Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

42 Days Before Prom

It starts with an email.

Well, that’s not entirely true. If you want to be technical about it, maybe the story starts the day Jisung is born. Or maybe the day Minho is. Or perhaps you could even go back to when Minho’s parents moved into a little yellow house on Cherry Street and Jisung’s father and very pregnant mother moved into the big red brick one next door. Jisung’s brother was born shortly after that, and when Minho’s mother got pregnant with him a year later she turned to her neighbor for advice on being a new mom. Two years after Minho popped out, Jisung was brought into the world. They’ve known each other since he was three days new. So really, sure, maybe it starts on September 17th of that year. But the turning point, the start of something new, that happens on April 21st 18 years later, a month and a half before Jisung’s senior prom, and it comes in the form of an email of all things.

It looks innocent when Jisung sees it in his inbox. An email from Minho’s school account with a rather vague subject:

From: [email protected] Subject: Someone has sent you an e-card!

An e-card? There’s nothing wrong with an e-card, per se, except for the fact that they lost popularity about eight years ago and it would be ten times easier for Minho to just text him whatever he needs to say. Or facetime him. Or snapchat him. Tweet at him. All things they have done on a regular basis in the two years Minho has been away at school. Jisung scrolls over to the email, jiggling his finger on the worn-out trackpad of his laptop to bring it back to the realm of reality (it tends to stray south when untouched for a while) before opening up the virtual card.
It starts out with a flower bud, tiny and alone against a sky blue background. White font starts scrolling across the screen as it begins to sprout. Jisung. The petals grow until the flower is fully formed into a daisy, which then triggers about a thousand more to pop up across the screen until some more lettering appears. Will you go to prom with me?

Jisung blinks at the screen and replays the card, trying to make sure he’s reading it right and the eye strain from the animation isn’t tricking his mind. No, it’s definitely a promposal. Via e-card. From his childhood best friend, who is very much a university student at JYP University several hundred miles away. 340 miles to be exact. It’s Jisung’s dream school too, he’s required to know things like that.

So how and why is Minho planning to bring him to the prom of a high school he does not actually attend? Had Jisung even mentioned anything about it? He doesn’t think so, at least not to Minho. According to his laptop it’s 5:06 pm, which means Minho should be out of classes, and it’s Wednesday, which means he’s off work. Jisung digs his cell out of his backpack, noticing that since he last checked it back at school a few hours ago his message alerts have gone from zero to an alarming 6 from various sources. There are two from Minho, one from his mom, one from Seungmin, and two from Felix. He checks Minho’s first.

Minho (3:45 pm): Hey
Minho (4:30 pm): Anything happen today?

Jisung has way too many questions to talk this out over text. He pushes away from his desk and moves from his chair to the bed, laying down and holding the phone overhead before dialing Minho on facetime. It rings a few times before his face pops up on screen, a little blurry and bouncy.

“Hey,” Jisung greets, bringing his phone closer and squinting at the screen. Minho seems to be walking, and there’s greenery in the background. “Can you talk?”

“Hey Sungie. I’m walking back to my apartment, it might be loud but I can talk. Here’s Chan,” he says, pointing the camera away from him for a moment to show off his roommate. Jisung barely gets a glimpse of bleach blonde hair and the beginning of a wave before Minho directs it back to himself.

“I can wait til you’re alone.”

“No, it’s fine. He has headphones in. What’s up?”

What’s up?

“I got your email,” Jisung starts, hoping Minho will fill in the blanks.

“Oh? Did you like it?”

“Minho, why are you asking me to my own prom?”

“Because you want to go, right?” Minho asks. Like it’s the simplest answer in the world.

“I- I wasn’t going to, actually,” Jisung admits. He hadn’t gone last year because he hadn’t had a date, and this year has panned out much the same until now.

“But that’s not what I asked. You do want to go, I know you do. But a little birdy told me you might be skipping again,” Minho says with a teasing tone. Ah. He’s been ratted out.

“And who might that little birdy be?”

“I think he went by the name of Hyunjin?”

Jisung makes a note to give his best friend (best friend aside from Minho) a piece of his mind later. “I see.”

“You’re skipping just because you don’t have a date, and that, my dear friend, is fucking stupid.”

Jisung pulls his hood over his head in shame, trying to hide his face from seemingly all-knowing eyes. “Is that what Hyunjin told you?”

“He said you might not go, and when I asked he said he didn’t think anyone had invited you. I put two and two together.”

“Ah.” Jisung sighs. The hood hadn’t disguised a damn thing. “Well, sue me. I don’t want to go alone.”

Minho is quiet for a moment, nothing but the sound of a phone shuffling and the jingle of keys being pulled out of his pocket coming from the speaker. Jisung can’t see the screen in his current setup, but he seems to have arrived at his complex. When Jisung hears the sound of an elevator ding once more, Minho starts his speech back up.

“That’s a crazy coincidence, because I happened to love my proms and this is a great excuse to give it one more shot.”

“Minho,” Jisung laughs, finally picking his hood back up to see if his friend’s face is more convincing than his voice (no). “You hated your senior prom. You left your date early and came to hang out in my basement.”

“She was mad.”

“She was pissed,” Jisung giggles, recalling the memory. It’s a little bit hazy, Minho had initially intended to go to an after-party and brought a flask to prepare himself, but Jisung distinctly remembers his neighbor knocking on the door in a tuxedo while he himself donned a pair of sweats stained with cheeto dust and a shirt two sizes too large. The jacket and pants had quickly been stripped off, leaving Minho in boxers and a dress shirt to lounge around and play fighting games in Jisung’s basement as they mixed bottom shelf rum with a 2 liter of cola and gobbled down an entire extra large pizza. Minho’s date called so many times that he eventually just turned his phone off.

“I won’t leave you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Minho snickers with a little wink. “You’d be doing me a favor by giving me a redo with a better date.”

Jisung bites his lip in contemplation, wondering if he should take the offer. It actually sounds like a good deal, he knows he’ll have fun with Minho, it’s just… isn’t it a little pathetic? “Aren’t you busy with school?”

“All I have to do is drive down for the weekend. I don’t even have Friday classes, you know that. Come on Sungie, just let me take you to prom. You know you want to.”

He kind of does. Even if it means the school knowing he couldn’t actually score a date his own age (or one that he hasn’t known since he was in diapers), he still wants the experience. If it sucks, Minho is well-versed in dipping out early. “Fine.”

“Excuse me?”

“Alright?”

“Alright what? Is that a yes? I sent a formal invite, I’d like a formal response.”

“Yes, I would love to go to prom with you,” Jisung deadpans, though he’s sure a smile is peeking through the face he’s trying to keep serious. “Would you like me to answer the email back as well?”

Minho cheers and pumps a fist in the air, loudly enough that Jisung is almost certain his neighbors can hear, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Woohoo! I’ve got a prom date! You’d better dress nice, if I’m at my old stomping grounds I refuse to show up with me and my date looking anything less than perfect. No need on the email, by the way.”

“Noted and noted.”

Minho looks so nice like this, smile wide and eyes scrunched up in excitement like they always have since he was young. It brings back a lifetime of memories together, laughing over nonsense that was hysterical to them and them alone.

Ah. Jisung really misses him.

“Sungie? You there?”

“I’m here,” Jisung says, realizing he must have spaced out for a moment. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you got your letter from JYP yet?” Minho asks, tone a little more serious than before.

“I’d tell you if I did, you know that,” Jisung says quietly. “Nothing since the waitlist notice.”

Minho looks at him sympathetically, a sad glint in his eye. Jisung hates it. “You’ll get in. My roommate-”

“I know, your roommate freshman year was waitlisted and he got in. I’ve met Changbin, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Jisung finds himself regretting cutting Minho off. He was really just trying to be nice. “He was a smart guy. I’m a smart guy too, so I’ll get in. No worries.”

Minho smiles fondly at that. “No worries. What are you doing with the rest of your night?”

Jisung rolls off his bed to get his backpack and look through his half-filled-out planner, walking Minho through his upcoming work step by step. He’s not sure if Minho is fully paying attention, but he cracks jokes and provides commentary when Jisung veers off topic, which is all he can really ask. They swap roles shortly after, only cut off when Jisung’s father calls him down from his room for dinner. As per usual their quick little call seems to turn into a three hour facetime session. It’s been like that for two years now.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

41 Days Before Prom

“So, Felix, do you happen to have your suit for prom yet?”

