Archive of Our Own

The bus was late.

Minho hated being late, he hated crowded spaces and he hated job interviews. And yet here he was, in a cramped bus on his way to a job interview at a place he was sure he would absolutely despise. 

The bus ride was slow, or at least so it seemed like for Minho, who couldn’t tear his eyes from his wristwatch. He followed the long, thin, second hand with his eyes, and gulped as two minutes passed from 8:30. He sighed as he got off the bus, his watch told him it was 8:35. He quickly made his way to the company.

In his mind, he asked himself all the possible questions the interviewer could ask him. He answered them, too. Planning is the best way for things to go your way, his father used to tell him. And so as Minho walked, he asked himself those boring, repeating questions everyone asked him: ‘what can you bring to the company?’ ‘why do you want to work with us?’ ‘why should we hire you?’.

Minho took a deep breath and stepped into the big, glass-covered building. The receptionist guided him to floor 19, where the interviewer would take place. He cursed to himself as the elevator took its sweet time to get to the interview he was already fucking late to. 

He cursed, barely louder than a whisper this time, as he saw a very familiar face waiting for him by the elevator. The face scoffed when it saw him. It looked too distant, too changed, too serious, for Minho to be able to attach that familiar face to a familiar body and a familiar name. The man looked at him for a fraction of a second and then turned around. 

“This way, please,” he told him. A shiver ran through Minho’s spine as the cold voice guided him into a conference room. 

He walked behind the man, ignoring the pang at his heart, and the fact that his mind was dangerously close to going into a trip to memory lane, which was never a good idea.

The conference room was a big, white room, with a gigantic mahogany desk right in the middle, and chairs all around it. Two men wearing suits were waiting for him, sitting down. He bowed at them and took a seat. 

The interview went smoothly, as Minho had expected. The first thing he said, which was not as planned as the rest of the words he let out, was how sorry he was for being 8 minutes late, and assured them that it wouldn’t ever happen again. The men seemed to accept the apology and began with the interview. 26 minutes later, Minho was walking out of the conference room with the promise of ‘we will get in contact with you soon’ still ringing in his ears. 

Minho guided himself to the elevator, there was no way he could take another cold look from that man. He walked out of the building, sighing as the cool, autumn air washed over him. 

Three business days later, Minho received a call saying that he had gotten the job. He should have been happy. And he would have been if it wasn’t for a certain someone that would be in the same building as him. He thanked the caller and hung up. 

Things shouldn’t be awkward. They hadn’t made it awkward when they broke up, so nothing should be awkward now, two years later. It’s not awkward, it’s painful, his mind supplied. 

Nevertheless, Minho walked into the building again on Monday morning at exactly 7:47. The receptionist told him to go to floor 21, where the human resources office was placed, and then to floor 19. He was starting to hate that number. 

The elevator was cramped. Apparently, a lot of people thought that 7:47 was a great time to arrive at the office. Minho couldn’t blame them, he thought so too. The ride was uncomfortable, so Minho was relieved when the robot-like voice of the elevator announced they were on floor 21. He got off.

In front of the elevator doors, there was a white desk and a woman sat behind it. She smiled at him and pointed him in the direction of the room he was supposed to walk in. The meeting with HR was rather quick, and Minho left with a new email account and a copy of his contract.

When he walked into floor 19, the same man was waiting for him by the elevator.

“That’s your desk,” the voice said, colder than last time as if he was pissed that Minho had gotten the job. Minho was kind of angry about it too. He pointed at a vacant desk and walked away, sitting at another desk nearby.

Minho sat on the stiff office chair. Soon after, one of the men that had interviewed him walked in. He waved at Minho when he saw him. 

The morning passed torturously slow. Minho had gotten some assignments to do (he had gotten rather excited to use his new email account for the first time, but after the third email, the spark was gone). After he was finished, he dedicated his time to stare at the man’s back. It had gotten broader, maybe he had started exercising again. Either way, the suit hugged his back in a very flattering way, and Minho was not happy he had noticed that. 

He was very sure he had gotten over him. Two years had passed, for fuck’s sake. The relationship hadn’t been a walk in the park either, so it made no sense in Minho’s mind that he was feeling like this after seeing Han Jisung once again, after all those years. 

He had met Han Jisung at a party. He wasn’t very keen on partying, not because he didn’t enjoy the moving bodies and the implicit sexual energy that surrounded everyone. He wasn’t keen on partying because he did not want his parents to scold him. But after his roommate gave him a big talk about how parties are the best things in college and told him that he was missing out, Minho accepted the invitation. 

Surrounded by drunken bodies and disco lights, he had met Han Jisung. He had been dancing for quite some time, and Minho had been eyeing him for quite some time, too. Once he had gotten the courage to go and talk to him, things had escalated pretty quickly. And the next morning Minho had woken in a bed that was not his, with the naked body of Han Jisung laying next to him. 

He had spent a few minutes pondering whether or not he should wake the boy up. But he had decided against it because it was a Sunday morning and nobody wanted to be awakened by their one night stand on a Sunday morning. So Minho put his tight jeans and black shirt back on and left. 

The two boys found each other again and again, turns out, they had friends in common. They got along well, they were majoring in the same thing and their personalities complimented each other. It had been easy, dating Han Jisung had been effortless, almost natural. 

He was brought back to the present when he noticed a lot of people standing up, grabbing their jackets. He looked at the time, 13:02, lunchtime. 

Minho left the building and sat by a bench nearby to eat his neatly packed lunch, accompanied by the wind and a sea of people walking around. He told himself that if he was going to work with Han Jisung, he couldn’t let himself slip up as he had done earlier. No more reminiscing, no more thinking about him in any way that wasn’t strictly professional. 

For a few months, Minho was able to do just that. He ignored the cold stares from the boy whose hair color would still change frequently. He pushed away his thoughts and bit the inner part of his cheek whenever he caught himself lost in the sight of Jisung’s back. 

