Archive of Our Own

Chan was straight. It was something he was sure of since he figured out what love was when he was 7. He has had girlfriends, plenty of them for him to understand that he does in fact like girls. Not once has he looked at a guy and thought about kissing them or possibly having sex with them, not once.

But(because there always is one), that was before he met Minho.

Minho was in his geometry class, a transfer student from Gimpo. Chan didn't notice him too much, lost in his own thoughts and scribbling random little tidbits down in his notebook, which were not about trigonometry but were lyrics. All he heard was “new student” and “Lee Minho” but the rest was drowned out by the music he played in his headphones, an instrumental he made in the music production room.

Not that he would've missed out on much, just Minho giving the small “please take care of me” line with an almost bored expression. The only thing he did miss out on was the fact the teacher assigned Minho’s seat next to him.

Really though. Why?

The class was generally full but still had like 3 other seats empty, so why the one next to him. Sure, he was known to be friendly and cooperative to people who wanted his help, but still. The class president has a seat next to her. Chan felt a little targeted.

So when Minho pushed the chair beside him back, and sat himself down with a plop, Chan whipped his head towards him. There was a crack, startling both himself as he slapped his hand on the area where the crack was heard, on the back of his neck, and Minho, who snapped his eyes at him when he heard the loud, worrying sound.

And boy, was Chan blown away. The music in his ears were suddenly tuned out, muted even though they were still blaring. Minho, who still looked mildly concerned for Chan’s neck, was just so pretty. Even with his eyebrows knit together and lips downturned into a frown, Minho was just wow.

“You ok there?” Minho pointed to his own neck and it occurred to Chan that he was still rubbing the once aching area. Chan ripped his hand away and quickly put it in his lap.

“Yeah yeah. Fine!” He smiled, albeit a little nervously. Minho gave him a questioning look before turning his attention towards his bag to take out his things, a cute blue notebook with a character printed on it, a black lead pencil plus a cat pencil pouch he sat on his desk, so he could take notes on whatever the teacher was droning about.

Chan sat through the rest of geometry with his music off, his head too scattered to think of lyrics without exploding. He closed his song notebook and passed it to the side, looking at the board to try and catch up with what the teacher was talking about, but everything that came in, left as Lee Minho.

Thoughts of Minho swirled in his brain, just various flashes of his face popping up, all of his expressions varying in confusion because Chan’s first encounter with him was him worrying if Chan snapped his neck by accident. He would find himself sneaking glances, and once he did he would direct his attention to the board again. It didn't last long before he caught himself noticing how long Minho’s eye lashes, causing him to have this grueling cycle of trying to distract himself from Minho only to get distracted by Minho.

Chan didn't know what was happening. His stomach clenched up in a sickening way, and his head was spinning. Him? Minho? He can appreciate when a man is handsome but Minho was something so much more. Like something crafted by the gods. A male Pandora. He was every right handsome as much as he is pretty and that just isn't fair for Chan.

Chan didn't like where his head was going, didn't like what it was implying at all. Chan felt his world tumbling, like he was rolling down a snowy mountain and his worries are the snow that's growing the farther he rolls down. He just couldn't fathom the idea of possibly having a crush on a man, even if it was a small one. The more he thought about it, the more his head started to hurt. So he ignored it(or tried his best to), busying himself with doodling on his math notebook.

But for some reason, he only drew small cats.

It has somehow been weeks since Minho transferred to his school, weeks since he was assigned to sit next to him in geometry. Luckily it was the only class they had together, but his existence made him loathe the class even more.

How does it feel like the class is taking 59 years longer to end but simultaneously feel only like it's been a couple minutes?

Chan already wasn't fond of math, so Minho stressed him even more. Everyday Minho comes in to sit next to him, Chan still feels enamored by him. The same “holy shit” feeling when he laughs at something a classmate says or he smiles at his phone. He seems to get prettier by the day and when he tells his friends he’s having a “bad day” Chan has no idea what he's talking about because to Chan, he’s still just as or even more pretty than the day before.

It worries Chan, the more he observes Minho’s personality through his interactions with his classmates, the more he feels himself spiraling. He’s not homophobic. He understands the fact that people could love the same gender. The world is so big with so many people that trying to confine someone into only liking the opposite gender is honestly stupid.

He was confused at first, like most people, but after Felix, his younger brother who he adores more than the whole world came out to him as bisexual with tears in his eyes, Chan did his research to understand more. He wanted to be a good older brother for Felix, so he did his best to make Felix comfortable and he felt trying to understand the concept of sexuality was a good place to start.

