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To Minho, time is a construct. Well, that’s not always true. Time does exist, he’s not getting any younger, and the sun doesn’t stay in one place all day. There has to be a way to tell time, but the idea of days, hours, minutes, seconds, that was all a construct to him.
New Year’s Eve is all the same, and while most of his friends were out partying to celebrate the upcoming year, he found no reason to join them. He does like the excuse of getting blackout drunk every once in a while, but the excuse of a new year just doesn’t do it for him. Is time supposed to reset tomorrow? Are all of his regrets going to just fizzle at midnight because it’s technically not the same year anymore? Are all of his wishes going to be granted? Plus, what even is a year? Sure, it’s the time it takes for the earth to make a single revolution around the sun, which has been proved by science, but despite that, a year is just another arbitrary thing that humans created to make the world go round.
But he’s not that cynical, so he has a half-hearted celebration in his hand-me-down car with his best friend Jisung in the passenger seat. They are parked in an empty lot, which is slightly suspicious to any passerby, but people don't care to visit the good ol’ strip mall at 11:13 p.m, so there’s nobody around. The engine had been cut off earlier, but Jisung still has his phone plugged into the aux. It’s probably not doing his car battery any favors, but the music that’s playing is some obscure indie tune that fits the energy of the night. Jisung constantly sends him personalized playlists with these sorts of songs, and although he’s grown to like this type of music, he doesn’t always follow through on listening to the playlist all the way.
He almost feels a little sorry for Jisung, who kind of believes in this type of wishful thinking that comes with the onset of a new year. Some of his pessimistic views must have influenced the other boy, but he doesn’t let himself feel too bad. Jisung can make decisions for himself; if he really wanted to go to one of those house parties, he would’ve gone regardless of Minho.
He has his seat reclined down just enough so that his head is below the window, and he shuts his eyes. It’s nice, he supposes. It’s not every day that he has the free time to sit around and literally do nothing. He’s been at university for the last couple of months, constantly bombarded with exams and ill-natured professors. Jisung was there too, with the two of them attending the same school, but his workload was just as heavy as Minho’s, so they barely had any time to hang out with each other past a couple of study breaks. So it’s nice that they both have the time now since they’re on winter break and don’t have to worry about assignments for at least a couple more weeks.
The music is abruptly paused in the middle of a particularly guitar-heavy chorus. He doesn’t pay any attention to it since Jisung is probably switching to another playlist, but when there’s no music coming from his speakers after a minute of silence, he turns his head to the boy next to him. Jisung is reclined in the same manner that Minho is, but his eyes are staring at the roof of the car, containing a gleam from the reflection of the moonlight.
“Come back DJ Sung,” he grumbles. The silence isn’t a bad thing, but it’s too much for these circumstances. At least the music gives him some sort of distraction from all of his thoughts, but Jisung doesn’t seem to budge.
“Come on Sung.” He gives the boy a little nudge, but his eyes remain glassy and glued to the ceiling of the car. He huffs in defeat and turns onto his back to stare at the roof with Jisung. There’s nothing particularly interesting about it. It’s usually gray in color, but now it’s just a fuzzy black due to the lack of light from the outside.
“Let’s play truth or truth,” Jisung finally says, turning on his side to face Minho. They used to always play truth or truth during their high school sleepovers, giggling about their mortifying anecdotes and too lazy to get up and do dares, but it’s been at least two years since the last time they played.
“What are we, in high school?” He chuckles, but he means no malice. “You start.”
Jisung exhales into the air like he’s in deep thought about what he'll ask Minho. He’s used to the sentimentality and emotions later on in the game, but he doesn’t know if he can handle it in the first question. Luckily, he doesn’t have to, because the first thing Jisung asks is “Which cat is your favorite?”
Minho lets out a snort. Jisung always prods him about this particular subject but knows full well that Minho would never answer with anything other than “I love all my cats equally.”
“Come on,” Jisung whines, frowning at the answer. “You have to have a favorite cat. It’s like having a favorite family member.”
