectly. Their bullies at school were relentless, but they made each other feel comfortable in their own skin. They began to realise that with each other, they were perfect. They didn’t need to be a fraction different. If they were, maybe their relationship wouldn’t work as well.

              One fateful day, Minho and Jisung decided to return to their spot. It was cloudy and grey and cold, but it wasn’t raining. They bundled themselves in thick coats and scarves and woolly hats, and then they were out. The took a walk around the park, chatting mindlessly, before making their way into the circle of trees that had become their secret spot.

              Minho took Jisung in his arms when they reached one of the trees, leaning their shoulders against it. “I have something to tell you,” he announced, before planting his lips directly onto Jisung’s.

              Jisung smiled into the kiss. It was unexpected and out of the blue and yet a long time coming. Jisung adapted to it like breathing. He wrapped his arms around Minho’s shoulders while Minho pulled him flush against his front, as if he was trying to fuse them together. Jisung let Minho handle him however he wanted. He trusted Minho wholeheartedly. He wanted to give him whatever he desired, because he knew that Minho wanted the same.

              It wasn’t the last time they kissed that day. It was as if once they had a taste, they couldn’t resist one another. They knew that out in the real world, they had to be careful. But here, with each other, there was no threat. There was just one another. And it was all they needed.

              It was impossible to separate them from one another’s lives.

              Minho graduated high school eventually and got a job at one of the local restaurants to help pay the bills while he looked for a dance troupe that would accept him. Jisung used to visit Minho at work and cheer for him in his breaks. Minho pretended to be embarrassed by him, but he’d always tell him to perform an encore every time. School was hell knowing that Minho wasn’t somewhere in the building with him. The bullying only seemed to get worse. But Minho was there every day after school to tend to his wounds or cuddle him as he cried about it. Jisung would help distract Minho from his job when it seemed hopeless that he would ever get to dance professionally.

              As spring arrived again, they’d run away to their secret place as much as they could.

              A lot of the time, Jisung would bring his guitar along as he worked on his new songs or tried to learn existing ones. He’d sit between Minho’s legs, back resting on his boyfriend’s chest, as he strummed a song out on his guitar. Minho would either be running his hands through Jisung’s silky hair, or he’d be kissing his neck trying to distract him – on the odd occasion, he’d be working on something of his own.

On this particular day, Minho was playing with Jisung’s locks as he sung softly. He’d written a new song recently called Collision, and he’d wanted to try singing it aloud. He couldn’t do it at home at the risk of his father’s ire, so in the paradise of his and Minho’s secret spot Jisung found the most perfect place to test it out. As the song unfolds itself, Jisung can’t help but sigh in contentment.

“Your voice is beautiful,” Minho points out mindlessly as he kisses his temple. He says it so much that it was more habit at that point – not that it made it less true. Minho was always encouraging Jisung’s music.

“I know it is,” Jisung cockily wiggled around, shooting a grin over his shoulder at Minho. Jisung hoped that if he joked about it enough, he’d believe it one day. Until then, at least he had Minho to remind him. Minho presses a longer kiss to his temple that time, wrapping his arms tighter around his waist.

“I love you so much, Jisung-ah.”

Jisung relaxes against Minho’s chest, closing his eyes as he slips under. “I love you, too. So much.”

The slap against Jisung’s cheek resounded about the room. Jisung stumbled back from the force of it. He had his eyes screwed shut, even though his father’s slap had snapped his head in the opposite direction anyway. Jisung sucked in a breath through his teeth, hoping that it would bear some of the pain. Gently, he brought a hand up to cradle and soothe his own stinging cheek.

              “No son of mine is going to pursue music,” his father spat. He said ‘music’ with such disgust and vitriol that Jisung flinched. Tears welled in his eyes as he felt the earth shatter around him. “I won’t allow it. Chasing some folly you’re not even very good at doesn’t pay the bills, does it? Are you really going to let us all waste away here while you behave selfishly and chase some insipid, shallow dream? You need to keep the house running; keep up the legacy of our family.”

              Jisung’s father towered over him, even though he wasn’t a particularly tall man, either. But he made Jisung feel like a mouse most of the time. All he could do was squeak and nod his head at his orders. They were standing at the top of the stairs, and Jisung was afraid that if he defied his father, he’d be thrown down the steps. Jisung shrunk even smaller, folding his shoulders inwards, trying to take up as little space as possible in front of his father.

              This was the first and only time that Jisung had ever been transparent about his desire to chase music with his father. And it was only because his father happened to stumble across some prospectuses for some music schools Jisung was considering applying for. But his stark reaction had made the decision for Jisung. He’d never be able to go. Not while he still had duties to take care of his father and brother after the loss of his mother.

              “After you graduate high school, you’re going to get a job that helps us out around here. You’re not going to turn into one of those flighty, irresponsible lowlifes, are you?”

              Jisung seriously wanted to cry. Music was the second most important thing in his life. And the first was a beautiful dancer. The thought of ever looking at Minho’s talent and passion for his craft with derision made Jisung want to throw up. He wanted to yell and scream at his father to never associate anyone who’s talented at the arts as a lowlife – whatever that even meant. His father could despise his love for music and call him talentless all he liked, but he bristled at the thought of Minho being disrespected. He couldn’t let a single bad thing happen to him. He didn’t deserve any of it. Jisung’s dysfunction felt like too much sometimes – well, all the time.

              “You’re going to work at a job with a steady, consistent income. And you’re going to support us like you should.”

              There wasn’t much room for debate. So Jisung swallowed down any burst of emotion that might leap out and nodded lethargically back. It seemed to satisfy his father, who finally stepped away. The air became less stuffy, and Jisung felt his core cool down. His father’s footsteps clamoured down the hall, alerting the whole house to his mood. His heart was still hammering rapidly in his chest, about to burst.

              The walls were constantly closing in on him in this house, threatening to suffocate him. Perhaps Jisung deserved to feel miserable – he certainly wasn’t anything special. Sometimes he couldn’t believe that he was worthy of a second glance, yet alone a boyfriend who doted on him. Jisung would do anything for Minho, he didn’t think his chest could contain the cacophony of love for him. He’d never let him come to any harm. Jisung would do anything to keep him from his tainted parts. Jisung was trapped – perhaps he always would be – and Minho roamed free. He’d never do anything to jeopardise that.

              Jisung continued to date Minho in secret, far away from the black hole of his home. Minho knew that it wasn’t a happy place for him, and never pried to visit or confront it. He was considerate with him, letting Jisung steer them far away from his mental and sometimes physical prison. Minho took him everywhere he wanted to take him – around the city and to his own home. Tucked away, they existed in the bliss of their own world.

              It was always too good to last.

              Jisung was returning home from a date with Minho in their secret place on the night it happened. His head was floaty, and a smile danced clear as day on his face. He shouldn’t have been so obvious. He shouldn’t have let himself be so love-struck that he failed to suppress himself as usual. He walked into his living room to see his family friend sitting in their living room. She was close to his father, so much that she was practically his confidant. They were hardly apart. Jisung always thought that she’d do anything for him; she followed him around like a lovesick fool.

              She was illuminated by a side lamp, which was the only source of light in the room. She sat with her legs crossed and her back was straight like a rod. As soon as he spotted her sitting there staring at the door as he came in, staring right into his soul, terror and resignation gripped him. His kneels almost buckled, and his hands rattled against his sides. She didn’t need to say anything, as her hard stare was enough to beckon him over. Stiffly, his smile long gone, Jisung shuffled over to her. He perched on the edge of the sofa opposite her, limbs like blocks of lead. Whatever was about to happen, he knew it would shatter his world.

              “I was walking in town the other day,” she because to muse, lightly and disinterestedly. But deep down, Jisung knew her words were meant to cut. She still had that sharp look in her eye, which she had owned ever since he’d met her. “And I was surprised when I spotted you there. You were coming out of a restaurant, and to my shock, weren’t alone. I wasn’t aware that you had any friends. Much less friends who held your hand and kissed your knuckles. What kind of friend does that, I wonder?”

              Jisung’s chest quaked. They’d been so careful. They always planned their trips in public on days where anyone who knew Jisung should have been far away. Either his family friend changed her mind about certain plans, or Jisung had missed out on some information somewhere. No matter what, they’d undeniably been caught. She wouldn’t buy that they were affectionate friends. As much as he hated it, she knew him better than that. She’d been around for neigh on his whole life; she’d picked up on his preferences for sure. She wasn’t as dense as his father in that aspect, unfortunately. And she was more than prepared to rub it in. No matter what, her loyalty was to his father.

              He didn’t think she’d tell him as long as Jisung did whatever she was about to ask of him, because she liked having that power over him. Tension squeezed his body as it sunk in that she really knew, that she could expose him at any time. How did this happen? Jisung wanted to crawl out of his own skin. He hated feeling like he’d just been caught and trapped. The walls were closing in again.  

              He knew he face looked pale, and beads of sweat were pooling around and running down his temples. He gulped, remaining silent. He wasn’t brought over to talk. He was brought over to listen and obey.

              “Imagine what your father would say if he knew? Imagine what he would do. It would ruin him to know that his son was this twisted. He can never know, not if you don’t want him to have some kind of attack. You know well enough, don’t you, that there are some matters that he is best kept in the dark about. Because what do you think he will do to you if he finds out? What do you think he will do to that boy you seem so fond of?”

              Jisung clenched his jaw. Because she was right. His father might cause Minho pain, might harm him with his vengeance. And it would be all Jisung’s fault. He couldn’t fathom what it would feel like to see Minho hurt. Minho has done nothing but protect Jisung since they met. It was about time that Jisung returned the favour. He needed to keep Minho safe. He needed to keep him as far away from his father as possible. It would kill him if something happened to him. Minho deserved all the good in the world. He deserved to chase his dreams and live peacefully and as happily as anyone could. And perhaps that meant he had to live without Jisung.

              Jisung’s stomach swooped and pained at the thought of how his father viewed him. He knew his father was wrong, that there was nothing wrong or abnormal with the love that Minho and Jisung shared.

              But he was a parasite that could cause Minho pain. Jisung was like a plague. He just infected everything and made it worse. Minho could do so much better. He loved him with his entire being. He loved him so much that he had to let him go. He knew it even before his family friend opened her mouth.

              “Do you know what I suggest? I think you should cut ties with this boy, for both of your sakes. You’re tied to your family, there’s no escaping that. You don’t want to drag this boy down with you, do you? Surely you’re not that selfish, are you? You can keep your private life secret, but you can’t expect him to do the same for you forever, do you? Even when there’s no other choice with your family.”

