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“I really like you.”
Silence slowly filled the air as Jisung’s laughter died down, his smile faded away, his posture stiffened.
“Huh?”
Minho was being asked for clarification, but he himself didn’t understand why those words slipped from his lips. He stilled, too, returning Jisung’s blank, anticipating gaze with his own. He blinked once, twice, then swallowed his pride. He’s here now, might as well own up to it.
“Ever since we became roommates, I’ve liked you. You know, in the, uh. More-than-a-friend way. Obviously.” He cleared his throat, the weather just cold enough to make his red cheeks seem temperature-induced. The streetlight above them flickered.
Jisung remained silent.
“You know what, actually–” Minho chuckled, breaking eye contact, waving his hand dismissively, “don’t worry about it. Pretend I didn’t say anything. I’ll just–” he turned his back and started in the opposite direction of their apartment, “I’ll crash at Chan and Sana’s for the night. It’s fine.”
“Hey– Wait!” Minho could hear the scuff of Jisung’s shoe as he went to chase after him, but another didn’t succeed it, so he must’ve given up. Minho thanked his lucky stars for that and his walking pace steadily increased as he put more and more distance between them.
“Minho? What’s–” Chan got cut off by a whiny little kid, pushing himself past the door and immediately collapsing face first on their carpet. He barely caught a glimpse of a couch full of Sana and the movie they must’ve been watching; it was promptly paused.
“Jisung and I went out to drink and when we got back I accidentally confessed to him because he looked so damn pretty under the stars and it hurt my heart but he just stared at me and I got scared and ran away, help meee.” He could sense the knowing glance between the couple in the silence that preceded two synchronized sighs. Chan crouched next to him and patted his back affirmingly.
“Well hey! You finally confessed! That’s a good thing.” Minho whined louder and Sana muttered an accusatory ‘Chan’ under her breath. Chan yell-whispered back ‘I’m just trying to help!’ Sana sighed, again.
“I will bet you anything that Jisung doesn’t hate you. He was probably just shocked.”
“Yeah! What she said,” Chan added before continuing with something actually helpful. “It’s definitely surprising news. He just needs time to soak it all in, you know?” He patted Minho’s back again, rubbing it like his mother would after he scraped his knee when he was a kid. Minho’s phone buzzed for the tenth time in the past fifteen minutes. With a groan, he reached back to pull it out and faces the reality he was avoiding.
They’re all from Jisung.
minho can you come back??
i’m not mad i swear oh my god
i’m so sorry i didn’t know what to say i just
i panicked i know that was dumb of me but
god you know i’m terrible with this stuff
The following few messages had minutes of time in between them.
minho?? are you okay???
stop you know i have anxiety i’m freaking out
please at least read one of these so i know you’re not dead
MINHO i swear to god if you aren’t dead you will be when i see you
not because of what you said obviously but please, please just say something
“Christ, reply to that poor boy.” Apparently Chan was reading his screen over his shoulder. Minho knew he was right (that’s the annoying thing about Chan; he’s literally always right), but Minho wasn’t in a good mindset to do so. He was rather comfortable lying on his friends’ apartment floor and moping. Yet making Jisung this nervous made him feel like absolute shit, so he settled for sending him a thumbs-up emoji without any other information. Jisung replied in seconds.
you fucker
……… okay fine, i’m just glad you’re not dead. please come back home
please.
Minho’s head dropped again, Chan gently taking his phone from his hand and typing something, presumably to the man of the hour. Minho trusts Chan with his life and more so he felt no need to try to stop him. Chan set the phone on Minho’s butt and sat by his head, soothingly combing his fingers through Minho’s hair. He could hear Sana getting up and sensed her settle down by Chan. When Minho finally sat up on his knees (his phone falling to the ground behind him), he looked at the sight before him: Chan smiling that warm smile at him, Sana’s chin on his shoulder as she hugged him from behind. They’re both bare-faced, dressed in pajamas, hair damp– Chan’s a bit curly. It reeked of domesticity. They look like they’re his parents.
“I want this.” He gestured between the two of them, the sickeningly sweet duo. “But I’m scared.”
