Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Day of Prom

“Felix, why couldn’t you have come over here to help me get ready?” Jisung whines, phone propped up against his bathroom mirror in a video call with his friend. “I need you.”

“Not as much as Hyunjin needed me, he’s freaking the hell out. You know how he gets before big events. I’m sorry, Sungie,” Felix says apologetically.

“But I’m freaking the hell out too!”

“You seem fine, Jisung. Hey, is your date coming over here with you for pictures? What if they get here before you? Who am I supposed to let in?”

“Huh? Oh, we’re driving over together. The moms will come in different cars,” Jisung says. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Felix look at him suspiciously through the screen, but he doesn’t voice whatever might be on his mind. 

“Well, I hope they’re pleasant,” he finally says.

“They’re very pleasant. You’ll love them,” Jisung responds. It’s the truth, Felix and Minho have always gotten along swimmingly, though they aren’t nearly as close as he is with Hyunjin or Jisung. There should be nothing to worry about.

But he’s freaking out. Last night he almost let everything spill, and Minho all but did the same. They’d texted a little bit this morning, just confirming the times for everything before starting to get ready on their own, but he’s been too nervous to carry on a conversation. 

It’s a date.

But is it really?

“Jisung, you’re going a little heavy on the eyeliner, no?”

“Huh?” Jisung removes the eye pencil he’s been using from his waterline and blinks, nearly jumping back when he sees how heavy-handed he’d been. “Oh, shit. Fuck, I need a q-tip,” he says, bending down to shuffle through his bathroom cabinets until he finds something to blur the offending makeup away. 

“You must really like this person to be so nervous,” Felix says, smiling at him pleasantly. 

Oh, if only you knew.

“Uh, something like that,” Jisung responds. “Is this better? Do I look ok? You’re so much better at this than I am.”

“It looks good, Sungie.”

“Is Seungmin with you guys yet?”

“No,” Felix sighs. “No, his mom and dad wanted to see him get ready and lecture him or something. I don’t know, they’re strict. But he should get here around the same time as you. Which, by the way, is in like thirty minutes. Shouldn’t you get your suit on?”

“What? Shit! Yeah, ok. Makeup is good, right? And my hair?”

“Coiffed to perfection,” Felix agrees, giving an encouraging thumbs up. 

“Ok. I’ll see you guys soon,” Jisung says, stripping off his pants as he hangs up the call and runs down his hallway. He nearly collides with his father, who simply gives him a worried look and claps him on the back.

“It’s just a dance, son,” are his sage words of wisdom.

“Yeah,” Jisung agrees. “Just a dance.”

“But I’m glad you’re going this year. If I remember correctly, all you did last year was sulk around the house. It was annoying.”

“Well thanks, dad. Sorry to have been a bother,” Jisung quips back.

“Just have fun this year and all will be forgotten.”

“Great. I’m running late though. Can’t go without pants,” Jisung calls out while running to his room. There his suit hangs, expertly steamed with the help of his mother. He’s still happy with the choice, Hyunjin really never misses with this kind of thing, and when he’s fully dressed and finally admires himself in the mirror he can’t help but think that he looks pretty good. 

Good enough for Minho? To be determined.

He’s cut off from getting too deep into that thought by a knock on his door quickly followed by his mother’s head poking through.

“Why do you knock if you aren’t going to let me answer?”

“Custom, I suppose,” Jisung’s mom responds with a cheeky grin. “Minho is here.”

“Now? He’s early,” Jisung says, glancing at the clock in the corner in his room. Well, two minutes early.

“He looks dashing. As do you,” she says, walking up and straightening his tie. “I’m proud of you, my love.”

“For what?”

“For everything. But tonight, for going to prom. And with such a lovely date.”

“Mom,” Jisung whines, rolling his eyes. “I get it, you wish he were your son. He’s lovely. But you’re stuck with me for a few more months. ”

“Oh, please. I love you dearly, you know that. But yes, he is rather lovely,” his mother says with a wink. “He’d be a good son.”

“Oh my-”

“I’m just saying,” she continues, cutting Jisung off mid complaint. “I’m saying if something were to happen, he’s lovely. And theoretically, I would approve.”

“What? Mom, where is this coming from? I’ve known him eighteen years, why is this being brought up now?”

“Well he drove all the way here and he looks so lovely. And you’re always brighter when he’s here, noticeably so. Just a mothers observation,” she says. “But you’re keeping him waiting now.”

“But you’re the one-”

“Jisung, downstairs.”

Jisung sighs, knowing he has no chance with this conversation. Now it’s not just the universe giving him signs, or the rise of his heartbeat or the sweat on his palms; now even his mother seems to be pushing him into Minho’s arms. He makes his way to the top of the staircase, pausing when he sees Minho waiting at the bottom looking like god damn prince charming. Maybe he wouldn’t mind being pushed into those arms. 

“Well, Cinderella? You coming down?”

“Huh?” Jisung answers, trying to stop himself from gawking. Minho’s got his hair slicked back on one side, a hint of bang hanging down in the front, and his suit is flawless. Upon further inspection, it’s actually the same suit he wore to his own senior prom, but two years and a little bit of tailoring has sure made a difference. A slim silver tie hangs from his neck, a matching pocket square resting on his chest. If there’s one word to describe how Jisung feels at this moment, it’s outclassed.

“I said, are you coming down? I’m all for you having your princess moment, you look awesome, but it’d be nice to have you on the same floor as me,” Minho says with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Jisung says, scrambling down the stairs. His toe nearly catches on the last one, sending him stumbling forward with a little more force than necessary. But maybe Minho really is a prince, at least for the night, because Jisung feels sturdy arms catch him and keep him in place. When he looks up Minho is a nose length away, looking at him like he’s trying not to laugh. “Ah. Thanks.”

“You aren’t allowed to injure yourself, remember? You promised me a couple dances.”

“I’m fine,” Jisung says, stepping back and shaking out his limbs. “Perfectly fit for dancing.”

“Minho!”

The room turns to look as a head pops through the Han’s front door and opens it, waving something in her hands. Minho’s mom.

“Minho, you forgot these!” she says, holding up two clear plastic boxes with something red in each of them. 

“Ah, shit! I mean, thank you,” Minho says, flustering as he moves to grab the items from his mom. 

“Hello, Mrs. Lee!”

“Hello, handsome!” Mrs. Lee responds, walking over to Jisung and putting a hand on either shoulder. “Oh, you look so good, Sungie! Spin for me!” she says, pushing him a little to the right. Jisung laughs and follows her guidance, spinning slowly for her to take a look. 

“Do I? I do, right?”

“The best you’ve ever looked,” she agrees, letting go of his shoulders and brushing them off. “Doesn’t he, Minho?”

“I don’t know, remember that one time the yard flooded and he tripped in a mud puddle? He looked really good then,” Minho chuckles.

“Minho!”

“He looks phenomenal, mom. You look phenomenal, Jisung,” Minho deadpans, turning from his mother to Jisung. 

“Give him the flowers!” Mrs. Lee trills.

“I’m working on it!”

“Give me the flowers, Minho,” Jisung repeats, laughing when his date glares at him. 

“Your boutonniere, sir,” Minho says quietly, opening one of the boxes to show off a small, dark red rose arrangement peppered with little white hints of baby's breath. 

“Pretty,” Jisung coos, picking it up and sniffing it. “And it smells nice. Thank you, sir.”

“I’m glad it matches your tie,” Minho says, lowering his voice so the mothers can’t hear. Not that it makes much of a difference, they’ve already gravitated towards each other and are engaged in some conversation Jisung can’t make out. “You know, it was a real pain in the ass not showing me what you were wearing.”

“But worth the surprise, right?” Jisung asks with a grin. 

“Sure, Sungie. Here, hand that over, let me pin it,” he says, gingerly removing the floral arrangement from Jisung’s hand. He carefully pins it to Jisung’s pocket, adjusting the silk kerchief he’d bought to match his tie around it. “Perfect.”

“My turn,” Jisung says. He grabs the second box from Minho’s hand and reveals a matching arrangement, then puts all his focus into steadying his hands and pinning it to Minho without piercing his skin. They’re close like this, too close for comfort, and once again Jisung is reminded of the new ways his body reacts to Minho being in his space. He smells good, like amber and oud, and it’s hard to focus with the smell invading his nostrils and making him want to lean closer and...

“Ow!”

“What? Did I get you? Shit, don’t bleed on your shirt, hold it in!” Jisung says in a panicked voice as he pulls his hand back.

“Hold it in? What the hell does that mean,” Minho cackles, moving his jacket to the side to show his shirt. “I was just kidding anyway, but holy shit, what? Hold it in.”

“Shut up, Minho, I’m trying here. You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just standing here.”

“Yeah, but…” Jisung starts, cutting off the end of the sentence as he finishes pinning the boutonniere to Minho’s suit. 

“But?”

“Are you wearing cologne?” he blurts out.

“Oh. Yeah, I am. I got it with my holiday bonus, is it too strong? I don’t wear it that much,” Minho says, backing away a little and doing his best to shove his nose into his own collar and sniff.

“No, it’s good,” Jisung says quietly. “Wait, should I be wearing cologne?”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s a requirement-”

“I’m gonna go put some on! Wait here!” Jisung says, sprinting up the stairs into his room to dig through a drawer of rarely used junk. He knows he has cologne in here, even if it is a gift from his aunt from Christmas four years ago. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jisung curses under his breath when it’s not in the drawer. “Shit!” 

“Jisung?”

He turns to see his father standing in the hallway outside his door, looking concerned and confused. 

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?” his dad asks, stepping cautiously into the room.

“I’m- I need cologne. Minho is wearing cologne and he smells really good and I can’t find my cologne,” Jisung responds.

“You threw it out last year, remember? It smelled expired so mom tossed it?”

“Shit! I mean… rats! What do I do? I can’t go covered in AXE,” Jisung whines.

“I’m sure Younghyun left some here, why don’t you go raid his room?” his father suggests.