              It took everything Jisung had in him not to burst into tears right then. He chomped down on his emotions. He had to wait until he was in the privacy of his own room to bawl. Her words were like a tidal wave washing over him, sweeping him out to the choppy sea. He felt like he’d been routinely slammed against a concrete wall. He’d never felt so diminished. He needed to grieve and mourn. He needed to cherish the last moments of companionship with Minho. He needed to cherish the last day he could call him his partner and feel complete, utter joy and love.

              He needed to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t someone that got to live a fairytale.

              It was that day that a family friend – Jisung’s future step-mother – persuaded him that he needed to keep Minho safe. It was that day that Jisung decided to let the love of his life go. For Minho’s own sake.

It’s a normal day for Jisung when he heads to the studio instead of the flat that he’s been sharing with Hyunjin. His friend had been considerate enough to let him stay on his sofa while he looks for his own place, but he was sure Hyunjin was glad for some privacy for a little while after work, too. And Jisung had found himself in the studio again, so after a stressful day, there was honestly no place he’d rather be.

              Hyunjin had been a generous host, though. In the mornings, they fumbled around each other and helped each other get ready for work. Then they got the bus together. And Jisung will be the first to say that navigating an overcrowded bus with a companion was much better than trying on your own. Jisung finally had someone to watch his back on his commute.

              Luckily, the bus towards the studio is a lot less crowded on his way back from work in the evening – maybe because the studio was deeper into the city centre, and most people lived in the outskirts, so the commuters back from work got on the buses going in the opposite direction. Whatever the reason, Jisung was grateful for it. He could only feel suffocated so many times per day. But with his disposition, it probably ended up being a lot more than the average person. Still, Jisung made it to the studio in one piece.

              He tore through the hallways with expert ease at this point. By now, he might be able to walk it blindfolded. The cramped spaces and dimly lit blubs overhead were a familiar home. Jisung sometimes wishes he could mould himself to the furniture so that he didn’t have to leave. Here, he could be without the crushing pressure of expectations. He found his second chance within these walls. He resurrected himself here. Even if he questioned how deserving he was of it, he was much livelier and content for it.

              Jisung hadn’t been in Chan and Changbin’s studio for two seconds before a loud, incredulous voice blew like a gale over him. “Have you heard the news?!”

              Jisung slipped into the room properly and shut the door, then took in the vision of Changbin stood in the middle of the room with his arms spread wide, gesturing in the air. His chair had rolled and crashed into the wall behind him. Jisung figured it must have been flung backwards when Changbin stood up in haste, desperate to ask if Jisung had heard some kind of news. Changbin’s eyes were frantic and wild, wide and bright. He was the only one in the room, no Chan in sight. Jisung had to centre himself before he could reply, shifting on his feet before he could respond.

              “No? What news?”

              If possible, Changbin squeaked at a volume that was so high, Jisung could hardly even hear it. He wiggled on the spot and beckoned Jisung further into the room, buzzing in anticipation. Jisung stumbled forward in a daze, mind reeling from the sudden onslaught, winded as he tried to think of what could have possibly gotten Changbin so animated. Changbin grabbed his chair and flopped back down into it, groaning and stretching out as if he’d just sat down after a rather long walk. Jisung collected the second rolling chair more gracefully and sat down with far more caution. He’d already reeled through multiple possibilities in his head, and the uncertainty made him nervous.

              “Chan and Felix are dating and together now,” Changbin blurted without further prompting.

              It wasn’t what Jisung was expecting at all. He was sure he looked like a deer in the headlights, his eyes wide and lips pouted in disbelief. Sure, he picked up on the fact that Chan had fallen for Felix, but he really believed that Felix’s affections lay elsewhere. Perhaps that was his own catastrophising, considering how deeply in love with Minho he still was, but he was sure he didn’t mistake his friend’s big, stricken eyes as he looked at him. Felix had told him he liked Minho. When did this happen? When did Felix’s preferences change? When did they even begin to grow for Chan?

              It was all too much at once. Jisung was having trouble keeping up. Clearly something had gone on that Felix wanted to keep private. Jisung of all people knew how important it was to respect that. But he needed to talk to his friend. Now that the news was out, he needed Felix to explain.

              Like most of his thoughts, they wound their way back Minho. His heart hurt for him. As much as it was agony to think of Minho moving on from him, the thought of Minho’s heart breaking pained him more. Jisung’s stomach tightened. Minho really was just so unlucky. He’d torn his heart apart, and now he’d lost the best person that could have pieced it back together. Jisung swam in the depths of his own turmoil and guilt. His lungs were losing air and pulling thin, about to burst.

              He knew he was looking at Changbin perplexed. His friend hummed and nodded, then huffed and dropped his shoulders so he could relax. He still looked like he’d just run a mile.

              “I’m just as surprised as you,” Changbin exhaled. “I swear this came out of nowhere. The last I heard, Minho and Felix had their thing. I’m usually a lot more perceptive than this, I swear. The two of them must have been keeping it really quiet. Don’t get me wrong, I love Chan so much, he’s like my brother. I’m so happy for him and Felix. As long as they make each other smile, it’s all I could ever ask. And I’m sure they’ll be great together. But I was sure that Minho had a chance there. I’m glad Chan and Felix found each other, but I can’t help but feel sorry for Minho. I thought he finally found someone to move on with who liked him back. I really need to check up on him and make sure he’s alright.”

              Jisung nodded wordlessly. He didn’t know how to respond to all of that. Above all, he was grateful that Minho had someone like Changbin watching out for him. Jisung felt Changbin’s confusion. There was absolutely something that the both of them were missing, but they’d been expertly kept out of the loop. If Jisung said anything, he was afraid his voice would crack with too much emotion. A tension weighed heavily over his head and heart, and wouldn’t be alleviated until he got the answers he craved, that he hoped that Felix was ready to give.

The next day was a Saturday, and luckily Felix was available for dinner. Jisung had called him up on Hyunjin’s telephone in the morning, and they’d arranged all the plans then. Jisung was restless for the whole day, pottering about and strumming random tunes on Hyunjin’s guitar and then moving on to read for a bit and then munching mindlessly on snacks. He couldn’t be still. Not until the tornado in his mind was settled.

              When it’s finally time to make his way over to Felix’ place, Jisung is jittery throughout the entire journey. His hands are shaking, and his leg was bouncing the entire bus ride. And Felix lives a little outside the city, so it was a longer bus ride than Jisung was used to. Eventually, the bus pulled up to the stop and Jisung made the short, yet miles-long trek to Felix’s building. It was cold as Jisung climbed the stairs up to Felix’s flat, but he knew that Felix’s flat would be the stark opposite. It was always warm in there. Jisung knocked on the door, knuckles stinging, and willed his limbs to stop shaking.

              Felix opened the door with a sheepish expression, smile all clenched and toothy as he stepped back to let Jisung in. He shuffled inside, spine stiff as he beelined through the familiar living room to the familiar sofa. Felix’s flat was a mess of gaming consoles and comic book figurines, but still tidier than his room back at his old house. Felix flat was a home, for sure. His friend came up behind him and perched on the other end of his sofa. He cleared his throat, then attempted to smile at Jisung more naturally. It was almost painful to watch, but Jisung didn’t have the courage to address the elephant in the room yet, either.

              Felix knows that the news had gotten out, that was certain. He wouldn’t be so skittish around Jisung if he didn’t. He’d never been shy about his dates before, but this was the first time the both of them had known his boyfriend first before they started dating. To Jisung, it only revealed that things between Chan and Felix were more serious than he thought. Felix wouldn’t have risked their friendship turning awkward unless he was sure about him. Despite his grief for Minho, Jisung was undeniably supportive of his friend. Felix deserved the world more than anyone.

              “Dinner will be ready soon,” Felix announced, a little too loud for the quiet, compact room. “I made some ramen, I hope that’s good?”

              Jisung nodded, relaxing slightly into the cushion. They could ease into the explanation. That was fine with Jisung. “That great, Lix, thanks.”

              “Did you want to play anything before its ready? Did you want to listen to anything?”

              Jisung was sure his hands were still too unsteady to play anything on one of Felix’s consoles. Plus, he was never any good at them. “Some music would be good, yeah.” Something to fill the silence until they could eat and finally discuss what they both knew he came here for.

              Felix nodded and jumped up, rushing to his stack of CDs and picking out a Queen one and sticking it into his CD player. The notes from Brian May’s guitar pierced the room while Freddie Mercury’s fluid notes cleared the tension somewhat. The two of them sang along together as Felix finished preparing dinner for them. With music in the background, the wait for their food didn’t drag. Soon enough, Felix was ushering him to his tiny wooden table that could only fit two at the edge of his kitchen. Jisung made his way there gladly.

              Queen’s Somebody To Love was playing in the background as they both tucked into the pork belly ramen Felix had prepared. “This is great, Lix,” Jisung praised after one bite.

              “Thanks.” Felix was shovelling a couple bites in at once, chewing with purpose. Jisung waited, knowing that his friend would arrive at a place where he was ready to start eventually. Jisung had gotten this far, he could wait a little longer.

              Luckily, it wasn’t too much longer.

              Felix sighed and put his chopsticks down. “I suppose you want to hear the story. I’m guessing you’re quite confused at the moment.”

              Jisung blushed and sheepishly put down his own chopsticks. He took a deep inhale and nodded Felix’s way, blinking up at him.

              “I know I told you I was crushing on Minho that time, and it wasn’t a lie. I did like him at first, I really did. I was besotted. But – I don’t know – he was always kind of emotionally distant. I don’t know how to explain it. Like, we’d talk and he’d tell me things, but I never got the feeling that I was really learning who he was deep down. I feel like I only ever got to see the surface level, no more than you guys do when we hang out. He never really let me in or showed any kind of emotional commitment. I understand that for some people, it takes longer. But I was hoping that we’d have gotten somewhere after the amount of time we spent together. And it wasn’t like we hung out alone much. It was only ever when all of you were with us, too.”

              Jisung was stock still, afraid that he’d shatter the peace that enveloped them while Felix explained. He never knew how uncommitted Felix and Minho’s relationship was. But Jisung and the others were only outsiders, there was no way they could have seen the inside of it. It was also a shock to hear that Minho had never invited Felix to hang out on their own. When Jisung was first learning who Minho was, he constantly wanted to be alone with him. Other people were a chore. Minho liked spending quality time with his lover, even if they weren’t doing anything specific. He usually just liked to be in their presence.

