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It wasn’t like Jisung didn’t know he was impulsive. Even more so when he was bored out of his wits, which… was probably not a good thing, considering he was in college and the workload was pretty extreme. Whatever. Let him live, for christ’s sake. Anyway, that whole spiel was ridiculously off-topic. Back to the problem at hand.
What was the problem at hand?
Oh! Right, yeah, Jisung was impulsive. Impulsive and bored. A recipe for disaster, considering the last time he’d felt this restless had ended in quite a reasonable-sized fire. He reckoned Hyunjin still hadn’t forgiven him for ruining his designer sweater. Had it been Gucci? Maybe. Kinda begged the question of how the fuck a broke bitch like Hyunjin could afford to breathe near Gucci.
Some questions were best left unanswered.
Questions like ‘can I summon a demon in a fucking tiny dorm room?’ or ‘do demons wanna share mac and cheese with me?’ and maybe curiosity killed the cat, but cats had eight lives! Or was it nine? Maybe ten… okay. Anyway. Back to researching demons. Hopefully this would be done and over with before Hyunjin came back and caught him fucking shit up for fun. again.
“How... to summon a demon…” he murmured, squinting at his cracked laptop screen, “eight steps? Oh! It’s got pictures, too!”
Can you really blame him for clicking on it? It had pictures . And eight steps was a lot less intimidating compared to those creepy, supernatural wannabe websites with the pentagrams and shit.
This is the case he presented to the figure sitting on his cheap ass mattress approximately three hours later.
It would’ve taken less time, Jisung admitted to himself, if he hadn’t panicked over the order he was meant to light the candles in. Also, the idea of adding his blood and all that had kinda freaked him out. In the end, he managed pretty well! There were suspicious tear stains on his white t-shirt, but he could pass that off as splashing water on himself.
The room was eerily silent, and Jisung realised he had gotten lost in his own internal monologue.
The… demon, or whatever, was called Minho. Jisung found that funnier than he should have. Like, demons were meant to be these scary-as-fuck and had this real… uh… threatening reputation. Minho had a pretty intimidating glare, sure, but he also had sweater paws . Sweater paws and fluffy hair and his name was Minho what fucking demon is called Minho like come on —
“So,” Minho drawled, eyebrows raised, “you decided to summon a hellish embodiment of chaos and destruction for kicks?”
(Maybe it did sound bad when it was phrased like that).
Jisung shifted his weight, biting his bottom lip and cringing at the sticky texture of his cherry gloss. For once in his life — shocking, he knew — the consequences of his harebrained plan were kinda catching up to him. Only kinda, though. Don’t need anyone thinking Jisung’s weird ideas were gonna stop anytime soon.
“Um, yeah?” Jisung shrugged, looking everywhere except Minho’s exasperated stare, “though, in my defence, I didn’t think it would — I wasn’t expecting this to — what the fuck are you?”
Oh, great. he’s probably just offended the fucking demon sitting on his bed and now he was gonna die a painful death in hell or wherever Minho came from and —
Minho snickered quietly.
Jisung blinked owlishly, feeling the earth shift beneath him at the sound. Minho had laughed. Minho had laughed at him . Hey, maybe he wasn’t going to die! That would be a neat plot twist.
“Your name is Jisung, right?” Minho quirked an eyebrow again, ignoring the spluttered quality of Jisung’s reply, “and you probably don’t actually believe in demons and whatnot. Or you didn’t believe in working wikihow articles — valid, most of them are shit — but you just gotta suck it up.”
“Well, like, it’s not that I didn’t — it’s not that I don’t believe in… yeah. I just didn’t really think this would turn out li-like this. And all. So, yeah.”
The lame ending was punctuated with a slump of his shoulders. God (or satan), Jisung was totally fucked. On the bright side, it wasn’t finals week.
“—which you don’t understand, but- Jisung. Jisung, are you listening to me? Fuck’s sake, millennials are the worst clients. Jisung .”
Jisung snapped back to attention, eyes comically wide and breath lodged in his throat. Minho, for the most part, just looked unimpressed. Maybe that was just his face, though. Jisung didn’t think he’d seen the demon-boy-thing show any other emotion.
“...sorry.”