Jisung’s friend looks up from his school-distributed chicken nuggets at the sudden question. He and Jisung typically eat with a few other friends, but Seungmin and Jeongin have student council duties on Thursdays and Hyunjin is out sick. It’s a shame, because Jisung still needs to reprimand him from spilling his sob story to Minho.

“I was just going to wear the same suit I wore last year. Maybe a new shirt and tie,” he says, looking up in contemplation. “Or maybe a bowtie this year?”

“Ooh, a bowtie sounds fun. I wonder if I should wear a bowtie?” Jisung says, hoping Felix picks up the hint.

“Yeah, they’re cute, I think. I don’t know why ties became the standard, bowties are just so charming. Makes you look like you could own a candy shop or something.”

Hint not taken.

“Yeah,” Jisung tries again. “Yeah, I just don’t have a suit yet, so I guess I should do that first so I can match them? Or can I do it reverse? Seems more complicated, right?”

“Definitely seems more complicated. Suits are usually more basic and… wait, why do you need a suit?” Felix asks, putting his fork down and perching his chin on his hands. “What did I miss?”

Success. Jisung smiles smugly, trying to put on an air of mystery as he looks around the room with what he hopes is an expression of nonchalance. “Oh, things have changed a bit. I’ll be going to prom now.”

“Alone?”

“No!” Jisung says, snapping back to look at his friend in offence. Felix is smiling just as smugly as he was a moment ago. Clearly he knew that would push a button. “No,” Jisung repeats after clearing his throat, “I’m not going alone. Someone asked me. I’m quite popular, you know.”

“Yes you are. Who’s the lucky lad or lady?”

“Oh,” Jisung starts, stopping himself before finishing the sentence. Does he really want to reveal that it’s Minho? Minho, who they all know to be his very platonic childhood friend of eighteen years? “It’s a secret. You’ll have to wait to see on prom night.”

“Why? Who could it possibly be? Everyone we know is already taken,” Felix says, mouth now full of chicken nuggets once again. Jisung watches in distaste as his friend talks and chews at the same time, but laughs when he seems to notice his mistake and uses a tiny hand to cover his mouth.

“Yeah, even you, shockingly.”

“It’s not shocking at all. I have the same date as last year, Seungmin is a lovely escort,” Felix says, defending his date.

“Well, he certainly needs your dancing guidance.”

“And I’m perfectly happy to provide it.”

“And I’m happy you two came to that compromise. Though I think you should make a real move this year,” Jisung says. Felix smiles a little at that, almost like he already has something in mind. He should, those two have been dancing around acknowledging their since… well, since last year this time when Felix planned a lovely promposal spelling out the question in icing over a pan of homemade brownies and Seungmin failed to realize it as a genuinely romantic act.

“I’m working on it. Wait, but who the hell is your date though? Seriously? Do I know them?”

“He’s a lovely person, he is a he, and you do know him. I’ll have to leave it at that.”

“Fine. You’ll crack sooner or later and tell me, you’ve got a blabbermouth,” Felix says. Jisung wants to contest but the bell rings before he has the chance. Felix stands to clear his tray, but pauses before walking away; “If you do want to go suit shopping though, I’m down. Maybe Saturday?”

“Saturday is good for me,” Jisung confirms. Felix gives a smile and a wave before dashing away to get to his third floor class on time. Luckily, Jisung’s is right around the corner. He takes his time putting things away carefully, thinking once again about how distant and disconnected this scenario seems.

Saturday. Saturday he’ll have a suit, something tangible to hold and remind him of prom. Of the end of the school year, the end of his high school career, of when “never been to prom” Jisung will disappear and “went to prom” Jisung becomes a reality. They’re meaningless labels, really, but in a world filled with uncertainty he’s willing to grasp at any strings he can find. Even if they are just the threads of a tacky suit he’ll probably never touch again.

39 Days Before Prom

“I don’t understand why I’m here, I already have my suit,” Hyunjin whines (not for the first time) as he, Jisung, and Felix sort through the formalwear at a discounted suit warehouse.

“Because, you ratted on me to Minho,” Jisung says quietly, still fingering through the hangers of a rounded rack as he looks for the perfect tux. “Spilled some business that wasn’t yours to spill. If you want to be so involved in my prom activities, the least you can do is help find me a good tux. One with-”

“Yeah, I get it, slim fit legs and a single button jacket. You’ve already said it ten times,” Hyunjin groans. “And for the record, I only said that because I was under the impression you didn’t have any prom activities. If I knew you’d magically get asked and be a giant pain in the ass about it, I’d have kept my mouth shut.”

Felix taps on Jisung’s shoulder and holds up a suit when he gets his attention. “What about this style?”

“Hmm” Jisung hums, taking a look. It’s a nice pair of pants, but it’s really more of a straight leg and looks like it’d need a lot of hemming.

“They’re too tall for him, Lix. You think he’s got enough leg for all that fabric?”

“Shut it, Hyunjin,” Jisung snaps. He’s right, though. If you’d asked Jisung what he knew about suits two days ago, the answer would have been close to nothing. But now, after spending an embarrassing amount of time filtering through prom-wear inspired Pinterest boards, he has a very clear vision in mind. Hyunjin and Felix don’t need to know that, though, so he’d stuck to the simple description Hyunjin had recited. “He’s kind of not wrong though, Lix. It’s a nice pair of pants, it’s just not my pair of pants.”

“Got it. Slimmer, shorter leg.”

“Yep,” Jisung confirms before browsing through his own rack again. Hyunjin has finally started to look, and through the corner of his eye Jisung can see him pulling out a few pairs of pants and hanging them on his forearm before switching to a jacket rack. This store is nice in all the options it has and the price point it offers, but everything is mix and match and it’s on them to find things of the same fabric. He pulls a few pants himself before switching to a nearby jacket rack and finding a few good options.

After far too long on the sales floor and the discovery that Hyunjin has an eye for formal wear that Felix simply does not, Jisung shuffles to the fitting rooms with one arm full of pants and the other full of jackets. When he hangs them all up, he starts to think maybe he doesn’t have it either.

“I- shit, this is a lot of stuff,” he mumbles to himself.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what you asked for,” Jisung hears from the other side of the fitting room door. Hyunjin has opted to sit there and act as the tux appraiser instead of joining Felix in the accessories department. Jisung doesn’t answer, just continues staring at nearly identical black fabrics until his friend speaks up again. “Are you good, though?”

“I can’t tell what matches.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ll figure it out, though,” Jisung says, starting to peel off his pants and get to trying on. After a few moments of silence there’s a knock on the door.

“Let me in.”

“What? No, I’m half naked. Just wait and tell me yes or no,” Jisung says, reaching for a pair of pants and a dress shirt and pulling them on. Before he can even attempt to look for a jacket Hyunjin knocks again. “Just wait!”

“No, you’re dressed now, I can tell through the crack in the door-”

“Stop peeping at me you pervert! I already have a prom date!”

“And I have a boyfriend. Jisung, shut up and open the door. Let me help you out, ok? I don’t want to be here all day. Isn’t that why you dragged me here?”

He’s right. Jisung cracks the door open and lets Hyunjin slip inside the dressing room, holding his arms out to let his friend inspect the outfit so far. “Fine. Rate me.”

“Five on the pants. They don’t fit you right. Nine on the shirt. But hang on a second, let me just match everything for you,” Hyunjin says, barely glancing at the half-getup before getting to work. He makes pairings out of matching fabrics easily, clearly possessing more of an eye for details and differentiating between different shades of black. “So you’re keeping your date a secret, why again?” he asks, barely looking up from his task.

“More fun that way,” Jisung says, looking at himself in the mirror. Hyunjin is right, the pants fit at the waist but are loose in the thighs and go a little past his heels when they should end at the ankle. He starts to strip them off before continuing, not actually bothered at the idea of Hyunjin seeing him in boxers. Though Minho will always be the friend he’s had the longest, Hyunjin is only four years behind. Fourteen years of friendship doesn’t leave much room for secrets.