“That’s your fault for having a favorite family member. If you have to know….” Jisung’s eyes are shining expectantly. “It’s you.” He quips, flicking Jisung in the forehead with his thumb and forefinger, which makes him wince in pain. “Would you give up all of your desserts for me?”
Jisung looks taken aback at the question, with his eyes and mouth hanging wide open and two hands placed over his heart. “Of course not. Who do you think you are?”
“Your best friend is who I think I am.”
“Well, I still wouldn’t give up all of my desserts for you. Maybe a couple, but not all of them.” It’s fair enough. Jisung has a massive sweet tooth, bigger than anyone else he has ever met. “Would you give up all your desserts for me?”
“I don’t know…” Minho curls up his upper lip in a smirk. “But you do drive a hard bargain. So I guess I have to.”
“You sound like you’re being held at gunpoint, but you can just admit that I’m a great friend.” Jisung hits his shoulder with the sleeve of his jacket. “We already know that I’m the greatest person you’ll ever meet. The most talented, the most handsome, the smartest, the most–”
Minho smacks his hand over Jisung’s mouth, forcing him to cut his words short. The truth is, Jisung is all of those things that he’s just listed, but Minho would be damned to admit it that blatantly, especially in a situation where he's being egged on like this.
“How many assignments did you turn in late last semester?” He can tell that Jisung is flushing red even in the darkness at his question. Jisung has a reputation for getting great grades even with a not so great work ethic, but it’s a weakness that he doesn’t like to admit.
Jisung mumbles something under his breath that Minho can’t quite understand.
“What was that?”
“It was only six. Four of them for my chem lab and then just two more for…” He says defensively, voice dwindling at the end of his sentence.
“That’s not even that many.” He was honestly expecting more with the number of times Jisung complained to him about forgetting to complete an assignment and frantically emailing professors to try and make it up.
“Yeah, but it’s more than zero.” Jisung sighs, gnawing at his bottom lip. School is a sensitive topic even during the breaks. “Anyway, why do you hate New Years so much?”
“I don’t hate New Years.” He argues. He really doesn’t hate New Years. It’s a strong word for something he only mild dislikes. “I just don’t see the point of it. Nothing changes.” He had years of believing that when the clock struck midnight and the fireworks filled the sky, that things would be different. When nothing changed in his life just because of a changing number and the novelty wore off, it became less and less important to him.
“But don’t you think it’s still something worth celebrating?”
“Is this not a celebration?” Minho raises an eyebrow at him, but Jisung rolls his eyes back. He doesn’t fault Jisung for being sentimental about these affairs. It’s probably a better view on life than his own. He has made an attempt to be more positive over the years, but he can’t help but fall back into the cycle of negative thinking on occasion. “I still think it’s a celebration. I don’t think I’d want to be anywhere else but here right now,” he admits, his own honesty surprising him.
He genuinely doesn’t have more to say on the matter. He’s just not a big fan of New Years, of time, or of expecting something different with no fundamental changes around him. That’s all there is to it. Jisung hums, seemingly satisfied with his answer or just not in the mood to press any further.
“Then, why do you like New Years?”
“I don’t know either.” Jisung picks at his fingers, fidgeting with a piece of skin that’s torn from his nails. “I guess I just feel like it’s a fresh start. I know it’s not but, I just expect something different to happen. Or even just as a celebration for surviving another year. I think that’s something worth celebrating too.” There’s a sense of hopefulness in Jisung’s voice.
“Huh” is the only thing that he responds to Jisung’s words. He hadn’t really thought much about the last reason. It’s quite insightful, and it does a decent job of almost convincing him of the New Year’s magic. “Well, then what are your New Year’s wishes or resolutions or whatever?”
“The usual, like I hope that everyone important to me stays healthy. That I’ll get good grades and graduate. Maybe I’ll study more and turn in my assignments on time.” Jisung snickers, clasping his hands together and placing them in his lap. “Maybe find a boyfriend or a girlfriend. I don’t know.”