Chan, without looking away, raised a hand to Sana’s face and squished their two cheeks together, his smile only brightening. “This took work. It still does. But it wouldn’t have happened to begin with if one of us didn’t confess.”
Minho recounted their getting-together story, one he’s heard time and time again. They were college roommates, much like Jisung and Minho now, and for the longest time, everyone had assumed they were already dating when they weren’t. It wasn’t until one fateful night that Sana decided to suddenly plant one on Chan that they discussed their feelings and announced their relationship. No one was surprised. Minho met them a little after that and he truthfully can’t imagine a time where they weren’t attached at the hip, the spitting image of a sweets-induced cavity.
Sana and Chan ultimately refused Minho’s request to spend the night and sent him on his way back to their apartment. He considered finding a hotel or maybe staying with Felix and his roommates, but he knew that Felix would definitely tattle on him to his beloved older brother, so that was out of the picture. The hotel option was appealing, but even a cheaper room would dent his poor college student wallet too much, so he was stuck. He had to go back home.
Jisung stared at him for the second time that night.
Except this time, he was fuming. He stared and stormed off, leaving the door open so Minho could step shamefully inside.
“Ji–”
“How the fuck are you gonna drop that bomb on me and then run off and ignore me for almost an hour?!” Minho quietly shut the door behind him, knowing well he deserved this wrath. He let Jisung continue. “Do you have any idea how scared I was? I felt like it was all my fault!”
“It’s not,” Minho countered quickly. “None of this is your fault, Jisung, come on.” The younger of the two was pacing around their small living room, stopping just to glare at his elder. “Look, can we just, please pretend I never said anything?”
“How am I supposed to do that? That might sound easy for you but I can’t just– i-it makes me feel like–”
“Okay, okay, fine.” Jisung was starting to stumble over his words and lose his breath and Minho just wanted to comfort him. The guilty feeling in his stomach grew. “Calm down, it’s okay.” He guided him to the couch and sat next to him, his hand lingering on Jisung’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what to say,” he said quietly, more relaxed than before. “I don’t… I don’t know how I feel, in return.”
Minho knew he didn’t feel the same and he didn’t blame him. They’ve been living together for almost two years now and Minho remembered the people he’s brought home. Some stayed for a night, some made their way into their group get-togethers, even if the longest anyone ever lasted was a few months. Sure, they were affectionate and comfortable with each other, but Minho never got the vibe of reciprocated feelings from him. He knew what to expect, yet there’s still a burning in his chest.
“You don’t have to say anything, Jisung,” he replied, equally as soft. “I don’t need you to. I just don’t want this to change anything between us, okay?”
Jisung, with a look of melancholy on his face, didn’t respond.
“Okay?”
Finally he nodded.
“Alright.”
Jisung was never a good listener.
He started avoiding Minho’s gaze when the latter left the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist (normally he would actively try to remove it just to spite him). He continuously denied requests to go out to eat, claiming he had homework to do (normally he would never give up food for a book report). Their weekly movie nights became less and less, Jisung claiming that he wasn’t feeling well. Every. Single. Week.
“Cheer up, buddy,” Chan reached over the table to pat Minho’s shoulder. “I’m sure he just needs more time.”
“It’s been a month ,” Minho refuted. “We live together so I see him all the time and ever since that night, he’s barely said three sentences to me. How much more time could he need?” Chan fell silent, nothing but a pitiful smile being thrown his way. Sana took a sip from one of two straws in their shared cup. Minho’s heart ached again.
It was halfway through week five when Minho was fed up.
“Jisung.” He heard a distant huh? from his bedroom. “Come to the living room. It’s important.” There was a pause. A moment, a heartbeat or two, but he emerged, looking as stiff and nervous as ever.
“Yeah?”
“Put your shoes on.”
“Huh?” he repeated, but Minho stood firm and crossed his arms, waiting. Feeling pressured, Jisung cautiously slipped his shoes on. The instant his laces were knotted, Minho was dragging him downstairs and out the building by his hand.