              Felix took a sip of water before he continued, and Jisung wrung his hands in his lap once more, then brought them up to play with the chopsticks beside his bowl. He was restless. His toes started to tap inside his socks.

              “And then I had my accident. After that, Minho seemed to change. We hung out even less than before. Meaning, even when we hung out as a group, he didn’t speak to me as much. He wasn’t mean or anything; he just acted civilly, just as if there wasn’t anything between us to begin with. Maybe for him, there never was. But we never addressed my accident or what changed between us. He was just suddenly no longer interested. Although, by that time it didn’t really bother me.

              “When I was recovering, Chan started hanging out with me more. He was so attentive, always ready to do anything I needed to help me get better. He always visited me when he had free time. He cooked for me and spent time with me when I was lonely because you guys were at work. We started talking and realised how much we had in common, and how much we liked each other and wanted to be around each other all the time. By the time that Chan asked me out, I’d fallen for him completely. I’m not accepting him just because I feel like I should, but because I genuinely can’t wait to see where it goes. I really think that Chan and I have something special.”

              Jisung was speechless for a while. Felix took a breath after his exhale, sinking down as he reeled himself back after his confession. Jisung was sure he was glad for the silence for a while; and Jisung was glad for some time to collect his thoughts.

              Most of all, he pictured Chan’s longing face from all those times he’d caught him gazing wistfully at Felix. He thought of how supportive and considerate Chan was when they worked together, and his chest bloomed in joy for him. Then he finally took in Felix’s rosy cheeks and bashful expression as he glanced back at Jisung. Clear as day on Felix’s face, Jisung read how much his words were true. He’d really fallen deeply for Chan in return. Something sated settled within Jisung. Two cogs clicked into place and a mechanism started working as it should. Everything felt as it should be. Felix was content, his friend had found someone that would care for him as he deserved.

              Jisung beamed across the table before reaching over and taking Felix’s small hand in his own and squeezing it reassuringly. Felix relaxed even more, his own bashful smile growing more relieved and genuine. “I’m so happy for you, Lix. I mean it. I saw the way he looked at you. I know the both of you will take care of each other.”

              There were tears in Felix eyes and he laughed. Jisung followed him. It seemed there wasn’t much else for them to do. As this was a celebratory evening, because Felix had just got a boyfriend who adores him, the room finally bristled with the sweetness that it should. Like pink smoke had tinted the flat, joy surrounding them. “Thank you, Hannie,” Felix announced sincerely. “For listening and supporting me.”

              “Of course, Lix. There’s nothing I’d rather do.”

              The rest of the evening was spent enjoying the rest of the food and then Felix stuck on some action film from the 90s that they both mostly ignored. Instead, Felix conspired with him about the first date he wanted to go on with Chan and seriously went over how intimidating it felt because Chan was a rising star. Jisung listened and held his hand and offered his support without conditions. Whatever came Felix’s way, Jisung would be there for him as long as Felix let him.

The group adjusted to Chan and Felix dating like a boat takes to the ocean. Before they knew it, it was the most natural thing in the world. They saw how much they adored each other, and that was that. There was nothing that anyone needed to say about it.

              Changbin had reported that Minho had seemed surprisingly unbothered about it to Jisung in one of their studio sessions together, and Jisung had to agree. Minho never seemed particularly caught up over it. In fact, he was jubilant over the information on the group’s first meeting after Chan and Felix broke the news. Jisung figured it lined up with what Felix was telling him when he went over to his flat: Minho had been distant, so perhaps somewhere along the way, he decided he and Felix were better off as friends. Jisung was still developing theories, but that seemed the most likely so far.

              Whatever the case, the group’s dynamic never shifted. The eight of them hung out as much as possible. So when Jisung moved into his first very own flat, they all took it as the perfect opportunity to get together to help him move in – not that Jisung had an awful lot of stuff to begin with. Which only prompted a department and furniture store trip afterwards to get him all the homey provisions they thought he required. Jisung’s heart was full the whole time. He didn’t know why these seven guys were still willing to go out of their way for him, but he was glad they did.

              The whole day, Felix sent him encouraging smiles, then whispered how proud he was of him. Apart from Minho, he knew how uncomfortable his life with his father had been the most. It only inflated his courage and made him surer of his decision to leave his family behind and start afresh all on his own. Hyunjin wrapped an arm around his shoulder and declared to the whole room that he’d miss his roommate, and Chan pretended to cry and said his son was growing up well. Jisung laughed each time, falling into each of their chests.

              In the evening, they all sat on Jisung’s new sofa and played games in his very own living room. Minho sat himself down next to Jisung and the two of them paired up for charades.

              “A cat?”

              “Yep!” Jisung jumped up from where he was kneeling on all fours and licking the back of his hand, imitating a paw, and pointed at Minho excitedly.

              Minho clapped once and the stood up with purpose. He strode to the centre of the living room, past six dejected faces and Jisung grinning with glee. They were wiping the floor with all of them, who were sinking into their seats more and more by the minute. Minho raised his neck and started to prance around, snapping his teeth upwards. He kept his hands low, as if they were supposed to reach the floor. The thought was on the tip of Jisung’s brain, just out of reach. It was a frustrating itch that he couldn’t soothe. “Ahhhh,” he half-screamed.

              Minho then swooped low and butted the side of his upper body against Hyunjin, who happened to be sitting the closest to him. “Hey!”

              But the action caused a burst of inspiration to strike, as Jisung remembered the documentary he’d watched back in high school about these animals. He remembered ranting to Minho about it at length one time – or multiple times that week. The sparkles in his stomach and chest were shimmering brightly. “Oh, oh, oh, a giraffe!”

              Minho stood up straight and pointed at Jisung just as Jisung had pointed at him, triumph on his face. “Yes.” The two of them grinned at each other, sharing eye contact for a second longer than might be normal. But none of the others seemed to notice, too busy groaning and yelling about how they were cheating, that Jisung must have seen the card before Minho got up.

              “How the hell did you get giraffe from that?” Seungmin complained with a grimace.

              “It’s not his fault you can’t see the obvious, Kim Seungmin,” Minho replied, deadpan.

              “That wasn’t obvious. That was an acid trip.”

              “Not everyone can be a genius.”

              “Not everyone can be so annoying they give their friends a headache.”

              “Alright!” Chan’s voice rose above them all, and Minho and Seungmin sealed their argument with one final glare. Minho slunk back to his seat next to Jisung, patting his thigh as he went in congratulations. Chan sighed and raked his eyes around the room. “How about we just declare Minho and Jisung the winners of charades and play something different now?”

              “That sounds like a good idea,” Jeongin seconded.

              “Why are you punishing us for winning?” Minho continued to complain for the hell of it. Jisung burst into laughter and fell against his shoulder, and Minho let him lounge there as he continued his spiel. “It’s not our fault you guys are bad losers.”

              “How about we play Monopoly?” Hyunjin suggested.

              Minho rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he huffed, blowing air out of his nose.

              “Alright, that’s settled then,” Chan said in relief, smiling down at a beaming Felix.

              “No, it’s not,” Jisung piped up. “Minho hates that idea. We should only play something that we all want to do.” He saw Chan deflate across the room.

              “He literally just said he was fine with it,” Seungmin shot him an unimpressed look.

              “Yeah, but he breathed out of his nose afterwards. Minho only does that when he really doesn’t want to do something.”

              “What the hell?”

              “How do you even know that?” Changbin practically screeched, much louder than the rest of the din in the room.

              Minho and Jisung shared a perplexed glance, then gazed back out to the rest of the room. “How do you not? It’s really obvious.”

              “Again, no it’s not,” Seungmin scowled.

              “I don’t even pay that much attention to my own breathing,” Felix snuggled into Chan’s shoulder.

              “You’re not meant to,” Jisung pointed out, unhelpfully. “Breathing is meant to be unconscious.”

              “How about we just pick something else, and everyone has to give an honest answer about whether or not they want to play it?” Jeongin ended their bickering, exasperated.

              In the end, they decided on Pictionary, which Minho and Jisung didn’t win, to the great peace and safety of Jisung’s new flat. If they had, Jisung might have had to hold back a riot on his first night in the place. Hyunjin and Jeongin ended up winning that one, so everyone complained about Hyunjin’s artistic abilities and how they had an unfair advantage, as you’re only supposed to play that game if you’re bad at art. It started another fifteen minutes of arguing, but it was far from a riot.

              Jisung laughed more that night than he had done in years.

              Their hangouts were planned around their work schedules, days that Runner’s High and Minho had a gig, and time that Jisung filed away for visiting Chan and Changbin in the studio. Each time, they’d pick a flat or a location out in the wild and do what they have always done.

              Minho still came round to the studio most evenings to deliver Jisung, Chan and Changbin dinner after he’d finished dance practice for the day. It became a ritual for them to stick around and chat and go over their music while Minho chilled in the back, humming along to what they’d created so far. Minho’s food always sat warmly in his stomach, and his praise of their music was always the sweetest reward. After Minho smiled listening to his verses, Jisung suddenly had the inspiration to write several more. He’d never been so motivated.

              It was only once that Jisung got to visit Minho’s dance studio. Chan and Changbin had just had another show the night before and were cooped up in the studio the entire next day. Jisung came over to be of as much help as he could and to try and offer them moral support in the face if their mounting deadlines. Although, if all he could do was make some jokes and get them to laugh at least once, he would consider it a trip well spent. In the end, he made them laugh multiple times, but he was also given a task. “Do you mind running this to Minho’s studio, Hannie?” Chan asked, handing Jisung a black hoodie. “He left it in the changing room after the show last night. Binnie and I would run it over, but-”

              Jisung brushed him off immediately. “But you’re swamped. No worries, really, I can run it over.”

              “We hate to treat you like some kind of errand boy…”

              Jisung could tell that Chan had overthought it, as he was the master of overthinking. When it was someone else doing it, all Jisung wanted to do was smother them in hugs and tell them that their brain was making the worst things up and turning on them. He settled for giving Chan one hug and taking the hoodie from his hands. “You’re not,” he tried to assure, but he wasn’t sure how much it did to combat Chan’s mindset. “I’ll go and run it to him now.”

              Chan smiled and ruffled his hair, and Jisung squeaked and bunched up his shoulders as he stood. He shouted a goodbye to an oblivious Changbin who was tied up in his work as he left the room, exiting to the melody of Chan’s laughter. Jisung was still grinning as he made his way out of the studio and towards the bus stop, clutching the piece of paper with the dance studio’s address scrawled on it.