“Oh.” Minho breathes out. It’s a pretty standard answer, but something in his heart aches. He’s been able to cast his feelings aside for the past couple of months, but the mention of Jisung and boyfriend in the same sentence does nothing but draw those feelings back up.
It’s somewhat of an open secret that he likes Jisung. His friends are relentless with their teasing, constantly badgering him to confess, but he’s even more relentless with his denial. Truth is, he’s always liked Jisung, whether that be as a neighbor, as a best friend, or as something more sometime during high school. He’s never felt the need to disrupt their friendship because if he did and Jisung didn’t feel the same, well, he doesn’t know if he could handle that. The thought of Jisung no longer being by his side, no longer spending time with him like this, it’s not a thought he wants to entertain.
He did try once the summer before university, with the reasoning being that the campus was large enough that they wouldn’t run into each other if all went wrong. When it came down to it, the words were lodged in his throat. Jisung had given him a pat on the back, reassuring him that whatever he needed to say could wait until he was more comfortable, but he was too humiliated to even consider a second attempt. Plus, Jisung never mentioned it again.
“Minho?” Jisung’s eyes are filled with concern. He didn’t even realize that he had spaced out, quickly blinking to shift his focus back on his surroundings.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?” Jisung’s eyebrows are pressed together with a wrinkle between them. “I thought I lost you there or something.”
“Yeah, I was just thinking.” Jisung nods, and Minho is relieved that he doesn’t press further. “Don’t forget about me when you get yourself someone on campus.” He jokes, but his words are not very convincing. His voice sounds weak, the syllables soft and cracking against his tongue.
The corners of Jisung’s mouth twitch and Minho can see them slightly down, turning into a frown.
“Are you that dense?” Jisung asks, a certain sadness tainting his question. Minho doesn’t know what to make of it, so he shrugs listlessly. Neither of them dares to speak now, the atmosphere around them suddenly much more apprehensive than before. It doesn’t help that the only sound between them is their staggered breathing.
“I…” Jisung starts to say before he cuts himself off. He chuckles before continuing. “I like you, okay? I thought I was obvious about it. I wasn’t going to tell you either, but it’s the new year in like, four minutes, and so I can just pretend that this didn’t happen if you don’t feel that way. Even if you don’t believe in new beginnings or whatever.”
“I–” He can say that Jisung was nowhere near obvious with his own feelings, or else Minho wouldn’t have been caught up in his own for this long. “You–”
Jisung begins to ramble again, not giving Minho the chance to respond to his impromptu confession. “We’ve been friends for so long, I don’t think this needs to come between that. But I don’t know Minho, I just didn’t want to end this year with any regrets. You deserved to know.”
He doesn’t respond right away, still wrapping his head around the confession. Jisung’s face falls while he anticipates a response from Minho, grabbing for the cord to plug in his phone to fill the silence, but Minho is quick to snatch the phone away.
“I… like you too.” It comes out barely audible like he’s afraid that it’s all just a long-winded dream.
The clock on his car radio reads 11:59. He glances back at Jisung, who’s staring at him in relief, lips slightly parted and waiting.
“Um.” All of his suaveness escapes him. “Can I be your midnight kiss?”
Jisung has the audacity to laugh at him before leaning across the armrest console to press his lips against Minho’s. They’re slightly chapped from the cold, rough against his. The kiss starts off chaste, but Jisung’s hands make their way into Minho’s hair, and he presses in deeper, tongue making its way into his mouth and intertwining with his own.
When they pull back, Jisung’s hair is disheveled, and his lips are swollen and glossy. Minho grins at the sight and guides Jisung towards him so that their noses are close to touching each other.
“Happy New Year,” he whispers into the night before slotting their lips back together. Perhaps there is something special about the change of a calendar year, or maybe not, but he'll indulge himself in the idea for the night, with Jisung's warm body resting on top of his, lips sweet and wanting.