“It’s full of moms office stuff, though,”

“I’m sure there’s a drawer of his stuff in there. Come on, let’s check,” he says warmly, putting an arm around Jisung’s shoulder.

“He’s going to get mad.”

“Jisung, if your brother used any of this stuff on a regular basis he wouldn’t have left it here. And he’s not going to notice three pumps of cologne missing, either,” his father says, guiding Jisung into his brothers-ex-room-moms-current-home-office. There’s a worn chest of drawers in the corner that Jisung watches his father sort through as he shifts from leg to leg until two dusty bottles of cologne are procured. “They’re both probably old, but take your pick.”

Jisung sniffs the first one, recoiling at the strong citrus scent that comes out and sticking out his tongue. “Yuck.”

“Jisung?” his dad asks from behind him, hovering a few feet back.

“Yeah?” Jisung answers. The second bottle is nice and seems all but untouched, a fresh scent that reminds him of rain and green forests.

“Since when do you wear cologne?”

“Minho is wearing cologne.”

Jisung spritzes himself with his new find, twice on his wrists and once on his neck like he’s seen his mother do his entire life. 

“Ah, of course. Minho is doing it, so Jisung must do it too. The old Lee-Han joint family tradition.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like that,” Jisung laughs. “I don’t know how to do formal events and he does. I want to do this right.”

“Minho wouldn’t care if you rolled around in dog shit before the prom,” his dad says, laughing when Jisung whips around to glare at him. 

“I’m not rolling in dog shit before prom.”

“You’re not even going to make it to prom if you keep messing around up here,” his dad shoots back. Jisung nods and grabs the bottle of cologne, making a quick stop at his room to toss it on his bed before running downstairs. What Younghyun doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Smell me,” Jisung says when he gets downstairs, shoving his wrist into Minho’s face. His friend grabs it instinctually, but follows the order and leans in slowly to sniff it before sending a supportive smile Jisung’s way. “Cologne.”

“I smell it. Very nice,” he says, slowly bringing Jisung’s wrist down and out of his face. “Completely not necessary, but nice.”

“Is it?”

“It’s nice, Jisung,” he says again, sniffing the air around Jisung and patting him gently on the head. “Really nice.”

“Don’t mess up my prom hair, I spent ages on it.”

“Your hair is fine, you big baby. We need to go,” Minho responds, smoothing down Jisung’s locks with a light touch. 

“Boys? Mrs. Lee and I are going to drive in my car if you’re taking Minho’s. We’ll meet you there, ok?” Mrs. Han calls out, pulling them out of the moment and pushing them into action. 

“Yeah,” Jisung says, clearing his throat to center himself. If he’s going to slip up like that it’s no wonder his mother is bringing up whatever he has going on with Minho. “We’ll meet you there. You ready?” he asks, turning to Minho.

“Ready,” Minho responds, holding his elbow out. “Take my arm please, my lovely date.”

“It would be my honor, my lovely date,” Jisung repeats back, laughing when he sees Minho’s eyes crinkle up in a smile. He also sees Mrs. Lee nudge his mother and whisper something to her, but chooses to ignore that as they head out the door. With his free hand he pats his pocket, making sure the tickets are secure inside his suit coat, then waves goodbye to his dad at the top of the stairs.

For such a special day, mother nature has not chosen to cooperate with his school in terms of picture-taking weather. It’s decently warm, but the sky is gray and dull, filled with a light mist that Jisung and Minho have to sprint through to get to the station wagon.

While he’s had a gentle hum of nerves all day, it’s not until he gets into the car with Minho that he notices his heart beating loud in his ears. He should try to make this a normal night, he wants to behave like a normal person and make memories he can cherish for a lifetime, but all he can think of right now is Minho. Minho in his suit, Minho wearing a matching floral pin, Minho cursing at his steering wheel as the car refuses to start once again.

“Come on Nelson, not tonight. It’s a big night,” Minho whispers, turning his key in the ignition one last time. It finally roars to a start, and Minho releases a sigh as he slumps over the wheel. “Thank you.”

“Nelson wouldn’t do us dirty like that,” Jisung assures him, patting Minho on the back of the head. “He knows what’s in our best interest, and our best interest is going to prom!”

“Sure is,” Minho agrees, backing out of the driveway and making his way towards Hyunjin’s place. “He’s taken me to two before, and those were terrible compared to this. No way he’d let me down for this one.”

“We haven’t even been to this one yet, let me remind you,” Jisung teases. “I could be a shit date.”

“You can’t be a worse date to me than I was to Sooyoung.”

“Fair point.”

“And I have a feeling you won’t disappoint,” Minho says, smiling to himself as he cranks the radio on quietly.

“I’m doing my best.”

He wants to make some funny joke, tease Minho or shoot some sarcastic remark back at him to keep the mood up, but his heart’s not in it. Instead it’s beating a thousand miles an hour, hard and fast and overwhelming. It’s impossible to ignore, and makes it hard to focus on anything else. This is happening.

Minho lets things go silent for a while, turning the radio up a bit to make up for Jisung’s lack of words. He can sense the tone is off, he always can, but Jisung appreciates the couple minutes of quiet he’s given to get himself together.

“Are you ok?” Minho asks after a while, briefly turning to look at him. “You kind of look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’m not going to be sick,” Jisung says quietly.

“Why don’t you look happy, then?”

“I am happy. It’s just also… this is it. The last big thing in high school before graduation,” Jisung says, only just realizing the pressure that’s been building on him as he says it.

“Aw, it’s not so huge of a thing, I swear,” Minho says, only to be met with more silence. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“No,” Jisung replies quickly. “No, the fact that you’re even here is enough.” He sees Minho smile at that, warm and fond like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. Jisung can’t help himself, he reaches his left hand over Minho's free right one and latches on, a reminder of last night that he really doesn’t want to let go of. Minho squeezes tight but doesn’t say anything, keeping his eyes on the road as they get closer and closer to Hyunjin’s place. “Thanks again.”

“Thank me after you see how splendid of a date and dance partner I am,” Minho chuckles. They’re in the cul-de-sac now, and Jisung can make out Hyunjin’s house both from years of recognition and an array of cars littered on the street nearby, overflow from the parents who couldn’t fit in the driveway. “Holy shit,” Minho whispers under his breath, “is every student in the senior class coming to his place?”

“No,” Jisung laughs, “Just Seungmin, Felix, Hyunjin, and Jeongin. Their parents must have all come too.”

“Why couldn’t we just equip one doting mother with six cameras and save the crowd?”

“Aw, I think it’s sweet. We’ll have so many angles to choose from,” Jisung says, clicking off his seatbelt when they find the closest spot they can to Hyunjin’s place. Minho leans into the back of his car to find an umbrella for them to share, and Jisung huddles close as he walks around  and opens the passenger door to keep them both guarded. The fine mist from not twenty minutes ago has evolved into a light drizzle, and Jisung has a feeling it’s only going to get worse from here. They jog inside, shoulder to shoulder, and wait patiently at the door after knocking until it opens to reveal a very frazzled Seungmin.

“Wha- you?” Jisung’s classmate asks, jaw dropped and eyes wide. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, Seungminnie~” Minho sing-songs, waving his fingers in a teasing fashion at him. 

“Jisung, come on. This guy? I hate this guy,” Seungmin says, staring pointedly in his direction. 

“Aw, come on Seungmin. As long as you don’t hurl on him he’ll be nice to you,” Jisung says with a laugh. “Right, Minho?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Can we come inside?” Jisung asks. Seungmin is still standing with his arm on the door, blocking entry for both of them, and the rain is starting to come down harder. “Please?”

“You can,” Seungmin says, holding the door open and offering a way in for Jisung while he plants an arm in front of Minho. “Not him.”

“Who is it? Is that Jisung?” they hear Hyunjin call from inside. His face appears a few moments later as he pops up under Seungmin’s arm and pulls him back, clearing the doorway for everyone to come inside. “Hi, Jisung. Hi, Minho.”

“You knew about this?” Seungmin asks, gawking at the three of them. “Of course you did, what am I asking? You couldn’t tell me?”

“Oh, please, Seungmin. You’re being dramatic, I know you two are friends.”

“I don’t want to go to prom with my babysitter!”

“I’m not your babysitter anymore, Minnie. Move on,” Minho says, patting him condescendingly on the head. Seungmin glares but seems to admit defeat, slumping his shoulders down before wandering out of the entryway into the living room.

There’s a reason Hyunjin’s house had been the obvious place to do this; marble floors and an intricate staircase greet visitors at the door, the living room is grand, spacious, and tastefully decorated, the backyard is sprawling and beautiful on a clear day. It’s a stunning home that would make for a noteworthy background of any photoshoot.

But today the elegant atmosphere seems to be clouded by one of disarray; there are raincoats tossed over the railing, mothers and fathers alternating between making small talk with one another and fussing over their sons and their respective dates. Within moments Jisung and Minho’s mothers appear, Mrs. Lee causing a fuss over all the parents she hasn’t seen since Minho left for school two years back. Jisung and Minho sneak into the living room on their own, only for Felix to catch sight of Minho and tackle him into a running hug.

“You’re here!” he cries, leaning back to inspect Minho carefully.

“I am.”

“You’re the date! I knew you were the date, of course you’re the date,” Felix says decidedly, pulling away from his older friend and pushing him to Jisung’s side. “Yep. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“What do you mean, you knew he was the date? You pestered me more than anyone,” Jisung rebutes, looking between Felix and Minho.

“Yeah, but like I said, we know everyone at school and nobody was going with you. So who else could it be? Plus, he’s Minho.”

“What does that mean?” Jisung questions.

“It means,” Seungmin chimes in, walking up behind Felix and laying a hand on his shoulder, “that for some reason, you insist on being attached at the hip to this guy. Even though he’s the worst.”

“I’m the greatest. Be careful what you say or I’ll punish you. If I remember correctly, your mom gave me permission to put tabasco on your tongue if you swore,” Minho says quietly. “Where is your mom, by the way? I should say hi.”