That was, of course, until his boss had the great idea of a meeting. Apparently, there were some things he needed to discuss with the entire team. Minho pictured himself throwing darts at his boss’ face, but still replied to the email confirming his assistance (not like he had any other choice). 

He sat at the very seat he had sat at his interview, and everyone spread around the chairs. Han Jisung was the last to walk into the room, and because the universe just adored Minho, the only seat available was the one at his left. 

Minho had a good relationship with his coworkers, even with his boss. He was naturally a friendly, charming person, and people liked him. But they weren’t dumb, so no matter how small the pause Minho did when Jisung sat next to him, they noticed. Johnny, an intimidatingly tall but very kind guy, looked at him with a raised eyebrow that Minho chose to ignore. 

The meeting went rather smoothly, except for the fact that Jisung refused to look at Minho when he spoke and decided that his fingernails were much more interesting than whatever Minho had to say. Minho ignored the pain in his chest and continued talking. Han Jisung didn’t spare him a single glance that morning, and Minho had to pretend he was perfectly fine with being ignored. His coworkers noticed that, too.

When they left the conference room, Johnny pulled him aside and asked:

“Hey, is everything okay between you and Jisung?”

“Well, yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it?” he said, it sounded too much like a lie, but it actually wasn’t. They had broken up on mutual agreements and had remained civil afterwards.

“You suck at lying,” Johnny laughed.

“It’s not a lie, we’re good, I promise.”

Johnny stopped for a moment and then said, “Do you wanna have lunch with us? I always notice that you go out to eat, but you bring your own lunch so I assume you’re eating alone?”

Minho nodded, a wave of embarrassment rushed through him and suddenly his ears were red.

“Yeah, I would like that,” he said with a smile.

When the clock struck 13, Johnny was already standing before Minho’s desk, behind him a group of people that were already talking to each other. He smiled at the tall guy—seriously why was he so tall? What did his parents feed him?— and stood up from his stiff office chair, with his lunch box in his hand. 

They walked to the building’s cafeteria. It was big and packed with people, large menu boards were hung from the walls, and a huge counter was placed upon one of the walls, three workers stood behind it, giving other people their orders and accepting their money. Johnny sat down at a large, brown table, and Minho followed suit. 

Lunch was fun. Dahyun, a young intern that everybody loved, made him laugh so hard he teared up. At his right, a guy named Bangchan, that Johnny called Chris for some reason, would sometimes look at him with a worried expression. Minho looked at him with a questioning expression and Bangchan’s ears turned beet red. 

They chatted about work, and gossiped about the couples of the office, apparently, Johnny was dating some dude from the 17th floor named Jaehyun— Johnny smiled brightly at the mention of his boyfriend’s name and took his phone out of his pocket to show Minho a picture of them together. Minho’s heart ached, he and Han Jisung had taken similar photos—. Before Minho could realise where the conversation was going, and before he could stop it, Dahyun asked:

“Minho, were you and Jisung a thing?” 

Minho hesitated, he didn’t want to tell them, scared that the rumor would go around and reach Jisung’s ears. He didn’t want Han Jisung to hate him even more. So he finished swallowing his noodles, wiped his mouth and said.

“No, what makes you think that?”

Dahyun laughed, “You guys don’t even look at each other, and you always have this painful expression when he ignores you.”

Minho let out a small “Ah,” and after a second he added “I just don’t know him, but he doesn’t seem to be very fond of me.”

He wasn’t very into lying, but this was for a better cause. He had only been working there for a few months, so he didn’t want rumors to be spread, and he definitely did not want to put up with an angry Jisung. He had already seen him like that, and it hadn’t been pretty.

Han Jisung had gotten home later than usual. Minho wasn't home as he usually was and dinner was nowhere near ready. It's not like Jisung expected Minho to wait for him with dinner ready and the house clean, he wasn't like that. He had had a very tiring day.

His thesis had to be rewritten because he hadn't answered the research question and he only had three days to finish everything up and hand it in. Jisung was beyond stressed and the only thing he needed was to be comforted by his boyfriend and tasty dinner.

So when Minho came home that night, an hour and a half after Jisung did, his boyfriend was very moody. He had stood there trying not to get angry as Jisung cussed and yelled at him for being so late and not bringing dinner.

But Minho wasn't one to let others walk all over him, and so after Jisung was done ranting he fought back. He told him how he wasn't his maid and that he was a grown man and could perfectly make himself dinner once in a while. He told him how tiring it was to have to put up with his temper tantrums and how sometimes it felt like he was dating a two year old. 

Jisung had thrown shit around that night. Minho had stood there, not moving a single inch of his body as he watched his boyfriend throw the empty fruit bowl that rested on the dinner table and Minho's favorite mug to the floor. He had stood there letting Jisung scream at him and tell him how awful of a boyfriend he was, and how he hated him

After Jisung had been done being a baby, Minho had left. That was the first night they slept in different places since they had started dating. They didn't speak to each other for three days. Whenever Minho saw Han Jisung's face around campus, he'd turn around and ignore the younger calling for him. Only after Jisung called him to meet up and talk about it, did he acknowledge his existence. 

Johnny cracking up at a joke someone had made pulled him away from his memories. He had promised himself he wouldn't think about Han Jisung and he had broken his own trust. He stopped himself before he got too self critical, telling himself that it could happen to anyone. It wasn't his fault that Jisung was brought up. He would have to be more careful in the future. 

¿♡?

Minho had been hanging out with Johnny and his friends quite often. He had met Jaehyun, who had shocked him. Honestly, who was that good looking naturally? His mind provided him with a name Minho chose to ignore. 

As time progressed, Minho had gotten more extroverted and he would even join his colleagues for a drink on Wednesdays. They had this stupid tradition of getting drunk on Wednesdays and going to work with hangovers. Dahyun had told him once that they bonded over their shared headaches.

One Wednesday night, Minho met someone. He had been drinking for a little bit, letting himself drown in the bitter taste of whiskey, when he felt a light tap on his right shoulder. He turned that direction and he was met with one of the prettiest men he had ever seen. Why did he keep meeting gorgeous men? The universe worked in mysterious ways.