But Chan has never considered himself to be bi or gay or pan or whatever. Just straight. He never thought too much into either, just knowing he liked girls was enough for him to go “yeah I'm straight” and roll with it. He’s never needed to look farther than that.

Minho is just so...wow. He’s thought the same thing before but that was the only thing to describe Minho. His smile was so soft, and his eyes scrunched up the cutest way when he found something amusing. He likes teasing people, jokingly insulting friends but with a fond tone so no one took it seriously.

His humor was dry and sarcastic, usually shutting down jokes for fun, laughing at their betrayed faces before ushering them to pick up where they left off with a chuckle. His face was normally blank, maybe serious with a natural frown and slanted brows, so he was a little intimidating. Only until you find out the reason why he was smiling at his phone was because he was looking at cat videos and pictures of his own cats, whose names he always said lovingly, Soonie, Doongie, and Dori.

He even gave his friends a detailed course on how to tell them apart, which Chan couldn't help but find really endearing.

“Those are some really pretty words.”

Chan reflexively slams his hand on his song notebook and snaps his head to Minho, who was peering over his shoulder to look at his notebook. He calmed down, relaxing his hand from its tensed position in his notebook, but not letting go of the paper..

“Thank you.” He whispered, not fully registering that this is technically his first real conversation with Minho.

“Is that what you do during class? Write song lyrics?” Minho asks, still hovering over his shoulder. He’s really close, Chan thinks. If he were to lean a little bit closer, his nose would poke his brown hair.

“Yeah. It's just something I enjoy” He laughs sheepishly. He's thankful the teacher was running an errand otherwise he wouldn't have been able to have his conversation. Minho’s face is nonchalant but Chan could pinpoint a twinkle in his eyes when he learned about his lyric writing.

“That's cool. It makes sense why you listen to songs with no lyrics. Does that mean you make songs too?” Minho looks up at Chan and they're centimeters apart. Chan adverts his eyes and wills away a blush, though he’s sure his ears are a flaming red.

“Yeah. I have music production as an elective, and I’m in the club.” He mumbles, but Minho is close enough to hear him.

Minho’s eyes widen.

“Oh my god, I’m in dance. You're the one of the people who made the song for our first performance.”

Chan laughs a bit. The school had a little rally, the school entered sports season so the dance club, the music production club, and a couple students from chorus teamed up to make a performance..

Chan was one of the main contributors of the song and Minho was center for a lot of the performance, but they never actually talked about it collaboratively. The music production club just sent the dance club the song and said “have fun” which wasn't exactly the best plan of course but it worked because the event was awesome anyway.

“Your performance was really cool.”

Minho was someone else on stage, charisma through the roof with appropriately matched expressions. You could easily tell that dance is his passion, with how much effort he puts into making his movements smooth and sharp. Another thing that makes Chan’s heart quicken.

“Your song was really cool! What was it called? ‘Easy’? You’ve got to send me the song, it was so good.”

Chan flushed, smiling a little.

“I can airdrop you the file.”

“That's very hot of you.”

Chan choked on his saliva, making Minho laugh as he collected himself from the sudden attack.

“T-thanks?” He wiped his mouth and pulled out his phone, looking through his files before finding the one labeled ‘Easy.mp3’ and looked for Minho’s contact after clicking the airdrop button. It didn't take long for him to find it, Minho’s contact picture being a picture of his cat Soonie with his name under it. Chan clicked on it and waited for the file to send, Minho’s phone pinging in his pocket.

He pulled it out along with a pair of earbuds, plugging them in and tapping around for the song. When Chan picked up on what he was doing, he sputtered.

“You're going to listen to it now?” He blushed a bit and Minho raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do? Snitch on me?” Minho teases but Chan waves his hands around defensively anyway, way too flustered to get that it was a joke.

“No! Of course not! It’s just embarrassing I guess.” He explained and Minho chuckled.

“I already heard it before, like a billion times because I had to do the choreo for it.”

“But still…” Chan mumbled weakly. Minho stared at him for a bit and Chan actually thought he had taken mercy on his poor soul, but Minho just clicked the song file anyway, Chan hearing the beginning beats of the song from his headphones. Chan felt blood rush to his face so he covered it and curled into himself to try and hide away.

Minho was leisurely bopping to the song, mumbling along to the lyrics until he reached the chorus and paused.

“Is that-”

“Please stop.”

“-you?”

Chan made an anguished noise, peeking through his finger so see Minho staring at him. Chan covered his face again and nodded shyly.

“Holy shit.” Minho whispers but they sit right next to each other so Chan heard loud and clear, adding on to his previous embarrassment.