“Whatever. like I was saying , I can’t go back to chilling in hell unless I fulfil a contract with you. You can’t make a contract without selling your soul to me. Honestly, this shit is always lose-lose for the humans. You’re all so fucking stupid.”
Jisung didn’t think his day could get any weirder. He'd joked about selling his soul, sure, but that was at 5am and he was shitposting on twitter and watching LOONA fancams. Ergo, he should not be taken seriously. Yet, here he was, sitting (he’d tripped over his own feet earlier) in front of a literal fucking demon and trying to figure out what his soul was worth.
Uh, a packet of jellybeans, maybe.
What would Hyunjin do?
...he’d tell Jisung to sell his soul to get the Gucci sweater back. Jisung may be stupid, but he wasn’t an idiot. He was not about to waste a perfectly good soul on some capitalist designer shit.
Minho heaved a sigh. Interesting, since Jisung didn’t think he needed to breathe. The more you knew.
“Dude, you don’t have to tell me immediately . I'll just stick around until you figure it out. It’s not like I get summoned a lot. Just… don’t try those exorcism things. None of them are legit.”
Jisung could only nod slowly, gaze glued on the alien doodles on the wall near Minho’s head.
“Um, okay. Can I ask what type of demon you are, or is that classified? Does hell have rules like that? You’re from hell, right? Am I even supposed to talk to you outside of contract-y contracted contract stuff?”
Minho, in the middle of Jisung’s rambling, had flopped across the bed like a cat. He rolled over onto his stomach, piercing stare locked on Jisung. In the least weird way possible, Jisung thought it was kinda hot. In a scary way. And that was a lot to unpack, so he just pretended he did not have that thought process.
“technically, I’m the prince of hell. Doesn’t really matter. Are we done with the questions?”
Going to class the next day had been a fucking trainwreck and only slightly because Hyunjin had come home absolutely wasted and crying over some kid called Seungmin who didn’t love him back. Jisung didn’t have the willpower to remind him that Seungmin and Hyunjin had been dating for, like, two years or something. It seemed fairly redundant, since Hyunjin wouldn’t remember his words in the morning.
That was only one problem, though.
The other problem was, surprise, Minho! not because he’d wanted to follow Jisung to class (“I know how university works. Why would I join you?” “in case I try to run from making a contract or—” “that’s effort. You won’t. I’m taking a nap.”). Nope, it was because he had wanted to talk to Hyunjin before Jisung had explained the demonic shenanigans from the day before. That just had ‘BAD IDEA’ graffitied over it. The type that Changbin would post grungy, aesthetic instagrams of.
After a quiet (but oddly intense) argument, Minho promised to leave Hyunjin alone. Or, Jisung had taken it as a promise. He definitely shouldn’t have, thinking back on the way Minho had cooed a patronising ‘don’t you worry about it’ as Jisung left. Oh, hindsight, what a gift and a curse you are.
On his way back to the dorm, Jisung managed to concoct at least twenty different scenarios. a good two thirds consisted of him dying a miserable death as Hyunjin laughed maniacally in the background. It was not unrealistic, thank you very much. Jisung’s fears were 100% valid.
In a plot twist worthy of Supernatural — so not much of a plot twist, let’s be real — this did not happen when Jisung arrived at the door of his dorm room. None of his frenzied visions had included Fancy by Twice blaring at top volume. They were gonna get another noise complaint at this rate. When he pressed his ear to the door, he could make out Hyunjin’s usual scream-singing.
The music shut off suddenly, and Jisung found himself face-flat on the floor. He didn’t need to look up to know there were two very judgemental stares being aimed at him.
“I can explain!” he instinctively blurted out… and regretted it before the last syllable escaped his mouth.
Hyunjin pursed his lips, hands shoved into the pockets of his mom jeans (he always insisted that wasn’t what they were called. He was wrong). Glitter-lined eyes squinted down at Jisung’s sprawled figure on the floor and Jisung really, really wished death would just claim him then and there.
“Please do!” Jisung’s roommate, best friend, worst enemy chirped, “wait, can you wait? I wanna get popcorn. Oh, no, hold on. You can get me popcorn and explain when you get back. The eavesdropping and our newest arrival.”