"Can I buy you a drink?" the guy asked. He had long, blonde hair and plush lips that complimented his very perfect looking face extremely well. Minho downed his glass and nodded. The guy laughed, "my name is Hyunjin. You must be Minho."

"How do you know my name?" Minho asked after Hyunjin handed the bartender money to pay for their drinks.

"You're that guy from finances, aren't you? Everyone knows you, you're the only person Jisung doesn't like," Hyunjin explained, and laughed. As if the fact that Jisung didn't like him was funny somehow. Minho forced a laugh.

They chatted for a while. Sometimes Minho would catch Hyunjin's eyes focused on his lips as he talked. Sometimes, he'd get lost in his desire to kiss the younger. He talked a little too much for Minho's taste, his mind was kind enough to remind him that he had dated Han Jisung. 

Minho kissed Hyunjin.

He kissed Hyunjin until his lungs were begging for air. And then he kissed him some more. He kissed him in the backseat of a dirty cab, on the way to Hyunjin's apartment and he kissed him in the elevator. He kissed him as he laid him down in his bed and he kissed him as he took his clothes off.

The next morning Minho woke up to an unfamiliar body clinging to his, and pins and needles in his head. He had to borrow a shirt from Hyunjin, as his was plagued with the pleasant but too recognizable scent of sex and alcohol. The collar didn't cover the hickeys adorning his neck, and he didn't do anything to hide them either. 

Han Jisung looked at his neck and then gave him a disgusted look. Minho ignored him and the pain at his heart and the weird feeling at the pit of his stomach. Johnny raised both his eyebrows and smirked, Minho gave him a shy smile in return.

Before he knew it, Minho found himself waking up in Hyunjin's bed every Wednesday. And every Thursday he'd borrow a shirt from him and conceal his hickeys with concealer, or scarfs. 

That is, of course, until one Thursday morning Han Jisung cornered him in the bathroom.

"Are you fucking Hwang Hyunjin?" 

"Good morning to you too. I'm great, thanks for asking."

"Of course you're great,  you've been fucking him all this time, haven't you?" Han Jisung spat out the words as though Minho had been doing some terrible sin.

"Well, if you must know, then yes. I have been hooking up with him. However, I don't see how any of that concerns you, Han Jisung. We're not dating anymore and you're not dating him, either" Minho said, his voice getting colder than his usual soft, warm one.

Han Jisung released the grip he had on Minho's suit and left him. 

"You wrinkled my suit, Han Jisung," Minho said before he left. Through the door, he heard him scoff.

He didn't stop hooking up with Hwang Hyunjin after the bathroom incident, instead he only started doing it more often. At first, he told himself he was just doing it to piss Han Jisung off. But in reality, he didn't have enough fucks to give about whether or not Jisung got mad at him. Truthfully, Hyunjin was great, he was a great kisser and he was great at listening too, so Minho found himself whispering little truths about himself when the lights were off and they were about to fall asleep. 

Hyunjin soon became his confidant. He never felt like the younger boy was judging him. Even when he told him about his weird obsession with candles and even after he told him he found tea disgusting. Hyunjin was very nice to him, and he gave Minho a safe space to discuss his thoughts and feelings. 

He worked a floor below Minho, in the marketing department, which Minho teased him a lot about.

"Marketing is boring," he had told him once.

"Hyung, you work in finances. Tell me, who in their right minds would do that, willingly?"

They would often tease each other about various stuff, like the fact that Hyunjin was incredibly ticklish and couldn't sleep if he wasn't hugging someone or something. Or the fact that Minho walked to the kitchen with his eyes closed and didn't fully open them until his coffee cup had been emptied in his vocal cavity. 

They agreed to stop hooking up after a while, when the friendship had gotten too deep, because Hyunjin didn't like feelings and he knew damn well that Minho loved someone else (even though his friend would never admit that). Despite that, the boys were often found together, Minho slept over at Hyunjin's a lot, and Hyunjin would get Minho coffee every morning. 

Johnny had teased them, at first, about how close knit they were and how they looked like they were dating. But he soon stopped as he realized that Minho had stopped arriving with hickeys covering his neck. Their friends were nice. Hyunjin was accepted into their little group just as fast as Minho had been. 

Soon enough, Hyunjin was sitting with them at lunch and hanging out at the bar on Wednesdays and smiling at Johnny whenever he gushed about his perfect boyfriend who he had just adopted a puppy with. 

Minho didn't have to tell himself not to stare at Jisung's back, because his late night talks with Hyunjin were still very present in his mind.

"Why did you guys break up?" Hyunjin asked one night, mouth half filled with the pizza they were having for dinner.

"A lot of reasons. We weren't ready, I think. That's probably it, we were too young and I was beginning to forget that I'm supposed to put my own wellbeing first," Minho explained briefly and then stuffed his mouth with pizza, a silent way to let Hyunjin know he wasn't going to share any more.

They weren’t ready, it wasn’t the right time. He knew that, he was sure of it. How could they be ready for a steady, healthy relationship at the tender age of 20? He didn’t know of anyone who married someone they started dating at twenty. 

Lee Minho needed time to grow. Like a plant, he needed to be watered, he needed to be out in the sun. He had a lot of issues at the time, that caused him to frequently push the ones he loved the most away, and who could date someone that’s too scared to say ‘I love you’? Han Jisung needed time to grow too, Minho knew he hadn’t been the only one at fault. Han Jisung needed to let go of his toxic beliefs, and most importantly he needed to let himself be free. 

Minho understood, of course he did. Jisung had just left his parents’ house and having lived in such a toxic environment for so long had left him with a lot of issues. And Minho, he had been patient at first. He had told himself that Jisung would just change, that he would grow out of it. But then, he realised that waiting for Jisung to grow up was hurting him, and that’s when he knew he had to put himself first, and so he broke up with Han Jisung.