“It isn’t Minho?” he asks, making Jisung snap to look at him. “Try this on. Keep the shirt you have on.” Hyunjin thrusts a suit into Jisung’s hands and takes a seat on the dressing room bench. Luckily they’re in a pretty big stall.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Just seems like weird timing. Nice boxers,” Hyunjin says, poking Jisung’s thigh as he shimmies a newer, tighter pair of pants up his legs. The boxers in question were a gift from his grandma, decorated with little log cabins and pine trees. He doesn’t wear them when he thinks he’ll be seen.

“Well, that’s a rude implication. As if nobody in school or nobody my age would want to ask me to the dance.”

“That’s not what I said at all. My date’s from another grade, if you’ll recall. Nothing to be ashamed of,” Hyunjin says. Ah yes, it had been quite the scandal for Hwang Hyunjin, the pride beauty and rumored slacker of the senior class, had asked Yang Jeongin out. It’s not just the age difference, Jeongin is on the student council and Hyunjin skips class on a somewhat regular basis. It’s not as if he’s an actual slacker though, anyone who knows him well knows he gets migraines and his absences are excused. Why he doesn’t make that public Jisung will never know, but his boyfriend seems to understand. Jeongin isn’t the little angel the school makes him out to be either, though. He’s got enough spunk to keep Hyunjin on his toes. They fit surprisingly well together.

At least until the end of the year.

“Are these better?” Jisung asks, spinning around when he gets his shirt tucked into the new pants.

“Loads better. Put the jacket on too,” Hyunjin says, motioning towards it. Jisung does as instructed and spins again, then admires his reflection. “It’s a good tux.”

“It is a good tux,” Jisung agrees. The fit is nice, the material is pretty. He looks like a person nearly ready to go to prom.

“But there’s five more you should try on.”

“Dear god.”

“This is why you brought me,” Hyunjin says, framing his face and smiling big. Jisung starts to change again, though the next two suits get dismissed. When he pulls on the fourth option total with a new shirt, Hyunjin pulls out his phone and holds it up. “That’s got to be the one. I don’t say this often, but you look hot.”

“I do look hot,” Jisung says, spinning around and admiring himself. He pauses with his back facing the tri-fold mirror, checking out his ass, when he hears the telling snaps of a phone camera. “Hey, you’ve got your own date to check out. Why the pictures?”

“To send to Minho. He should see you like a grown adult for once.”

“No! No pictures to Minho,” Jisung says, scrambling to grab Hyunjin’s phone and delete the evidence. He knows it’s not a wedding day or whatever, but he’d still like to wow his date in person rather than spoil it through a shitty cell phone photo.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not necessary. He’s busy, anyways. You’ll distract him,” Jisung says defensively.

“Bullshit, it’s Saturday. And as previously stated, you look hot. Since when do you not like to show off? Especially to him?” Hyunjin asks, prying his phone from Jisung’s hands.

“Everyone can see the tuxedo on the day I wear the tuxedo. No sooner. Got it?”

“But he won’t see it, he’s at school,” Hyunjin says with a coy smile. Shit. Jisung didn’t think that sentence through all the way. “Unless he’s the one taking you.”

“Hyunjin, please,” Jisung says, not quite ready to fully admit defeat.

“Please? Hyunjin please what?”

“Hyunjin please don’t tell anyone,” Jisung mumbles.

“Hyunjin please don’t tell anyone what?” he prods.

“Hyunjin, please keep your fat mouth closed and don’t tell anyone that Minho is the one taking me to prom.”

“I knew it. I’m so damn smart. I knew it as soon as you told me you had a date,” Hyunjin says, puffing out his chest in pride. “Though I don’t get why it’s a secret.”

“Because, it isn’t real. It’s like a pity date. Everyone is gonna notice that when we get there, but I can at least build the excitement a little, right?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t pity you, you’re like his favorite person in the world,” Hyunjin sighs. His face is very clearly telling Jisung that he doesn’t believe his bullshit, and that he knows Jisung doesn’t believe his own bullshit either. It’s hard not to shrink under that kind of gaze.

“Fine, not a pity date per se, but you know what I mean. It’s not romantic.”

“It’s whatever you make it,” Hyunjin says, a playful glint in his eye. Huh?

“I have no idea what that means,” Jisung says. He doesn’t. Not a clue, not at all.

“It means I saw the way you looked at him all last summer. Everyone did.”

“You should get your eyes checked. You’ve got a speck of dirt under that one, maybe there’s crud messing up your vision,” Jisung says, pointing at a mole under his left eye. “I looked at him like a best friend I hadn’t seen in a year.”

“Like a best friend who got hot.”

“He’s always been attractive, what is that supposed to mean?”

“He was always attractive, but he got hot. It’s different. You know exactly what I mean, don’t play dumb.”

“Even so, he’s my best friend. There’s nothing romantic there, don’t you think if there were we’d have hashed it out in the sixteen years we had before he left for school?” Jisung insists. It’s true, right? Things like this don’t just change because they had a little space and Minho happened to start working out every morning. Not with people as close as Jisung and Minho.

“I think you’re stupid,” Hyunjin says, leaning back on the heels of his hands and grinning. Hyunin is calling him stupid? Jisung wants to wipe that stupid grin off his stupid face.

“Oh, fuck off. I need to change, get out of here.”

“Why do I need to leave?”

“Because, you’re going delusional from the lack of oxygen in such a small shared space. Get out now,” Jisung says, grabbing Hyunjin’s wrists and pulling him up. “Go get some air and try to remember the state of the world.”

“I didn’t say you had to make it romantic. I just said you didn’t have to not make it romantic. Don’t be so defensive, Sungie,” Hyunjin says, laughing as he’s shoved out of the fitting room. A store attendant is staring at them startled, and Jisung feels his face start to flush with how that must look and sound to a stranger. Curse Hwang Hyunjin and his stupid misleading lines and his stupid grins and his stupid sense of observation.

And the stupid way he tends to be right.

“I’ll meet you by the ties. Gonna go make sure Felix hasn’t picked out anything too absurd,” he says with a lazy wave of the hand, leaving Jisung to undress in peace.

Jisung leaves with this new suit in a garment bag and a burgundy and silver patterned tie in a parcel around his wrist. Red is his favorite color, and silver looks good against Minho’s skin and eyes.

20 Days Before Prom

Jisung has developed a pattern in the several weeks since receiving his wait-list letter. He checks his mailbox religiously every day after school without fail, sorts through the junk mail and bills to give to his parents, and prays to anyone or anything that might listen to please let something more exciting arrive with his name on it tomorrow. And each day, when it doesn’t come, he sends Minho an update. Sometimes that’s the only thing they say to each other for the day, just a simple “It didn’t come :(“ followed by a comforting “It’ll be there soon or I’ll march over to the dean’s office and vouch for you myself,” but sometimes it turns into more. A conversation about how different the weather is between their towns, or an assignment one of them has, or something bizarre Minho saw a drunk person do on campus. Sometimes they facetime and talk about absolutely nothing, or watch a movie and pretend there isn’t a couple seconds delay between them. Regardless, Jisung thanks his stars that as a sophomore in university, Minho still finds time to do this with him.

He has insisted on buying Jisung a corsage, or something like a corsage, even found a place where he can get two pins instead of a pin and a bracelet. Minho whittled Jisung’s will down enough to learn that a dark red rose would be perfect, though he still refuses to show his suit on video before the big day.

“It’s not a wedding dress, dumbass, just show me what you look like.”

“It’s just as important, and I’m not a dumbass.”

Finals are starting soon, and from last year they both know communication is bound to become scarce as they inch closer and closer to those dreadful days. They talk as much as they can right now, before that terrible time comes upon them.

10 Days Before Prom

“So when exactly is Minho coming into town?”

“I don’t know exactly, I haven’t asked.”

Jisung is seated at the kitchen table with his mom after school, moving a small, shared pile of fruit around with his spoon as he waits for a good reason to get up and go up to his room. The metal makes loud, unpleasant noises against the ceramic plate. It seems to match his mood. He’s a little down today, the lack of mail hit a little harder than it should have and he really just wants to sulk, if he’s being honest.

“Well you’d better find out, honey, so we can get something ready for him,” Jisung’s mom chastises, grabbing his spoon and putting it down as she munches on a grape, presumably to stop the horrendous scratching noise. “I want to thank him properly.”