“Can we…?” Chan wallows a bit when Minho doesn't reply, hoping he was picking up what he was putting down. But after a couple more seconds of not replying, Chan peeks at him again and sees him quietly listening to the music.

With a relieved sigh, Chan sits back up, trying to fight the blush away as he picks up his pencil again and starts trying to write down more lyrics but he couldn't, not when he felt two holes burning into his arm. He turned to Minho, who was looking at his phone inconspicuously, so Chan sighs and goes back to his notebook, only to feel the stare even harder.

He purses his lips and contemplates whether to or not ask Minho what he's staring for or to go on his business. Chan realized due to his huge lack of confidence and social awkwardness that it was going to be the latter. He tried his best to ignore the blatant staring until the teacher came back and Minho was forced to pay attention to whatever the teacher was teaching, allowing Chan to breathe a little. Though he couldn't help but feel a little giddy, having finally talked to the boy

It wasn’t Chan’s fault per say, but he didn’t knock so he’s still partially to blame. He was simply coming to pick up Felix from dance practice. The two usually go home at different times, schedules conflicting causing one to usually go home before or after the other, but today Chan was able to go home with his beloved brother because he was held back by a teacher to help with grading(should he be doing this? Who knows). He walks down hallways to the fine arts section of the school, hearing the bass of songs blaring from distant speakers. He quickened his pace from a leisure walk to a brisk jog, wanting nothing more than to go home after picking up Felix.

He knows the building well, his last year in high school makes him acquainted with the corridors, so he rounds a couple more corners and stops in front of the room that has loud hip-hop playing in it. He knocks, but he doubts anyone would hear with the sheer volume of the music, so he just opens it, peeking in.

And he was in awe.

He saw Minho dancing. Fucking wild right? A dance club member? Dancing? Absolute nonsense. But Minho was just so beautiful. No video could fully portray the power he holds in every turn and step, hell, not even sitting in the front row in a concert hall can, something Chan’s had the pleasure of doing at their event. His passion is palpable, a fire in his eyes and makes Chan’s knees a little shaky. He’s dressed casually, nothing special about an old band t-shirt that has been stretched and a little stained, and some sports joggers, but he makes it look so high-class, as if simply wearing the clothing racks up the cost by a couple hundred.

He’s so focused on his art that he doesn’t notice Chan standing dumbly at the door with the most stupefied expression.

“Hey Chan-hyung! Why are you just standing there?”

Chan whips his head around and he could hear the squeaking of sneakers stop as Minho does the same. Felix is standing just outside the threshold of the room, holding a can of Milkis and a bottle of citrus green tea. Another boy stands behind him, Hyunjin, if Chan remembers correctly, looking just as confused.

“Chan?”

Chan wants to drown himself in the green tea Felix hands him as Minho calls him, his steps soft and light as he pads over. He’s sure there's a fiery blush on his face with how hot he feels, but he turns to face Minho anyway, a sheepish smile planting itself on his lips.

“Hi.” He says softly, Minho looking at him with wide eyes and it makes him look like a curious cat, hurting Chan’s heart a little.

“You were here? Why didn’t you say so?”

Chan was wondering the same thing but it could easily just be him being enamored by Minho dancing that he forgot of his own existence standing there like an idiot.

“I’m not sure either...but you didn’t notice me either.” Chan pointed out, hoping Minho didn’t notice him switching the topic. He is right, the large mirror reflecting everything in the room, clearly showing all of them standing by the door meaning Minho should’ve been able to see him easily.

Even though Chan was sure Minho caught him throwing the ball, based on his unimpressed raise of an eyebrow, Minho looked back at the mirror and did notice that he could’ve seen him so he shrugged.

“I guess you’re right.” He said simply, and Chan let out an internal sigh of relief, living another day without Minho teasing him like he’s been doing for the last couple weeks. Ever since Minho found out Chan made music, he’s been bugging him for more songs and demos, always complimenting his voice and lyrics, both genuinely and teasingly. Chan never thought he was going to make it out after he showed Minho “Wow,” a song he made as a joke with Jisung and Changbin, who were both less than straight making it even more comical.

“Iron man on the streets but I’m better than Tony.” Minho had said with excessive eyebrow wiggling and Chan knew immediately that showing him his ‘aggressively heterosexual bop’ as Minho oh so lovingly named it was a bad idea.

“Why did you come here anyway?” It was genuine curiosity, otherwise it would hurt, so Chan pointed his thumb over to Felix.

“I came to pick him up.”