“Not necessary.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Minho says, looking around the room until he spots Seungmin’s mom. “Mrs. Kim!” he calls out before squeezing Jisung on the shoulder and jogging away. He sees Seungmin’s mother’s face light up in delight before pulling him into a hug, then holding him away to inspect him. 

“Seungmin!” she calls out, waving her son over. Jisung chuckles as she sees Mrs. Kim position the boys together for a couple of photos, bursting into all-out laughter when Seungmin holds his hand to Minho’s head to accentuate his height advantage. 

“I totally knew it was him, by the way,” Felix whispers loudly into Jisung’s ear. 

“Yeah, well, you and Hyunjin both,” Jisung replies. 

“What about Hyunjin?”

The man himself appears in front of them, Jeongin in tow via a linked elbow.

“Felix says he knew about my date. As did you,” Jisung explains.

“As did I,” Jeongin adds.

“No fucking way, you literally don’t even know Minho.”

“Yeah, but my boyfriend does,” Jeongin says, a devilish grin growing on his face.

“Oh, and your boyfriend has loose lips, does he?” Jisung asks, squaring up to Hyunjin with his fists in fighting position. “Despite telling me it would be a secret.”

“Boyfriend privilege,” Hyunjin says, mimicking his pose. Jisung throws a fake punch in his direction and Hyunjin fake blocks it, then hides behind Jeongin for protection. “He got it out of me.”

“So did I do all this for nothing? Is there anyone who’s actually fucking surprised?”

The four boys turn to look at their friends across the room, very reluctantly still posing for photos, this time from Minho’s mother.

“Seungmin.”

They round up shortly after that in a group directed by Hyunjin’s mother. Mrs. Hwang is small but mighty, lining them all up on the staircase from shortest couple to tallest, and Jisung and Minho begrudgingly take their place on the bottom of the stairs. He wants to fight for a spot at the top, but certainly not with her. It’s warm, the way Minho’s arms wrap around his waist from behind in the standard prom date pose, and as much as Jisung tries to will the flush away he won’t be the slightest bit surprised if he gets the photos back to see himself with a bright pink face full of fluster.

“Ok! Time for couples pictures! Four of you move, two of you stay!” Mrs. Hwang calls out, shooing them off the stairs. Hyunjin and Jeongin stay for pictures while Seungmin leads Felix down the stairs with a hand to his hip and Minho mimics the same. His touch burns hotter than ever on Jisung’s waist in front of an audience.

He glances up at his date, at his smile and his eyes and the way his posture seems brighter than usual as they wait for pictures. “Are you having fun?” Jisung asks quietly.

“I am. Aren’t you?”

“We haven’t even gotten to the dance yet,” Jisung responds with a soft laugh.

“Yeah, but it’s good to see everyone again.”

“Even Seungmin?” Jisung questions teasingly. Minho laughs and pulls him a little bit closer, leaning into Jisung’s space more and more.

“What about Seungmin?” a voice calls out, shocking both Minho and Jisung and causing them to whip their heads in the direction of the couple waiting with them. Felix seems cheerful as ever, though Seungmin is standing with his arms crossed in his most intimidating pose. It doesn’t do much but make the rest of them laugh.

“Yes, I suppose it’s even good to see Seungmin.” 

“But I’m your favorite,” Jisung sing-songs, clutching on to Minho’s arms wrapped around him. Suddenly he’s being squeezed even tighter, then his feet hover off the ground as Minho spins him once around. “Hey, careful! Don’t crumple the suit!”

“Sure, Sungie,” he says mockingly, laughing as he drops him back down to the floor. “Sorry. Just overtaken by my overwhelming fondness.”

“Please, you know it’s true,” Jisung says, finally starting to feel like himself again now that they’re around friends.

“If that’s what you want to believe.”

“I believe it,” Felix chimes in, laughing loudly when Minho glares at him. His arms don’t leave their place around Jisung’s waist, making the threatening look decidedly less piercing and impactful. As much as they butt heads, Minho and Seungmin both have a knack for trying and failing at intimidation tactics. The younger must have learnt it from his sitter at a young age. “It doesn’t take much to figure out how whipped you are.”

“Ok! Next couple!” Mrs. Hwang belts out, snapping them out of the moment. Hyunjin and Jeongin jog down a moment later, pushing Seungmin and Felix towards the staircase. 

“What did we miss?” Hyunjin asks. 

“How Minho loves me more than you.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Hyunjin stares pointedly at their positioning to prove his point, but Jisung only grabs on to Minho’s wrists to keep him in place.

“Jealous,” he says, sticking out his tongue.

“Jealous,” Minho parrots. “You should have lived closer.”

“You three are funny,” Jeongin laughs. The three turn to look at him, a little thrown off. “You’re just funny together. Hyunjin talks about Minho all the time, but he makes him sound like some kind of demon.  But he’s so nice to Jisung. And Jisung and Hyunjin are always butting heads and making up, but you’re like… gross and mushy around Minho. It’s just funny.”

“I’m not mushy,” Jisung starts to protest, though he’s shortly cut off by the shrill sound of Mrs. Hwang’s voice and ushered to the staircase by Minho. 

“You’re totally mushy,” he whispers as they make their way to a center position, holding back his laughter with a smirk.

“And I’m totally your favorite,” Jisung whispers back, linking his arm with Minho’s at the direction of his mother. Minho says nothing for a few moments, distracted with the poses they’re being talked into, until he finds himself being held from the back by Minho once again. 

“Yeah, fine, you are,” Minho finally answers, cupping a hand to Jisung’s ear and speaking softly to him, statement going completely over their little audience’s heads. Jisung has to fight not to spin in his arms, to see whatever expression is on Minho’s face for himself as he feeds Jisung words that would make anyone go crazy. But they’re not alone, their parents and friends are watching, and as much pressure and encouragement they all seem to have for Jisung and Minho potentially being something, this isn’t the place to figure it out.

Jisung releases a breath as they finish their photos up, blood rushing in his ears with the excitement of everything going on; parents buzzing around, friends joking and laughing together for what will likely be the last formal school-run event they all attend at the same time, pizza being delivered to serve them all before the dance. Jisung goes through the motions of being a person, a strange sort of detachment lingering in his mind, with Minho at his side. A hand on his waist, a slight adjustment when his pin gets knocked out of place, a napkin handed to him without asking when he gets pizza sauce on his chin; Minho apparently knows what Jisung needs to stay running smoothly, even after all this time apart. He thinks back to what Minho said last night, about the connotation he had put on this thing when he should really just take it at face value.

At face value, Minho feels like a damn good date.

Pizza disappears piece by piece until the clock ticks down and it’s time to go. The venue isn’t far, 30 minutes on the highway or 45 on side streets, a hotel that was once grand and luxurious but now really only seems to have its ballroom going for it based on what Jisung’s heard. Parents watch from the safety of Hyunjin’s porch as the group of highschoolers (plus Minho) run from the house to their cars, Seungmin’s mom laughing and snapping pictures as they try to avoid the downpour. The weather has only gotten worse, as expected, and Jisung and Minho wave a quick goodbye to the others as they clamor into Hyunjin’s car. It’s a stark contrast, the four of them squeezing into the luxury sedan his parents bought as a 16th birthday gift while Jisung and Minho shuffle into the beat up station wagon. They certainly look a little bit more ready for the occasion in their suits and fancy car.

“Made it. Is my hair soaked through?” Minho asks, grabbing Jisung’s attention from where he’s been staring out the window at his friends. 

“Huh? No, it’s fine. Mine?”

“It’s good,” Minho responds, reaching over and moving a lock back into place. “Perfect now. You ready?”

“Ready,” Jisung nods. Minho cranks the radio on, though the music is pretty significantly drowned out by the rain outside and the sound of the car roaring to a start. It’s really pouring, a steady stream making its way down the windows, and he can barely see outside the passenger window without squinting. “Can you see alright?”

“I can see fine,” Minho says, backing slowly out of Hyunjin’s driveway. “It’s getting worse though, I think I might take side streets. The highway is bound to be packed.”

“Sure,” Jisung agrees.

He likes driving with Minho, taking back roads and looking at the scenery, he always has. There’s not much scenery now with the darkening sky, but the car is filled with the sound of music and Minho chattering about his finals next week. Jisung tries to contribute, but his favorite playlist is on and at certain points he finds himself humming along more than actually replying to Minho’s statements. His best friend doesn’t seem to mind, even hums along himself when he seems to get the vibe that Jisung is distracted.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho finally asks, twenty minutes into the drive. Jisung has been staring out the window for the past few songs, watching through the rain as the buildings of their town disappear into farmland while they cross the empty stretch into the larger neighboring town where prom is being held. They’ve passed a petting zoo that he, Hyunjin, and Minho used to visit each summer and the sledding hill they’d go to on snowy winter days. 

“I’m just looking outside. If I get into JYPU, I won’t really see much more of this stuff,” Jisung says quietly.

“When you get into JYPU.”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know, though. Graduation is coming, I’ve had an acceptance letter from the local college for ages. It’s looking tempting lately.”

“You’re not going there,” Minho says firmly. Jisung turns to look at him, and even with his eyes focused sharply on the road there’s an expression of determination mixed with nervousness that he can’t quite ignore. Maybe Minho misses him just as much as he misses Minho?

“It’s not like I want to.”

“Good. Because I made sure the couch in my apartment is really comfortable, so we can have our regular movie nights without watching different screens again,” Minho chides. Jisung laughs at that, though if those movie nights are anything like last night he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to hold out.

“I appreciate you buying a whole couch with me in mind. What do I owe you?”

“Your company.”

“Trying my best.” It’s quiet for a few moments after that, until Minho breaks it again.

“You’ll still be able to see those things. You’ll always come back home for breaks and stuff, it’s not like the town will disappear when you leave.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be different. More like a visit and less like my normal surroundings. And who knows if everyone will be here at the same time?”