Jisung opened his mouth to protest. A simple look from Hyunjin silenced whatever he’d been about to say. Hyunjin could be intimidating like that. Maybe Jisung was just developing a phobia of pretty people.
(He snuck a glance at Minho, just to check and, huh, maybe that was the case).
The thing about wikihow articles explaining demon summoning was that none of them actually told you what to do afterwards. As far as Jisung could see, there were no demon maintenance 101 books in existence. The books which did talk about demons usually had 1) too many words for Jisung to process in one go or 2) this very archaic image of demons. Jisung was no loud activist — not out of apathy, more because he wasn’t sure how to get involved and maaaaybe he should change that soon — but he was certain that not all demons were heartless monsters. On the contrary, Minho seemed very caring…
…towards cats. And baby birds. And basically any living thing which wasn’t a human.
Another issue with Jisung’s lack of demonic knowledge was Minho. Specifically, Minho’s high maintenance nature. He'd discovered this within the first week of living with him. So, the contract was also a mild (major) issue, but not as prevalent as Minho’s constant demand for attention.
“What are you doing now?” The demon in question groaned.
Jisung didn’t need to look up to know Minho was rolling his eyes but he did anyway because he liked looking at Minho. A fact he would keep to himself and take to the grave (and, possibly, take to hell because he didn’t think heaven let demon-summoning people in).
It was one thing, summoning a demon. Cohabiting a very small dorm room with said demon for the foreseeable future was another thing entirely. At least Hyunjin had decided to stay with Seungmin for a while. God bless the gays.
“Uhh…” Jisung mumbled, trying to recall his own actions, “oh, right, I’mmmm… well, i’m supposed to be writing this… paper…? but, I’m kinda not doing that because I got distracted like ten minutes ago.”
“I know that . I saw you on twitter,” Minho clicked his tongue, reaching over Jisung’s shoulder to snag the student’s phone. The squawk of indignation went ignored, as per usual.
Jisung wondered if god was having fun watching him struggle with a very annoying demon. Most likely.
“What did you tweet? Where is it… a ha ! what the fuck?”
Some part of Jisung was proud at rendering Minho speechless. The other part — the part with some intelligence — was mortified that Minho had just read the words ‘you just u’d your last wu, kid’ and was aware that those words had come from Jisung. It was worse than someone exposing your crush and then your crush rejecting you in the same minute. Jisung would know.
“It’s just dumb internet humour, you fucking gremlin,” Jisung huffed, turning around and snatching his phone back, “wouldn’t expect the prince of hell to understand.”
Minho narrowed his eyes, dislodging one of the red stars Hyunjin had stuck on the side of his face during his earlier visit. It fluttered down and caught on the front of his white t-shirt. Jisung resisted the urge to reach over and brush it off.
“Bitch, hell has better wifI than your university. Pipe down.”
Jisung spluttered, torn between being highly confused at hell having internet access and highly offended at being called a bitch. By Minho . The biggest bitch.
“The university has shit wifi! anywhere has better wifI than here!”
Minho leaned forward. A finger was pressed against Jisung’s lips — an effective way to shut him up — before Minho smirked in that aggravatingly patronising way.
“I said pipe down.”
Minho was wonderfully unhelpful. In more ways than one. He liked to play bubblegum pop at 3am, which coincided with Jisung’s trying-to-sleep-and-failing hours. Jisung had never had an issue with Chuu’s Heart Attack before, but he was fearing he might develop one. Minho also liked to startle Jisung at really, very, incredibly unfortunate times.
They didn’t talk about it.
Sometimes — though this was lessening, thank god — Minho would just sit and stare at Jisung like a demonic, more attractive Edward Cullen. The demon wasn’t exactly easy to read in general, Jisung would be honest, but it was even harder to try and guess what Minho was thinking when this happened. If Jisung even thought about asking Minho what was up, the other would immediately disappear.
Literally. The teleporting was kinda unsettling.
(Especially when Jisung joked about selling his soul for, say, a can of Fanta, and suddenly he’d be face-to-face with a disarmingly hopeful Minho).