Felix smiled when he started to become relevant, jumping Chan’s back with a laugh, the older barely flinching. Minho looked a little distraught, and for some reason it made Chan feel like he needed to add,

“He’s my younger brother.” He reached up to ruffle Felix’s hair. Minho looked more relieved, but Chan wasn’t sure if he was reading into it too much. Why was he reading into it too much? He shook his head to shake away the thoughts. He let out a sigh and gave an easy smile.

“We should get going.” He segwayed, making a glance to the wall clock in the studio. Minho followed his gaze, finding that the clock read 5:46. He jumped at the time and Chan didn’t notice his smile growing fond.

“Oh yeah, I should get going to, I have to go feed my cats.” He muttered the last bit but Chan still heard him so he chuckled softly.

“Yeah you don’t want to miss on doing that.” Chan adjusted his bag and gave one last smile and nod, bowing to Hyunjin as he made his way out, the taller doing the same as Chan carried Felix out. It was quiet, oddly quiet since Felix always has something he wants to talk about. But before Chan could get anymore suspicious, Felix spoke up.

“So Minho-hyung…” A knowing smile heard on his lips.

Chan wants to disappear.

Felix didn’t let it go as much as Chan wanted him to, pestering him only for Chan to try and shut him down, but the boy is persistent and knows Chan too well. He would leave him alone for no more than 2 hours before bringing up Minho again in the least subtle ways.

“Hey do you like Minho-hyung?”

“Minho-hyung is pretty hot, don’t you think?”

“Minho-hyung said in passing that he thought you were cute.”

That last one almost got him, but he shooed Felix away, pushing him out of his room and locking his door as much as it hurt to lock his brother out of his room, but Chan felt like he was about to explode under Felix’s constant badgering. Chan was already having a hard time accepting that he wanted to maybe kiss Minho and hold his hand, if his dreams had anything to say. He wanted to curl up into a ball and hide, the pressure of coming into terms with his dangerously shifting sexuality stressing him out.

He wanted to cry.

So he did. Softly. Still in his school uniform even though they were going to be wrinkly tomorrow, his blanket bunched in his fist and pressing his chin. He made himself smaller, burrowing into his covered hands as he let out shaky breaths.

He did like Minho, in a way that made his heart twist uncomfortably. He was weak, and something like this made his limbs numb and his head foggy. Slowly, maybe sometime soon, will he accept his love for Minho.

But for now, he will pour his heart out in the only way he could, in the only way he knew, and that’s by picking up his little lyric journal and writing away.

Chan knew better than to try to avoid Minho like the plague, seen way too many shitty romance movies to know that this will only break him down from the inside out, and with his stomach already weighing heavy and his chest threatening to burst, he knew he wouldn't be able to take it.

So he didn’t, acting as normal as possible even though his words came out shorter and his voice started to waver if he spoke for too long. His smiles always came out a little more forced and pained when he talked to Minho, and he knew the other noticed his behavior, but had the courtesy to not comment on it.

He felt bad when he would see sadness and confusion flash in Minho’s eyes when Chan would speak to him curtly by accident, or when Chan would sometimes only answer his questions in nods or shakes of his head. Chan wanted to apologize, apologize for acting weird. He would sometimes tell him that he’s feeling a little under the weather with another forced smile, but Minho would ask why and Chan would have bit his tongue and give him a grim look, like it wasn’t on the table. Those were the times Minho would look hurt, and Chan hated seeing him hurt more than anything. So he stopped apologizing and they went back to a routine of Minho mostly talking to himself as Chan tried to listen, his head swirling in incomprehensible emotions.

If Chan were to be honest, he isn’t sure if this or ignoring Minho all together would hurt less.

Minho didn’t know what happened. Chan changed so much overnight and it left him winded. One day he felt like he had a chance with the boy, the soft glances and touches they exchanged over the course of months only to get confirmed when Minho saw Chan standing by the door in the practice room, watching him with what Minho was sure was fondness and unadulterated awe. But the next day and the days after that, Chan only looked at him with rain in his eyes.

Sad and always seeming like they would overflow if he simply tripped over the line that Chan drew overnight.

What seemed so close now seemed so out of reach and even though they sat next to each other, Minho felt like he couldn't grip onto Chan’s arm like he could before, the gap widening in an instant. It felt harder to breathe when Chan would try and force himself to send him small smiles. It was if Chan had imaginary hands pushing his cheeks up, leaving Minho confused and blue.

It was when Felix caught him slipping in practice that he broke down.

“Did I do something wrong?” He wiped his tears weakly before Felix pulled him in a hug and he sobbed in his baby blue sweater, Hyunjin consoled him too, unaware of what was happening but did the best he could by treating him in some cheap ramen from a restaurant a ways from the school.