“Aw, Sungie. They will be. For summer break, at the very least,” Minho says comfortingly. Jisung is about to say something more, maybe mask his nerves in a faux complaint about how Minho hadn’t even come back for winter break, but something catches his eye on the side of the road before he can get anything out. 

“What’s that up there?” The road has been empty for the past couple of miles, most people going to prom likely having opted to take the highway, but a small sedan is pulled over on the shoulder in front of them with its hazards flashing in the rain. 

“They must be having trouble,” Minho says. “I’m gonna pull over. Make sure they’re ok. Ok?”

“Of course.”

Minho pulls up behind the car and flashes his lights, probably hoping for some kind of signal back from the other driver, maybe for them to get out and explain the situation. Neither happens, and even after a solid minute of waiting the other car gives no response to them. Minho sighs and unbuckles his seatbelt, then reaches into the back seat of his car to pull out a green and white striped umbrella. He turns the key in his ignition off, so the engine cuts out but the lights stay on. “Minho?”

“I’m just gonna make sure they’re ok,” Minho says, bracing himself and wrapping a hand around the handle of his door. “I’ll be quick. Maybe they just need a tow-truck or something.”

“This is how people get kidnapped,” Jisung says, a nervous feeling in his gut. 

“I’m not going to get kidnapped. I’m very fast.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jisung says, swallowing hard. “But I’m serious, ok?”

“I know. I’m going.”

“Be careful, please.”

“Always,” Minho says, leaning closer to pinch at Jisung’s cheek before opening his door and jogging to the car while still opening his umbrella. Jisung watches him walk up to the drivers side door, keeping his distance but leaning in a bit to see inside the window. Not three seconds later, a car horn sounds, and Minho scuttles backwards away from the door and back towards Jisung and the wagon. The small sedan rips forward at breakneck speed, leaving Minho in its wake and Jisung confused as all hell until the door opens and Minho climbs back into the car wordlessly. 

“What happened? What the hell was that?”

“Uh-” Minho starts, slapping his face a few times to get himself back to attention. “Uh, they were fine. More than fine.”

“Huh?”

“It was a couple. They were doing… couple things. You know. Pants down couple things.”

Jisung blinks in surprise, unsure what to say to that. “Oh. Well, good for them I guess?” he tries, his voice wavering as he tries to decide whether to laugh or comfort his date. In the end he can’t hold out and bursts into a giggle, surprising Minho until he eventually joins along. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Minho says, a bit hypocritical through his fit of giggles. “I’m traumatized.”

“I thought you were ‘liberated’, Mr. College Student.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to see that. I did not consent to watching some girl struggling to bend over in her prom dress and give her date road head,” he argues back, buckling himself back into the car and starting to turn the ignition.

“Oh my god! I didn’t want details!” Jisung cries out, wiping tears from his eyes and leaning back into his seat. He hears the engine moan and wail, but pays the familiar sound no mind.

“Neither did I! But here I am, trying to take you to prom, concerned my eyesight may be wavering all because I wanted to do a good deed,” Minho sighs, turning his key in the engine again to no avail. “And my fucking car is being a dick.”

“He has been all weekend. You should really get him fixed,” Jisung says, patting the top of the dashboard. “Come on Nelson, you’ve got this.” Minho pulls the keys all the way from the ignition and tries again, barely getting a sputter this time. Jisung looks at the dashboard nervously, actually starting to get concerned. “We’ve got this, right?”

“Of course,” Minho says quietly, trying again. The sound the car lets out can only be described as pathetic, and Jisung can see Minho’s shoulders start to slump. 

“Minho, what-”

“Jisung, I’m trying! Just- Just give me a minute, it’s gonna run.”

“Ok. Because it has to run. Nelson, you know you have to run, right?” Jisung says, leaning forward and resting his forehead on the glove department. “We’re going to prom. We look good as hell. No way you’re gonna ruin this for me, right? My last big event before graduation?” There’s no sound from the driver’s side, an almost eerie silence, and when Jisung turns his head Minho is leaned against the steering wheel in an almost pleading position. “Minho?”

“Jisung, I don’t want to say this,” he mutters under his breath, “but I think-”

“Then don’t say it! Let’s go look at the engine. Do you have another umbrella? I’ll help,” Jisung says, desperate to be in any other situation but this.

“Jisung-”

“No. Because it’s prom, and we have to show up to show off to Hyunjin on the dance floor. It’s prom, Minho. You drove all the way here,” Jisung says, voice breaking halfway through. He doesn’t want to be a baby, he’s supposed to be an adult. Minho said he was an adult. So he’s not going to cry or throw a fit, he’s going to find a solution. “Come on, let’s go look.”

“Jisung, it’s useless. I’m not a mechanic, I can’t do anything about this,” Minho says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“So what then? What do we do?”

“I’m gonna call a tow truck.” Minho pulls out his phone to start dialing, and Jisung pulls out his own phone and stares down at it, debating what to say to his friends.

“Do you think… do you think that we can get it towed and still make it before the dance is over?”

“I’ll ask about the wait time. It’s not impossible,” Minho responds, hitting dial on his phone and bringing it up to his ear. He’s sullen, and Jisung can tell he’s staying quiet in an effort not to let his frustration boil over. He zones the conversation out, trying to give Minho as much space as he can, instead focusing on texting his friends an update on their status. They’d taken the highway, and while there seems to be some kind of traffic holdup they’re apparently moving at a slow and steady space. They’ll get to the dance fashionably late. Jisung holds onto the hope that maybe someone can get him and Minho soon. They’re only about twenty minutes out from either town, and maybe once they drop the car off at the repair shop he and Minho can catch another ride to the dance. Seungmin mimics the idea.

The universe does not.

“50 minutes,” Minho says definitively, hanging up his phone and putting it in one of the car's cup holders. “A tow-truck will be here in 50 minutes.”

“But we’re not even twenty minutes away. Why fifty minutes?”

“Because there was a crash on the highway and they’re dealing with that first. We aren’t their first priority right now,” he sighs, finally turning to look at Jisung. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You were just trying to do the right thing,” Jisung says, trying to put on an encouraging smile. Sure, maybe Minho should have gotten his car checked. And pulling over wasn’t an absolute necessity, but it seemed like the right thing to do. This sucks. It really sucks. But it’s not his place to blame Minho for what seems to be the universe playing a joke on the both of them. 

“You really wanted to go to prom, though,” Minho whispers, pulling one of Jisung’s hands into his own and squeezing tight. “You should be able to go.”

“Well, I-” Jisung starts, trying to think of something positive to say. Unfortunately, he comes up empty. “Yeah, I did. But we can’t just leave the car, right? I’m sure prom is overrated anyway, that’s what most adults say.” 

“Yeah, but you really wanted to go. I know you really wanted to go, I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

“It is what it is.”

“You should go,” Minho says firmly. 

“What?”

“Without me. I can’t leave the car, but you can call an Uber or something. Or get someone to pick you up. You should go.”

“What are you talking about, I’m not just going to leave you here alone,” Jisung argues, furrowing his brows in confusion. 

Go without Minho?

What’s the point?

“It’s my fault we’re stuck, and that we couldn’t all fit in one car, and that we pulled over. You were so excited to dance and stuff,” Minho replies. “Call a car! Go dance and stuff. I’ll try to make it when my car is dropped off.”

“No!”

“Jisung-”

“I don’t want to dance alone. I want to dance with you!”

“I’m trying to give you a halfway here, Sungie.”

“Well, I don’t want it,” Jisung says. “That option sucks. I’d rather wait with you and take our chances.”

“But you want to go to your prom.”

Jisung takes a deep breath and repositions them so both of Minho’s hands are in his own, trying his hardest to face his date head on despite the awkward angles that come with sitting side by side in a car. He does want to go, he’s been looking forward to prom for months. But not alone. He never wanted to go alone, that’s why Minho is here in the first place. That’s not how he wants to close out this chapter of his life, and it’s not going to help him start a new one. “I don’t want to go if I can’t go with you. You’re my date, I’m not just going to leave you.”

Minho smiles shyly at that, like he’s trying to hold back because it’s not the right occasion, but Jisung knows what every twitch of his lips means by this point in their lives. “I left my date.”

“Well, she wasn’t me,” Jisung jokes, showing off a winning smile. “You wouldn’t leave me.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t leave you,” Minho agrees. Jisung pulls one hand back, reaching for his phone to pass on the information to the group chat. “It’s gonna be a long wait though.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jisung says calmly. “I’m sure we can figure out something to do for fifty minutes.”

“I think I can still turn the radio on,” Minho says, flipping his key only halfway in the ignition. Sure enough an upbeat song comes on, a heavy contrast to the dark rain outside and the melancholy mood inside the car. “So that’s something.”

“Ha. If only the car were a little more spacious, we could still dance,” Jisung jokes. He bobs his head up and down absentmindedly to the music, unsure if he’s quite ready to be the moodmaker he usually strives to be around friends. 

“We could play a game,” Minho suggests.

“What game?”

“Raindrop racing.”

“That’s not a real game.”

“It could be,” he insists. “We both claim one of the water droplets going down the windshield and see whose reaches the bottom first.”

“Minho, it’s like, pouring rain,” Jisung laughs. “They’re all gone before we can see them.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s getting slower.”

“There’s gotta be something else.”

“We can talk about how the hell I’m supposed to get home tomorrow?” Minho suggests.

“If it keeps raining, you can probably swim.”

“If the rain freezes over I can ice skate.”

“It’s June.”

“Yeah,” Minho sighs. “But it’d be more fun. Walking is going to take way too long, I’ll miss my finals.”

“I could drive you,” Jisung suggests.

“You don’t have a car. And you’re scared to drive. I bet I’ll end up driving you to and from school next year.”

“My parents will probably drive me there. Gotta haul the dorm stuff around.”

“Yeah, but for breaks and stuff,” Minho says.

“Are you coming home for breaks next year?”

“I guess. I’m not really sure. You think I should?”

“Yeah, of course you should. In case I don’t actually get in, so I don’t have to go so long without seeing you again,” Jisung says quietly. “That sucked.”