Breaking up with Han Jisung hadn’t been easy for various reasons. First and foremost, because Minho really did love him. He cherished every single moment with him and he truly envisioned himself growing up next to him. Secondly, because Han Jisung didn’t make it easy. He cried and begged for Minho to stay, promising that he would do better, he would be better for Minho. It broke his heart, having to explain to the boy he loved the most that he had to do better for himself, because not only was he hurting Minho, he was also hurting himself.

And so, on a cold rainy night, Minho moved away. He made his way to his new apartment remembering how the tears just wouldn't stop falling from his eyes as he browsed for it, and how he signed the contract with shaky hands and lifeless eyes. He made his way to his new apartment with his lip trembling as the moving truck moved across the city. 

It was a small flat, on the 3rd floor. It had beige floors and beige kitchen cabinets and a beige closet. Minho started hating that color. He spent that night unpacking, because he knew that the second he stopped doing things, he would start thinking things, things like the fact that he had just broken up with the boy who was most likely, the love of his life.

For a while, Minho was very lonely. He hated that the apartment was so goddamn beige and the walls were so empty and his bed was so cold. He hated mornings without Jisung’s warm arms wrapped around his waist while they showered. He hated evenings because he would come home to an empty couch and he would have dinner with the company of the TV turned on a little too loudly. 

So Minho adopted a cat. And soon after he adopted another one. Soonie and Doongie filled his house and they filled Minho’s empty, broken heart. He spent the cold nights cuddling with them, falling asleep to their soft purring. His cats gave him comfort. Sometimes, they’d sit on top of him when his chest was filled with the unmistakable ache he felt whenever he was about to cry. They’d take turns to make sure he was alright, they’d knead his soft tummy until he petted them and then they’d sing to him with their purring voices. 

It got better, after a while. The emptiness was easier to deal with, and he made sure to fill it up with healthy activities. He got more engaged in his dance classes and started working out more. He began to volunteer at a cat shelter, which at first, had made Soonie and Doongie quite jealous, but they got over it in the end. 

Even though Minho had gotten amazingly good at handling the days, the nights were still painful. At first, the cats were enough, because he had just got them and the excitement concealed the fact that what he needed was the very human body of Han Jisung curled up against him. Once he got used to sleeping with Doongie on his chest and Soonie at his feet, sleep became an issue for Minho. So much so that he ended up having to visit a psychiatrist, after a particularly bad night where the emptiness of his apartment only allowed him half an hour of sleep. 

With the sleeping pills, Minho could at least fall asleep. He dreaded those minutes where his mind was still awake and his body was still relaxing, because being awake meant that he wasn’t hearing Jisung’s steady breathing next to him. And once the alarm rang, Minho would get up as if his bed was on fire. 

Minho liked to think he had made the right decision. He had thought about it a lot back when he did it. And even now, as he watched Jisung chat happily with Jeno, whose desk was next to Jisung’s, and whose eyes disappeared when he smiled. He liked to think the decision had been for the best, and that it was a sacrifice that needed to be taken. 

When Minho got home that evening, he texted Hyunjin that he wouldn’t hang out with him that day. And Hyunjin understood.

¿♡?

As Jisung’s birthday got dangerously closer and closer with each passing day, Minho decided that it would be wise to make use of his one week paid vacation. He thought that, maybe, he could visit his mother, but then he remembered she would be on that silent retreat she had signed up for. He thought of his cousins, but he needed peacefulness, and babysitting three teenagers was very far from peaceful. 

He ended up calling his grandmother. She was delighted to hear from him and assured him that there would always be a room waiting for him. So, that friday, Hyunjin walked him to the train station and told him he’d miss him. Minho chuckled, and assured him he’d survive. 

Visiting his grandmother always filled Minho’s chest with warmth. She had this smile, it was one of Minho’s favorite smiles in the entire world, it felt like taking off your jeans after a long day, or getting a massage for the first time in months. His grandmother’s smile felt like home and smelled like cinnamon rolls and rose scented candles. It was a welcoming smile, it showed Minho how much she cared about him, it told him that she was there, if he ever needed her. 

Minho’s grandma was better than any therapist. She wouldn’t push him to spill his heart out, she would just offer him tea and hold his hand in between her wrinkled ones, and Minho would feel so loved, so safe, that he would tell her everything. And so he did. 

“I see him everyday, Nana. Every single day I see him ignore my existence. I was hurt too, you know? He wasn’t the only one that suffered, why does he keep acting as if I’m some heartless fucker who just left him and moved on like it was nothing?” His grandma gave him another smile, this one wasn’t as warm. Instead, it was sad and soaked in pain. 

“Did I ever tell you about that one time me and your grandpa broke up?” she asked him. Minho blinked at her, he had no idea his grandparents hadn’t been together their entire lives. “We were very young back then, I was 17 and my mother was getting on  my nerves about marrying your grandfather. I didn’t like the idea of losing my youth at such an early age. So I broke up with him. If we weren’t dating, we couldn’t get married.”

Minho chuckled. 

“I know. I was very foolish. We were only apart for three weeks. But I think you’d understand if I tell you that those three weeks were the most painful I’ve ever lived. I felt so lonely all of the time, but I was too prideful to admit that I had made the wrong choice. Your grandpa knew this, of course. So, one day, three rocks knocked against the window to my balcony,” Minho and his grandma smiled, “when I came out he was holding a single pink rose in his hand. He gave me a beautiful speech on how much he missed me, and how he’d wait until I was ready to marry him, even if he had to wait forever. We got married that summer.”

“I didn’t know he was so romantic,” Minho smiled.

“He was a very kind soul, he had the biggest heart,” his grandma paused, and stared at the portrait of her husband that was hanging from the wall in front of them. “Do you want cookies? I can bake you some.”

Minho nodded. 

His grandma was great at comforting him. But he knew that he would never throw rocks at Han Jisung’s window and wait for him to come out, rose in hand, and speech eager to leave his throat. It was just the way things were, he wouldn’t get his happy ending with Jisung. 