He gave Hyunjin a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and cried himself to sleep at home, recounting his steps over and over again to find something he did wrong.

He could only draw blanks.

Minho remembers his first impression of Chan.

This kid is fucking weird.

He was hunched over his notebook, completely ignoring Minho introducing himself, bopping his head to whatever he was listening to. He was in his own little world and Minho couldn’t help but be a little intrigued. He was actually the one who asked the teacher if he could sit next to him, wanting to be in his space for fun.

His first impression only got worse when the boy literally snapped his neck to look at him, immediately startled from someone bumping his bubble. Minho was concerned, but a part of him was a little entranced by the other’s dimples that poked through when he smiled at him nervously.

Maybe he was a little cute. Still weird, but cute.

Days went by and Minho made more friends, but even though his circle was growing, he still couldn’t ignore Chan, who has little presence compared to the vast classroom, but still stubbornly making himself known to Minho whether he was aware of it or not.

Something was wrong when Minho started imagining the people who confessed their crushes on him as Chan.

They barely talked, nothing more than accidental eye-contact when they glanced at each other(that means he’s looking at me too, right?), and the occasional shoulder bump when his friends play pushed him too hard(he ignored the way his shoulder felt like it was on fire at the small contact).

But Chan always was writing with such concentration, eyes telling Minho everything, whether he hit a dead end to his writing(when his eyebrows creased and his eyes drooped) or he was thought of a new idea(when they sparkled and Minho can picture an imaginary lightbulb lighting above his head). His lips were always pouting, his upper lip jutting out more than the other rather than the other way around, which vaguely reminded him of a duck.

And his smile. God his smile.

He only gave small, polite ones to Minho, something he treasured, but when some underclassmen would come in during breaks(“Hannie” and “Binnie”)(Minho thought the nicknames were all too cute) and joke with him, bringing out his brightest smiles, Minho would feel his face grow hot and his friends would ask him what's wrong. It wasn’t fair really, to have the cutest smile and charming dimples.

Minho is so glad he chose to sit next to him, being able to see those smiles up close.

Minho learned quite quickly that Chan wasn’t eagerly writing down math notes but rather song lyrics, split in neat stanzas with a mess of scribbles and words crossed out. He listened to wordless melodies in his earbuds, the music blasting a little loud but only loud enough for Chan and Minho to hear. It was probably a way to pass time, math not very interesting and the teacher too immersed in her work for her to ever notice Chan sitting in the back, silently writing words that don’t pertain to math.

Not that it mattered, Chan seemed to do well on tests and he finished work when given to him with ease, some sort of genius in numbers but also in music, if his constant flow of lyric writing had a say in anything. Minho wasn’t one to nose his way into other people’s business, but he found this as a chance to talk to the other boy. He did ponder the timing of his attack but after five minutes of thinking and overthinking, he threw caution out the window and counted his losses.

“Those are some really pretty words.” He leaned into Chan’s bubble, but they weren’t touching, just hovering like they repelled each other. Chan slammed his hands on his notebook, covering the words and whipped his head to Minho, who tried his best to stay as indifferent as possible but deep down, his heart wouldn’t stop pounding against his ribcage.

Chan relaxed, shoulders releasing tension and his fingers uncurled. Minho also felt relieved, maybe because he felt special that Chan seemed to be relaxed around him.

“Thank you.” He spoke, barely above a whisper. He sounded breathless, but maybe it was Minho’s brain playing games with him and making everything Chan did 100x prettier.

“Is that what you do during class? Write song lyrics?” Minho already knew the answer but he asked anyway, maybe to just hear Chan talk some more, hear his lovely voice.

“Yeah. It's just something I enjoy."

Talking to Chan was a lot easier than he expected, conversation flowing as the other person spoke, quickly picking up on each other’s beginnings and ends. It flowed so easily and Minho was excited, happy.

But the real hitter was Chan’s singing.

He’s heard it so many times before, hell maybe even memorized, but finally putting a face to the voice really made everything feel more intense. Chan, who wears a soft smile and has the cutest laugh, sang in a sultry, cocky voice, confidence dripping from his words like he was the embodiment of the lyrics he wrote.

Fellas, is it wrong for him to think his homie(but not really homie) is hot? Minho thinks he’s justified.

And if Minho keeps trying to get more songs out of Chan, then it's their business.

If they start talking more, it’s their business.

If they rest their hands on each other’s thighs, and lay their heads on each other’s shoulders, or even give each other back hugs, it is their business.

Their business.

“Hyung we need to talk.”

