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The fear of heights is the second most common fear in the world.
And because Jisung is quite honestly a timid person, he has been blessed with such a fear. It’s justifiable though; there are indisputable reasons as to why he should be afraid.
The first reason is obvious: he's afraid of losing his balance and falling to his demise. Perhaps after some deeper psychoanalysis, it could all be boiled down to his fear of death.
His second reason is that heights only remind him of how insignificant he is. He's truly just another speck in the universe. If the goal is for everyone to just make an imprint on the world before they ultimately die, then Jisung is certainly doing that. It’s a frustrating dichotomy that forces him to work himself to the bone until he’s made an impact, but eventually, he cycles back to the realization that nothing really matters in the grand scheme of things.
It's a complicated relationship that he doesn't have the time to untangle now. Instead, he appreciates the breeze that's blowing across his face. It’s slightly chillier at night than it was during the day, with no sunlight to heat the air around him. He adjusts the hood of his sweatshirt and his beanie, letting the wind ruffle through his hair before shoving his beanie back on. The metal railing is cold to the touch, but he leans against it anyway. Somehow, he doesn't feel as afraid as he usually does.
(That's actually a lie. His teeth had been chattering violently on his way up to the observation deck of the Namsan Tower, earning him a couple of pitiful looks from a few bystanders. Then he proceeded to tip-toe around the deck, not daring to stand any closer than three meters from the edge. But one way or another, he's made it here.)
Minho is beside him, with a newsboy cap pulled over his head and glasses resting on his nose bridge. Jisung can see his hands shaking slightly, but he mentally applauds Minho for sucking it up and attempting to conquer his fear of heights–he was infinitely more afraid than Jisung would ever be–and for having no complaints when Jisung finally pushed the two of them to step past their safety bubble next to the elevators.
After all, what's the point of any tall building if they weren't going to enjoy the view?
This trip had been Minho's idea. They had been preparing for their first comeback after six months, and to be quite frank about it, Jisung was tired. Any sort of energy and enthusiasm that he had, in the beginning, was long gone now, drained from the endless hours of writing and producing. There was nothing more that he wanted than to just drop the album and move into the promotions stage, but he reprimands himself for even entertaining the idea of releasing a halfhearted attempt.
After spending all day in the recording booth, Minho had dragged him out of the studio (or kidnapped him, if Jisung had any say in it), hailed a taxi, and led them both to a Japanese-Korean fusion restaurant for dinner. He thanked Minho for the meal–it was exactly what he needed after today–fully expecting to go back to the company building or to their dorm to get back to work. Then Minho whispered something in the taxi driver’s ear, leading them in the direction opposite of what Jisung had predicted.
"What's going on?" He had asked the older boy, his eyebrows furrowed as they sped past the numerous neon signs and pedestrians. "Are we not going back?"
"It's a surprise." Minho had responded, his attention directed towards replying to a series of text messages from the rest of the members.
"You're kidnapping me again." Jisung hissed under his breath, not wanting to concern the driver with his bad attempt at a joke. "I'm gonna die."
"We’re friends, right? How is this a kidnapping?" Minho smirked, shoving his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. "You should be honored that you're in my presence."
"Yeah, okay," he scoffed. "But just so you know, most kidnappers are actually people that the victim knows, like relatives or friends. I think it’s the same for homicides too. So what can I say?"
Minho exhaled and shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know what kind of facts those true crime documentaries are putting into your little head.”
“It’s true though,” Jisung whined, the pout evident in his voice. “Believe me.”
Minho's surprise destination turned out to be Namsan Tower. Jisung had found it to be incredibly ironic. The two of them had come here one time during their debut era. They hadn’t been back willingly since, and for a good reason: they were two young adults who were very much afraid of being up any higher than the tallest floor of the JYP building.
Minho grabbed his hand without a word, leading him inside of the tower and towards the elevators. The two of them had made fools of themselves by trying to act as though they were tougher than they actually were, leading Jisung to rub circles into the back of Minho’s hand during the elevator ride, effectively calming the both of them enough to take the metaphorical leap forward and into the abyss. Which was a complete overdramatization of what they actually did.
In the middle of the platform stood a light-up structure in the shape of three multicolored hearts, which was a little corny and much smaller than he had recalled. From pictures, it looked as though it was around the size of him and Minho, but in person, it appeared to only reach their waists.
Minho had guided them into the line for pictures, Jisung’s fingers still intertwined with his.
“There are so many people here,” Jisung said while scanning their surroundings. There were a good number of people around him, with the majority of them being couples on dates. When Minho noticed, he let go of Jisung’s hand, standing a considerable distance away from him.
“I don’t want to make it awkward for you, so…” Minho trailed off, shifting his gaze back and forth from Jisung to the couple behind him, who was patiently waiting for them to move forward. Minho had then gestured at the couple to cut in front of them and proceeded to do the same for another stream of people.
“It wasn’t that awkward, I was just pointing it out,” Jisung replied once the two of them had made it back to the end of the line.
Minho sighed, removing his cap and running his fingers through his disheveled hair. “I know, but you’ve been working so much these days. I didn’t bring you here to add any unnecessary stress.”
It was nothing but a quick explanation, but it shocked Jisung how earnest Minho could be at times. Between the two of them, Minho was never the outwardly thoughtful type, choosing to express his emotions in a way that was viewed as eccentric by outsiders. And while he had gotten used to it over the years, it was still nice to hear Minho say something verbatim instead of skirting around the topic.
He wanted to say something snarky, but all that came was a “thank you” that Jisung uttered softly into the air, so soft that it didn’t even reach his own ears. Minho squeezed his hand in response, a gentle smile resting on his lips.