Even though Minho had gone away to stop thinking about him, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking, imagining, making things up. Oh, how happy he would be if he ever got the chance to lift Jisung off his feet and feel his legs wrap around his waist, and his arms wrap around his neck. One more chance to kiss Jisung was all he asked. He hadn’t gotten a proper last kiss with him, one he could savor for days after their lips parted. 

He spent the entire week helping his grandmother in the garden and going out in walks around the small neighborhood. He got drunk on the fourteenth. His grandmother gave him a disappointed look, but helped him with his hungover nonetheless. Soon, his vacations were over and he was walking out of the train and into Hyunjin’s open arms. 

“I need to tell you this, before you hear it from someone else,” Hyunjin told him as they sat down on his couch. “It’s about Jisung.”

Minho looked at him, a worried look painting his face.

“It’s nothing bad,” he paused, “Well, he’s alright. More than alright, actually”

Minho knew where this was going, he could already feel the breathtaking ache in his chest. 

“He threw this big party the Sunday before his birthday. There was this boy there, Felix. They bonded over the fact that Felix’s birthday was the day after Jisung’s. They got along quite well. Last week’s gossip was about them. Apparently, they would meet at the bathrooms on the 15th floor, which have locks in them. Then they would come out looking, well, you know.”

Hyunjin shot Minho a worried look as he watched his friend’s face getting soaked with tears. He held him in his arms as Minho sobbed. 

Minho felt as though he was dying. He didn’t know why it was affecting him so much, he knew that Jisung had probably dated other people over the course of the past two years. Minho hadn’t been able to date other people, though. And it was stupid, he knew it. It was foolish and selfish and fucking idiotic to expect the same from Jisung. From Han Jisung of all people. Yet he couldn’t help but feel as though his chest was being ripped open, all of his ribs were being broken, and with the broken bones, someone was poking his lungs, and he couldn’t breathe anymore. His heart was being squished like a stress ball and he just couldn’t stop crying. Why was he crying so much?

He bawled in his friend’s chest until he had no more tears, and then some more. He tried to let himself be lulled to sleep by Hyunjin’s sweet voice whispering comforting words in his ear and petting his head. 

Minho woke up and it was dark. He wasn’t on the couch anymore, he was laying next to Hyunjin, who was hugging him, holding him close to his chest. He sighed and made himself comfortable, closing his eyes. 

As if Mondays weren’t already the worst days of the week already, Minho walked into his office to see a constellation of hickeys on Jisung’s neck. Jisung didn’t like hickeys, he thought to himself. Maybe he should sell his brain. He would get a lot of money he could use to buy a new one, one without the memories of Jisung’s squirming body under his, and Jisung’s moans in his ears, and Jisung’s messy hair surrounding him like a halo. Minho definitely needed a new brain. 

He was introduced to Felix, who apparently was Bangchan’s cousin, over lunch. He wanted to hate him, he really did. But the boy was just so sweet, with freckles over freckles over freckles decorating his beautiful face. He had baked everyone chocolate chip cookies, and had listened carefully to everyone’s opinion of them. And Minho wanted to say that they were awful. He wanted to spit them out. But Felix’s eyes were filled with shining hope and Minho had actually loved the cookies. 

“These are amazing! Are you sure you didn’t buy them?” Minho joked with a bright smile. A way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. 

Felix gave him a blinding smile and thanked him. He wasn’t Jisung’s type, he didn’t like to go after cutesy looking boys. He preferred mean looking, if they had a resting bitch face, it was even better. Minho used to tell him that he always went for guys that looked like they could step on his heart and smile afterwards. Jisung had agreed. So why was he going out with this guy who looked like an angel? 

A few weeks later, he ran into Felix at the gym— Minho was just signing up, Hyunjin had suggested that he could get back into shape, to distract his mind from Jisung— and when he saw the younger guy wipe his sweat off his forehead with his shirt, he understood. Jisung liked mean looking guys with abs. He didn’t think he had chosen to hook up with Felix after seeing his abdomen (seriously, what the fuck? He didn’t look like the type to be absolutely fucking ripped underneath the knitted sweaters and preppy boy style shirts). But it helped him to know that Jisung’s type hadn’t changed drastically over the years. He ignored his idiot brain when it provided a reason as to why he wished Jisung’s type hadn’t changed. 

The good thing about Jisung hooking up with Felix was that Minho had an actual reason to stop himself from staring at Jisung’s back, sadly, his neck was connected to his back and it was always some shade of purple. It was good to finally be able to focus his eyes on his keyboard instead of his ex lover’s figure. He got a lot more work done, his boss had noticed it, too. 

In the second week of October, the company threw a party to celebrate their 20th anniversary. Everyone was supposed to bring a date. Minho brought Hyunjin, Johnny brought Jaehyun, Dahyun brought a girl from sales called Sana. Jisung brought Felix. Minho decided that champagne would help him forget about how good Jisung looked. 

He had changed his hair, it was the most beautiful shade of blonde he had ever seen, and he was standing next to Hwang Hyunjin. And the suit, oh god, the suit. Minho hadn’t seen anyone look that good in a dark blue suit ever before. There was always a first time. So Minho drowned his second champagne glass and dragged Hyunjin to the dance floor. 

As if on cue, the music changed from an upbeat song from some western artist Minho couldn’t recognize, to a slow song. Minho placed his hands on Hyunjin’s waist and giggled as the younger confessed he didn’t know how to slow dance.

“I don’t know either,” he whispered in Hyunjin’s ear, his eyes were fixed on Jisung who was also slow dancing with Felix. He maintained his gaze fixed on him when Jisung met his eyes, and they only stopped staring into each other’s eyes from across the dance floor when Hyunjin made him twirl.

“Stop behaving like an angsty teenager, hyung,” Hyunjin whispered into his ear. Minho gave him a look. Hyunjin laughed at him “You know damn well I’m right. He’s taken, and for all he knows, so are you,”

Minho smiled, a mischievous look in his eyes. 

“Oh, no, you’re not dragging me back into your mess.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. It’s just an act.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and shrugged as if to say ‘don’t come crying to me when this backfires’. Minho knew he would hold him when it all backfired.

