mjr13
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Summary
Chan turns to him as if he could hear his name from inside Jisung’s mind. Jisung stares back and sees a sense of responsibility polished into shining brass, blood and sweat and tears and happiness and seven years of his own life. “The members will always care about you.”
“I know.” Jisung really does. And yet it’s digging into his side, gilded and razor-sharp: the selfish, irrational urge to keep Minho as close as he can, to share the same walk home, to follow the same patterns until they’re old and decrepit, until they’re six feet underground, even after that.
(Or, the one where Jisung is not coping well with the realization that he and Minho will eventually go their separate ways.)
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“Do I know you?” the stranger asks, squinting into Jisung’s face. Then he splits into something of a maniacal smile. Snaps his fingers, pokes one into Jisung’s sternum. “You. You’re Jiwon, from 1-Up.”
“Oh my god,” Jisung squeaks when he finds his voice. And around a bewildered laugh, “J.ONE, not Jiwon.”
“What’d you say?”
“J—never mind.”
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Han Jisung, songwriter-producer and ex-idol, never drinks past his alcohol tolerance. That is, until one night, after a stressful workweek and yet another breakup, he does… and ends up so wasted he accidentally confesses to the man of his dreams, who also happens to be his best friend's boyfriend.
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Would Minho have sex with him? Would he want to? The thought turns Jisung’s stomach. He doesn’t want Minho to get the wrong idea about why he comes here, why he’s meeting up with him.
“I’m straight,” he blurts, without prompting, heartbeat heavy in his fingers, his cheeks, behind his eyes.
Minho twists around so that the chains of his swing are crossed, staring Jisung dead on with his eyebrows raised. “Um. Okay? I’m not trying to sleep with you.”
Shame burns deep in Jisung’s insides, through the cavity of his chest, between his bones. “I–I know,” he stutters. “I’m–” swallowing back bile, something sharp. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”
(OR: Han Jisung, Lee Minho, & Mutually Assured Destruction)
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Jisung smirks at him all slant and cocky, voice thick with confidence. "Want me to sign you an autograph, honey?"
The intimidatingly gorgeous stranger snaps his eyes to him with a gaze that's almost.. challenging? One brow arches beneath his snapback, judgmental and maybe a little amused, and Jisung is struck with a creeping realization that he's finally met his match.
"Actually," the stranger utters, voice cold and flat where it slipped past lips of curved pink, "I'd like to compete with you."
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Nosebleeds, elbow scrapes, bruises all over and the adrenaline high of riding his board at speeds that others could only dream of — that was all Jisung wanted.
What Jisung needed, Minho thought, was to be put in his place.Series
- Part 1 of skate fast, eat ass