              It only hit him that he was going to Minho’s dance studio alone when he was stood still at the bus stop, the wind tussling his hair. A chill gripped him, and Jisung pulled his jacket around himself tighter. He hadn’t been alone with Minho since the night that he drove him home from the hospital after visiting Felix. Back then, it had been awkward, but they had hung out and had fluid conversations since. Minho’s vitriol and revilement towards him had lessened – if not completely disappeared. Jisung was sure he could get through this without combusting on the spot, despite how ridiculous that belief seemed to him then. He took some deep, calming breaths as he waited for the bus. He was going to visit Minho, whether he was mentally prepared enough or not.

              The bus ride itself was tense, the sway of the bus not doing much to distract him from his thoughts. If anything, it only intensified them. Jisung’s leg bounced on the bus unconsciously, and before he knew it, he was pulling up to the stop that Chan wrote on the piece of paper he gave him. He hurried off towards the studio, which was only about two minutes from the bus stop.

              The outside of the studio wasn’t dissimilar from the outside of Chan and Changbin’s recording studio, only there were perhaps a few more lights on. The sign for In Life studio was only a tad flashier. Luckily Jisung didn’t need to buzz himself in and could just slip in through the metal doors. He was still shaking as he stalked through the hallways, taking tiny, unsure, insecure steps. He followed the faint signs that pointed him towards studio 5, which was on the second floor. Dancers in practice gear – baggy trousers and sweat-soaked t-shirts - passed him without paying him much attention, even though he was sure they’d stare a lot longer and wonder why he was so out of place. He kept his head down and kept walking, eager not to linger too long on his own.

              Eventually, Jisung found the room, the door just before a glass pane which gave him a perfect view of the bare, bright room inside. Jisung couldn’t help himself and peered inside, shrinking into himself a little more. Minho was the only person inside. Jisung couldn’t make out the song he was dancing to, but the beats were loud and forceful enough for him to hear them faintly from outside the room. As soon as his eyes were on him, Jisung was entranced.

              He’d seen him dance a lot when they were dating, and again when he went to Runner’s High’s show. But seeing Minho in his element, practising and dancing freely for the sake of it, for the love of it, Jisung’s eyes were locked onto him. There was a giant mirror that Minho was dancing in front of, inspecting himself as he went. Jisung noticed how his eyes were squinting, analysing his reflection. He could practically see the cogs turning in his head. Minho was meticulous, he always was. He made sure that every limb went down with purpose, that his body followed his lead with expert control. He was the exact opposite of Jisung, who was so uncoordinated it was funny.

              But at the same time, passion and love burst from his movements so flawlessly. Minho poured his soul into getting each step right, into making the final product come together so artistically. His body told the story of the dance without any misconceptions. Minho had always been blunt, he’d always said exactly what he was thinking, leaving no room for argument. He’d never had room for mind games. It was the same with his dancing. Honesty and truth dripped from every turn and flex of his muscles.

              Jisung huffed out a puff of air, heart racing even more. Seeing him so open again was tearing it apart and healing it at the same time. He wanted to go back to when Minho was dancing for him, just to show him because Jisung was special to him. But at the same time, Jisung wanted to be the person he was now: surer of himself, a little better at knowing what’s best for him.

              Minho wrapped his dance up as the beats from the song filtered out, and Jisung figured that he better seize his chance. He didn’t want to interrupt him once he got back into a flow. He knocked against the heavy door, and the music inside squeaked to a stop completely. Jisung only had time to suck one inhale in before the door was opening, and Minho was before him with a quirked eyebrow. “Jisung?” He asked, a little winded.

              “Yeah, hi,” Jisung laughed at himself a little, and let his actions speak first. He thrust Minho’s hoodie out to him, almost punching him in the stomach in his attempt to give it back. “You left your hoodie at the venue last night. Chan asked me to come and give it back to you.”

              Minho blinked as he processed what Jisung just said, and then he speedily jolted forward to collect his hoodie out of Jisung’s hand, practically snatching it back in his haste. He took it towards his chest much slower, almost wincing at himself as the franticness of his movements disappeared. He continued to blink at Jisung dumbfoundedly. Jisung was afraid he couldn’t help him much on that front, he was also at a loss at what to say. So Jisung did what he did best, he improvised.

              “I saw you dance. You know you’re amazing, right?” Jisung gushed, speaking fast and blending his words together in his nervousness. But he and Minho kept their eye contact, he didn’t think they could break it. He read each of the micro shifts in Minho’s expression, going from flustered to considerate in seconds. The air was heavy between them, heating like a furnace warming up. They were connected by an invisible thread, keeping them tied and stuck pouring their souls to each other. “I feel warm whenever you dance. You tell the story without any misconceptions. It feels natural, like the most fitting thing in the world, that it’s never hard to believe. Even practising when it’s not the most perfected, you have this gift, you know.”

              Minho’s expression dropped, but not negatively. He was seeing Jisung, just as he was. And there was nothing uncomfortable or heavy with Minho eyes raking over him so relentlessly. Instead, it was like being enveloped in a blanket after being out in the cold. The warmth descended into Jisung’s chest and bones as Minho studied him, contemplating. There was a slight raise of the side of Minho’s mouth, and he bowed his head a little. His ears were bright red. “Thank you,” there was no other word to describe his voice other than soft.

              Jisung bit his lip as they stood there, unsteady on their feet as they gazed at each other, breaths intermingling. Minho’s mouth moved again, jaw opening and closing, minuscule, as a thought washed through his mind. Jisung was dangling on the edge in front of him, bracing himself for whatever he might hear. Words gathered on both their tongues, just waiting to spill out. Minho opened his mouth wider, but then a clamour came from down the hallway.

              “Minho! Are you ready to start?”

              Two other guys in dancer’s gear charged down the corridor, carrying rucksacks over their shoulders as they called out Minho’s name repeatedly. They had grins on their faces as they approached, innocently waving at Jisung as they egged Minho on some more. “We’re here to go over the routine again!” One said, nodding at Jisung to confirm he got the message.

              Jisung’s cheeks flamed up as he took a step back, embarrassedly dropping his head down again and biting his bottom lip harder. He peered up just in time to watch Minho cough, his head also angled away, and nod back at the two newcomers. He stepped out of the way of the door to let them traipse in to dump their things and start their warm-ups, leaving Minho and Jisung to face each other in the liminal space of the doorway.

              Whatever had been between them before the other dancers turned up had snapped, the pieces shattered and drifting away in the wind. Instead, they could only fumble around nodding at each other, exchanging quick, awkward smiles. “I should – I should head back now, then. I mean, Chan and Changbin might need me for something.”

              “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I need to go through the routine for the next show with these guys again, I promised earlier that I’d help them.”

              “Yeah, definitely. I’ll see you soon?”

              “Yep. Soon. I’ll see you then.”

              They lingered in the doorway for a beat, and then something seemed to click and then Minho was stepping back into the room, and Jisung was stumbling down the hallway backwards. He shot his hand up in a brief wave, and then he turned around. Only then could Jisung exhale again. Once he was outside, not even the breezy air was enough to cool his core down.

              Their meetings continued as normal after that, Jisung and Minho drawn to each other’s sides more often than not. But their words remained lodged into the deepest crevices of their mouths, never to see the light of day. Jisung holed himself up in the studio as much as possible, with Minho bringing food almost as often.

              One evening started the same as all the others, if a bit slower. He had been messing around with beats on Chan and Changbin’s equipment, laughing with them more than they were actually being productive. At some point, Changbin decided to do a snack run, picked up his wallet and jacket and scampered out of the studio.           

Jisung found himself sitting next to Chan, pressed into the corner, settling into a discussion about music.  It starts off with Jisung asking what his favourite genre of music was to fill the silence, and then spiralled into something more elaborate than the musings that Jisung had with Chan and Changbin before. From their favourite musical soundtrack to the latest pop hits, by the end of their spiel Jisung figured he could recount Chan’s taste completely. Despite that, the whole time they’re talking, Jisung couldn’t help but wonder if there was something strumming under Chan’s skin, because he kept shuffling around and gazing about. Jisung figured that if only Chan could exhale, he might release some of that pent up frustration.

              “But what I hate the most are bad love songs!” Chan’s conviction and passion, as his eyes narrowed and his body finally squares in his chair, leads Jisung to believe that this might be Chan finally getting his troubles off his chest.

              “Yeah, I agree. Love songs are everywhere, so I feel that you need to put something real special in them to get it right – or even bearable.” 

              “To make them successful – well, the sad ones at least – is to make sure you capture the pain and desperation right, to really make the listener feel that you’re inconsolable.”

              “True. There’s nothing worse than not quite believing that the singer ever even liked that person really.”

              “Personally, songs about unrequited love are the most painful. The most real. Like, there’s always something about that situation that feels so hopeless. And there’s all sorts of opportunities to expose your own feelings of worthlessness and despair.”

              It was weird to see Chan, who was always so bashful and smiley, speak like he was spitting needles from his mouth, needing to expel the instruments that were causing him such pain. From what Jisung knew about him, Chan was the kind of person to always keep his struggles hidden. He would be the friend that constantly ran around putting out fires for everyone else when he was aware of them but didn’t want to cause any trouble so left his own fires raging. This might have been the first time he has openly talked about his pain from when he was pining after Felix. He never got to talk about how much he was hurting back then. Luckily it was solved now, but Jisung understood how feelings could linger. Chan probably wouldn’t get over them for a while. Jisung regretted not consoling him back then when he had the chance. He just didn’t know how to.

              Jisung’s own tongue was unrestrained when it came to music. His comfort place. Especially when this topic was so hot on his mind recently – ironically for the same reason as Chan. This was the closest Jisung’s emotions had been to the surface, and the highest that he would let them get. But unlike Chan, his situation hadn’t worked itself out. He was still burnt in love, and nothing could fix it. His situation was really hopeless. Even if he didn’t address it directly, this may be his only opportunity to speak of it openly.

              “I disagree with that one.” For a moment, Chan is startled, like he forgot he was having a conversation with Jisung instead of just venting his romantic disappointments from before. But then he looks intrigued, unused to this kind of display from Jisung. “Songs about love breaking apart despite feelings still being there are much more painful to me. Mostly because there was something tangible there in the first place. To me, it’s more heartbreaking to see something once pure and whole burn and cease to exist. How much will their life change afterwards? A lot, basically. They have to readapt to a new way to living after that person leaves them or vice versa. It can be like a death in that way. You can capture the experience of being half-alive, a walking corpse.”