Eventually, they had made it to the heart fixture. Minho pulled out his phone and kneeled on the floor, waving at Jisung to follow suit. They huddled in front of the hearts, with Jisung grinning at the phone screen while he held a peace sign by his chin as Minho pressed the camera button at least ten times.
That was almost an hour ago. It’s nearing closing time now, and with the last of the stragglers long gone, the two of them are the only ones left on the deck.
Seoul has always been the city of his dreams. He spent most of his early years visiting the city intermittently, even though he had lived less than an hour away. By the time he was a teenager, he had come once again, but not for some quick sightseeing. Rather, he was chasing a dream that was much bigger than himself, in a country that he hadn’t been back to in years and in a city that he barely knew. Yet it was the only place where he knew it would be viable to at least try and be something.
The city looks so much smaller from up here. The houses, roads, and skyscrapers that he passes by on the way to work every day are nothing but flecks of light, seemingly unfamiliar no matter how often he’s seen it on level ground. It makes him wonder how much of life he’s missed out on. How he’ll never truly be able to explore the hidden corners of the world, or how he’ll never be able to step on every square centimeter of pavement even if he’s confined to this place forever.
The sky is starless from the plethora of light pollution below, but he still admires it nonetheless. Maybe he can write a song about this later, something along the lines of how the stars were pulled from up above them and transformed into boxy windows and headlights. That each bright dot below him is representative of another life or family. Perhaps he’ll even add something about how the human experience is not unique.
Or maybe that’s too much for him. Changbin would surely poke fun at how he sounds like one of those cringy Instagram posts that would say Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain, complete with flowery font and sunset backgrounds, an illusion that makes it appear much more deep and sentimental than it actually was.
He looks towards his left just to glance at Minho for reassurance that he hasn’t been left alone. When he sees that Minho is in the same position he’s been in for the last seven minutes, he feels a little silly for even checking. But Minho, in the sea of artificial light, still looks as breathtaking as ever. He’s barefaced and glowing; Jisung traces his gaze over Minho’s features, and a sense of awe surges through him for being able to witness the older boy like this. He can’t even get himself to turn back towards the view of the city, entranced by Minho’s beauty.
It’s the most tranquil he’s felt in weeks, standing in this serene semi-silence with Minho. The only sort of commotion between them is the buzzing of car and motorcycle engines from below. He wishes that he could stay here forever–even though it’s the last place he would ever choose to be–but if he gets Minho to himself like this, then it’s worth every invasive thought where he thinks that he might fall through the floorboards or the railing. It’s worth pretending that he can just put his daily stressors on the back burner because they just don't matter.
If it means that Minho will stay by his side, then he’ll stay two hundred meters off the ground on this deck for however long time permits him to. Maybe that’s a bad idea; they could certainly find somewhere where they aren’t constantly on the verge of a fight-or-flight response.
But then again, he hasn’t felt like that since he first came up here. He can understand why the rest of the members like this so much. For example, when Chan had offhandedly mentioned that he likes tall buildings. They apparently make him feel free and weightless. Same thing with Jeongin, but to a lesser extent.
It suddenly strikes him why that is. Simply put: when Minho is alongside him, he's not afraid anymore. And he's always been alongside him, during pre-debut, debut, even up until now. He wants to keep Minho alongside him for as long as this chapter of their story lasts, holding him tight and never letting go. Because he’s in love with him and always has been.
What a way to come to this conclusion, he thinks to himself. It’ll certainly be a story to tell later.
The realization should make him reel in discomfort. It should make him want to deny his feelings or run away in fear. Even burst into tears, that was always his go-to defense mechanism when he was younger, but it doesn’t. The contentment of putting words to his feelings settles over him instead.
“Are you going to keep staring at me or what?” Minho turns towards him with his lips curled up in a smirk.
“You’re beautiful” is the first response he can think of. He doesn’t mean for the words to leave his mouth, but there’s not even a tinge of regret now that they do.
“Haha,” Minho laughs dryly. “You don't have to always be spewing poetic bullshit even after work hours.“ Despite his sardonic tone, the tips of Minho’s ears are flushed red while his eyes are in the shape of crescents, full of kindness as he looks at Jisung.
“How was that poetic?” Jisung remarks.“I was just being truthful.”
Minho squints at him before turning back to face the city. Jisung notices as Minho flutters his eyelids in rapid succession while his mouth is agape, ready to respond but not quite getting the words out.
“You don't even know what your words mean to me,” Minho eventually whispers, his eyes downcast at the ground while shifting uncomfortably on his heels. Hours, maybe even minutes ago, Jisung would’ve frowned at the ambiguous implications of Minho’s words.
Except he does know what they mean to Minho. Everything is lining up, starting with the way that Minho always can sense how Jisung feels in any given circumstance. Then with how he would pull Jisung out of stressful situations when Minho would refuse to even give himself a break. How he would groan and whine about doing something for Jisung but end up doing it anyway. And of course, the fond stares and smiles that Minho would only share with him. And before today, he had always read into these things as platonic.
There’s a reason why Jisung considers Minho to be his soulmate. It’s the same reason why Hyunjin and Changbin always gawk whenever they’re alone with the two of them. If there’s one thing Jisung is sure of with every fiber of his being, it’s that he’s attuned to Minho’s emotions. Because he’s in love with him, and Minho loves him just as much.
“I do know,” he smiles back, grabbing onto Minho’s pinkie finger first before taking his hand in whole.
“Yeah?” Minho's eyes are glistening. Still as beautiful as ever.
Jisung nods, his face splitting into a wide grin. “Let’s go to the photo booth before they close. Can’t break tradition, right?” He says, pulling Minho towards the elevators.
(And if Jisung kisses Minho in the photo booth right before the camera shutter goes off, that’s nobody’s business but their own.)