Minho placed his hands on Hyunjin’s face. The younger got the hint, and he turned them again, so Minho could see Jisung again. Smirking, Minho leaned in and pressed his lips against the younger’s.

It felt wrong, he knew what he was doing was wrong, his mind wouldn’t shut up about it, and soon enough, he was done with it. They parted and Minho whispered an apology into Hyunjin’s ear. The younger nodded, and he followed him outside.

The air inside the room was too heavy, Minho needed fresh air. He walked out and into the backyard. A fountain was placed right in the middle, surrounded by perfectly cut grass. He felt Hyunjin’s arms embracing him, and silent, treacherous tears roll down his face. 

“I don’t know why I did that,” Minho whispered. “I’m sorry for putting you in an uncomfortable position, you were right, I shouldn’t drag you into this.”

Hyunjin made him turn to look at him. He wiped the tears off of his face and kissed his forehead.

“I get it, hyung. You miss him, it hurts you to see him with Felix,” he paused, thinking of his words “but I’m not sure he…”

Minho cut him off with a sob. He didn’t want to hear it. 

He had been fine, after a while he had gotten better. He wouldn’t say he was entire over him, but he was better. He could walk by the places where they had had dates and his heart wouldn’t  ache as much. He was better. But was he really better if all it took for him to spiral back into a tornado of pain was seeing Jisung again? No, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t seeing Jisung. It was seeing that Jisung didn’t give a single fuck about him.  

¿♡?

One Friday evening, as Minho was sheltering himself from the heavy rain under the roof of the bus stop, he saw Jisung. Apparently, he hadn’t seen him, and only noticed who else was hiding by the bus stop once he was under the roof, finally safe from the rain. 

Jisung looked gorgeous, Minho had to admit. The pouring rain had soaked his hair which now fell onto his forehead messily. His clothes were all wet too. Minho took off his jacket and offered it to Jisung. The younger was about to refuse, but Minho stopped him:

“You’re literally shaking. Just pretend you don’t know me, and I’m some random stranger who’s giving you his jacket.” 

Jisung put on Minho’s jacket reluctantly and Minho’s heart did a dance as he realised how big it was on the younger. His hands were almost entirely covered by the sleeves and the jacket reached Jisung’s mid-thighs. Minho looked away. That’s what a stranger would do. He wouldn’t stare at Jisung’s wet face and watch as the water droplets ran by his lips and down his chin. He wouldn’t watch the wet cloth of Jisung’s suit pants hug his thighs the way that they did. He had to look away.

“How are things going on with Felix?” Minho asked. He instantly regretted it as he realised just how much jealousy was tinting his voice. 

“Fine,” Jisung spat out. “How are things with Hyunjin?”

“He’s a good friend.” Minho felt the need to clarify that, to let Jisung know that he was not seeing him. It was useless because Jisung wouldn’t care.

“I’m glad,” he paused, Minho looked at him again “So is Felix,” he added. Minho shouldn’t have felt relief but he did. He bit down a victorious smile, because he hadn’t won anything, and Jisung wasn’t a prize. “Which bus are you taking?”

“Line 300, and you?” 

Jisung nodded, as if to say ‘me, too’. Minho nodded and looked down. The sound of a lighter and the unpleasant smell of cigarettes stopped him from going too deep into thought. 

“You started smoking again?” Minho asked, concerned.

Jisung let out a sigh and offered Minho a drag. He took it. He shouldn’t have. There were a lot of things he shouldn’t do, like think about kissing Jisung, or watch the way his lips wrapped themselves around the cigarette, or think about how small Jisung looked in his jacket. To reward himself for not doing any of those things, he took a drag of the damn cigarette. 

Their bus arrived, and they got in quickly, not wanting to get wet again. They sat next to each other, because there weren’t any other seats available. Minho allowed himself to enjoy the side of Jisung’s warm leg touching his, and the way his scent wrapped itself around Minho, eating him alive. 

Minho’s stop got closer and he made Jisung take his jacket home. A part of him secretly wished Jisung would enjoy having Minho’s scent around him. The rational part of his brain told him he was delusional, and that he would get his jacket back on Monday. 

Except his rational mind hadn’t thought about what would happen to Minho without his jacket. So when Minho woke up the next morning with a fever, he couldn’t blame anyone but his emotional mind, that had forced Minho to give Jisung his stupid jacket. And when Minho had to call in sick Monday morning, his rational mind was proven wrong because Minho didn’t get his jacket back that day. Nor did he get it on Tuesday. In fact, he only got it back on Wednesday because Hyunjin had dropped it off by his house when he had gone to check in on him.

Thursday morning, Minho was back at the office. Jisung had found out he had gotten sick and he gave Minho an apologetic look that he quickly concealed. Minho had seen it, though. He told Jisung he had received the jacket and thanked him for washing it. Jisung shrugged and went back to work.

Bangchan scolded him affectionately, and recommended some soups that were great for colds. Minho thought that he didn't have a cold, he was just disgustingly not over Jisung and it was starting to show on physical levels. But he thanked his friend either way and ordered one of the soups from the cafeteria. 

Hyunjin’s scolding was worse. He had waited until the two of them had arrived at Minho’s apartment to finally let out the speech he had been holding in for days. 

“You are so stupid, Lee Minho.”

The older looked at him surprised.

“You heard me right. You are the dumbest person I have ever met. Why did you give him your jacket?” Minho wasn't given enough time to reply, because Hyunjin quickly added “I wouldn’t react this way if you had done that for a complete stranger. But you did it for someone you are not over. And for what? Were you hoping he was going to fall back in love with you? Because that would just add something else to the list of reasons why you’re a dumbass.”

Minho looked at his feet. 

“I’m not trying to be mean here, hyung. I hope you know that. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t always do things for people that they wouldn’t do for you.”

He liked to think that Jisung would do the same for him. But would he? Not this Han Jisung. Maybe the Jisung he knew two years ago would. This one? This Han Jisung wouldn’t even spare him a glance even if he was being brutally murdered right in front of his eyes. 