“Jisung, I swear, you gotta stop-”

Minho is cut off by the loud, unmistakable sound of an incoming video call. His phone, Jisung realizes as his lap lights up. He flips it over to see Hyunjin’s profile photo pop up, a picture of them as kids covered head to toe in mud. He glances at Minho, a silent request for permission to answer, and does so when he gets a nod in return. 

“Hello?”

“Jisung! Is Minho there?”

“Where the hell else would I be?” Minho chimes in, flipping the phone to face him and sticking his tongue out at Hyunjin.

“Well I was going to express my condolences that you’re in a shitty situation, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe it’s karma,” Hyunjin mocks back.

“Karma for what?” Jisung cries out. 

“I’m sure you’ve done something. Anyway, it kind of sounds like you might not make it.”

“It’s looking that way,” Minho says quietly with a nod.

“Right. So I figured I’d offer a tour. If you want it?”

Minho glances nervously at Jisung, clearly a little on-edge and cautious of the other’s emotions at the moment. “I’m not sure-”

“Please. I’d like to see it while it’s going, at least,” Jisung requests. Minho still looks concerned, but nods. 

“Show us the thing.”

“Ok!” Hyunjin says, flipping the phone from his face to the back view. He shows a ballroom, somewhat dated in its architecture, decorated in tasteful balloon arrangements and ribbons representing their school colors. Students bustle by, looking incredible for the most part aside from a few questionable fashion choices and some hairstyles ruined by the rain. “So this is the entrance. And here’s our banquet table,” he continues, pointing the camera towards a table where Felix and Seungmin are chatting enthusiastically and Jeongin is waving at the camera. 

“Tell the decorating duo over there they did a nice job,” Jisung says, heart sinking a little not being able to congratulate them himself. Jeongin and Seungmin worked hard on this dance, he knows they put in a lot of free time to make the night special for everyone. 

“Will do. Shall we go to the buffet?” Hyunjin asks, already taking them away from the others. Jeongin seems to have run to join them, providing extra commentary as Hyunjin tours them around to different areas. It’s fun, for the most part, and he’s glad he’s at least seeing what he’s been waiting for as it happens. 

But Jisung’s stomach drops when Hyunjin shows them the dance floor. Something about that image, couples shuffling close together and moving in time to the generic pop music picked out by a budget DJ, makes him realize how much he wishes he were there to do the same with Minho. He tries to laugh along with his friends, poke fun when the song changes to something that’s been outdated for two years, but it gets harder and harder to keep up the facade of being unbothered. 

“Hyunjinnie, thanks for the tour, but my phone is dying,” Minho says, pulling the device out of Jisung’s hand. 

“I called Jisung’s phone.”

“I’ll text you when the tow-truck comes,” Minho says. Jisung peers at him curiously, wondering what his plan is.

“Ok, fine,” Hyunjin sighs. “Bye Jisung. Don’t be too sad, ok?”

“I’m not.”

“Bye Hyunjin,” Minho says genuinely, smiling gratefully before ending the call. Within moments he’s got a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, massaging it gently in soothing motions. “Are you ok?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Because you look like you’re going to cry,” Minho says, a sad smile on his lips. “Which is fine. If you have to. Or want to.”

“I…” Jisung starts, unsure how to continue. The acknowledgement makes him more aware of the weight hanging over him, the slump of his shoulders and the burning sensation behind his eyes. “I just… this sucks.”

“It sucks.”

“I wanted to dance,” he sniffles, aware that he may be about to lose control.

“I wanted to dance too,” Minho says. He moves his hand down Jisung’s arm, running it over the smooth fabric of his suit until their hands touch and their fingers intertwine in reflex. 

“And I’ll never get a chance to go to prom with my friends again,” Jisung continues. His eyes are watering now, and he uses his free hand to blot the tears away before his makeup starts to run.

“Aw, it’s ok. There’s tons of other things you can do with them.”

“But those things aren’t prom.”

“No, they’re not.” They sit in silence for a moment, Minho rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his hand while Jisung tries to control the waterworks. He’s not a baby, he shouldn’t be crying over something like this. He tilts his head back, willing the tears to stay inside his head, and inhales deeply. “I’m sorry,” Minho says quietly. “I’m not that good at comforting people.”

“The decorations looked really nice,” Jisung finally says, voice incrementally more steady than before. It shouldn’t be on Minho to make him feel better, especially since they’re in the same situation. “And the dance floor.”

“They did,” Minho agrees. They’re quiet for a little longer before he speaks up again. “We can still dance, if you really want to.”

“I’m not sure how,” Jisung replies, a sad laugh escaping his lips.

“No, really. ” Minho says, gesturing at the radio. “See? We have music. We can dance.”

“We’re stuck in a car, though.”

“I’ll turn it up.”

“It’s raining,” Jisung protests, looking outside. The downpour has lessened slightly, but they’ll still be absolutely soaked if they spend more than thirty seconds outside. “We’ll get soaked.”

“We can use my umbrella.”

“It’s not that big.”

“So then dance close,” Minho says, pulling the umbrella from where he’d tossed it in the back seat and putting a hand on his door handle. “My stupid car ruined your prom, don’t you at least want to put your night to good use and dance?”

Jisung sighs, pulling his hand from the remainder of the grip Minho has on it. They’ll be going home afterwards anyway, and sitting in the car trying to fight back tears doesn’t seem like that much better of an option. “Fine, let’s dance,” Jisung says, giving Minho the most convincing grin he can before opening his door.  “But you have to come retrieve me with the umbrella.”

“On my way, sir,” Minho says, turning up the radio as loud as it can go before exiting the vehicle, opening his umbrella, and coming to escort Jisung out. He has to press up tight to Minho to stay under the cover (not that he minds) as they move to a spot on the side of the road just in front of the car. 

“So, who’s leading?” 

“Well, if I lead, you have to hold the umbrella.”

“What? Why?” Jisung asks with a pout.

“Because I need both arms to lead, you big baby,” Minho responds, shoving the handle into Jisung’s grip. “So hold the umbrella.”

“Worst date ever.”

“Maybe so.”

That’s a lie, and they both know it. It’s obvious, especially with the spark Jisung feels when Minho lays one hand on the small of his back and the other on his shoulder to keep him close; with the way his troubles start to melt away as they move at a medium pace to some punk rock song playing on the radio. It’s not really formal dancing music, more suited for jumping up and down in a mosh pit, but it’s hard to care when his eyes meet Minho’s and he finally pushes a genuine smile out, glad to experience even this.

“You really will be ok, you know,” Minho says, spinning them around as the bridge of the song kicks up. “Don’t worry so much.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Jisung wants to say more, ask more, figure out how Minho seems to be so sure, but the questions are swept away by a gust of wind bursting through the sky. “Holy shit! Oh my god,” Jisung laughs, shocked. He feels rain start to fall on his head and looks up, only to start laughing even more. “Of course.”

“My umbrella,” Minho whines, looking up with him. It’s completely inside out, ruined by the gust of wind as it catches water and starts to flood. “Come on. My car already broke, why this too?”

“Must be the theme of the night,” Jisung laughs. He’s pretty much completely soaked already, as is Minho, hair hanging in their faces and suits getting progressively wetter. It’s hard to be upset anymore when all he can focus on is the water running down his face and Minho holding him close. This is far from how he expected the evening to go. He leans away for a moment to lay the umbrella on the hood of Minho’s car, now useless to them, and comes back even closer to Minho as the song shifts to something gentle and new. 

“I didn’t think we’d get this wet,” Minho says, rocking Jisung back and forth slowly as they dance, spinning them around softly. Jisung lays his cheek on Minho’s shoulder and tries to ignore the rain, instead focusing on what little heat there lay against his face and the soft swell of the music. 

“I don’t care, it’s still nice.”

“You cared a few minutes ago,” Minho chuckles softly.

“Yeah, well, it’s too late now. At least I get to dance with you,” Jisung says. His filter is coming down, washed away by the rainfall and the rollercoaster of emotions he’s been on tonight. Right now he’s just at peace. He watches the sky as they move around, sees the clouds move north just enough to expose a first quarter moon. What had Felix told him that meant?

“We can dance whenever next year, ok? As long as it’s drier than this.”

Ah, yes. 

A first quarter moon signals the time to make decisions.

“Oh really? You gonna take me on another date?”

Jisung feels Minho stiffen his hold for a moment, feels his breath stutter, could almost swear he can hear the way Minho’s heart beats faster pressed against him. But then he relaxes, and Jisung is pulled even closer, nearly nose to nose as they had been the night before last as he pulls his head from Minho’s shoulder and faces him head on.

“Jisung?”

“Yes?” he answers meekly, trying to find some meaning in Minho’s eyes. He seems to be doing the same with Jisung, curious and intense as they bare into his soul.

“What do you want me to say to that?”

What does he want? He wants Minho, he thinks. Is nearly positive. He’s always wanted Minho, in his life and as his friend, but Jisung wants him in a new way now. Something different. He wants dates, and cuddles, and long drives home from school as they hold hands and talk. 

“I just… you know, everything is different. Or about to be. Things are ending and it’s different. With school, and my friends, and everything. And…” Jisung scrambles for words, an eloquent way to convey what he’s been feeling these past two days. Hell, what he’s probably been feeling the past year. “I just think maybe things between us are different too.”

“What, you don’t like me anymore?” Minho teases, putting on a smile that doesn’t quite match his eyes. “You ending me too?”

“No, I like you,” Jisung says with a soft laugh. “I’ll always like you. But that’s what I’m trying to say. It’s different now, I think.” 

Minho stops moving as the song changes, an acoustic indie song taking over the radio. His gaze wanders, and he takes his hand off Jisung’s shoulder to weave his fingers through sopping wet bangs and push them back. 

“Yeah,” he responds, soft as can be. “Yeah, I think I know exactly what you mean.”

“Is that weird? After eighteen years?”