Felix is standing at the door when Chan opens it late at night, after spending one of countless nights at Changbin’s house to avoid his brother.

Because he was expecting this very conversation.

“What’s there to talk about?” He shrugs and tries to play it off, but it’s Felix and he is vulnerable so it’s not a winning battle.

“You know exactly what I mean.” Felix urges, following Chan around the house as the older puts away his shoes and coat, following him to his room where Chan shuts the door in his face.

“I don’t want to talk, Lix.” He said from the other side of the door, dropping his bag and dropping himself in his bed. He’s tired, has been for days, trying his best to get over his feelings but still be with Minho. Sleep left him and only came back for tiny increments until he crashed, so he savoured the feeling of his soft sheets and covers, the only comfort he has been getting lately. He knew Felix was still behind his door, as stubborn as a bull with his slipper tapping the wood floor. Felix sighed, long and tired. Chan can imagine the boy raking his small fingers through his brown hair, fringe getting a little long. Not that Chan could say much, his own bird nest of brown curls becoming more unruly by the week.

“Minho-hyung cried today. He thinks he did something wrong.” Felix tried to stay calm but there was something sad and almost bitter about his tone.

Ah. So that’s what happened.

Felix never really not mad or upset, so hearing the drips of sourness from his voice made Chan’s stomach churn. He deserved it. Of course Minho would cry thinking Chan’s gloomy and distant nature was because of him. If you squint, it is, but it was really Chan spiralling in denial, too far up his ass to realize that maybe he does like boys.

Chan musters up the last of his energy to get up and trudge to the door, opening it seconds after Felix started walking away. Felix seems surprised that Chan opened the door, judging based on how his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and his eyes were comically wide. Chan ignored his shock expression and went back to his bed, leaving the door open so Felix could let himself in. The younger did, closing it on his way in, and Chan didn't look up at him when he felt the bed dip with added weight and Felix’s gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

“Hyung…” He started carefully, but Chan could only manage a grunt, face buried in his pillows and back faced up. Felix sighed again.

“So you like boys?”

Chan didn’t say anything, but rolled over to his side and he was now looking up at Felix with eyes blurred with tears. Felix surged forward and pulled Chan in his warm arms as Chan wept on his shirt. The two didn’t speak much for a while, the room filled with the sound of sobs and low murmurs of comfort.

Chan tried best to focus on the small patterns drawn on his back and not on his indecipherable thoughts. He needed to talk, needed to accept who he was. Though he hates himself for letting himself fall this far, for it to take Minho crying and blaming himself to get his shit together.

“Felix I don’t know what to do.” His voice broke as much as his heart, and Felix hummed.

“You like Minho-hyung right?”

That was a dumb question but Chan nodded. Felix chuckled.

“Then that should be enough right?”

Minho.

Minho who was a dance club member with a teasingly snippy personality, who’s laugh was the cutest thing in the world all while smiling the softest smile. Minho who loved cats and could easily spend hours playing with stray ones but also sit you down and show you pictures of his own three pet ones, scolding you if you got their names wrong and would lecture you on how to recognize them, Minho who’s eyes sparkled in interest when Chan would talk about music or when he tell him about a new routine he was learning.

Minho who was usually loud, would listen intently to Chan’s every word, committing things to memory so he would never forget, no matter how mundane.

Minho who secretly took care of Chan when Chan wasn't looking.

Minho who cried for Chan, for something that wasn’t his fault, because he’s just too nice.

It is enough. Minho is more than enough. Minho was worth the world and more.

It was late. Horribly late.

12:52 am on a school day.

But did it matter? No. Not when Chan couldn’t control his limbs and despite not sleeping well for days, felt the energy of the sun coursing through his veins. He drove 5 minutes out of his neighborhood and into another, the piece of paper held tightly against his hand and the steering wheel singeing his palm.

“Here.” Felix placed a scrap of paper in his hand along with the car keys, minutes after Chan had come to his newfound resolve. In the paper was Minho’s address and the color curtains he had in his room. Chan looked at the ripped off chunk of an old takeout flyer like it was gold, and Felix gave him a feline-smile.

“Why not go tell him now.”

“Lix, it’s almost 1 am.”

Felix only shrugged, a teasing sparkle in his eyes.

“Be gay. Do crimes.”

So here Chan was, standing in Minho’s front yard with his hands shaking around his phone. He turned it on, a picture of Minho he took when he caught him sleeping in math class greeting him. He clicked around for Minho’s contact, tapping the one that says “Minho<3” the heart there shyly. He recalls squealing like an 11 year old girl after typing it. He calls the id, waiting for it to connect. By the 3rd ring, he was scared that Minho was asleep and that all of this adrenaline would go away only to leave him a pile of flesh and bones, but it picked up.