“Hey, stop!” Minho didn’t stop. “Minho!” He still didn’t stop. Jisung grunted and stumbled over a loose chunk of pavement. “At least don’t hold my hand, people will think–”
Minho stopped.
He looked at Jisung who seemed to shrink under Minho’s gaze and gently let go of his hand. Jisung spoke again.
“Sorry, I… I didn’t mean it like–”
Minho grabbed the collar of Jisung’s hoodie and forcefully continued pulling him along that way. The latter seemed to dislike this method more.
They sat at the same table where Minho sat with Sana and Chan not too long ago. Jisung tightly grasped his iced americano with both hands, looking everywhere but up at Minho’s face.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
There’s a quiet no I haven’t under Jisung’s breath.
“You have and you know you have. Look, I get that it’s weird and maybe you feel pressured or whatever, but I hate this. I miss you as a friend and this is exactly what I didn’t want happening. Can we please just, go back to normal? Please?” A brief pause as Jisung processed that. “I’ve been waiting to watch Parasite because I wanna watch it together but your punk ass is always ‘sick.’”
Minho hadn’t heard Jisung laugh in what felt like decades, so the cute, quiet chuckle that he could barely hear washed over him with a sense of relief and joy.
“It’s just… You know I think too much. I feel guilty for not being able to give you a straight answer. I’ve been doing so much thinking and, and I still don’t know. And it’s not that I’m not being truthful because I don’t want to hurt you, I just, I genuinely don’t know. It stresses me out.” Jisung pouted and despite his words, Minho couldn't help but think about how cute he was.
“I don’t need a straight answer. A gay one would be preferred, but–” Jisung raised a fist to mock hitting Minho, gaining a laugh out of him. “I’m kidding! Seriously though, I don’t need an answer from you. I just want to keep being friends. Can’t we just do that?”
Jisung dropped his fist and smiled, warmer than ever. “Yeah, of course.”
And they did. Thankfully, Jisung actually went back to normal and they finally watched Parasite (a viewing party filled with screams and a fair share of unrelated laughter). It was so nice to see Jisung be himself again, to hear his goofy laugh, to destroy him in Mario Kart, to watch him snarf down too many chicken wings too fast.
Minho’s feelings only grew stronger.
The (almost) whole of them went out for noraebang and got wasted beyond belief. Jeongin couldn’t come out since he was underage but Hyunjin really, really wanted to drink, so Seungmin stayed with the kid at home to keep him company. That left the seven of them scream-singing in a cramped room with flashing lights and one too many spilled drinks.
Sana and Chan were the first to leave, mentioning something about class tomorrow. Drunk Hyunjin made a comment about how that was code for sex, which cued Felix gagging and covering his ears at the mere thought. When Changbin left, however, he ended up being followed by Felix simply because Felix wanted to spend more time with him (which he didn’t say out loud, but everyone knew; he’s too obvious) and Jisung had to physically stop himself from making a joke and exposing his freckled friend. Minho called a Lyft for Hyunjin when he was nearly incapable of speech and tipped the driver extra if he promised to help Hyunjin into his apartment. Jisung and Minho remained.
“Wanna keep going?” Minho asked.
“Is that even a question?”
So they did. They scrolled past all the dozens of songs they’d before, whether tonight or some other night, hoping for a new track to jam out to. Then, Minho saw it. One he’d done many a time before, but easily one of his favorites. He stopped on it and looked at Jisung, who kept staring at the screen. Maybe it was a fitting song. And Minho is just drunk enough to do it.
Sarangeul haetta, uriga manna
Jiuji motthal chueogi dwaettda
Bolmanhan melodrama
Gwaenchanheun gyeolmal
Geugeomyeon dwaessda neol saranghaettda
Minho couldn’t help but look at Jisung the whole time. Jisung came in for his part and it felt like they were singing in a cheesy musical. Breaking the atmosphere (partially due to the awkward tension he felt he created), Minho jumped up for the rap section and oversold it as hard as he could, sending Jisung into a laughing fit from the sudden change in energy. They went back and forth in a bittersweet duet, Jisung challenging Minho with his own rap and ultimately winning. Towards the end of the track, where the beat kicks it up a notch, they bounced around the room like kids on a sugar rush. They made their way to the couch again as the song died down and concluded, singing the last line in unison with two smiles on their faces. They looked at each other and they looked at each other and Jisung suddenly cupped Minho’s cheek and kissed him.