“Thank him?”

“For being your date. He doesn’t have to come all the way out here and do that, you know. You’d better be grateful.”

Grateful. Jisung is grateful, but it’s not like he asked for the favor or anything. He had to spill the full situation to his parents, tell them why exactly he needed money for a suit and prom tickets and explain that they couldn’t meet his date because he wasn’t in town (not to mention because they already know him as a third son). They’d been thrilled, they’re always thrilled with Minho, he practically walks on water in their eyes. And it’s not that Jisung can blame them, Minho walks on water in his eyes too, but he doesn’t really want to hear the narrative that taking him to prom is some type of burden when he’s spent the last month trying to push it out of his own head.

“I’m delighted.”

“What’s with the tone?”

“Nothing, no. I’m grateful. I’ll go call him now,” Jisung says, starting to head for the stairs.

“Find out if he wants any kind of dinner too, okay?” Jisung’s mom calls out.

“He wants fried chicken.”

“No, you want fried chicken,” his mom laughs. “Find out what Minho wants.”

“He’s going to want dinner with his own parents! And Minho likes fried chicken too! Don’t you want your own son to be happy?”

“Yes I do. Now call your date and get me some info. If you do a good job there’ll be something good in it for you,” she says. Jisung nods and darts up the stairs defeated.

He takes a few minutes for himself first, delaying the task not because it’s actually a troublesome thing to do but because his mother had asked him to do it. Maybe not the most mature attitude to hold when he’s about to be leaving home for the first time (hopefully), but old habits die hard. When he’s changed and comfortable and can’t think of any reason to delay his call anymore, Jisung props his phone up on his desk and facetimes Minho.

“Hello?”

Minho picks up almost instantly, but the screen is the telling pink of someone covering the camera with a finger and there are muffled sounds of water coming from his speaker.

“One sec,” Jisung hears Minho reply, followed by the sound of a faucet turning and the water coming to a stop. “Sorry, just got out of the shower,” Minho says. The screen lights up and the picture finally comes through, though it’s one Jisung wasn’t quite prepared for.

Minho, shirtless, hair dripping wet and face completely bare. Something Jisung has seen before, absolutely, but not since last summer and even then it had been getting a little hard to digest without his face heating up. At least then he’d been able to blame the hot sun pounding on them as they spent entire days messing around at the beach. What’s his excuse supposed to be now? A late second wave of puberty? He glances at his phone screen, inspecting the tiny version of his face in the corner and checking to make sure his ears aren’t noticeably red. He seems safe, at least for now.

But damn, Minho really needs to stop with this whole “hot college guy” thing. It’s getting old.

“Should I call you back?”

“What? No, Sungie, I’m here. Just give me a second, I just got out of the shower,” Minho says, He’s wrapped a towel around his neck and is walking into his room. Jisung hears the TV going in the background, probably Chan, and watches a little droplet of water fall from the tip of Minho’s hair down to his face, roll down his neck and get caught at his collarbone. “Everything ok, though? You didn’t text before calling, you usually do.”

Jisung snaps back to attention, moving his eyes back up to meet Minho’s (at least as much as possible through a screen) and tries to focus on the task at hand. “Yeah, I’m fine. My mom wants to know when exactly you’re coming back. To the minute, if you can.”

“Oh, ok. I’m coming back thursday night, I’ll leave here at five and hopefully be there by nine. You can tell her 9:03 pm if you think that will make her happier.”

“What will you do if you arrive earlier?”

“To make your mom happy? I’ll just wait in the car, I suppose. No other option,” Minho says with a smile. He places the phone down on his desk and moves the towel through his hair, leaving a ruffled mess that gets further disheveled when he pulls a soft looking sweater over his head.

“And if you’re late?”

“I won’t be late. I’ll speed.”

“Don’t say that,” Jisung says, unable to hold back a little grin. He’d wanted to make this call short and sweet, give himself ample time to sulk in his room before starting his homework, but that desire is starting to fade. “She’ll know. She always knows. Nine is late though, she wanted to make you dinner.”

“I was just going to get fast food on the road,” Minho says. He’s flopped onto his bed and rolled to his side, and if Jisung had to guess he’d say the phone is propped against the wall. It almost feels like they’re laying side by side. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Huh?

Hyunjin’s little comment is seriously fucking with his brain lately, that must be it. For the past month. He needs to get it out of his head. This isn’t romantic. Minho is attractive, Jisung would say he himself is pretty attractive too, that doesn’t mean he has to think about laying in bed next to him and pushing the damp strands of hair from his forehead before they dry into something uncontrollable (as they tend to do).

Minho used to eat his own boogers.

(Jisung used to think it was cool, if Minho did it, it must be cool. He used to eat his own boogers too.)

So stop daydreaming, stop projecting, get your shit together and continue this very normal conversation with your best friend.

“I’m going to need that in writing, because my mom will absolutely delay our normal dinner by three hours to appease your schedule.”

“My mom wouldn’t stand for it.”

“My mom would make your mom. She’s scarier. Your mom is nice and relaxed and goes with the flow, my mom is a force of nature,” Jisung insists. Maybe it’s because he had an older brother, but Jisung’s mother, kind as she may be, likes to have a plan and rules in place. Minho’s mom is cooler, lets him do whatever as long as he’s safe. That’s why they almost always hung out at Minho’s place.

“I will text your mother myself and tell her that I don’t want to hold up dinner for you guys. Just eat without me, we can do a joint family thing before I leave.”

“Thank you, that’s all I need. If you’d like, you can also tell her that even if you aren’t going to be there I still deserve fried chicken.”

“I’m not texting her that,” Minho laughs. “But nice try. So tell me something.”

“Tell you what?”

“Anything. I haven’t spoken more than two sentences to you in like a week.”

“Not my fault,” Jisung teases, sticking out his tongue.

“Not my fault either, I have finals coming up!”

If Jisung is going to end this call and make alone time to sulk, this is his chance to do so.

“And you’re still in the middle of them, so hang up and get studying!”

That’s what he could say.

“I know it’s not, I’m just joking. Not much has happened to me though. Just working on some projects.”

“Hmm? Anything fun?”

“Of course not. So tell me, why are you showering at four in the afternoon? You’re a morning showerer, always have been.”

“It’s kind of a weird story,” Minho says, sitting up and towel drying his hair once again.

“I’ve got time.”

They talk until Jisung is called down for dinner, and when the door to his room opens the familiar smell of fried food wafts through the house and into his nostrils, making him perk up.

Fried chicken.

Maybe this day wasn’t too bad after all.

4 Days Before Prom

“So you really don’t think we should have gotten a limo?” Seungmin asks, hesitance clear in his voice. He’s seated next to Felix on the grass as they all enjoy lunch in the courtyard on this unseasonably warm day. Jisung is pretty sure he thinks he’s being sneaky with the way his arm crosses over Felix’s behind them, but despite the attempt, Seungmin has never been sneaky in his life, and Felix has never even tried.

“The limo is expensive, we have like a thirty minute drive to the venue and that’s more than I want to cover. Almost all of us can squeeze into my car,” Hyunjin insists. “But you’re sure you’re good going with M- with just your date, Jisung?”

“Yeah, no big deal. It’ll be nice to have some alone time, you guys would probably scare them off anyway,” Jisung says. He doesn’t mind riding alone with Minho at all, even wonders if he should ask his date if they can volunteer the station wagon, which actually would fit everyone. But this adds to the surprise, just another little thing to delay his friends from finding out who his mystery partner is. It’s really more of a fun game than anything by now, Jisung has lost all sense of shame about going with Minho and instead found joy in constantly shooting down his friends pestering.

“Yeah, sure we will. Lix is terrifying,” Hyunjin scoffs, gesturing at their friend. He smiles his sweetest smile, frames his face in his hands and waves, the absolute picture of innocence.

“Lix isn’t, but Jeongin is,” Jisung insists. He gets a smack on the knee in return from the youngest member of their little group, then another one from Hyunjin. Always there to protect his man. “Ow! You two are the worst couple I’ve ever met, you belong together. Anyway, the point still stands, I don’t have any other option. Don’t waste money on the limo, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sneaking in a flask,” Jeongin declares. This time Seungmin is the one doing the smacking, though it barely makes a sound.