              Chan blinks at him, and Jisung panics momentarily that he seemed too up-his-own-arse and pretentious, that his feelings were too much. But Chan’s surprise is only fleeting, morphing into deep contemplation to Jisung’s disbelief. Chan’s eyes are like torches as they study him, like they were finally able to uncover something that Chan was having trouble understanding about Jisung. And that was probably true. Jisung was a fountain of emotions, masquerading as a statue.

              But then Chan smiles, an inclusive, comforting little thing - and Jisung finds his shame about oversharing evaporate in Chan’s glossy gaze. “You’re right. That is really painful.”

Chan must sense that Jisung is feeling a bit overwhelmed, because he smiles slightly wider than he does naturally, an indication that he was about to change the topic. And then a chair squeaks from the other side of the room, and Jisung looks up to find Changbin and Minho lounging on the desk chairs. Jisung has to shake himself out, wondering when they even arrived. For a minute, he swears he sees Minho studying him so intently that his eyes were glossy, so much swimming in their depths. The look is gone as soon as Minho notices him looking, so Jisung wonders if he imagined it. Minho loosens up and engages in casual conversation so effortlessly after that, so Jisung can only come to the conclusion that he did imagine it. It’s only ever been wishful thinking when it comes to Minho.

It will now be the second time that Jisung, Felix, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin have gone to see Runner’s High’s show. They were playing a venue in the city centre again, and Chan and Changbin had reserved seats for them once more. It was all they could talk about in the office leading up to it. Watching their friends on stage was always such a surreal experience. Both Chan and Changbin commanded the stage when they were on it, and Minho filled in the gaps they left like the strongest glue.

              Like the first time, they piled into their seats near the front with unmatched enthusiasm. Only this time, Jisung truly felt like he belonged and was absolutely wanted without question. It took him some time, but now he could believe that his friends really liked him for himself, and his presence there wasn’t just some courtesy to Felix, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin. He sat down with a massive smile on his face, and a certain glow in his expression that hadn’t been there since he was nineteen.

              Jisung is squirming impatiently in his seat until the show begins. Chan and Changbin jump onto the stage in a swirl of thick smoke, brandishing their microphones with expert grip and control. They’re intense as they stride forward, greetings yelled out to a screaming crowd. Jisung is one voice among the thousands in the venue. They all culminate together to produce the evidence for how loved and talented Chan and Changbin are. And then they start rapping and singing, combining their voices smoothly. They were always meant to go together, like Fate. Jisung sings along, since he knows all the words. He’s the luckiest person in the room for having gotten to work with them.

              The dancers come out for their second song. Minho is as captivating as ever, his movements strong and commanding even in the face of Runner’s High’s powerful vocals. He holds them up with his choreography, the most perfect and fitting accompaniment. He’s wearing a sleek black outfit that makes Jisung a little hot under his collar, and soon sweat was pouring down his temples and wetting his hair. Jisung had to clear his throat numerous times.

              Jisung was lost in the music and performance. He stood up with the rest of the room and danced in his seat. Time was lost to him; he was living in the moment of melodies and symphonies. Eventually, however, he had to realise that the show was coming to an end. Chan and Changbin ended their performance with one of their slower songs. They approached two standing microphones at the front of the stage and gracefully performed their encore. The audience sat back down to take in their emotional closure. Jisung closed his eyes and let the waves in his mind ebb him away down a gentle stream. At the end, his peace was broken when the whole audience erupted into cheers, and Jisung had no excuse not to join them. Chan and Changbin deserved that and more.

              “Thank you! We have been Runner’s High, goodnight!” They chorused at the end.

              Chan and Changbin took one final, deep bow, and started to edge their way off stage. The applause was filtering out when another figure strode to the front of the stage in their place, taking post at the microphone that Chan had just vacated. There were confused murmurs travelling around the room, and Chan and Changbin froze in their tracks, wide-eyed and bewildered. Jisung’s heart missed a beat, and his breath caught in his throat.

              Minho stood gazing out over the crowd. With the bright lights shining at him from the front of the stage, Jisung doubted he could really see anyone in the crowd clearly. Still, he stood tall and proud, shoulders back and jaw set. Only Jisung could make out his rigid posture, a tell-tale sign that he was nervous. Jisung’s fists had started to shake, but he wanted to go up and embrace Minho and give him all the comfort in the world. And yet, no one could miss the determination in his eyes, nor the refusal to get off that stage until he had fulfilled his purpose. Jisung waited on the edge of his seat to find out what that was.

              “Hello, I’m Lee Minho,” Minho began, knuckles turning white as he gripped the microphone. “I’m one of the dancers for Runner’s High, who I think we can all collectively agree were wonderful tonight.” He coughed. “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to dedicate my performance to someone, even though it’s already ended.” Minho paused to take a breath and stare at his feet for a moment. When he raised his head, an inferno was raging in his eyes.

              “The person I wanted to dedicate my dances to tonight is someone I love very much, they’re someone that I’ve always loved for what feels like as long as I can remember. I never stopped loving them, not once. Even after all these years, they’re the first person I think about when I wake up and the last person I think about before I go to sleep. They made themselves a permanent home in my mind, and I want them by my side again.” Minho took another deep breath, and the world around him was frozen still, everyone holding their own. “I hope that this person still loves me too. I’m putting this out there because I know they’re here tonight, and I want them to know. If they do still love me, I want to invite them to meet me at our place tonight. I hope you still remember where I mean. If you want this as much as I do, I’ll see you there tonight, at 2am. I really hope I see you there.”

              Minho didn’t say any more. He just stepped back from the microphone and bowed low, much lower than Chan and Changbin had done, and then he all but bolted off the stage. The crowd went up into another, different, uproar once Minho’s performance was done. Their voices layered on top of one another, outcries and general assumptions and guesses about who this person in the crowd might be. Jisung’s gaze was locked onto the stage where he witnessed Chan and Changbin charge after Minho backstage, and staff coming on to usher everyone else off safely.

              “His ex?” Felix’s deep, perplexed voice piped up next to him. “He has to mean his ex, right? He’s here? Tonight? How did Minho even know that? If he hurt him so much, why does he want him back all of a sudden?”

              “I have no idea,” Seungmin mused. “I suppose we’re going to have to ask him.”

              Hyunjin and Jeongin give their assent. Jisung’s tongue feels too heavy to respond.

              “I wonder what brought this on?” Hyunjin pondered aloud. “I wonder when his feelings changed.”

              “It seems like his feelings had never changed, it seems like they’ve always been the same,” Jeongin concluded.

              Jisung’s hands and feet felt cold. He was frozen stiff in his seat, running Minho’s speech over in his mind again and again. Minho still loved him. Minho still loved him. The thought was inconceivable, hardly a solid part of reality. It felt like fiction, something Jisung’s mind would have made up in the dead of night when he was feeling too hopeful. He pinched his thigh, but when he opened his eyes again, he was still sitting in the hall for Runner’s High’s show. It was real. Jisung was still here.

              Minho still loved him. Jisung thought he might just combust. How was he supposed to recover? How was he supposed to allow himself to believe he could have this happiness again? He’d just adapted to the fact that his friends were going to be a permanent fixture in his life, how was he supposed to cater to the fact that Minho wanted to be with him as well? It all felt like far too much, like the world was piling more and more on top of Jisung that he was going to implode in a burst of stuffing and petals. His feet tingled. He felt an urge to run. But this time, he knew that there was only one possible direction he could run in. He wouldn’t make the mistakes of the past again. No matter how unbelievable it was, Jisung was going to seize his chance. He was going to fight.

              They group decided before the show that they weren’t going to meet up afterwards like they did last time and were just going to head home instead. Jisung almost collapsed in gratefulness. If he had to lay his eyes on Minho before he met him in their secret place later, he might just break down then and there. He needed some time to steel his nerves and gather his courage. It didn’t mean his legs and fists stopped shaking when he stood up, though.

              Jisung was in a daze as he filtered out of the venue with his friends, numb and barely registering the crowds of people around him. What would have usually made him panicked and suffocated wasn’t even in the back of his mind. He was floating away in his own stream again, fluffy clouds poking at his sides. Felix still kept close to him on the way out, and thankfully he was lucid enough to say goodbye to his friends as they parted ways to get back to their own flats. Jisung could barely remember the bus ride back to his home, but he knew he made it back when he was lying on his bed staring up at his ceiling. The white expanse was an entire universe, and Jisung was but a small spec gazing out at it. He barely felt real.

              The hours ticked by, and his digital clock showed the minutes snapping by. The amber-green numbers pierced into the room without hesitation, an incessant reminder of how close the hour was getting to 2am. Jisung squashed his rising panic, chest stinging with the strain. He could do that later. He needed to go to Minho with his head on his shoulders, ready to embrace whatever he was willing to offer.

              At half one, Jisung shakily stood up from his bed and stalked like a ghost through his flat. He didn’t even bother turning on the lights. He was moving on muscle memory alone. He slipped his converse on and wrapped his thicker jacket around himself. Stepping out of the flat and locking it behind him felt like a promise to himself – a promise that he was really doing this, that he was letting himself have this. Jisung turned around, and then departed into the night.

              He had to get a taxi to the park where he and Minho used to meet in high school, the park that they first met by. His own consciousness of reality returned to him on the way, and suddenly his task felt so much bigger. The air around nipped against his exposed skin, and the rumble of late-night traffic around him may as well have been explosions. His leg bounced in the taxi, even his toes refused to remain still. The journey was simultaneously five hours and five seconds long. At the end, he paid the driver and slipped out of the car. And then just like that, the park was before him.

              The trees were illuminated by the surrounding streetlamps, casting ebony shadows in their wake. Jisung inhaled once more before trailing the length of the black fence that enclosed the park until he came to the gate. The hinges screamed out as he slipped past, making Jisung wince. He closed it behind him, so it wouldn’t slam shut and disturb the quiet atmosphere of the park anymore. The foliage along the path crackled under his feet as he walked, and the leaves rustled in the slight nighttime wind. Distantly, a group of teens or young adults were laughing and hanging out. They were easy to tune out, a fixture of the park just as much as the trees and grass were. Jisung’s knees were weak as he ploughed down the path, turning and twisting until he reached the opening for his and Minho secret place. He stepped into the clearing, his crunchy footsteps alerting the figure already waiting there.

              Minho turned around as soon as Jisung stepped inside.

              They stared at each other for a while. Minho had changed out of his dance gear into some comfortable clothes, and his hair was haphazardly bundled on his head, almost like he’d been running his hands through it in nervousness. His chest was heaving in deep breaths like Jisung’s was, but his gaze refused to budge. Between them, a want and desire fuzzed, swimming in the thick air separating them. Like a gravitational pull lay directly in the middle of them, they were being pulled in. But neither of them could get their limbs to let go and fall freely just yet. They needed to sort out some of the debris between them first.