“Hyunjin, for the 5th--”

“Hey.”

There was a startled yelp and a crash, making Chan worried for a second before Minho groaned, his worry quickly turning into fondness.

“Chan? Why are you calling at...1:12 am?” There was a pause because Minho has bad eyesight without his contacts or glasses. Chan was already so endeared. So gone.

“I wanted to talk.’

“Can’t this wait--”

“No, I wanted to talk right now.” Chan cut Minho off for the second time already, but he really wanted to see him.

“I’m outside of your house actually. Sorry if that sounded creepy.” He laughed softly at Minho’s sputtering. He saw his curtains open, a dark blue under the dull light of the streetlamp, and Minho peeking out for a moment before they closed. Minho came out shortly after, hair mushed and bundled in a hoodie and a bench parka, making Chan realize that he’s wearing their school uniform still in winter weather, his fingertips freezing and his nose bright red,

He ran over in red, festive pajama bottoms and fluffy pink slippers. Part of Chan felt bad for dragging him out at ass o’ clock days before christmas, but the other part of him(the louder part of him) was soft and warm at the sight of Minho being all adorable, his cheeks quickly dusting red and eyes wide behind his large, wire-framed glasses. Chan restrained the urge to wrap up in his arms, shoving his hands in his slack’s pockets.

“You scared the shit out of me when I looked outside to see you standing there.” Minho huffed, hot breath white from the cold. Chan chuckled softly, but it was cut off when Minho got closer, his features now dimly illuminated by the streetlight. Eyes puffy and pink, raw from constant rubbing.

This time, Chan didn’t stop himself from raising his hand to Minho’s cheek, palm cupping his cheek and thumb rubbing the skin under his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, figurative him beating the shit out of him for causing this. Minho pulled away, crossing his arms.

“Who said I cried for you.” He huffed indignantly. Chan retracted his hand, letting it fall to his side like a deadweight.

“Felix did.”

Minho froze, cursing under his breath. There was silence and Chan started to wonder if this was a good idea.

“I’m sorry, again.” Chan started, looking down at his feet.

“For being an absolute ass and making you cry thinking it was your fault.”

Minho pursed his lips.

“It wasn’t your fault at all and I accidentally took my inner turmoil out on you for no reason.” Chan sighed and finally looked up. Minho stifles a breath, the little light from the lamp and the moon making Chan’s eyes glossy. Minho holds himself tighter.

“If it’s not too much, can I ask why you’ve been acting weird?”

Chan freezes for a second, but he has his resolve. He didn’t drive all the way here at the dead of night to say some flimsy apology.

“Minho, I think I like boys.”

Seeing Minho’s eyes widen was endearing, Minho stumbled over his words.

“You think you like--” Minho pauses and looks back and forth between his hands and Chan,

“Boys, yes.” Chan laughs, an easy smile falling on his lips,

“It was all thanks to you actually.” He confesses softly, and Minho just stares, wildly with blown eyes,

“You like me? I was your gay awakening?”

“Gay, bi, pan, I’m not sure yet. Still trying to keep my options open.”

Minho slumps on his knees, defeated. Chan, despite his confession making him extremely nervous, still falls as well to make sure Minho was ok, brushing off his cute pajamas from the dirt and grass, Minho’s eyes glaze over before he lets some stray tears fall. Chan sputters.

“Are you ok? Did you get hurt? Why are you--”

“You idiot!” Minho weakly punches Chan’s shoulder before wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“I just spent 2 hours crying over your stupid ass because I thought you hated me and was just hanging out with me to make me feel better. I thought you didn’t like me, but this entire time you were just confused with your sexuality because you liked me too.” Minho sniffles and Chan chuckles, making Minho punch him again.

“Don’t laugh at me, stupid.” He grumbles and Chan chuckles again, giving a small apology before pulling Minho in a hug, the other boy falling easily between Chan’s legs and laying there.

“So does that mean you like me too?”

“Yes, it does dumbass. I thought my spiel made it clear, idiot.” Minho mumbled in Chan’s dress shirt. Chan laughed at the little insults and pulled Minho away, who looked at him with downturned lips, a pink nose, and all the stars in his eyes, leaving him breathless.

“Then would it be appropriate to ask if I can kiss you?”

Minho scoffed.

“Yes you can, I’ve been waiting for weeks.”