“I don’t know. It might be weird. Does it matter?” Minho asks. Jisung thinks about that, mimicking Minho’s position by pushing the bangs off his face, then tracing his fingers down his cheek to his jaw. It probably is weird, to suddenly change the way he looks at his best friend of eighteen years. But it probably wasn’t all that sudden, either. And people probably don’t do this often, but do other people really matter when Minho is here, and he cares enough to drive hours upon hours in a car that was clearly on it’s last leg and dance with Jisung in the pouring rain just because he doesn’t want to miss out?

“I don’t think so. I want to try something, just to be sure,” Jisung says, finally letting his eyes drift down to his best friend’s lips. Minho doesn’t miss it, but he doesn’t comment either; instead, he leans in. Closer and closer, it nearly feels like slow motion, like Jisung can feel each raindrop running down his face as Minho’s lips near his, feels the way they’re knocked off his nose when Minho leans left and he leans right, feel them splatter when Minho’s mouth melts onto his own. It’s quick, his very first kiss with Minho, and almost as soon as the warmth takes over his lips it’s gone. 

Jisung doesn’t want it to be gone.

So he leans back in, gives Minho another peck before pulling away, then another, awkward and cautious until he can help but pull back a little bit more and giggle. 

“What? Too weird?” Minho asks, his grip on Jisung iron strong. 

“Not weird,” Jisung breathes out, the words mixed with laughter as he leaves his tongue. “No, sorry, it’s not weird or funny, just… surreal? Maybe surreal.”

Minho leans in again, sealing their lips together in a more definitive way, stealing the smile right off Jisung’s face and replacing it with something strong and intoxicating. “It’s real,” he says firmly.

“Yeah, I know. Real date, real kiss, real feelings. I’m getting that now,” Jisung says, head spinning as he resists the urge to lean right back in for more. He feels like he’s flying, he can’t believe how much weight has left his chest and how good Minho’s lips feel on his own. The rain soaking through him and weighing down his clothes just might be the only thing left keeping him grounded as Minho kisses him again.

They don’t pull away from each other again, not for a good long while, and that’s perfect. When water leaks in, rolling off Jisung’s nose and onto the curve of his lip, Minho doesn’t even think twice before licking it away. God, does that open up a whole world of opportunities Jisung never knew existed. He’s kissed people, sure. Chaste pecks for spin the bottle or a dare to kiss Felix for five seconds on a friday night. Never anything like this. Never anything with passion, never anything with tongue, and certainly nothing that gives him the same heart-fluttering feeling as Minho nibbling his bottom lip and licking over the mark. 

Jisung feels his hold on Minho grow possessive and desperate, water ringing out when he clutches the jacket of his suit too hard. That seems to be the thing that snaps them out of their rhythm, Minho pulling away slowly to stare into his eyes with a look of satisfaction. “Slow down, we’re not going anywhere,” he says, a smirk taking over his kiss-swollen lips.

“I’m very aware of that, thank you,” Jisung shoots back, releasing his grip on Minho’s back just enough to take half a step back and look at him comfortably. “Thanks to Nelson.”

“I’m not that mad at him anymore,” Minho laughs.

“Me neither.”

“Oh really? What’s your reason?”

“Well,” Jisung starts, wondering how to phrase things. He’s not really inclined to be subtle anymore, not when he’d just spend the past several minutes making out with his best friend. “You probably wouldn’t have kissed me like that in the middle of a crowd.”

“I would have.” 

“What?”

“I would have,” Minho repeats. “If you’d looked at me and told me you had feelings for me, or might have feelings for me, I would have kissed you. Even in the middle of a crowd. Even in the rain. If we were in outer space I’d take off my helmet and kiss you.”

“You’d die,” Jisung giggles. 

“At least I’d die having kissed you. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” Minho asks, leaning in the press a chaste peck to his cheek. “You don’t, do you?”

“I- How long have you wanted to kiss me?!” Jisung asks, shocked. Maybe in his subconscious he’s wanted Minho for a while, but he’s only had these unspeakable urges for the past few days since he’s been home. So what has Minho been hiding?

“Oh my god, at least a year? Probably since the start of last summer,” Minho replies. “You really didn’t notice? You seemed kind of like… not to be cocky, but you kind of stared me down all summer.”

“I thought you just got hot!”

“I did get hot.”

“You’re stupid,” Jisung huffs out. 

“Is that why you like me so much?”

“Oh my god, you- mm,” Jisung is cut off by Minho’s lips on his once again, short and exaggerated as he kisses him quiet. When he pulls away, Jisung is left with a pout. “You can’t just keep doing that.”

“I don’t see why not,” Minho sing-songs. Jisung has a million things running through his mind; what does this mean for them? What happens when Minho goes back to school? What if he doesn’t get into JYPU, will they date long distance? Even if he does, will they date at all?

He doesn’t get to ask, instead interrupted by an ungodly bright set of headlights streaming through the rain as a tow-truck pulls up next to them. 

“Are you the ones who need a tow?” the driver asks after rolling his window down. He looks tired and gruff, but has kind eyes and a wholesome smile. 

“Yeah, my engine died or something. I don’t know the terms, I’m sorry.”

“I’m just here to tow you to the mechanic, they’ll tell you what happened in the morning. You two have someone coming to pick you up?” he asks.

“Oh- no, I didn’t realize… Shit, I’ll call an uber or something,” Minho says, scrambling for his phone.

“I can give you a lift to the shop, let’s just get this thing hooked up and then you can climb into the cab,” he says, pulling up in front of the car once Minho and Jisung make a clearing. They try to help him as much as they can, but he mostly just shoos them away when it’s clear that the boys have no idea what they’re doing. The ride to the local repair shop is relatively quiet, Minho and Jisung pressing close together in the back of the cab and shivering as their soaked suits cement onto their body. Ten minutes in, Minho lets his head drop onto Jisung’s shoulder, and it’s impossible to resist the urge to press his nose into the other boy’s hair and press a quiet kiss to his crown. The laugh Minho suppresses and breathes out through his nose is enough to make him want to do it again and again.

With the car dropped off, keys deposited into the repair shop's lockbox, and a ride home from Jisung’s mother (who seems almost as disappointed he missed prom as the couple themselves), they find themselves in Jisung’s driveway. 

“Hey mom,” Jisung says, leaning from the back seat so he can perch himself on the center armrest. “I think I’m gonna go to Minho’s.”

“Don’t you want a change of clothes?”

“I’ll borrow his. Can I borrow yours?” 

“You can borrow whatever my mom hasn’t tossed,” Minho replies with a laugh. “I’m sure I’ve got something.”

“Ok. Well, just come home in the morning, sweetie. Please take showers,” His mother says, giving him a quick pinch on the cheek. 

“Yeah, will do. Love you!” Jisung says, hopping out of the car and running to Minho’s porch. His date runs after him, grabbing keys from his pocket to let them in as they shed their jackets and hold them outside the door to wring them as dry as possible. 

“Mom!” Minho calls out, toeing off his shoes while Jisung follows. He finds his mother sitting on the living room couch, father knocked out on the recliner beside it. “Hi,” he whispers, trying not to wake the older man up, “I think Jisung is going to spend the night, ok?”

“Of course that’s fine, but why are you home?”

“Car broke down. I’m going to talk to the mechanic tomorrow.”

“How are you going to get back to school?”

“Magic carpet?” Minho tries. His mom laughs before bringing back a serious expression.

“I’m not driving you just because you didn’t get your normal maintenance done,” she scolds. “I’m too old.”

“I got my maintenance done! Can we talk tomorrow, our guest is soaking wet.”

“Jisung, why didn’t you tell him to get his maintenance done? This is your fault, too,” she says, smiling eyes giving away her strict act. 

“I’m sorry, I thought since he was an adult he could handle his affairs. I see now that was foolish,” Jisung responds seriously, placing a hand on Minho’s shoulder and bowing deeply. “I’ll do better in the future.”

“Thank you. Ok, please stop leaking water all over my carpet now. Go shower!”

“Yes, mam!” Minho and Jisung call in unison before running up the stairs and into Minho’s childhood bedroom. Jisung runs in first, stopping just past the doorway to look around at the barren room. 

“Woah.”

“Woah, what?” Minho asks, sliding his hands around Jisung’s waist and gently moving him forward, left cheek pressed to Jisung’s right as they meld together. 

“Woah, it’s empty,” Jisung breathes out, trying to keep his heartbeat steady. Is this how Minho is in a relationship? Or whatever they’re in? Clingy and touchy and lovey-dovey in a way that’s going to make him lightheaded every time they’re close? “It’s not usually this empty, right? I’m not going crazy?”

“No, it wasn’t this empty over the summer cuz I had my stuff here. Now it’s all at the school apartment,” Minho says. 

“You didn’t want to hang your dance team medals in the new apartment?” Jisung asks with a laugh, pointing to a hook with a few gold and silver awards hanging from it.

“And make my roommates jealous?”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe next year,” Minho says quietly. “You’re soaked. You should shower.” 

The older boy steps away, leaving Jisung’s back cold and uncomfortable and overwhelmingly… empty. He comes back into the room a moment later, tossing a fluffy towel over Jisung’s head and taking the other for himself. Jisung watches in despair and Minho goes to his bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt, screeching when he starts to reach for the fly of his pants. “Hey! Pervert, I’m still in here, can you have a little shame?” Minho looks up, surprised, and drapes the towel over his shoulders. 

“I thought you liked me for my body,” he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem… I… You… You! You have no shame! Just because we… whatever. Doesn’t mean I want to see you naked.”

“Oh?”

“Well… Not yet, at least,” Jisung says, a flush coming to his cheeks. Minho cackles loudly at that, walking up to Jisung and pushing him towards the door after planting a quick peck on his cheek. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Go shower and you don’t have to see me naked, but I’m not waiting here in soaking wet clothes while you do,” he chuckles.

“Fine.” Jisung walks down the hall to the familiar master bathroom, turning the water to scalding before stepping in and relishing in the warmth on his skin. Even the shower is different from what he remembers, his only choices for shampoo and conditioner floral-scented products that must belong to Minho’s mother or his fathers 3-in-1. He makes quick work of himself and towels off before realizing he doesn’t have a change of clothes, then sticks his head out the door. 