A good kiss, too. Not one Minho would’ve expected from someone who didn’t know how he felt and seemed to have forgotten about the whole thing weeks ago. Minho’s hands immediately went to Jisung’s tiny waist, faster than his brain could process what was actually going on. Jisung was halfway onto Minho’s lap, his free hand settling on Minho’s shoulder to steady himself. The sound of their lips separating echoed too loud in the now silent room, their noses bumped into the other too often, the warmth of their hands heating the other up too fast.
“Sorry, did I miss something, or–” Minho was struggling to enjoy the moment due to the overwhelming confusion he had and forced himself to break it off. Jisung just laughed and rested his forehead against his hyung’s, eyes closed as if to hide them. “I mean, by all means, please feel free to continue, I’m just trying to check all my bases here.”
“I, uh…” Jisung giggled some more as Minho’s hand went up to caress his face. “I did some thinking, some– some more thinking, and… I dunno, I just. I felt like I wanted to, do this , whenever I thought about it, about you.” Jisung scratched the back of his neck, eyes averted while his cheeks warmed up. “I don't know exactly what it means, but–” Minho presses another kiss to his lips.
“You’re so cute. That’s okay with me. You can take all the time you need. Again, you’re more than welcome to kiss me until you figure it out.”
Jisung laughed and kissed him again and they ended up making out on that worn out couch until their time ran out and the owner came knocking on the door. Thankfully she didn’t enter so they didn’t have to explain the messy hair and wrinkled clothing. Minho felt at peace for the first time in months.
The newly-wedded couple continues to dance together in the center of the hall, regardless of how long this reception has been going on and of how many people have left. Many guests sitting at tables around them gaze at them with love and affection and maybe a bit of jealousy, but overall with good energy. The two smile at each other for the thousandth time that night and slowly move to the beat of one of those sentimental Ed Sheeran songs the younger always listens to.
“Where’s Felix?” Jeongin asks, a bit sleepy from all the alcohol he had consumed.
“I think I saw Changbin and him sneak off somewhere,” Hyunjin replies with a suggestive raise of his brow. Jeongin gagged.
“Ugh, really? Running off to make out with his boy toy at his brother’s wedding?”
“Respect the hustle, Jeongin. That could be you someday.” Jisung, without looking and with his head on Minho’s shoulder, points at the youngest. Chan’s laugh could be heard in the distance. Unrelated, but still always pleasing to the ears.
Everyone, minus the two scandalous not-so secret lovers and the special couple on the dance floor, had stayed sitting at their fancy groomsmen table, all the bridesmaids long lost to the music (Chan’s sister and a choice few other women. He tried to call his sister a “groomsmaid” but Sana stopped him immediately). The other kids chatter while Jisung tries hard not to fall asleep on Minho, who casually runs his fingers through his hair (making it more difficult to stay awake).
“Do you think that could be us someday?” Minho says in reference to Sana and Chan, sharing a tender kiss before embracing each other– just as sweet as ever. Jisung peeks his eyes open only enough to see them.
“Maybe. Will you propose to me someday?” Minho thinks about it for a moment.
“Maybe. Will you say yes?” Jisung thinks about it for a moment.
“Maybe.”
Minho chuckles, affectionately looking back at the sleepy boy resting on him. Jisung lazily hugs Minho’s torso, the elder wrapping his arms around him just the same.
“I love you,” he says quiet enough, something only for Minho’s ears.
“That’s cool.” Minho gets pinched on the side. “Ow– You know I love you too, dummy.”
Jisung ends up falling asleep on the ride home.
Hey Jisung! It’s Chan. He came over here to pout but don’t worry, he’s fine and we’re sending him back soon. Be gentle with him, okay! (*´∀`)♪