He hoped things would change between them so badly, that he started seeing things. Like Jisung giving him small smiles as a greeting whenever he walked into the office. Or Jisung staring at him from his lunch table. Or Jisung looking at him when he spoke at meetings. 

Minho was sure he had started to hallucinate. So he did what any normal human being would do: he ignored what was going on. He did so, until one morning his boss announced that they would start doing some data work in pairs, because everyone was too behind their schedules and things needed to be ready for the new year. And of course, because the universe just adores Lee Minho, he was paired with Han Jisung. Which, much to Minho’s torture, meant that Jisung moved desks, so that he would be sitting next to him. 

And then, Minho started imagining other things, like Jisung’s eyes tracing his lips whenever he spoke, or Jisung’s knee touching his, or Jisung’s hand ‘accidentally’ meeting his as they both reached to grab the pen that had fallen to the floor. 

As the days passed and New Year’s came dangerously close, Jisung started talking to Minho. At first, it was just ‘good morning’s and ‘goodbye’s , then it progressed into small talk as they filled the excel forms with uninteresting numbers, then into greeting each other with a cup of coffee. These not-so-subtle changes did not go unnoticed by their coworkers. 

New Years came before Minho knew it. They had handed in their work a week prior and the office’s focused, diligent mood, soon changed into an excited one. Everybody loved parties. And Minho was made very aware that he had, in fact, imagined it all, because not even two hours into the party, Han Jisung was making out with someone else. Minho turned to Johnny, who looked in Jisung’s direction and winced. 

“Doesn’t he look a little bit like you?” 

Minho looked at him, trying not to think about the fact that Jisung was probably nibbling on his ear, he really liked doing that. No, the guy didn’t look like Minho: his nose was different, and Minho’s face was rounder, softer. Also even though Minho was taller than Jisung, he wasn’t so much taller that the younger had to stand on the tip of his toes to kiss him. No, Minho was the perfect height to make out with Jisung.

“No, he doesn’t,” he answered. And to add emphasis, he shook his head while he did it. 

“He totally does. Jaehyunnie, don’t you think Juyeon looks like Minho?” he turned to his boyfriend, who nodded while taking a sip from his champagne glass. Minho rolled his eyes. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, it’s a good sign that he's making out with people that look like you!”

Minho thought of Felix, who had nothing in common with him, and ruled out that possibility. Either way, Jisung was going home with someone else tonight. 

One hour before New Years, Felix approached him. He was casual about it, but his moves seemed a little too planned. It made Minho uneasy. Why was he walking towards him? Why did he seem so nervous, so hesitant? 

“We need to talk,” Felix told him, as he grabbed his forearm and dragged into a more private area. He seemed to hesitate whether or not he should tell Minho what he was there to say. 

“Well?” Minho urged him, moving his arm away from his grasp.

“Do you wanna know why Jisung and I broke up? Why he gets broken up with every time he starts dating?” Minho raised his eyebrows “He moans your name.”

If Minho were drinking something, he would definitely would've choked on it. Thankfully, he wasn’t. He was starting to say something along the lines of ‘what the actual fuck are you talking about’, when Felix cut him off to continue talking.

“He talks about you a lot, you know? And at first it’s kind of endearing, how much he talks about how well you were to him, but after a few weeks it gets annoying. Who wants to be with a guy that doesn’t stop talking about his ex?” Minho nodded in agreement. “I’m not telling you this to boost your ego or something. But I am not blind and I see the way you look at him. Everyone sees it, you’re not good at hiding how hurt you are when he ignores your smiles. Maybe you should do something about it”

Felix patted his shoulder and went back to where he came from, leaving a dumbfounded Minho behind.

Minho thought that maybe, he should, indeed, do something about it. Something like going home early. 

¿♡?

The new year began with fireworks and Minho drunk off of cheap vodka. It was cherry flavored, and he winced when he realised it tasted just like Jisung’s chapstick. The memory of Jisung’s lips on his burned just as much as the vodka as it passed his throat. 

He fell asleep at some point between 2 and 3 am, and when he woke up he was wearing his pajamas and being cuddled by Hyunjin. He smiled at his friend and cuddled him closer, placing his leg on top of Hyunjin’s.

Since they had the day off, they decided to stay in, and watch movies as they cuddled. Hyunjin didn’t pressure Minho into talking, and Minho was thankful for that. They were a great pair, once they had eliminated all the sexual tension. They had the same sense of humor, and both enjoyed the same things, so being friends with each other came easily, like a second nature. 

Minho liked being Hyunjin’s friend. He was easy to talk to, easy to trust. Something about him made Minho want to tell him what was on his mind, he followed that instinct sometimes.

“Felix talked to me yesterday,” Minho began, unsure. 

“He did? What did he say?”

“He told me Jisung moans my name,” he blurted out, “and talks about me,” he finished.

Hyunjin let out a ‘woah’, Minho nodded. Woah, indeed. 

“What are you going to do about it?” Hyunjin asked him.

“I have no idea.”

So for a while, Minho did nothing about it. He pondered the matter. He went over his conversation so many times he could recite it by heart now. And still, he didn’t know what to do. Wasn’t maturing the whole point? Weren’t they very much not ready to be in a relationship? Then why were they being immature about this? 

Minho noticed that Jisung hadn’t moved back to his original desk. Every morning, for an entire week, he would come into the office internally hoping that Jisung hadn’t changed his mind and gone back to his desk. For an entire week, Minho was not disappointed to find out that it was not the case. 

Some time passed before Minho gathered the courage to talk to Jisung, to engage in a conversation with him, that is. Because they talked, it was small talk, sure, but it was something, and that's all that mattered. Even if they talked about the weather and lunch, they still talked. But when February was close, Minho told himself enough was enough, and he talked to Jisung. 

It wasn't anything big, he wasn't entirely ready for that yet. Instead, Minho and Jisung just talked. It was difficult to talk to each other, they knew about each other's families already and what they liked and disliked. So Minho told Jisung about his cats, and Jisung told Minho about his new found passion for music.