“The hell you are, you’re on the student council and you’re a child.”

“But it’s tradition,” he whines, rubbing his knee even though Seungmin had barely tickled him. “I don’t want to miss out.”

“It’s not tradition, you only want to do that because you heard Minho did it from Jisung. And he didn’t even use it. And there’s security this year. You get caught, they won’t let you in,” Seungmin says.

“Holy shit, you’re a killjoy,” Hyunjin laughs. “Don’t worry, Innie, I’ll put a juicebox in my car for you.”

“You suck.”

“You like me anyway.”

“Shut up.”

Jisung watches the bickering in amusement, trying to enjoy the atmosphere. Felix is doing his best to keep Seungmin calm at the ridiculous statements Hyunjin and Jeongin keep making, and he can’t help but think what a nice couple they make already. It seems like something has shifted between them, though nothing is official quite yet, and Jeongin and Hyunjin have their own routine well rehearsed by this point in their relationship. It’s hard not to feel like a fifth wheel. He hopes it will be better on Saturday night, when at least he’ll have Minho to snicker to and make jokes with as the couples do their thing.

He’s really looking forward to it, they all are, more than he expected. Minho says he’s excited to teach Jisung how to slow dance, and though Jisung resists it verbally he’s actually genuinely excited to learn. Hyunjin had given a few demonstrations, steps from a class he and Minho had taken back when they both attended the same dance academy, but supposedly it will be better with a real partner. Minho will be a good teacher, he always has been. Two more days until he’s in town.

Jisung can hardly wait.

2 Days Before Prom

“How far are you?”

“I’m like three hours away, it’s only six. You didn’t seriously think I was going to speed that much?” Minho’s voice comes through Jisung’s phone a little fuzzy, the result of being on speaker while driving down the highway.

“No, of course not. I’m just… Just get here quick, ok?” Jisung says, biting back an overly enthusiastic ‘I just want to see you!’ that threatens to come out.

“Aww, you miss me? You want to see me?” Minho teases. Maybe Jisung didn’t bite things back as well as he thought.

“I just fear that if you go too long without looking at my face you’ll get sad. So I think you should get here quick,” he follows up. It’s a pretty lame excuse, but at least it makes Minho chuckle before responding.

“I want to see you too. I’ll be there at nine, I promise,” Minho says softly.

“Ok. I’ll see you then.”

“I’m gonna go now, ok?”

“Yeah. Focus on the road, why are you talking to me?” Jisung responds.

“I haven’t the slightest idea. See you soon, Sungie.”

And then the line goes dead.

Jisung ponders his next move for a moment, wondering the best plan of action. He’d typically lounge around for a while, not start his homework until after dinner and work into the night. That’s not going to cut it today, he has way too much nervous energy to do nothing.

Minho is coming home.

Jisung starts his homework early, though even with that his workload is so light at this point in the semester that he has ample time to pace around his room. He should be studying for final exams, that’s the only reason the homework load is lighter right now, but there’s no way he can focus on anything without a set structure right now. So he paces, plays a game, waits for his parents to call him to dinner. He settles on the couch with them for a while after that, tries to distract himself by watching a family friendly show and chattering about the day. Jisung suspects that under any other circumstance they’d be nagging at him to go back upstairs and study, but they know him well enough to sense that that’s not going to happen. So instead they pay him company, distract him until 8:50 when they just so happen to decide it’s time for them to turn in for the night.

Ten minutes. Or thirteen, if Minho holds true to his commitment. Why is he so nervous? Minho hadn’t come home for winter break, instead spending the time at his job picking up extra shifts for some spare cash, and while Jisung had understood the decision that means it’s been nearly nine months since they’ve been face to face. He remembers hugging Minho goodbye at the end of the summer, the way that even though his mind said things would be fine his body simply hadn’t wanted to pull away. Maybe that’s what Hyunjin had been referencing, and maybe he had been right. Something in the summer air had crackled between them back then, at least on Jisung’s side, and he still isn’t quite sure what that meant. Maybe he’s about to find out.

Jisung darts into the bathroom while he has time, inspects his teeth and skin and runs a hand through his hair to give himself some volume. He looks fine, at least he thinks he does. Maybe even a little bit better than he had at the end of summer, since he’d spent all of January binge watching skincare videos online and has now gotten most of his troublesome spots out of control. A little voice in the back of his head points out that the Jisung from a year ago wouldn’t care how he looked to see his best friend. He ignores it.

And then Jisung steps back into his family room, and there are headlights in the street, and they turn. Not into his driveway but into the one next door, the one in front of the little yellow house that Jisung had spent practically half his childhood in. It’s dark, but Jisung can just make out the outline of a dinky old station wagon as it parks. As if to confirm his suspicions, Jisung’s phone dings, and he digs it out of his pocket to look at the message.

Minho (8:58 pm): Do I have to wait 5 minutes to tell you I’m here?

Jisung darts outside, only stopping to grab his keys, and runs across his yard to the neighboring driveway. The lawn is wet against his bare feet, and when he makes it to the gravely driveway it pinches a little bit, but he ignores it as he runs to greet Minho’s car. Jisung sees his friend looking down at his phone, but just before he makes it to the passenger door he looks up and makes eye contact. He watches a smile grow on Minho’s face, watches him open his door and run out to meet him halfway, sees him spread out his arms before he makes the very spontaneous decision to jump and wrap his legs around his best friend's waist as he holds on for dear life.

“You’re here!” Jisung yells, more to the back of Minho’s head than his actual face. He feels solid arms around his back holding him up before his friend starts waddling to the front of his car to place Jisung down on the hood.

“And you’re heavy.”

“I’m not heavy. Haven’t you been working out? You should be able to hold me no problem.”

“I have been working out, but you’re still an 18 year old man. You’re heavy,” Minho says, though from his eyes and his expression Jisung can tell it’s all in jest. “I think you got bigger.”

“That’s rude. You just got here and you’re already being incredibly rude. I should find another date,” Jisung huffs.

“Not bigger in that way, but like… well, like I said. You’re an eighteen year old man now. You look good, Sungie.”

“I do, don’t I?” Jisung says, smiling proudly and getting up from his place on the car hood. “You too. You look taller. And buffer. Who you been using those muscles on?”

“Oh, they’re just for show. Unless Chan eats my food, then he gets a beating,” Minho says, rolling up his sweatshirt sleeve and flexing a bicep. Jisung can barely see it, it’s dark and the sweatshirt is bulky as hell, but he still nods knowingly in response.

Minho really does look good. Healthy, mature, maybe a little bit… sophisticated? It’s hard to put the exact words to it. Maybe he just looks like an adult. But even with his hair clipped back dorkily in the pins Jisung knows he only keeps for driving and a thin layer of grime on him from being in the car for so long, he can tell it’s a little bit more than he was ready for.

He really does look good.

“You’re barefoot,” Minho points out, gesturing to Jisung’s feet. He pulls them closer to himself, getting comfy as he sits criss-cross on the hood of Minho’s car.

“I am. It’s warm out.”

“But that had to hurt.”

“Not more than being apart from you, baby,” Jisung says, shooting him finger guns and a cocky smile.

“You’re absolutely insane.”

“I’m not insane, I just saw your car and ran. I promise my feet are fine.”

“You literally have so many pairs of shoes-”

“Did you get in ok?” Jisung asks, interrupting his friend from the rant he can tell is about to come. This is not the conversation he wants to have after so many months apart.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Minho says with a grin. “Though Nelson nearly didn’t want to start up when I was trying to leave school.”

“Nelson is a dick like that,” Jisung says, tapping on the hood of Minho’s car. He’d had the honor of naming it when Minho received the hand-me-down from his parents, and though it was rather spontaneous Minho has never once tried to change it or take it back. “But we love Nelson.”

“We do,” Minho says, patting the car fondly. They’re silent for a moment as Minho looks around, taking in his house, his old neighborhood, his old neighbor. His old life, to some extent. But then he claps his hands and the silence is broken. “Ok, what are you doing right now?”

“I’m… sitting here?”

“I mean like, tonight. What are you doing?”