“Minho!” he calls down the hall, trying to stay quiet enough not to wake the parents downstairs. “Can you bring me clothes?”

“Whaaaat?” he hears shouted out from the room.

“Clothes! I need clothes!”

“Oh, clothes! Coming,” Minho shouts out, coming out the door a few moments later. He chucks a set of clothing towards Jisung and retreats to his room, allowing the other to dress in peace. 

It’s strange, Jisung thinks, seeing himself dressed in Minho’s old physical education tee shirt and a pair of shorts that must be just a bit too tight for the other to wear comfortably. This shirt used to hang off Minho’s scrawny shoulders, Jisung’s even more so, what with him being two years younger, but now it’s fitted and sits just right. They really have grown up.

When Minho takes over the shower, Jisung makes himself at home in his friend’s bed, like he’s done countless times before, and stares up at the ceiling. Little bits of adhesive remain from when glow-in-the-dark stars used to litter the room, and if he looks hard enough Jisung can almost swear he still sees some messy constellations grouped together. 

“Hey.” Jisung is risen from his thoughts by the creaking of a door, the dip of the mattress, and Minho’s gentle voice. “Room for me?”

“It’s your bed,” Jisung says, smiling when he feels the heat of Minho’s body settled beside him. He turns to look at him, still a little startled by the proximity, but resists the urge to lean in. “So, the dates over I guess?”

“I guess so. It didn’t last that long,” Minho sighs.

“It didn’t. Was fun while it did, though.”

“I think we made the best of it.”

“Hey, are we… Am I still allowed to kiss you? Even if the date is over and the suits are off and everything?” Jisung asks hesitantly. Minho looks surprised at the question, but his expression softens quickly into something that gives Jisung comfort.

“Why? You think I only like you when you have a suit on?”

“No, er, I don’t know. What are we gonna do? Because you have to go back to school in like a day, and I don’t really know how to do this? Like, are we… what are we?”

“Minho and Jisung.”

“No, but-”

“I know what you mean,” Minho interrupts with a laugh. “I know, I’m sorry, you’re just really flustered I couldn’t help it. Are you asking if we should date?”

“I guess so? But, you’re leaving-”

“I’ll be gone for two weeks and then I’m back for the summer. We’ve been apart for far longer than that and I still had feelings for you, I don’t think that’s what’s going to make or break things.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, gulping at the honesty that Minho is still able to maintain even now. “Well, jeez. You sound like you’re in love with me or something.” Jisung tries to put on his greasiest smile, let him know it’s a joke, but Minho just looks at him blankly. “What… stop looking at me like that. You’re not in love with me, are you? Because then I’m an asshole for not noticing my best friend is in love with me-”

“Oh my god, please shut up,” Minho says, quieting Jisung with a soft kiss. “I didn’t say that.”

“Oh,” Jisung responds. He can’t help be a little disappointed by the answer, even though if Minho said yes he’s sure he would have been scared shitless. “Ok, sorry, getting ahead of myself.”

“But-”

“But?”

“But I don’t think it would be that hard. To be in love with you. If I let myself.”

Jisung feels the heat creep to his cheeks, up his neck, onto his ears. This isn’t their normal thing, it’s far too raw and tender, and he’s not sure what to say. “I see,” he hears himself squeak out before burying himself into his pillow. He feels Minho move, log rolling until he’s laid flat atop Jisung’s back with his mouth pressed into his neck. “Are you embarrassed?” the older boy whispers, breath tickling the baby hairs that lay there.

“Yes.”

“Why, are you in love with me?”

“Not yet. Maybe soon,” Jisung mumbles into the cushion.

“Should we recreate the last prom we spent together? To take the edge off?”

“Hmm?” Jisung hums in question, turning his head to the side so he can glance at Minho from his peripheral. It shouldn’t surprise him how close their faces are, but the feeling of his best friend’s lips pressing onto his cheek doesn’t seem like it’s going to lose it’s novelty any time soon. “You’re killing me with that.”

“With kissing?”

“Yes. What do you mean by ‘recreate last prom?’” Jisung asks, rolling onto his back beneath Minho so they lay chest to chest.

“Cheap rum and video games,” Minho responds, a mischievous look in his eye.

“You have a secret stash of cheap rum in your luggage?”

“I’m of age now, I don’t need a secret stash. I can just go downstairs and grab some,” Minho says proudly. 

“Yeah, sure, if your mom wasn’t home or didn’t know I was here,” Jisung challenges. “You don’t have the balls to do that.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Absolutely. What do I get when I win?” Jisung asks. Minho looks thoughtfully to the side, lip between his teeth for a moment, before smiling big and bright.

“You get to be in a relationship with me.”

“And if I lose?” Jisung asks.

“You have to be in a relationship with me,” he responds. 

“Well, these are big stakes. Go get it,” Jisung laughs, patting Minho on the butt before gently pushing him up. He watches fondly as Minho walks out the door, perched up on his elbows with his head tilted back as he tries to sort out his thoughts. 

How did he end up here?

Minho likes him.

He likes Minho.

And they’ve somehow, in the span of one night, agreed on a relationship?

It’s all a lot to process. Before he can get too caught up in his thoughts, Minho returns with a bottle of liquor in one hand and a two-litre of Dr. Pepper in the other. 

“Wow, you actually did it?” Jisung asks.

“He did not,” Jisung hears called out, sitting up straight when Mrs. Lee pushes past Minho and into the room with two glasses in hand. “My son is very handsome, but not very sneaky. You really thought he could do this?”

“No, I bet against him,” Jisung says, gulping down his fear.

“Well, you’re smart. Here’s the deal,” she says, putting the glasses down on Minho’s old desk before clapping. “If you’re going to drink in my house, there are rules.”

“We don’t have to-” Minho starts to say, only to be cut off.

“We’re past that point.”

“Ok.”

“Jisung, you get one drink. You will not tell your mother until you are in your mid thirties. You will drink water before you sleep. These are my conditions.”

“Yes mam’,” Jisung barks back. 

“We can really just go without liquor, it’s not that big a deal,” Minho groans.

“That’s fine too, but Jisung is like my second son, so if he’s going to drink for the first time this is the best place to do it,” Mrs. Lee says. It makes Jisung burn with pride, even if the logic is a little bit off.

“I’ll be responsible, scout’s honor,” Jisung says, issuing his best salute.

“Thank you, Sungie,” Mrs. Lee responds with a grin. “Ok. I’m going to bed. Dad is still asleep downstairs, so if you go down there please be quiet.”

“Sure, mom,” Minho says quietly.

“Goodnight! Love you both!”

“Love you too!” Jisung answers cheerfully. Minho turns to him with a look of desperation, then to his mother. 

“Love you too, mom. Goodnight.”

She leaves and Minho pours them drinks, staying faithful to one per person. Minho could have more, he’s under no rules, but the fun was more about sneaking around than the actual drinking itself. With permission the game is somewhat ruined. 

“You two are ridiculous, by the way,” Minho says, arms wrapped around Jisung’s shoulders as they watch a movie, each halfway through their drinks. 

“Hmm? Who?”

“You and my mother,” Minho laughs. Jisung settles into him more, back pressed against his chest as he sits between Minho’s legs. 

“Our mother,” he giggles. 

“Yeah, sure, our mother,” Minho says, placing a quick kiss, and then another, to the back of Jisung’s neck. It tickles, making Jisung laugh some more. He’s not drunk, just tipsy, but everything feels just a little more intense, just a little more than normal. 

“It tickles,” he manages to get out between little pecks.

“Get used to it, I got the liquor. You’re stuck with me now,” Minho says quietly. Jisung can feel the smile against his neck, feels the one plastered to his own lips as well, but suddenly something crosses his mind. This is good. Things feel good. But what happens if it all goes away?

“Hey, Minho,” Jisung says, leaning in the older boy’s hold to place his glass on the nightstand. He spins in his hold, sitting on his knees to face Minho head on. 

“Jisung.”

“Have you thought about what happens if this… if we,” he says, pointing between the two of them, “don’t work? In a romantic way, I mean.”

“Jeez, Jisung, it’s been like three hours. Do we have to think about that?” Minho asks, leaning in for a kiss. Jisung returns it, almost lets himself get caught up, but the little voice in his head doesn’t let him.

“No, seriously,” he says, breaking away. “What happens?”

“Why are you asking this right now?”

“Well, for example. Your mom. Our families. We’re close, really close, she’s seriously like my second mom. I told her I wasn’t straight before my own mother. If we break up and get all nasty and hate each other, do I have to lose my second mom?” Jisung asks. “Does that make sense?”

“That won’t happen,” Minho says, jaw clenched firmly. “It could never.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want that either,” Jisung says, putting on his most soothing voice. “But there’s no guarantee we’re going to be as seamless a couple as we are as friends. What if I’m a bad boyfriend?”

“Jisung, I have known you your entire life,” Minho starts. “And for the record, I don’t think you’ll be a bad boyfriend. But if, if you are, then we will figure it out. Regardless of the label, we are Minho and Jisung. And I want you to be my boyfriend. And if that doesn’t work, well, it will be something we tried our best at.”

“And then what would happen?”

“Then we would still be Minho and Jisung. We would be friends again, knowing we gave it a shot, and if there was some reason it didn’t work then at least we tried. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, the space behind his eyes burning. “Oh. Ok, I’m not either. Minho and Jisung,” he repeats.

“That’s us,” Minho says, a smile soft on his lips. He lays them down carefully after that, sensing that it’s time for the movie to be off and for them to get some rest. It’s been a long day, after all. Jisung spends the night tucked into Minho’s arms, foreheads pressed to foreheads, lips pressed to lips, hearts pressed to hearts as they fade into slumber.