              The branches around them locked them both into their own bubble once more. This was always their place. It held a special place in each of their hearts. Minho certainly picked the most fitting place for them to finally address the topic that had been lingering over their heads since they met each other again all those months ago.

              Jisung was warm in Minho’s eyeline, completely safe with Minho watching over him so intently. Even with the tension dangling on a knife edge, Jisung knew that with Minho, he never had to fear. And with their eyes locked so intently, he had a soft bed to land on. But the string couldn’t remain taut forever. Something had to snap it. In this case, it was Minho’s, “hi.”

              Jisung can’t help but chuckle a little. “Hey,” he replies. It allows Minho to loosen his shoulders a little and chuckle himself. They smile at each other, a reassurance, a promise.

              Minho takes one step forwards. “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

              The very idea is ridiculous. The very thought that Jisung wasn’t still head over heels in love with him was insane. Of course Jisung was going to be here. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.

              But he was still so confused. He knew he was in love with Minho, but how could Minho still be in love with him? He swears Minho had never given that indication since they met again. For the longest time, he believed he was in love with Felix. Recent events had revealed that it wasn’t the case, but it didn’t clear anything up for Jisung. If anything, he was more confused than ever.

              Minho must have been able to read his confusion clear as day on his face, because he took a nervous breath in. “I suppose I owe you an explanation. I just want you to know that everything I said at the end of Chan and Changbin’s show was real. I meant every word of it. But I can understand why you think that it didn’t make any sense.” Jisung nods minutely, and Minho winces. “I was never into Felix. I admit, we got on well from the start, but I got on well with all the guys from the office. I got the sense that he was into me a bit, and I ran with it, because I met you again. Seeing you in the office that morning threw me. Having you before me again, I couldn’t control the anger and love that I’d kept repressed for so long. So I needed to have some sort of plan.”

              Dread coiled in Jisung’s stomach as he put the pieces together. “You – you flirted and led Felix on to hurt me?”

              Minho screwed his eyes shut for a second and nodded, gazing back at Jisung with an utterly destroyed expression on his face. Jisung had never seen him look so ashamed. And Jisung couldn’t lie, it wasn’t unfounded or undeserved. Felix was the brightest light; he didn’t deserve to be played with like that. And Jisung was receiving second-hand guilt for being related to the reason that his emotions were toyed with.  

              “Yeah,” Minho croaked out. “I did. I wanted to make you jealous, I wanted to you to feel scorned. But I realise now how mean and cruel it was, to both you and Felix. I should have realised before, but I got there eventually, on the day that Felix hurt himself on our trip. From that day, I knew I needed to put some space between us to spare his feelings. I wanted to make it clear that I saw him as no more than a friend. I should have had a proper conversation with him, but I was too scared. I was too scared to admit yet how much I was still in love with you. Because the truth is that there will never be anyone else who compares. Never. There couldn’t be.” Minho voice was getting thin, and Jisung’s throat was scratchy and tight. His chest was being stretched past its limit. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry to both you and Felix.”

              Minho took a breath to bury his face in his hands, then drag them down, groaning into them. Jisung ached to run forward so they could take each other in their arms. But he knew that this needed to be fixed. And now was the only time that they were going to get to go over it. Rushing in before they were ready would make things way too complicated. The air needed to be clear between them before they went ahead. Slowly, bit by bit, the anchors rooting them to their spots were being dislodged from their chains.

              “And I’m sorry for holding a grudge against you all these years. I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me.”

              Jisung shook his head, then braced himself for the direction that the conversation had turned. He knew they’d get to their past eventually, and he needed to be strong. He was ready to face it now.

              “No. I’m so sorry for what happened back then. Not a day goes past that I don’t regret it, even though I was doing it because I thought I was protecting you. I wish I’d been stronger and braver back then. I know I hurt you, it was impossible not to know that. And yet I stuck with my decision, and I will never stop being sorry for it. You don’t need to apologise; it was never your job to save me.”

              “No. No, it wasn’t. You did that all by yourself. I got to watch you do it, I got to watch you be so brave leaving your father. I just wish I could have told you. I wish I could have held you through it. Because while it wasn’t my job to save you, only you could do that, I wish I hadn’t left you alone to do it. I abandoned you when I knew your life at home was far from pretty. Even though you pushed me away, I should have been stronger too. I should have helped you believe how brave and strong you are. I shouldn’t have been so consumed by my spite and I shouldn’t have taken your decision so personally, because you were hurting too. I abandoned you, too.”

              Jisung sobs. He can’t stop the ugly, desperate sound from crawling out of his throat as his eyes well with tears that eventually spill over his cheeks. He hides his mouth behind his hands as he tries to muffle the bawling. Minho himself presses his mouth so tight that the lines around his lips turn white. His eyes were glassy, filled to the brim with anguish as he looks over Jisung. Despite the state he’s in, Jisung can’t bring himself to look away from Minho for a second.

              Minho clears his throat again before he continues. “I shouldn’t have expected so much, so soon back then. It takes a lot to leave your family, no matter how shitty they are. I should have been more considerate to the fact that you weren’t ready to risk everything yet. If I had, I would have been there as you suffered under them. I could have held your hand and kissed you through it. But I let us go just as much as you did.” Minho shakes his head, eyes raking over Jisung as if he was looking at one of the world’s miracles. “Meeting you again just reaffirmed how much I still love you, and always did. How could it not? If anything, I’ve just fallen more in love with you than ever before. How could I not? You’re so kind to your friends, incredibly smart, it’s impossible not to love you.” Minho shook his head, almost in disbelief. His continued again with a shudder in his breath. “I almost gave up hope. But then I heard you talking to Chan in the studio, and that hope alighted in me again. I had to take a chance. I wanted to ask, one more time, if you want to try again? Would you accept me back, even after everything I’ve done to hurt you recently? Would you want to start again?”

              By the end of Minho’s confession, Jisung’s tears are streaming down his face is waves. He’s blubbering and struggling to stay up on his feet. It’s like a tsunami has come by and washed him away, swept him up off his feet and into an abyss where he’s finally free to get everything he’s ever craved. It still doesn’t feel real. But Minho’s words pierce into his heart in the most beautifully painful way. If Jisung was to bleed out over the forest floor now, he’d die happy.

              He can’t contain how much his voice wavers and wobbles as he attempts to form a response. “I hated myself for so long for hurting you, and I can’t promise that I’m going to forgive myself for it anytime soon. But this time I’m determined not to make the same mistake. I don’t want to let you go. I’ve loved you ever since I met you, and I don’t think it can ever change. I love you so much. I’m determined to continue to be brave and face the world with you, and there is no force on this earth that would be able to persuade me otherwise.”

              Minho finally lets the tears run down his face, silently and gracefully as he always is, but his face crumbles as Jisung finishes his own confession. The anchors holding them to the spot are finally all loosened, and Jisung allows the gravitational pull between them to take him, and Minho does the same. They stumble forward, reaching out desperately. They meet in the middle, throwing their arms around each other.

              Jisung loops his arms around Minho’s neck, while Minho’s encircle his small waist. Their fronts press flush against each other, and they melt into the contact. It has been far too long that they’ve been deprived of it. Frantically, their lips meet in an equally desperate kiss. Warmth fills Jisung’s whole body as he finally loses himself in Minho’s kiss once more. Hungry and craving, their lips move fluidly against each other’s, taking each other’s lips into their mouths at some point. A coil tightens in Jisung’s stomach, and he pulls Minho even closer.

              “I love you,” Minho whispers against his lips, not extracting himself even a centimetre.

              “I love you so much,” Jisung says back.

              They repeat their confessions over and over as they make out. Minho’s hands run restlessly up and down Jisung’s sides and then come back down to squeeze his waist once more. Jisung tangles his fingers in Minho’s hair and then moves to instantly smooth the locks down. Their ministrations continue over and over. They can’t get enough. Their breaths are hot as their “I love you” confessions are pressed against their mouths repeatedly.

              “Back to mine?” Minho manages to extract himself just enough to ask.

              “Yes, yes please.” Jisung breathes out.

              Before Jisung knows it, they’re stumbling up the stairs to Minho’s flat. For the whole journey back, they struggled to remove any part of their bodies from each other’s for even a second. Without Minho pressed right up against him, Jisung would be cold. He needed Minho.

              Minho has one hand still around Jisung’s waist as he unlocks his door, and then they all but fall into the flat. The only thing that keeps them upright is the wall that Jisung’s back crashes into, Minho’s body falling against him. The way he was squashed and held down against the wall sends his mind whirring; Jisung wanted everything Minho could give at that moment. Minho kicked behind him to close the door and then swept down so he could hoist Jisung up by his thighs. Jisung doesn’t let the sudden movement faze him. He goes with it like the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t even part his mouth from Minho’s as he’s lifted up, wrapping his legs around Minho’s waist and securing his grip around his shoulders.

              Minho carries him towards his bedroom, knocking into several objects on the way. Neither of them notices much, too busy tearing at each other’s clothes, loosening them against each other’s bodies. They don’t stop kissing, even as they reach Minho’s bed. Minho just flexes his dancer’s muscles and lowers Jisung down onto his back, placing his head on his pillows, then crawls between his legs. Their hands run up and down each other’s sides, swallowing each other’s moans, lips practically fused together.

              They only part when Minho leans back to cast his gaze down and over Jisung laying flushed beneath him. His eyes sparkle, whether from leftover tears or love or both, Jisung can only assume. But nevertheless, he smiles down at him, ever so soft. “I love you,” he whispers.

              Jisung is out of breath, but he beams back at him. “I love you, too,” he returns, before surging upwards to capture Minho’s lips once more.

Jisung wakes caged in Minho’s arms, head resting on his chest. He has to blink and try to recalibrate his mind so he can believe that everything happened earlier that morning was real. He was really here, finally able to call himself Minho’s again – and Minho was his own. His heart was bursting, fuller than it had ever been.

              He loathes to move, lest he wake Minho prematurely. But he wanted to gaze upon his picturesque face, tracing his lines and committing them to memory even more than they were before. Their bare skin brushes together as Jisung shifts so he can look up through his long eyelashes, the sheets crinkling as they adjust to Jisung’s new position. However, no matter how gentle Jisung tried to be, he couldn’t prevent his movements from waking Minho. He blinked his eyes open with a dissatisfied curl to his mouth. It was only when he gazed down at Jisung that his expression softened once more.