“Minho, it’s 9 pm on a school night. I have class tomorrow. I don’t know what you’re asking,” Jisung giggles. A look of realization comes across Minho’s face, like he has just now remembered that Jisung is in fact a high school student despite driving four hours to bring him to his senior prom.

“Oh, right. Ok but like… you don’t sleep until two in the morning, I know you. So why don’t you go get some shoes, I’m going to put my stuff inside, and we meet back out here in ten?”

“Don’t you think your parents will want to spend time with you?”

“They’ll understand,” Minho assures him. “I came here for you.”

“Oh,” Jisung replies, unsure what to say to that. It brings heat to his ears and a dopey smile to his lips that he hopes his friend can’t see. “But, where are we going?”

“You’ll find out,” Minho says. “Just meet me back by Nelson.”

“Fine.”

With that, they split ways (though Minho insists on piggybacking Jisung over to his lawn, where his feet will be safe and protected from gravel). He makes his way inside to put on socks and shoes, then spends a minute staring at his closet. Should he tell his parents he’s going out? Probably. Should he bring a hoodie? He has no idea, but grabs one just in case.

And even though he should tell his parents, and he knows they would probably make an exception on his curfew for this one special night, that seems like it would ruin the fun. So he tiptoes past their room, down the stairs, and out the door. He ducks behind the bushes framing their front windows, sprints across his yard and into Minho’s, and quietly positions himself on Nelson’s hood as he waits for Minho to come out.

He isn’t trying to peep, but he is curious, and it’s hard not to look at Minho’s house when it’s the only source of light nearby. Through drawn curtains he can see the silhouette of three people, Minho and his parents. The tallest, Minho’s dad, stands with his hands on his hips as the two other figures hug. Minho and his mom have always been close, his father not as much. When he’d come out to them during winter break his first year of university, both relationships had been pushed to more extreme lengths. His father hadn’t been against it, per se, just faded even further into the background of Minho’s life than he already had been. Minho’s mother, extraordinary and wonderful woman that she is, had been overwhelmingly accepting. Jisung even went to her himself when he was having some of his own… questions. Asked how it felt as a mother to hear that kind of news as he debated what to say to his own family. He’s not as sure as Minho about his own feelings, not so clearly gay or straight, and he’s not sure he ever will be, but in the end he’d come to his own conclusion; if the person is good, he’s open to anything. It’s just that nobody had been quite good enough to try for anything serious yet.

Jisung watches on as he hears laughter through the window, matching cackles that Minho and his mother both share.

Minho is by far the best person he knows.

“I’ll be back before morning,” he hears, followed by Minho running out the front door with a blanket in hand. “Hey, you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Jisung confirms, standing up from his spot on the car. “Where are we going? You’re not gonna blindfold me or anything, are you?”

“Do you want me to? Is that what kids are into these days? Sensory deprivation?” Minho asks. Jisung feels his jaw drop, not used to hearing Minho’s innuendos in person anymore.

“I’m not a kid!” he defends when he regains control of himself. “You’re sick.”

“No, I guess you’re not,” Minho says, unlocking the car. “Just get in, you’ll know where we’re going. You don’t trust me?”

“Of course I trust you.”

Jisung climbs into the car, surprised how tidy it is after such a long journey. Minho had always been the anal one between the two of them. It’s not an easy start, the car whines and groans as Minho turns the ignition, only roaring to life after a good two minutes of ‘gentle touches’ and soft praises whispered into the steering wheel.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to have to beg your car to work,” Jisung says, frowning at the dashboard. “You sure this thing is safe?”

“Nelson is just temperamental these days.”

“Nelson, what’s he done to you?” Jisung asks, patting the glove compartment. “You were always so nice before. Have you missed me?”

Minho scoffs at that remark, earning himself a glare and a flick on the arm. “Yeah, that must be it.”

“This car loves me. As do you. Stop lying to yourself,” Jisung says. Outside the window he sees the tree-lines streets of their suburb start to clear as Minho turns into a community park. He opens the window and listens as the wind gets overwhelmed by the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

Ah. The beach.

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Jisung says, staring out the window as they make their way to a secluded parking lot. The main public beach is gated and locked at night, but there’s a private beach, their private beach, that stays hidden. It’s only accessible if you know the path, and very few people do.

“That’s fine, I figured we could just skinny dip,” Minho says, reaching over to tug on Jisung’s collar before earning himself yet another flick on the arm. “Ow! We’re not swimming, are you nuts? It’s dark and it’s way too cold. It’s still only spring”

God, if Minho keeps this up he’s going to have a heart attack before he even graduates high school. It’s not just the innuendos and the suggestive language, it’s the touching and the play flirting and the way he looks. He’s still Minho, but he’s different, he really is. Jisung isn’t quite sure how to handle that.

“You’ve gotten more perverted since you’ve been at school.”

“I’m not perverted, I’m liberated. You should try it sometime,” Minho says. He pulls into the spot closest to the path and gets out, running around to Jisung’s door and pulling it open before he can do so for himself. “See? I’m a gentleman.”

“A gentleman,” Jisung scoffs, getting out and looking around. It’s dark without the car’s headlamps on, even with the dim street lights of the parking lot and the moon shining above them. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Well, you won’t have to wait too long,” Minho replies.

“Huh?” Jisung looks at him curiously as he pulls the blanket from his back seat and a bottle of water to share. What does that mean?

“Prom, remember? I got you the most beautiful, gentlemanly flower you could think of. I’ll be a perfect date.”

Oh yeah. Prom.

“Uh-huh.”

“We’ll be the best dancers in the room,” Minho insists. He leads the way into a thin layer of foliage, grabbing his elbow when the path gets a little overgrown. “The best looking couple, too.”

“With Hyunjin there? I’m pretty sure he’d be willing to fight you for both those titles,” Jisung points out.

“Whatever. We’d win. I’m older, what I say goes.”

“Maybe you two should go together and I could take Jeongin. I’m interested to see if you could win prom king without even going to this school anymore,” Jisung suggests. They make their way off the path and onto the beach, Jisung’s body immediately chilling as a breeze comes off the lake and rips through him. He zips his sweatshirt and pulls the hood up as Minho lays the blanket down. It’s not a big beach, if it was it wouldn’t be so private or unknown, but it’s enough for them and their friends.

“God, I could never. He’s like my pesky little brother that follows me around, there’s no way I could dance with him,” Minho says, flopping onto the blanket and patting the space next to him for Jisung to join. He does, seated a respectable six inches away, and is immediately pulled closer as Minho huddles against him for warmth.

“You two quite literally used to dance with each other,” Jisung argues, earning a gentle knock on his head from Minho’s own. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You know what I mean. We took dance classes together, we didn’t dance together. I could never like, take him as a date somewhere. Seriously, like a pesky little brother.”

“And I’m not like a pesky little brother?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” Jisung hums. He’s not sure what to say to that, so instead he stares at the water and thinks. They’ve known each other forever, since he was three days old. So being like a pesky little brother, that’s probably how it should be. But Minho has never felt like an older brother, Jisung already has one of those. An idol, maybe? A best friend? A soulmate? It’s hard to say. How does he see Minho, as things stand right now? And how does Minho see him? “I have a question.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a pervert now,” Jisung states. He can feel Minho turn to look at him, but keeps his eyes focused on the water. No way can he ask this face to face.

“That’s not true, and it’s not a question.”

“Ok, you said you’re liberated or whatever. But you never talk about like… guys. To me, at least. So what is liberated? Are you dating around?”

Minho doesn’t answer right away, and that alone makes Jisung nervous. Is he dating up a storm and he just thinks Jisung won’t be able to get it? Or is he not dating around, but sleeping around? There’s nothing wrong with messing around, especially in college. Minho is twenty years old, he has every right to do whatever he wants with his body. Hell, he’s been working hard for that body, it would be a shame for nobody to see it.

The thought still leaves a bad taste in Jisung’s mouth.

“Well, no,” Minho says after a brief hesitation. “But I could. If I wanted to.” Jisung sighs in relief, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It must be louder than he realizes, because he can feel Minho’s gaze on him intensify, and he finally turns to meet it. Legs pulled to his chest, head resting on his knees, Jisung locks eyes with his.

“Oh could you, now?” he asks, putting on a teasing tone to keep the mood from getting weird.