TLDR: Minho was a fucking disaster and brought nothing but chaos to Jisung’s life. Naturally, Jisung might be developing a tiny crush on him. It made sense. He wasn’t in the business of dealing with problems in a reasonable manner.
What did Han Jisung know about himself? He had the confidence of a lettuce leaf, except instead of being overly shy or quiet, he just… got louder. It pissed people off. He had the worst ex-boyfriend-turned-best-friend possible (hi, Hyunjin), yet he would’ve crashed and burned without him. He liked to wear mostly black but listened to an ungodly amount of Twice and fromis_9 . He wasn’t an idiot, his words just came out too quickly and got mixed up in the space between his brain and his mouth. He wasn’t really good enough , he just acted like he was and functioned on a ‘fake it til you make it’ mentality.
… yeah.
Of course he’d end up thinking his hellish roommate was, um, cute. Or whatever. It was just so on brand . Alexa, play dumb dumb by Red fucking Velvet.
However, if there was one thing Jisung was good at, it was pretending feelings didn’t exist. He'd be fine.
Jisung was not, in fact, fine.
He’d been trying to contact Hyunjin for the better part of fifteen minutes and he was failing horribly. It wasn’t like Hyunjin wasn’t active — he’d posted literally ten minutes ago.
The post in question only showed the bottom half of two faces, the figures clad in neon mixed with black and a questionable amount of chains and (fake) wilted flowers. He must have linked up with Changbin since Jisung wasn’t around to hog the latter’s time. In a weird way, Jisung was kinda thankful to have missed out on the impromptu eboy convention.
Still. He needed help. If Changbin was still with Hyunjin, even better!
j.one
hey
hi
hello
hey
hey Hyunjin
HyunjinNNNNN
HWANG Hyunjin
hwnghynjn
what.
j.one
I NEED UR HELP
hwnghynjn
no, you can’t cook pasta without water.
j.one
that’s. that’s not
what.
hwnghynjn
what
j.one
what
hwnghynjn
yo it’s cb I think u confused hj
n e ways wassup
j.one
ok cool so I summoned a demon
I might have a crush on him except he needs my SOUL to go back 2 hell
n like he probably doesn’t like me back?????
also
he’s an awful roommate I don’t think i’ve slept in a MONTH
I also want coffee which is …… a Major dilemma thx
anyway
hwnghynjn is typing…
j.one
it’s been five minutes did u DIE
broooooo come back
hwnghynjn
dude wtf
j.one
lol ikr
That was… pointless. Like, Jisung genuinely thought he would’ve been better off just telling Minho the problem, and Minho was the problem. Jisung huffed out a breath, throwing himself onto his bed and kinda just waiting for death to claim him. He seemed to do that pretty often.
“Are you good?” Minho’s voice was loud in his ear and Jisung screeched .
“What the fuck? You can’t just sneak up on me like that! I’m fucking fragile , you dumbass demon goblin thing.” Jisung cracked open an eyelid, glaring at the demon who just looked vaguely amused at how startled he’d been.
“Too bad, princess,” Minho grinned, tugging at the sleeve of Jisung’s shirt, “I'm bored. Let’s do something.”
“I’m too young to go to jail, Minho.”
“Lame. That's not what I meant, anyway. Come on .”
“Where? I’m tired. My bones are aching. You should just leave me here to despair,” Jisung all-but-whined, hitting the hand gripping his sleeve insistently.
“You’ve been wallowing in despair for, like, a whole two weeks. It’s boring. And weird!” Minho retorted.
Jisung barely had time to process the fact that Minho had noticed before he was going off on another tangent.
“...it’s like all the life has been sucked out of you! I know it hasn’t, because I’ve actually seen that happen and it’s infinitely worse, but still . Moody Jisung isn’t fun and it’s worrying m— Hyunjin. Yeah. Anyway, can we just go somewhere?”
Jisung blinked. Minho’s face was sorta obscured since Jisung’s hair was a little too long, but he could see the other’s pout through the messy blond strands. There was a hint of pink dusted across his cheeks, too. Had he borrowed someone’s makeup? Jisung pushed his bangs to the side to get a clearer view, but the flush on Minho’s cheeks was gone. weird.
“Can I actually stop you? Like, being real here.”