              “Good morning,” he kissed the top of Jisung’s head. Jisung returned the favour by kissing his chest, just above his heart.

              “Good morning yourself.”

              “How did you sleep?”

              Jisung smiled even wider. “Wonderfully. You?”

              “The best I have in years.” Minho pressed another kiss to the top of Jisung’s head.

              Minho pulled Jisung up a little higher so they could snuggle together for a little longer. They didn’t really need to talk, they just wanted to lay in each other’s presence for a while. Jisung didn’t keep count of how long they lay there, drifting in and out of sleep. The warmth of each other’s bodies kept them content and dazed.

              They only got a sense for the time when Minho happened to drop his head and glance towards the clock on his wall. “Shit, is that really the time?” He sat up on his elbows, dislodging Jisung from him.

              Disgruntled, Jisung groaned and pushed himself up so that he was doing half a plank in the bed, resting his weight on his forearms on the mattress. He looked towards Minho’s clock and almost blanched at the time himself. It was almost one in the afternoon. To be fair, it was very late by the time they’d actually gotten to sleep, so it wasn’t surprising that they’d slept in so late. So Jisung tilted his head at Minho’s abrupt, stark reaction. His boyfriend was still staring at the clock with a challenging expression, as he expected to intimidate it into rewinding just for him. Jisung smiled fondly, he was so in love with him. “You alright?” He teased him.

              “Yeah, yeah,” Minho groaned again, finally tearing his eyes away from the clock and flopping back down onto his back. “I was meant to call Chan or Changbin this morning.”

              The revelation makes Jisung’s hairs stand on end. “Huh?”

              Minho looked away, his eyes turning red. “After my announcement at their show yesterday, they practically ambushed me in the changing room, asking if I was alright and in my right mind. The only thing that got them to back of was to promise to call them this morning to let them know how everything went.”

              For the first time since he reunited with Minho, the familiar sensation of anxiety thrums through Jisung’s bones. Suddenly, it’s a bit too hot in the room. In his bliss of getting back together with Minho, he completely forgot about the reality of getting back together with Minho. His boyfriend had made a very public declaration of love yesterday for someone who had to be his ex. They had all heard it. And so, when Minho introduced him as his boyfriend now, they would all know. Finally, his mistakes were catching up for him. Had he got Minho back at the expense of his friends hating him?

              Changbin especially knew how much Minho’s ex hurt him, so when it’s revealed that Jisung was that ex all along – and he had kept it from all of them as well – he didn’t know how he would ever forgive him. The others would also never see him the same way. The crushing loss was tearing Jisung’s walls apart already.

              Minho was already looking at him like he was a wounded mouse, concern written legibly across his face. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to hide anything from him again. He nodded up at him, prompting him to speak his mind.

              And Jisung had no secrets from him anymore. “How much are they going to hate me? Now that they will find out how I was the one to hurt you in the past, they’re never going to forgive me.”

              Minho looked pained as he rolled over to throw an arm over Jisung’s waist, pulling him closer. Jisung buried his face in the junction between Minho’s shoulder and chin, letting Minho caress his back. “They could never hate you,” Minho promised with conviction. “Especially not when they find out just how happy you make me. And besides, they love you. You must know they do. You’re not some random stranger, you’re the funny kid who always makes them laugh and is there to help them whenever they need a hand. And if they don’t see that, then I’m going to be having words with them.”

              Jisung whines and burrows his face even more into Minho’s neck. He feels the rumble of Minho’s laughter throughout his entire body. It brings a smile to his face, which he’s sure Minho can feel through his bare skin.

              In tandem, the two of them sit up, and then shift around so Minho’s back is against the headboard and Jisung clambers into his lap, legs straddling his sturdy thighs. Jisung leveraged himself against Minho’s shoulders, and Minho brings his own hands up to cup Jisung’s swollen cheeks. Jisung knows he’s blushing, but Minho looks at him with an unnameable amount of fondness that it makes it all worth it. “I love you, Han Jisung, okay?”

              “Okay. I love you, too, Lee Minho.”

              Their lips meet in the middle.

              They kiss for a little while longer in bed, before reluctantly agreeing that they need to get up at some point that day. Minho pulls a fresh two pairs of boxers, two pairs of shorts and two plain t-shirts out of his wardrobe. He hands one set of each pair over to Jisung, who pulls them all on. They are all a little big and baggy on him, but it feels ever so right to be wearing Minho’s clothes. After that, Minho goes over to his landline in the hopes of calling Chan or Changbin. He tried them both, but neither of them picked up. He shrugs at Jisung, who was lingering nearby nervously, nibbling on his fingernails. Minho brushes off the phone, declaring that he’ll see them soon at practise anyway, so he can update them then.

              Instead, Minho and Jisung decide that it’s time to make lunch. Minho takes charge in the kitchen, pulling out all the saucepans and utensils that they’ll need to make macaroni cheese. Minho ends up doing most of the work, preparing the cheese sauce expertly before getting the macaroni pasta ready to boil. Jisung goes wherever Minho instructs him, fumbling his way through the preparations. Minho never gets frustrated at him, however – he ends up laughing more than anything. By the end, Jisung’s cheeks hurt from smiling so widely.

              Once they add the cheese sauce to the macaroni, Minho tells Jisung to begin stirring them together. Jisung takes the wooden spoon from him and hovers over the hob, mixing the pasta and cheese sauce together to finish off their meal. Minho takes his place behind him, back-hugging him and watching over his shoulder as he combines the finishing touches to their meal. Jisung sinks against him, lost in the calming sensation of stirring their food and Minho’s sturdy chest behind him. He’s so lost in their own little world that when the doorbell rings, it sounds like a siren.

              Jisung jolts on the spot, dropping the spoon into the saucepan and turning around in Minho’s arms. His eyes are wide like a spooked deer, muscles tense and hairs standing on end again. Minho holds him close, shushing him and kissing his temple. “It’s probably Chan and Changbin,” he tells him softly.

              The panic in Jisung’s eyes only increases, as they dart about the room, looking for an escape. Minho starts running his hands up and down his arms until Jisung’s breathing evens out again. By then, the doorbell had rung again twice. Minho scowls in the general direction of his door before turning back to Jisung. “It’ll be alright,” he whispered.

              Minho kissed Jisung one more time and then extracted himself from his grip to get the door. Without his presence within five feet of him anymore, Jisung feels a little untethered and uncertain. Minho has to turn a little corner before he opens the door, taking him out of sight. Jisung stares at where he disappeared, until he hears the distinct sounds of Chan and Changbin’s voices booming into the flat, declaring to know why Minho didn’t call them. Minho’s deadpan response that he did and that they didn’t pick up is drowned out by the ringing in his own ears. He has to turn around so he’s facing the macaroni cheese still boiling on a low heat in front of him. He leans his hands against the counter, taking a few deep breaths to see if he can get his heartbeat back to something somewhat normal.

              A chill rakes up his spine, and his shoulders stiffen while he takes a final, deep breath. He turns around just in time to meet Chan, Changbin, Felix and Minho, who are piling into the living room that separated the entrance hallway from the kitchen. The first three stop dead in their tracks as soon as they register just who is before them, each of their faces morphing from puzzled to abjectly disbelieving. The only one who doesn’t stop is Minho, who charges right past them so he’s at Jisung’s side again, wrapping an arm around his waist.

              Changbin stutters, mouth opening and closing wordlessly as he tries to make sense of the situation and string together some words at the same time. Chan and Felix don’t even bother trying to force some words out. They’re just frozen in place, their eyelids the only things that retained movement as they blinked. Chan and Felix are holding hands, and Jisung does see their hands squeeze each other’s as the seem to finally register that Jisung is here, and piece together that he had to have spent the night with Minho, and then that he had to be the one that Minho had declared his love for, and thus that he had to be Minho’s ex, too.

              Awkwardly, Jisung waves at them. “Hi,” he says.

              The tension is snapped when Minho can’t help but laugh – whether amused or because he doesn’t know what else to do, Jisung isn’t sure – but it finally breaks the spell holding the room in purgatory. “Why don’t we all sit down?” Minho gestures to his sofas.

              “Yeah,” Chan breathes. “That sounds like a good idea.”

              Changbin, Chan and Felix all flop gracelessly down on one of the sofas, all squished together as one united front. Minho and Jisung take the other sofa, sitting as close to each other as humanly possible. Jisung reaches of Minho’s hand, because he needs all the comfort he can get, and Minho links their fingers together without hesitation. The two groups stare at each other until Changbin finally lets out one, long breath. “So,” he begins. “Jisung-ah, huh?”

              Minho nods, leaving no room for argument. “Yep. Jisung.”

              “Well,” Felix clears his throat. “I can’t say I’m not a little surprised.”

              Jisung stares back at him sheepishly, hoping his expression revealed just how sorry he is for keeping everything from Felix for so long.

              “So, Jisung is…” Changbin trails off, a haunted look creeping over his face as he glances between Minho and Jisung.

              “We’ve known each other since we were in high school. We broke up and met again when Felix introduced us in your office that morning. I confessed yesterday, and now we’re back together again.”

              Jisung almost cackles at Minho’s incredibly simplified version of events. But it seems to be all the context that Chan, Changbin and Felix need, because they sigh and nod as if everything suddenly makes sense.

              “So,” Felix begins softly, glancing at Jisung, tenderness shining out of him. “You’re happy? You love him still, too?”

              Jisung’s throat wells up again, but he manages to keep any embarrassing sobs from welling up again. “Yeah,” he manages to answer. “I am. I still love him, too, always have.”

              Felix bites his lip, looking conflicted – happy yet concerned at the same time. Jisung fidgets in his seat, knowing that there are a million things that need to be said between him and Felix. His friend will undoubtedly feel unnecessarily guilty about gushing over his crush on Minho with him, and Jisung wanted to stop that train of thought right then and there. And Jisung has to apologise about not being transparent. Jisung had learned to be truthful to himself, so he didn’t waste any more time. “I’m sorry that I never told you, it was difficult to bring up at the time.”

              “You don’t have to apologise, Hannie. I’m sorry I never realised. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you were hurting.”

              Jisung laughs, because Felix is really just too kind. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”

              Felix beams and then reaches across the space between the two sofas to take Jisung’s other hand. Having Felix’s solid approval and recognition that he wasn’t mad filled Jisung’s chest with warmth all over again. A smile splits across his face, and he squeezes Felix’s hand once before his friend retracts it to go back to sitting back against the other sofa comfortably.

