geniusfrombusan
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Minho smokes too much, hates Christmas, and has a complicated relationship with concepts such as “socializing” and “feelings.” His nightly routine is simple: escape from his guitarist roommate, sit on a frozen park bench, and contemplate the existential void with a Marlboro as his only companion.
Jisung eats his feelings in the form of gas station desserts, hides his body under coats three sizes too big, and lies to his parents about where he spends his nights. His refuge: that same park bench, at exactly 11:15 p.m., with the most obscene strawberry cheesecake money can buy.
For two weeks, they ignore each other with impressive dedication.
Until Minho breaks the silence with the most anticlimactic observation possible: “Did you know there's a coffee shop three blocks from here?”
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Bookmarked by geniusfrombusan
15 Dec 2025
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This was not right. He was not right. He had no memories of what had happened. But there was this gut instinct telling him this was wrong. Worst of all, the world was out to get him.
Bookmarked by geniusfrombusan
03 Dec 2025
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“Three years,” Jisung says between the lines of saliva. “Since— since I met him.”
“Oh,” Minho replies. He wrings his hands together. “You were first. If that makes you… feel better.”
“It doesn't,” Jisung mumbles.
If someone told him he would meet the other man at the airport, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar land and unfamiliar everything, Jisung wouldn't have believed them. But now he cocks his head to look the other man in the face, sees the way his jaw shakes with each breath.
It’s one thing to be the first. How would it feel to know you were second choice?
When Jisung's long-term, long-distance boyfriend suddenly dies, he's rendered heartbroken. Flying back from his home in Kuala Lumpur to his late-boyfriend's funeral in Seoul, he has a layover in Manila and happens to meet Minho— his boyfriend's other partner.
Grief and anger and heartbreak go hand-in-hand. Especially when meeting the other man in an airport terminal.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 15,445
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Comments:
- 126
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- 2,132
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Bookmarked by geniusfrombusan
03 Dec 2025
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“Is it…” he begins, his gaze drifting to the right. “No, never mind,” and he turns away, hands in the pockets of his camouflage sweatpants.
“It’s your questions about ghosts, isn’t it?” Seungmin asks, tilting his head.
“How do you know?” Minho asks, turning around, not really surprised, more curious. Somehow, Kim Seungmin always knows everything.
"Jeonginnie told me. I know it’s not the kind of subject you’re interested in, and you always seem to be on your guard these days. So what? Is there a ghost haunting you?" He pulls his chair closer to his desk, rests his elbows on it, and interlaces his fingers. The situation seems to amuse him greatly.
Where Minho is a PE teacher in a rural boarding school for the fifth year in a row, and he isn’t really sure but at the same time it is the only possible explanation that there is a ghost haunting him.
Not a cute ghost at all.
Obviously.
Bookmarked by geniusfrombusan
01 Dec 2025
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Two clammy hands cradle an empty bottle of heat suppressants like a corpse.
He gives the bottle a meager little shake. Nothing rattles within.
Panic settles in and Jisung jerks to life. He fights with the childproof cap—resorting to using the cuff of his sweater to help since his hands are useless—and stares, in disbelieving agony, into a barren bottle.
The tears come on so quickly that he doesn’t even register a way to stop them before they’re rolling down his cheeks and landing on the label that he’s considered his religion for over 365 days.
Take 2 pills 1x a day. Failure to do so will have immediate effects and could lead to flash heat(s).
Or: Jisung’s suppressants run out on a bus. He starts panicking, until a quiet alpha switches seats and whispers, “Breathe. I’ve got you.”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 70,380
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 100
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- 1,036
- Bookmarks:
- 372
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- 17,540
Bookmarked by geniusfrombusan
28 Nov 2025