“I definitely could,” Minho responds, shifting to mimic Jisung’s position.

“So why don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I did, last year. You remember I told you I was dating that guy for a couple months?”

“Oh yeah. What was his name again?” Jisung asks. He does remember now that Minho mentions it, but that feels like so long ago. He doesn’t recall feeling any resentment at the time, just a bit of awe that Minho had finally acted on feelings he’d always felt he had to hold back at home. He wonders what changed to make him feel this way now.

“Juyeon.”

“Ohhhh now I remember,” Jisung says. A lie. “You still talk to him?”

“No, not at all. I don’t even think I have his number anymore,” Minho laughs, no hint of malice in his expression. He’s shifted to match Jisung’s position, arms wrapped around his own legs as they face each other head on.

“So what, you’re not over him? Or you hated dating? Or he ruined it for you? What?”

“I don’t know, he was nice. I just wasn’t that into it. I mean, freshman year in general I did try dating, hooked up with a few people, it was all well and good.”

“And this year you suddenly turned into a nun?” Jisung teases.

“This year… there were just things I’d rather be doing,” Minho says, eyes glazing over a bit as he reaches a hand out to Jisung’s face. “I had other priorities,” he continues, pinching Jisung’s cheek and wiggling it a bit.

“Ow! Watch it, dickwad,” Jisung whines, shaking his head to get Minho off. “What other priorities? You were on the phone with me like, all the time. You didn’t seem all that busy to me.”

Minho just smiles at him and pinches his cheek again, releasing it when Jisung brings his hand up to swat it away and replacing the grip with a gentle cupping of his jaw. He still moves his hand up and down, he’s always liked playing with the chub of Jisung’s cheeks, but it doesn’t hurt, so Jisung lets him have his fun. “Well, I couldn’t let you be bored and panicky all by yourself, now could I?”

“I can hold my own,” Jisung defends. “And I have other friends, Hyunjin is always here if I’m really in trouble. Like, if I need to bury a body or whatever.”

“I know you can,” Minho laughs. “And if you have to bury a body, you should still call me. Hyunjin is bad at physical labor, I’d drive the four hours to help just to keep you from having to hear his complaining.”

“Wow. My hero. You know what I mean, though.”

“Well maybe I just wanted to talk to you, hmm? Ever think about that?”

Jisung feels heat creep to his face and jolts himself up, hiding any potential blush before Minho can notice it and tease him. “As you should,” he says, “I’m a fantastic conversation partner.” He leans back on his hands and looks into the sky. It’s a waxing crescent moon, if he remembers anything from last year's astronomy elective. Felix says that means he should be thinking about his intentions, things he wants to happen. He’s not sure if he believes all that, but it seems appropriate right now.

What exactly are his intentions?

“You are. I’m simply bored to death of not having you at school, oh great and powerful Jisung,” Minho deadpans. He’s shifted to match Jisung’s position once again, staring at the sky and admiring the faint glow of the stars that they can make out, clouded by the pollution of nearby towns and cities. Jisung turns to look at him after a moment, taking him in under the hazy glow.

It’s a familiar side profile, but it never has lost its novelty. The nose that used to be too big for his face now looks tall and distinguished. His lips, pouty and defined, still hold the faint curve of a smile from their conversation. He’s a sight to behold, that’s for sure. Jisung really misses seeing him every day. Maybe if they hadn’t been separated, he would be able to pinpoint the exact moment that his feelings began to shift, when he began seeing Minho as something more than his lifelong neighbor and best friend.

“Well,” Jisung says, clearing his throat to collect his emotions. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll get that letter soon and I’ll be there next year.”

“Oh yeah?” Minho asks, the faint curve of his lips turning up into a genuine smile. “I know you will.”

“Do you think I’ll like it?”

“What? Being away at school?”

“Yeah. And the campus, the people. All of it. Will I fit in there?” Jisung asks. He’s been dreaming of going to JYP University for ages, he’s done the required research, by all accounts he should be set. He knows the school. But Minho actually knows him.

“You know I can’t predict that for you,” Minho says, turning to look at him. “But… I think you will. The campus isn’t too big, so it’s hard to get lost. Your gen ed classes will be the same no matter where you take them, there’s no helping that. And as for the people? I can’t predict what kind of people will be in your class, but I always had good luck meeting nice people.”

“I see.”

“I’ll be there. You like me, right?” Minho asks, sending a flirty wink his way. Jisung knows it’s meant to be a joke, but it makes his heart sink to his stomach.

Ah, he might really be screwed.

“Yeah,” Jisung creaks out, embarrassed when his voice comes out squeaky and adolescent. That’s one way to show his newfound maturity.

“Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

Minho looks at him before answering, an intense, deep look that makes Jisung feel like his soul is being put on display. Like he’s trying to figure Jisung out, like he hasn’t known him for eighteen years. “Nothing,” he finally says, “no, nothing. You’re just all grown up.”

Jisung sits in silence for a moment, wondering what to make of that. The flirting, the looks, the touches. There’s no way Minho has ever seen him as anything but a kid, right? At least, maybe until today. But in the two hours they’ve spent together tonight, maybe it’s his imagination, but it seems like Minho is looking at him a little bit differently. Like… a possibility. Like he might just have a shot.

But it’s frightening, not knowing where you stand with someone once so close. Far too frightening to make any kind of grand gesture, or god forbid come out and ask. So he does something subtle. Something small, something that could be easily brushed off if it goes awry. Something that hints to Minho that Jisung thinks he might be a possibility too.

Jisung looks back up to the sky and shifts, just enough on his right arm that their hands overlap. If Minho didn’t like it, he’d say something, right? But he doesn’t say a word, doesn’t make a peep, and most importantly, he doesn’t move his hand away. That’s a good sign, Jisung has to take that as a good sign. He pushes a little further, weaves his fingers between Minho’s until the motion is reciprocated. Their silence remains, though it’s not uncomfortable. With them it never is. Instead it’s an opportunity, a chance to focus on the sound of the waves in front of them, the soft glow of the sky, and the feeling of their fingers laced together after so many months apart. It’s really nice.

So he pushes a little further, lets his head lean to the right and rest on Minho’s shoulder and smiles when he feels the weight of Minho’s head lean atop his own. The smell of shampoo wafts into his nose, mixing with the ambient scent of the lake water and sand around them. Jisung lets his thoughts wander a bit, to a world where this could be a normal occurrence. Maybe not the stargazing by the beach part, but the rest of it. The intimacy, the closeness, the feeling of their breathing syncing up as they both space out. Is this what they would be like if the stars aligned and they decided to try dating? After all these years? Is this what being with Minho would feel like?

It’s small, the movement he makes to glance up at his friend. His best friend. With the slight shift of his head, Jisung can just make out a bit of Minho’s face, a face he’s known forever. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? What if he’s overreacting, what if he really is going through a second wave of puberty and his body is just tricking him into thinking there’s something more because this version of Minho is new and shiny and gorgeous? It’s not been that long since he’s been home, after all. A couple hours at most. If he pushes things too much and something goes wrong, he could lose all of this. Not just this moment and their newfound exploration of intimacy and flirting, but all of it. His best friend, one of the few constants in his life. His favorite person.

He can’t afford to lose Minho.

But as he’s shifted slightly up to look at his best friend, Minho has shifted just a little bit down. Their faces are close, much closer than any two friends would normally be, but neither of them seem inclined to move.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, finally breaking the quiet between them. He moves just a little, faces still close but now looking at each other more directly instead of his previous bottom-up angle.

“Ah, I’m just… I guess I’m thinking about how things are changing?” he says. It’s vague enough not to tip anything off about his exact thoughts, but honest enough not to be a lie.

“What kinds of things?” Minho asks. Jisung is still positioned slightly lower than him, leading Minho to gaze down at him with slightly hooded eyes that flicker up and down his face as he waits for an answer.

“I guess everything?” Jisung tries, still trying to be discreet. “Like, I’ll be out of high school and out of the house and that makes things feel different. Everything feels different,” Jisung says softly.

“Good different or bad different?”

“I think good different,” Jisung says, swallowing hard. Minho’s gaze isn’t really flickering anymore, it’s pretty clearly focused on the bottom half of Jisung’s face. Dare he say his best friend in the world is staring at his lips?