The Day After Prom

Eighteen years of friendship and close proximity have been the perpetrators of many a sleepover between Jisung and Minho, but nothing could have quite prepared Jisung for the way his heart would race waking up wrapped up in his best friend like this. Best friend? Boyfriend?

“Hey, Minho,” Jisung whispers, wiggling in Minho’s arms to try to wake him gently. His eyelids flutter gently and nose scrunches cutely as he starts to come back to consciousness. 

“Hmmm?”

“It’s morning.”

“Hmm? Oh, morning,” Minho repeats, shuffling Jisung closer into his hold and digging his nose into his hair. “Wait, it’s morning.”

“Yeah, morning,” Jisung giggles, pressing a short kiss to the column of Minho’s neck. It’s still a little bit embarrassing, but god is it going to be a fun new way to torment Minho and make him flush red.

“It’s morning, and you’re still…” Minho trails off, putting a hand on either of Jisung’s shoulders and pushing him back to take a look at his face.

“I’m still?”

“With me,” Minho says quietly. Jisung laughs and cups his face, squishing it into something dumb and mishhapen. 

“You thought I’d change my mind? How could I deny this handsomeness?” he asks, moving his boyfriend’s cheeks around. 

“I thought- stop that. I thought it may have been a dream or something.”

“No dream, like you said, we’re stuck together,” Jisung says, finally leaning in to give Minho a peck on the lips. “Even though your breath tastes like garbage.”

“It’s morning,” Minho protests, rolling over to sit up and get out of bed. “Let me brush my teeth.”

“You got a spare for me?” Jisung asks.

“You live like thirty seconds away, I’m not wasting a toothbrush on you,” Minho calls back. “I’ll be right back.”

Jisung stretches and gets himself out of bed, feeling his suit to find it still slightly wet and digging through Minho’s closet for an old hoodie to borrow. They’re mostly small and raggedy, but he finds one that’s the right size and whose only flaw is a ketchup stain on the front and pulls it on for the time being. “You’re stealing my clothing now?” Minho asks upon returning to the room.

“Nothing new, I’ve always stolen your clothing,” Jisung says smugly. 

“Hmm, true. I have to go to the mechanic shop soon,” Minho says.

“Want me to come with?”

“You don’t have homework?”

“Not really, just studying. They went a little light on us for prom weekend,” Jisung responds. 

“Ok. Why don’t you go home and change, we can borrow my mom’s car to drive and get breakfast and then go see if Nelson is really dead?”

“God I hope he isn’t,” Jisung says, placing a hand over his heart. “He’s far too young to die.”

“He’s almost as old as you,” Minho laughs.

“I’m too young to die too. And too pretty,” Jisung says, framing his face with his hands.

“Uh-huh,” Minho deadpans. “You’ll be prettier if you go brush your teeth and change.”

“On it,” Jisung says, pulling Minho in for one quick peck on the cheek and running out the door with his suit in hand. He checks his phone as he darts down the stairs, seeing it’s only about nine in the morning, and tries to keep quiet as he unlocks his front door. It’s warm today, skies blue without a cloud in sight, and the only thing he has to watch out for are the giant mud puddles that have been formed by last night's rain. 

Inside he hears his father in the kitchen, pouring coffee by the sounds of things, and calls out a greeting before running upstairs. He hangs his suit and changes into his own clean clothing, then makes his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He’s glad he followed Mrs. Lee’s water drinking rule last night, the half-drink of alcohol he’d consumed not leaving a trace of itself as a hangover. In fact, looking in the mirror, he looks more alive than he ever has. There’s no question in his mind why. 

When Jisung gets downstairs to chat with his parents, they’re both sitting at the kitchen table, a large envelope sat in front of them. 

“Uh, good morning?” Jisung tries hesitantly, unsure what he’s done to deserve such a threatening stance this early. 

“Good morning,” Jisung’s mother parrots, sliding the envelope towards him and gesturing to a chair. “Guess what showed up last night?”

“No way,” Jisung whispers to himself, taking a seat and looking over the paper. Embossed on the top is the JYP University emblem, addressed to one Han Jisung. “It’s thick.”

“That’s a good thing,” his father says, giving him an encouraging smile. “Could be admission papers.”

“Or the longest letter of rejection ever,” Jisung grimaces.

“If you were rejected, they’d have told you that a long time ago. You’re wait-listed, I think this can only be good,” his mother says firmly. 

“You really think?”

“I do,” she confirms. Jisung picks the envelope up, weighing it in his hands. It’s heavy, too, and the paper is smooth and high-quality under his fingers. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared, if it’s anything bad, at least you’ll finally know,” his father says. Jisung nods and tears the top, reaching in to pull the packet out before stopping himself. 

This is it. If it says yes, he gets to go to his dream school, study away from home, be back with Minho. If it says anything else, he’s shit out of luck. 

“I think,” Jisung says hesitantly, hoping he won’t step on any toes. “I just think maybe, since Minho goes there, he’ll be good… support? Do you mind if I don’t open these here? He opened his letter with me.”

“You want to open it with Minho?” Jisung’s mother repeats. Jisung nods meekly, putting the envelope back down. After last night, Minho deserves to know just as much as him. 

“Yeah. Is that ok?”

“Well, can you do it soon? I want to know too, you’re my son!” 

“I’ll do it now!” Jisung says, standing up from the table and grabbing the papers. “Right now. And I’ll let you know as soon as I do!”

“You’ve got this,” his father says. Jisung nods again, walking at a controlled pace towards his front door and stopping for nothing before darting outside and down the sidewalk, taking a slightly longer route to Minho’s porch to avoid the muddy lawn. He knocks on the door, relieved when Minho is the one to answer it and step outside. 

“Hey, you… you don’t have shoes on again! Jesus, Jisung, I really-”

“Look what came,” Jisung interrupts, holding the packet in front of Minho’s face. 

“What the- JYPU? What did they say? You got in?” Minho asks excitedly.

“I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I wanted to open it with you,” Jisung says, a nervous grin taking over his face. “Please? I need help.”

“If you can’t open an envelope, I don’t see how you’ll succeed in college,” Minho says, eyebrows raised jokingly.

“Oh, come on. I can open an envelope-”

“Then open it, Jisung. It’s ok. We’ll be fine either way,” he says softly. Jisung inhales deeply and pulls the packet out of the envelope, handing the empty paper over to Minho. He flips the lettering towards himself, finally gaining the courage to look down and read. 

“Dear Han Jisung. We are pleased to- OH MY GOD!”

“THEY ARE PLEASED TO WHAT?”

“We are pleased to tell you that a spot at the prestigious JYP University has opened up in your name should you choose to take it- Minho, oh my god! Oh my god!” 

“I told you!” Minho shouts, closing the door all the way behind him and pulling Jisung into a hug. Jisung pulls away briefly to place the packet down on the stoop, then wraps his arms around Minho again. 

“I know you told me, but oh my GOD, I got in!” Jisung shouts back, leaning back so he can look at Minho and leaning in to press their lips together without thinking twice. Minho smiles into it, lowering his grip on Jisung so he can lift him off the ground and walk them down the porch to move freely. Jisung laughs as he feels Minho spin them round, all while pressing thousands of tiny little kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his lips. He can’t suppress his whooping and laughter as he lets himself be smothered, only stopping it to give the same to Minho. 

“We’re going to be in the same school,” he mumbles into his boyfriend’s lips.

“I know,” Minho mumbles back.

“No long distance.”

“We can have movie nights whenever we want. On my comfy couch.”

“Is that couch available to crash on?” Jisung asks.

“Yeah, but so is my bed,” Minho whispers.

“Hey, what’s all the screaming- Oh!” A shrill voice calls out, startling the two into pulling away. 

“Mom!” Jisung gasps, quickly freeing himself from Minho’s hold. “Ah, hi! I got in!”

“Well that’s wonderful, dear! I told you it would be good news!” his mother calls out, walking closer towards them while staying on the sidewalk. “Anything else?”

“Oh, um-” Jisung stutters. He looks at the position he and Minho are in now, thinks of the one they were probably in when his mother first saw them. There’s really no use lying. “I think- Er, I know, uh-”

“I finally convinced Jisung to date me,” Minho cuts in. 

“Oh good! This is incredible,” Mrs. Han cheers out, clapping and bouncing on her toes. “Finally, I can claim Minho as my third son!”

“We’re not engaged, mom!” Jisung cries out.

“Oh please, you will be. Minho, you let your mom know she owes me a bottle of wine. Actually, I’ll text her, don’t worry about it,” she says, retreating back into their house. 

“Did my mother know you had a thing for me?” Jisung asks, looking at Minho in shock. 

“I think she assumed as such,” Minho admits. “Actually, I know she did. She called me once to ask about it.”

“What? You’re kidding! When?”

“Right after you came out to her. She called and asked if I was the reason,” Minho says with a chuckle.

“But- but that was over a year and a half ago!”

“I know, baby,” Minho coos, kissing him on the lips sweetly. “Must have been mother’s intuition. She knew I’d be useless to anyone else.”

“I love you,” Jisung blurts out. “I mean, not like- we talked last night, so I don’t mean I’m in love with you, or not yet, or whatever. But I love you, as my best friend of eighteen years. I’m really glad we get to go to school together.”

There’s shock on Minho’s face and a blush crawling up his neck, but when he regains himself he smiles so wide his eyes become crescent moons, just like the one he’d laid his faith in three nights before. Jisung intends to hold onto the relationship as long as he possibly can. 

“Well, as your best friend of eighteen years, I love you too. The first two without you were ever so boring. And as your boyfriend, I couldn’t be more excited to fall in love with you.”

“That’s cheesy.”

“It is. Go put some shoes on and come with me on our first breakfast date, then we’ll see what we can do about this car,” Minho laughs.

104 Days After Prom

104 days after Han Jisung’s senior prom, on his nineteenth birthday, he sits on a comfortable couch in a 2-bedroom college apartment, wrapped in the arms of Lee Minho. Maybe this is the start of their true new chapter, because as he looks into his boyfriend’s eyes, Han Jisung is undeniably in love.