“Yeah. I'm a demon, not a complete monster. If you wanna stay, we can stay. I just get the feeling that’s not what you want.”
Jisung’s mouth had barely formed the word ‘yes’ before they vanished into thin air.
“That was hell . Actual, literal, genuine hell. I’m gonna be sick. What the fuck? No, like, what the fuck ? Holy fucking shit. I might faint. Or just die on the spot.”
“Don’t throw up on me. You’re such a baby ; I didn’t even teleport us that far.” Minho sighed. His hands were shoved carelessly in his pockets and he hopped back a few steps.
The hand in front of Jisung’s mouth slowly lowered, brown eyes narrowed in accusation.
“You teleported us?” he demanded, “when I asked you to teleport me to a lecture, you said it could kill me!”
Jisung was stressed! He’d been late for the fifth time that month because of Minho’s insistence that a normal human just couldn’t handle teleportation and, well, Jisung wasn’t going to debate that, was he?
“Oh, yeah. Ha. Nahhh, I was just too lazy. Anyway, what movie do you want to watch?”
Someday, Jisung would not be rendered speechless by Minho’s everyday behaviour. Today was not that day, however. At his silence, Minho just rolled his eyes.
“We’re… at the cinema…” Jisung managed to observe, “you took me to the cinema.”
(He could practically feel Minho’s exasperation).
“I did! what a genius we have here!” Minho declared, “if you don’t pick a movie, we’re watching Annabelle and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Fuck you, dude. what about Spiderman ?”
Minho pouted, obviously put-out by the immediate refusal of his idea. Maybe it was like Jisung had just insulted Minho’s distant cousin, or something. He immediately dismissed that idea. Horror movies weren’t real. Ghosts weren’t real. Demons… shouldn’t be real.
He glanced over at Minho.
Was there a rule about cute demons?
“Hey, he reminds me of you,” Minho whispered, gesturing wildly at Peter Parker making a fool of himself, “like, a lot.”
“Was that an insult or a compliment?”
Minho’s shrug wasn’t exactly reassuring. Jisung just took it as a compliment — Peter was cute, and he was a cool superhero! Plus, Tony Stark had liked him, so that was a bonus. Sure, peter was also a walking disaster, but wasn’t everyone? So, you know, it was a win for Jisung. Nice. #Jisung1stwin. Okay, he should probably focus on the film.
Except, um, it was really difficult to do that.
The light danced across Minho’s face, highlighting every sharp angle. He looked regal , sitting in a shitty cinema chair like a fucking king. Or a prince. His angular jaw was only emphasised by the dark shadows creeping over him as the scene changed. Everything about Minho was clean cut, borderline intimidating, but Jisung thought about sweater paws and fake freckles and bubblegum pop at 5am and suddenly Minho seemed a lot less untouchable.
A satisfied hum crept out of Jisung’s lips as he turned back to watch the screen.
“I have a hypothetical for you.”
Woojin side-eyed Jisung with an understandable amount of wariness, given that the boy was prone to disasters and other miscellaneous incidents of questionable nature.
“… go on,” Woojin finally signed out, dragging out the vowel sounds.
“Okay, so, like, I have a friend. Said friend summoned a demon and is now living with said demon (who is, according to this friend, a terrible roommate),” Jisung gushed, “but, the demon is really cute and my friend kinda has a crush on it. him. a crush on him. and, like, whatever, the thing is… the demon kinda needs my— my friend’s soul to go back to hell.”
Woojin stared at Jisung.
And stared some more.
and kept on staring until Jisung was a fidgeting mess on Woojin's chair, before walking out.
“ Hey !” Jisung wailed, “Woojin! Come back! I need your help! …for my friend. My friend needs your help!”
Woojin re-emerged some time later, much to Jisung’s relief. He didn’t look angry, per se, just incredibly tired. Fair enough. Jisung usually went to Woojin when he had a problem. Jisung had a lot of problems. Poor woojin.
“Well,” Woojin began, with the careful tone used by people who actually thought before they spoke, “has your friend told the demon that they feel like… this? If not, they probably should. Your friend should also avoid summoning demons from now on, because I'm pretty sure it breaks a rule or ten. Lastly, your friend needs to read the terms and conditions more often.”