So he did, leaned down to press their lips together lightly before deepening the kiss. It was a gentle one, lips chapped from the cold and their arms finding each other’s bodies to share their warmth. It lasted for no more than 15 seconds, only shy brushes that left the other bright pink with butterflies in their stomach. They pulled away, but not far, Chan leaving another kiss on Minho’s forehead and resting his chin on his head, holding him tightly.

“You’re warm.” Minho murmured in Chan’s neck and Chan hummed.

“Sorry babe, but you’re the warm one.” Chan only has his dinky school blazer keeping him warm, naturally curling his arms around Minho’s waist, finding the warmth from the hoodle and bench parka comforting. Minho pulled away to look at Chan.

“Babe?” Minho asked and Chan realized the name of adoration that fell from his lips before he knew it. Chan flushed brightly, ears burning.

“Do you not like it?” He asked quickly and Minho laughed at his nervousness before leaning back into his arms.

“No I do. I’d just rather you call me your boyfriend first.” He said it teasingly but his ears betrayed him, lit a bright crimson. Chan kissed his temple, Minho letting out a blissful sigh.

“Boyfriend...I think I like that too.”

Minho pulled away, sitting back now, a frown on his lips.

“You sure? I mean you just came to terms with your sexuality, I don’t want to rush things.” There’s underlying insecurities Minho had been hiding away, making Chan smile, knowing he’s not the only one.

“Minho, I think I liked you since the day we met, I think calling you my boyfriend is fine.”

Minho blinked before exploding, collecting himself at the confession and running away, back into his house in panic. Chan was winded and he thought he said something wrong again but Minho texted him “I can’t believe you can just say that!” seconds after closing the front door. Chan laughed and sent a shrug emoji, making Minho send back a string of angry cat emojis.

Chan started making his way back to his car, closing the door and immediately starting the engine and turning up the heat, his fingers freezing under his phone. There was a pause. Chan was just about to pocket his phone when he heard another ping. He opened it again, only to see a shy “pick me up tmrw?” from Minho, the sheer thought of Minho’s hesitant fingers typing away the text, contemplating whether or not to ask while huddled under his blanket made Chan let out a groan, because his boyfriend(boyfriend!) is just too cute. “Of course<3” was all he sent before he started driving home, thinking about the text may have been a little cheesy but his heart was too full to think about it for long.

He goes home to Felix, who was sitting on the kitchen counter before he gracefully fell out of the counter stool upon hearing the door open and Chan sprinting his area, both of them sporting faces of shock when they made eye contact only to break out into smiles and giggles.

“I take that it went well.”

“Lix, he’s my boyfriend now.”

Felix squealed happily before making Chan sit down across him and tell him the entire story over a bowl of grapes.

“I can’t believe my newly gay brother got a boyfriend before me and I’ve been out for 2 years.”

“I don’t know, Lix. I see the way you talk about that Hyunjin guy.” Chan teased him when Felix blushed shyly. They cleaned up and bid each other for bed, but Chan couldn't sleep, head running with only thoughts of Minho and just Minho.

He gets 2 hours of sleep before his alarm wakes him up for school, and he gets ready twice as fast, startling Felix who had just woken up when he was fixing on his tie while slipping on his shoes. Chan apologizes for not being able to drive him to school but Felix waves him off and says that Hyunjin said he was picking him up, rolling his eyes when Chan gave him some wiggly eyebrows and a wink.

He may have sped to Minho’s house, shooting him a text that he was there and Minho running out seconds later, both of them immediately noticing the other’s shadows under their eyes, and smiling dumbly. Minho hops in the passenger seat and not so subtly yanks Chan’s hand so he could hold them over the console, and Chan summons some courage and kisses his knuckle before he starts the gas, ignoring Minho’s squawks with some laughs.

He finds out that Minho knows almost all of the pop songs on the radio and starts belting them on top of his lungs, Chan joining loudly as they pull up to the school’s parking lot. The two parted briefly to get out of the car, only to join again at the hips, Minho talking about how his parents tried to grill him over why they heard him scream at almost 2am, Chan laughing when Minho said he had to olympic sprint past them and out the door before they could continue and try to get information from him.

They shared a small kiss behind some shoe lockers before looking at each other with the most lovestruck eyes.

“I’ll see you at math?”

“Yeah. Math.”

And they parted ways, Chan shocking both his English teacher and his friends when he came in with a huge smile.

“He totally got laid.” Jisung whispered to Changbin, who nodded sagely. Chan pushed them and shook his head.

“I actually got a boyfriend.”

Chan ignored Jisung and Changbin’s onslaught of questions with a dumb smile, reading Minho’s texts secretly under the desk when the boy came to their messages complaining about his physics teacher.