Not so newfound, Minho couldn't help but think. He knew the younger loved music, he was constantly singing, their shared apartment was always filled with joyous music. But Jisung told him about his new hobby of writing music. It wasn't anything big, but he enjoyed it. It made Minho smile.

The third week of February, they talked again. It was a planned meetup. They had decided to hang out at the old coffee shop they used to meet up when they were dating. It was almost a deliberate move on Minho's side. He wanted to talk about their time together. And they did.

They talked about the way they met, and how quickly they moved in together, and how things fell apart just as quick as they had started. It was funny, how short the relationship had been, but how much it had impacted their lives. 

"I miss you," Jisung said after a long silence. He took a sip of his latte, and looked away. Minho stared at him intensely. 

"I miss you too," Minho responded.

They talked about their growth. About Minho's volunteering in a cat shelter, about Jisung's visit to the therapist. 

"I'm trying to be better, you know? At first it was so that you'd come back to me. But then, I realized that that was why you had left. So I  started wanting to get better so that I wouldn't feel so shitty all the time," Jisung confessed, "And it's been working, it had been working. Then you came to the company."

Minho winced.

"Seeing your face again was a lot for me. I didn't know what to do, it had been so long. I wasn't used to seeing you. I had to get used to hearing your voice and feeling your presence near me, all over again. But it was worse this time, because I didn't know you as a stranger. The only Minho I had ever met was a lover."

"That's why you ignored me?"

"Mostly because of that. But also because I was mad at you. You looked so collected, so good. It pissed me off to know that you were okay, to imagine that you had moved on so quickly. And then you started seeing Hyunjin…"

"You were wrong," Minho couldn't help but say.

"Was I?"

"You were. I was okay, yes. But it took me a long time to be okay. And when I was met with your coldness. I hadn't seen you like that either, all I knew was happy, cheerful, cheesy Jisung. Not the asshole who stared at his fingernails while I spoke."

Jisung laughed bitterly.

"I thought you hated me. I really did."

"I could never hate you. I did, when you left me. But then I got over it," Jisung said.

They were silent for some time. Quietly enjoying their coffee and their cakes. It should've been awkward, but this wasn't a sneaky way of having a first date without neither of them recognizing it. This was just two old friends catching up. So they did exactly that.

They talked until the sun came down. At some point during their conversation, they got hungry again, so they ordered more food and kept on talking. 

When they left, Minho felt his hand ache to grab Jisung's as they walked next to each other. He didn't, but was pleasantly surprised when Jisung grabbed his hand. Neither of them said anything. 

They spent a few days catching up, getting used to each other again. They texted a bit, but not very often because Jisung wasn't a big fan of using his phone. 

The first week of March went away as quickly as it had come, and it took with it the cautious shyness that surrounded their interactions. Gone were the carefully planned words, Minho could feel how Jisung was getting more and more spontaneous with his words. Nothing pleased him more than to see Jisung acting freely around him. But just in case, he told himself not to think of old times.

He was able to maintain that request he made himself for quite sometime. But one Wednesday night somebody thought it would be nice to invite Felix to their hangout, and Felix brought Jisung along.

With a good amount of rum in his system it was easy to forget such promise. It was easy to forget that even though him and Jisung were close again, they weren't together anymore.

It was so easy to forget, that even Jisung forgot about it when Minho pressed him against a bathroom stall and kissed him.

They forgot as they got into a cab, and they forgot as Minho struggled to find his keys. They forgot as they made out in the elevator and they forgot as Jisung kissed Minho's neck. They forgot as Minho layed Jisung in his bed and kissed him senseless. 

They didn't remember until Thursday morning. When Minho woke up, it felt like deja vu, seeing Jisung's naked back on his bed. He was about to curse himself for being so weak and so reckless and so stupid, when Jisung turned around and looked at him.

"Good morning," he said in a low, sleepy voice.

"Morning Sungie."

He was about to apologize but Jisung smiled at him and rested his head on Minho's chest. They fell asleep again.

They had breakfast in Minho's kitchen. Minho had to stop himself from thinking anything because Jisung wearing nothing but his shirt was: a) truly a sight to see and b) very much like old times. Times he wasn't allowed to think about.

Minho was almost successful in his newest 'stop my brain from making me think things that make me sad' mission. Almost because there was a time in that morning, when Jisung had to leave and go back to his apartment to get some clean work clothes. Which would've been fine, really. If it wasn't for the fact that as Jisung was leaving, he turned around and placed his lips against Minho's softly.

Minho was on the moon the entire day, the hungover didn't matter, his sore muscles didn't bother him, the lights that were definitely too fucking bright, didn't bother him. Nothing could ruin his day, because Jisung had kissed him goodbye. 

They worked as if nothing had happened that day. But when it was time to go, Jisung approached him.

"I told Hyunjin you won't be going to his place tonight," he announced. 

"Why?"

"I was thinking that maybe we could go on a date," he said, but it sounded like a question. Minho nodded.

"I'd love that."

He extended his hand. Jisung took it. They went to a small restaurant that was just opening for the day, and sat in a table by the window.

They spoke about each other, how they felt and how it had been for them being apart. They spoke about their mistakes and how they were trying to change those negative attitudes. 

They had pasta, and they ate silently. All that Minho needed to know had already been spoken, and he knew Jisung wouldn't mind the silence now. 

In fact, they stayed in silence during their walk back home, too. They walked slowly, hand in hand. Minho stopped as they reached his place. 

"Wanna come in?" he offered. 

"I don't think we should be repeating last time's patterns so much," Jisung said.

"You're right," Minho paused and thought for a moment "Can I kiss you goodbye, then?" 

"Please do," he whispered.

So he did. He pressed his lips softly against Jisung's, almost carefully, as if Jisung would break if he was rougher, as if he could wake up and find out it had been a dream all along. 

But it wasn't, so Minho kissed Jisung and then watched as his silhouette turned smaller and smaller as he walked again.