“Boring.”
He’d gone to Woojin. And Hyunjin. And Jeongin. And Seungmin. And Changbin. He had considered going to Chris, but he was probably doing important shit and Jisung was annoying but not that annoying. He couldn't go to Felix, because Felix was in Australia.
All in all, the only person he could talk to now was Minho.
Jisung snuck a glance at the demon playing with a little laser light on the other bed and snickered quietly to himself. How could he even approach a topic like this? At this point, they were just… pretty good friends. not much too it, honestly. There was no way someone like Minho would actually view Jisung as being more than a vaguely entertaining pet.
“How old are you?” He asked, abrupt as ever. Minho barely batted an eyelid at the spontaneous question, merely switching the mini laser off.
“Like, twenty-two? Yeah, twenty-two.”
“ Seriously ?” Jisung screeched, spinning to gape at Minho’s unimpressed face.
“Uh, why the fuck would I lie?” Minho retaliated, crossing his arms as if Jisung’s disbelief was a personal attack. It kinda was.
“You’re, like, the prince of hell and shit! Aren’t you centuries old?”
“Okay, first of all, bitch, I was an accident.”
The absurdity startled a laugh from Jisung. In literally no time at all, he was in hysterics. Minho, the fuckin’ demon prince, was two years older than him . Minho chucked a pillow at his head. Maybe Jisung should’ve guessed that Minho wasn’t as old as he could potentially be.
“Um, is now a good time to ask about the contract…?” Jisung tried, hating the awkward phrasing, the even more awkward tone. There was no real easy way to ask something like that, was there?
Minho paused, laser falling to the floor with an obnoxious clatter. He was unreadable, face guarded and posture undeniably cautious. Jisung had fucked this up so badly, he could just tell. Jesus fucking christ.
“Uh, thing is,” Minho managed to get out, “I don’t… actually need your soul, or anything. Only the ruler of hell can do all that type of stuff.”
What the fuck .
Two hours later found the two boys sprawled across the floor, both wearing equally bemused and disbelieving expressions. Well, no. That was a lie. Only one of them was in bemused disbelief. Three guesses as to who.
“The whole thing was bullshit?” Jisung asked, for the fiftieth time, “you never needed my soul? There was never a proper, binding contract?”
“Mmm,” Minho nodded, appropriately sheepish, “There would have been, but… you cried. Tears got into the blood. Doesn’t make it valid.”
Jisung made a little distressed noise, a cross between an ‘ ummmm ’ and a ‘ waaaahhh’ . the resulting sound was something a little too anime girl-esque to be normal. He wasn’t proud.
“You just stuck around and made me freak the fuck out for nothing?”
“Yeah.”
“You just kicked out my roommate for no reason.”
“Yeah.”
“What the fuck, Minho?”
“Yeah.”
Jisung flailed. He liked to think his reaction was completely reasonable — this was something he’d been stressing over for weeks — but he should probably be more relieved than exasperated. That said, Minho had just let him stress over this for ages. That was so fucking unfair. It was also so fucking typical.
The room was silent for a record amount of time (i.e. ten minutes) before Jisung mumbled out a, “I hate you. so much.”
“Yeah.”
Day four (three and a quarter, actually) of not talking to Minho was going horrendously, because Jisung’s stupid crush wasn’t going anywhere and Minho was just… hard to ignore. The demon had taken to 1) poking Jisung nonstop for hours or 2) repeating ‘Sung, Sung, Sungie ’ in a deadpan voice for the same amount of time. Jisung was losing his fucking mind. He could, by all accounts, just kick Minho out and tell him to fuck off to hell again, but he would feel bad. Hell seemed kinda shit… which was probably the point , but Minho seemed to be having fun on earth!
Why did he even care about Minho having fun? Minho had straight up lied to him and made him— made him freak the fuck out over a soul-consuming contract that never existed!
… oh. Hold on.
“Has the penny dropped yet?” Hyunjin whined from his perch on the sofa. He was clutching at a bottle of strangely fluorescent nail polish, scrutinising his handiwork on his toenails with narrowed eyes.
“What penny?” Jisung grumbled, puffing out his cheeks in a petulant huff.