              When Felix leant back, Jisung could finally catch Chan and Changbin sharing a guilty look between them. All of a sudden, Jisung was back on edge again. Felix returning to his parked position prompted them to turn their expressions fully towards Jisung. Changbin’s face especially took on a note of anguish on top of the guilt.

              “I think we need to apologise, too,” Changbin winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know we said a bunch of mean things about you, not knowing who you were. Me, especially. We didn’t know the whole story, we shouldn’t have judged you so much – well, not knowing you were you, if that makes sense?”

              Jisung couldn’t help but chuckle all over again. His laughter loosens Chan and Changbin up, both deflating and relaxing on the spot. “You don’t need to apologise. You were just looking out for your friend. I was glad Minho had friends like the two of you.”

              “We’re your friends, too,” Chan explained without hesitation, making Jisung feel warm inside all over again.

              “Yeah!” Changbin agreed enthusiastically. “Plus, what we said about you was really mean. I hope you know we didn’t mean to hurt you. We understand now that you must have had your reasons, and if you and Minho worked it out, then we shouldn’t have anything else to comment on. Well, we might tease you about him in the studio, but that’s about it.”

              Jisung’s cheeks stretched where he smiled. Inside, he was jubilant that he was still allowed to work with Chan and Changbin. “It doesn’t matter, it’s all over now. But I appreciate it.”

              “We worked it all out, as you said,” Minho clarified a little more. “There were faults on both sides, and we made it right by each other.” Jisung felt Minho turn towards Felix, and he tightened his grip on Minho’s hand in support. “And I want to apologise to you as well. I know I messed you around, and that wasn’t cool. Not even remotely okay.”

              “Oh,” Felix suddenly realised what Minho was going on about. He laughed and flicked his hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, pretending to flirt with me or whatever you were doing wasn’t cool at all, you’re right. But I don’t think we would have worked out, anyway. Plus, it let me finally get to know Chan when you backed off, so I’m grateful for that.”

              Minho heaved a sigh of relief.

              “But,” Felix said sharply, and Minho tenses beside Jisung. “You definitely said some mean things about Jisung before, which I didn’t realise were serious at the time. So I don’t forgive you for that.”

              Minho nods, way too seriously for Jisung’s liking. “I won’t forgive myself either.”

              Jisung was cast back to a car park, on a dark night with a hurt knee. He remembered how distraught he was then, but Minho had more than made up for it with the way he made him feel when he told him he loved him. Jisung leaned over and kissed his cheek, startling his boyfriend. “Don’t fret over it,” he whispered.

              “You don’t even know what I said.”

              Jisung sucked a breath in through his teeth, sheepish. “If it’s the same night I’m thinking of, I may have overheard.”

              A wave of pain crossed Minho’s features again, and Jisung threw his legs over his lap and cuddled close to him, kissing his cheek and neck over and over. He did so until Minho giggled again, pulling Jisung further into his lap.

              Changbin’s coo from the other sofa was what finally brought them back to reality, and they turned back to their friends with red ears and bashful dispositions. “I love you guys together,” Changbin squealed before launching himself off the sofa to pounce on the two of them, throwing his muscular arms around them in one giant hug. Minho and Jisung heaved a grunt as they took Changbin’s weight, welcoming his celebratory hug.

              “I hate to interrupt this moment guys, but do I smell burning?” Chan’s slightly concerned voice finally roused them all from their happy little bubble.

              “The macaroni!” Minho exclaimed before bursting out from underneath Changbin and Jisung and rushing off to the kitchen to salvage what he could of their lunch. They heard some pots clamour against the counter and Minho swear a couple of times. The other three shot Jisung a concerned look, but Jisung only had a sheepish one to give back. A couple of minutes later, Minho returned with a much calmer exterior than before. “Well, most of it is salvageable. Have you guys eaten? Hannie and I definitely made enough to feed a bus full of people in rush hour.”

              Changbin snorted, while Chan and Felix beamed. “That would be lovely, thanks!” Felix spoke up for all of them.

              Jisung got up to help Minho dish up five bowls of their macaroni cheese and then the two of them joined the others back in the living room. Minho stuck some romcom on while they all ate and laughed with one another. Jisung sat pressed as close as possible to Minho’s side – or maybe it was Minho who sat that close to him? Either way, they couldn’t seem to separate for a moment. Every so often, Changbin would send a sappy grin their way, absolutely chuffed and elated that they were together. Chan and Felix sweetly whispered to one another through the film, tenderly caressing each other’s hands.

              After lunch and their film, they called Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin up to invite them to come round so Minho and Jisung could share their news with them. Hyunjin and Jeongin both took the news much like the other three, startled meerkat expressions on their faces for a good two minutes while Minho and Jisung explained the history of their relationship all over again. However, as soon as Seungmin stepped into the threshold of Minho’s flat, he took one look at Minho and Jisung sat practically fused together and smirked. “Called it. Knew that the tension between you two had to come from something.”

              “What do you mean you called it?!” Changbin screeched, scandalised. It only started another explosion and heated debate, which most of them ended up laughing through.

              Jisung had never been more sure that this was exactly where he wanted to be for the rest of his life. He had never been more sure that his friends and Minho loved him just as much as he loved them. And that was all he ever really needed.

As soon as Jisung approached the Go Live studio, Minho had wrapped a blindfold around his head. Jisung giggled, flailing his arms around haphazardly just to be annoying until Minho took hold of him securely to direct him forward. “Keep still, you menace,” Minho poked fun at him. Jisung just stuck his tongue out at him in response.

              His feet walked the familiar hallways, but darkness swallowed his vision, so he was reliant on Minho ushering him along the same path that he walked so much that he probably could have gotten there on his own anyway. But Jisung wouldn’t let an opportunity to have his boyfriend take his arm go to waste. “What’s the surprise?” Jisung whined, his last attempt at trying to get Minho to spill the secret. Minho had been as tight-lipped about it as he was for Jisung birthday present, so Jisung wasn’t surprised when he didn’t budge. But it was still fun to try and get him to break and tell him, even if he knew he’d never succeed.

              “It won’t be a surprise if I tell you.”

              “But hyung-”

              “But nothing. You can wait two minutes.”

              “That’s too long, I don’t think I can.”

              “Well, you’re going to have to.”

              Jisung giggled, and before he knew it, Minho was gently halting him in the middle of the hallway. If Jisung didn’t know the layout of the studio as well as he did, he might feel more off-kilter. But he knew what room he was outside of. He was grinning like a fool, vibrating in excitement. Mutters, excited and hushed, surrounded him, making Jisung extra antsy. He recognised the tones as his friends, all of them turning up for the reveal.

              “Alright, are you ready?” Minho’s hands loosely hovered over the side of his head, lingering over the blindfold.

              “I’m ready, I’m ready.”

              “Impatient much?”

              “You’re stalling.”

              That earned him multiple laughs from the semicircle of his friends surrounding them. It still never failed to make Jisung’s stomach bubble in glee. But Minho didn’t hesitate any longer. He slipped the blindfold off of Jisung’s head, leaving him to blink and adjust to the light again. His friends were all grinning, hanging onto his reaction, ready to gauge how much he loved it. Jisung blinked his eyes back into focus, and then he saw it.

              He was in front of the door to Chan and Changbin’s individual studio, and it was closed. Clear as day in laminated plastic were the plaques with their names, making it inarguable whose studio this was. But now, the Bang and Seo were joined by one more name below it. The final, newer Han was gleaming at him, just as prominent as the other two. Jisung’s heart swooped, his throat closed up, and tears welled up – but he swiftly squashed his need to cry. He could do that in a few minutes. He needed to say thank you first. “Guys,” was however all he could get out before choking up and facing each of them with a glassy-eyed pout.

              Felix and Chan cooed at him, while Changbin and Seungmin laughed good-naturedly. Hyunjin and Jeongin smiled out silently, and Minho slot an arm around his waist to help hold him up. Jisung was grateful. He didn’t want to collapse in the corridor under all his emotions. At least not until later.

              Changbin puts him out of his misery and speaks up first for him. “This is your studio as much as it is ours now. We spoke to our boss, and we’d love to have you here full time.”

              “We really want that,” Chan piled on. “You’re part of the team now, we don’t want to do anything else without you anymore. We’d love for you to work with us.”

              Jisung was still speechless. At least Changbin was there to fill in the stunned silence he left. “And you can finally quit your stuffy job in that office building no one likes. Imagine how productive we’ll be if we can work on songs all day!”

              “Hey!” Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin exclaimed at the same time, shooting Changbin affronted glares, even though they laughed just a second later.

Changbin shrugged, nonchalant, a grin on his face. “Am I wrong?”

Jisung could full-heartedly admit that he wasn’t. Jisung personally couldn’t wait to hand in his notice and get out of there. Here, in the studio with Chan and Changbin, was where he belonged. Making music and spilling his guts out in his lyrics was what he was born to do, and finally he was allowed to do it. Here was his chance. Existing in the studio with his brothers and receiving constant visits from Minho, with his delicious food, was the vision of his perfect future. And now that future was getting clearer, the blurred edges coming into focus.

Finally, a single tear slipped down Jisung’s chubby cheek, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. He was still beaming at all of them. “Thank you, guys. I love it.”

Jisung felt Minho’s gaze on the back of his neck. His grin only widened somehow as he turned around in Minho’s hold so he could face his boyfriend head-on. Minho’s own smile was proud, fond, and shining. Jisung heart sang again. He felt like the luckiest man alive. Minho uses his thumb to tenderly brush away the remaining trails of tear tracks on Jisung’s face, taking the opportunity to pinch his cheek.

Jisung can’t hold back anymore. He pulls Minho closer by his loose jacket, crashing their lips together. He kisses him deeply, Minho responding with just as much enthusiasm. Vaguely, Jisung registered their friends groaning and telling them to keep it to their bedroom in the background, but he tunes them out. Right then, all that was important was pouring all his love into his kiss with Minho. Their smiles were noticeable in their kiss, and their teeth kept clashing together – not that it stopped them. Jisung tightened his grip on Minho’s jacket, and Minho squeezed his waist even harder. When they were entranced with each other, it was impossible to pull them apart.

“I love you,” Jisung whispered with his mouth still pressed to Minho’s.

“I love you, too,” Minho returned the confession automatically, his love unquestioned.

And Jisung fully believed it. There was a point where he didn’t think he ever would, a point when he believed he would be a spectator all his life, but he had amazing people in his life who loved him unconditionally. And he was going to fight to keep them together for the rest of his days, just as he knew that they’d fight for him. Nothing would persuade him otherwise.