“You mean you’ve been thinking — or whatever your version of thinking is — for, like, ten minutes and you still haven’t figured it out?”
Was he supposed to be figuring out something? Was this on the agenda? Was there ever an agenda? Could he drink the nail polish on the table?
“Jisung,” Hyunjin sighed, a drawn-out sound which changed pitch as he added another layer of polish, “you are a genius. A musical mastermind. Yet, you are the biggest idiot I know. I love how you have layers like that. You’re basically shrek.”
“ What are you even saying .”
Jisung knows he’s absolutely screwed when Hyunjin sets the nail polish aside, clapping his hands once with an ominous grin painted across his face.
“So… Minho…” Jisung tried, making a brave attempt at a smile. It must have been worse than he thought, because Minho looked like he was about to call an ambulance. “I was talking to Hyunjin earlier!”
“Yes? I know? You screamed at me to slide your key under the door so you wouldn’t get locked out? Which, may I add, was rude, because I would have definitely let you in despite your terrible memory.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.”
“You’re so right! Continue.”
Jisung stood there, hands on his hips. Minho also stood there, hands in his pockets because this clearly wasn’t a serious situation for him. Jisung dropped his hands.
“No. Moment’s gone. Catch you later.”
“Minho! Right! I need to talk to you!”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“Well— hey, is that my leftover Chinese?”
“Talk later, Jisung!”
“ Minho .”
“Minho, it’s kinda important that I talk to you now—”
“Cool. Talk, then.”
“Uh… it’s about Hyunjin.”
“Fuck, I was meant to give him back his makeup brushes. can this wait for a moment?”
Jisung was ninety percent sure he wouldn’t manage to hold a full conversation with Minho until after he’d graduated, at this rate. It was so fucking annoying, because he totally knew what he wanted to say, for once. He just couldn’t find the right time. Or place. Or anything. It was like Minho knew exactly what type of conversation Jisung wanted to have and was avoiding it entirely. Oh. Maybe…? Oh .
“Don’t do that,” Minho groaned from across the room.
“Hello? I breathed?”
“No, the deflated thing. Stop it. You’re like a limp dick.”
That's one way to phrase it. Jisung hadn’t really been physically compared to a dick before, but he’d been called an asshole a couple of times. None of this is helpful. Jesus christ.
“I hate that, actually. Never compare me to that again.”
“Don’t act like one then.”
“Whatever.”
Minho sat up, eyes narrowed like he was locking in on a target. The target, in this case, being Jisung. Jisung was mildly concerned for his own wellbeing. A jacket slid off the back of a chair and fell to the ground with an ominous thump. Mood.
“No, really, what the hell is up with you? Why are you being… why are you the way that you are?” Minho snapped, arms crossed. It was definitely a bad time to compare him to an angry kitten, no matter how accurate the term may be.
“ Excuse me ?”
“You’re acting weird. Is it because I lied to you about the contract? I already apologised for that, and I meant it, which was overkill, if you ask me.”
Jisung flung his pillow at Minho’s face. This was a good thing, because it actually hit the demon. It was also a bad thing, because now Jisung had nothing to hide behind. They lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence. Jisung would almost say they were vibing, except they absolutely were not.
“Hyunjin thinks you have a crush on me.”
“Okay? And? Hyunjin’s right.”
“Hyunjin is what .”
Felix stared blankly at Jisung’s hand, which was resting innocently atop the table. Jisung didn’t get it. What was the big deal? Maybe it was because it was intertwined with Minho’s, but that shouldn’t have been that surprising.
“I go to Australia for a couple and suddenly Jisung has a demon for a boyfriend,” Felix exclaimed, “guys! Why are you like this?”
Oh, okay, fair. Jisung reckoned he’d have a similar reaction. Maybe. Most likely not, since he hadn’t freaked out over Minho liking him as much as he had over the fact that Minho would have gone forever without saying anything if Jisung hadn’t confronted him about it. Annoying ass motherfucker.
“How did this,” here, Felix paused to wave vaguely at the joined hands (or at Minho in general, who has half-asleep on Jisung’s shoulder), “even happen? Jisung, bro…”
“I felt impulsive. Impulsive and bored—”