Well, now Jisung is definitely staring at Minho’s.

“Things do feel different,” Minho agrees quietly, eyes still lingering. “Good different.”

“Yeah.”

Jisung can’t help but think that if Minho wasn’t pondering the same thoughts as him, he wouldn’t be acting like he is right now. He would pull away and put normal space between them instead of lingering three inches from Jisung’s face. He wouldn’t be staring at Jisung’s mouth or licking his bottom lip subconsciously, a habit that Jisung knows for a fact only comes out when he’s nervous or anticipating something. If he was a little more confident or a little more brave, maybe Jisung would give into temptation and lean a little closer. Minho’s lips look soft. Extraordinarily kissable.

He’s almost certain that would cross a line.

But god does what lay beyond that line look good.

The silence has overtaken them again, and it’s pretty clear that if something is going to happen it really needs to be soon. They aren’t close enough for it to be easy, it’s still a question that looms over their heads and in the inches between their faces; will you lean in and go for it or won’t you? A definitive choice begging to be made. What had once been comfortable background noise is now deafening as it mocks their lack of words, their lack of action. He has to make a choice, lean in or pull away, anything to drown out the sound of the breeze and the waves as they whip around in the ever-chilling night.

And then the choice is made for him.

The waves and wind are deafened by the sound of a loud, robotic ring. His phone, Jisung realizes. He pulls away quickly, whipping the device out of his pocket and glancing at the caller i.d.

“Mom?”

“Jisung? Where the hell are you, you’re not at home!” His mother is practically screeching, loud enough that he has to pull the phone away from his ear and hold it out to avoid temporary deafness.

“I’m out with Minho,” he says into the microphone. He glances at his friend, who has a hand clutched to his mouth and is clearly trying not to laugh.

“Where the hell are you on a school night at… 11:45 pm?”

“We’re at the beach,” Jisung says quietly.

“Hi, Mrs. Han!” Minho pipes in. Great. Of course he has to get involved.

“Is that Minho? Minho, I love you, but my son has school in the morning. Please bring him back.”

“Yes mam.”

“Please drive safely,” she says.

“I wouldn’t let a scratch on him.”

“Bye, mom,” Jisung says, hanging up before the conversation can drag on. He looks up at Minho awkwardly, unsure how to act given their little… moment. He can tell the awkward feeling is shared, especially with the way Minho keeps holding the back of his hand to his neck to check for signs of flushing. It’s dark enough that Jisung wouldn’t have noticed anything no matter how red he turned, but he’s given himself away. “So, um.”

“Yes?” Minho asks, standing up from the blanket and brushing himself off. He holds a hand out to Jisung, a helpful offer of assistance to stand up, which he gladly takes. But Minho lets go as soon as Jisung is up and off the blanket, and it stings more than it should. “Help me fold this?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says weakly, grabbing two ends of the cloth and pulling away from Minho to straighten it out before they walk to the middle and meet in a little folding dance. When it’s done Minho tucks the blanket under his arm and reaches back towards Jisung again. “Hmm?”

“It’s dark,” he says, opening and closing his palm in a grabby motion. Jisung smiles to himself and grabs on, grateful not to have to do the guesswork when Minho weaves their fingers together once again.

“You’re treating me like a kid again,” he chastises.

“I’m not. I literally just told your mom I’d get you home safe, I’m just making good on my promise,” Minho says. Jisung speeds up to walk side by side with him.

“Again, like a kid.”

“You’re not a kid, Jisung. You think I don’t know that?” he says, stopping in the middle of the hidden path and turning Jisung to face him. It’s hard to read his face, the foliage blocks out the little light they’d had, but his tone sounds more serious than it had all night. “You’re full grown, that much is pretty clear.”

“Ah,” Jisung says, looking down at his feet. Even the tiniest bit of eye contact right now is a bit too much for him to handle. “Yeah.” Minho squeezes his hand again and gently tugs him forward as they make their way back to the car. As quickly as the stern attitude had come, it was gone, leaving Jisung’s head spinning as he tries to figure out what put Minho off so much. “Well, hopefully not full grown. I think I can still get a little taller, don’t you?” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

“Pfft. Good luck, I’ve been trying and nothing happens whatsoever.”

“You must be doing it wrong,” Jisung says. They’re back in the parking lot now, streetlights providing enough dim light to see without any problem, but Jisung doesn’t let go of his grip on Minho’s hand. It doesn’t seem like Minho minds.

“What? I tried drinking milk, but… gross. And I’ve been eating super well, all my veggies and everything. What else is there?”

“The dance.”

“What dance? I do dance.”

“The growing dance. Like in Totoro,” Jisung explains, letting go of Minho’s hand to demonstrate. He clasps his palms together and squats down, knees bent and a look of concentration on his face, before stretching all his limbs as much as he can, hands raised in the air as if to reach the moon itself. Then again, and again, until Minho stops staring at him in confusion and starts laughing his ass off instead.

“Oh my god, how could I forget? No wonder I’m not growing,” he laughs, wiping a stray tear from his eye.

“Is it working?” Jisung asks, tongue poked out in concentration.

“I don’t know.”

“Do it with me,” he says, taking a break from his form and waving Minho by his side. They used to watch this movie a lot when they were kids, all the Ghibli movies, but while Minho had lost interest as a middle schooler Jisung had continued watching them obsessively throughout his youth. He’s proud to say he has been able to coerce Minho into watching some for their occasional video-call-movie-nights, though Totoro hadn’t been one of them.

“Ok, what am I doing?”

“Just do what I do. Down, then up. Yeah, like that,” Jisung says, laughing at how absurd they must look. Minho probably can’t tell how his face scrunches up every time he stretches, which makes it all the more entertaining to spectate. “Perfect.”

“Oh shit, Jisung!” Minho says, suddenly alarmed.

“What?”

“I think it’s working! I think you’ve grown!”

“Huh? Seriously?” Jisung asks, looking down at his legs.

“Yea, wait, stand up straight. Look at me,” he says. Jisung obeys, standing chest to chest with Minho as his friend holds a hand to the top of his head. They’re close again, and he’s conscious of it in the back of his head, but that isn’t what this is about right now.

“Oh,” Minho says after swishing his hand back and forth a few times. “False alarm. Still a pipsqueak.”

“Wha- Hey! That was on purpose.”

“Was it?”

“Screw you, Minho. I’ll grow taller than you one day, you’ll see.”

“Uh-huh,” Minho agrees lazily. “Get in the car, Jisung. Your mother is going to have my head on a platter if you aren’t home soon.”

They each climb into their respective seats, clapping for Nelson when he starts on the first try and bickering all the way home. Just like that, things feel normal again.

Except when Minho’s free hand brushes against Jisung’s as he flips to drive, lingering longer than any accidental touch would.

And when Jisung lets it, turning his own hand to make the grip more comfortable on the short ride back to his house.

1 Day Before Prom

Waking up the next day is hard. Jisung stays up far later than that on a regular basis, true. But usually he’s solitary in his room doing minimal physical activity, not going through an emotional crisis at the beach and coming two inches from kissing his best friend in the world. It’s a lot for his fragile eighteen-year-old body to handle. Maybe finals season has made him weak.

He drags himself to school and goes through his day as per usual, but the whole upperclassmen population is abuzz with excitement and secrecy. Girls whisper in hushed tones as they show their dresses only to the most trusted of friends while guys google last minute tutorials on how to tie a tie. Everyone is thrilled for the dance, and Jisung would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling it himself. It’s the thing of legends, the main event of teen rom-coms and coming of age films alike. Today he is pre-prom Jisung, tomorrow he will be prom Jisung, and the next day he will be an adult.

Perhaps that’s a bit dramatic, but it’s what fiction has led him to believe.

It’s not until the middle of the day that he receives a text from Minho. That’s to be expected, Jisung knew he’d be spending time with his mother today since he’s not sure when he’ll be back for summer.

Minho (12:03 pm): I’m on my way to get our flowers
Jisung (12:05 pm): Well, I’m eating stale pizza
Minho (12:06 pm): Damn. That should be me. Sure miss high school.
Jisung (12:06 pm): You’re a liar
Minho (12:07 pm): Maybe so. What’s going on tonight?
Jisung (12:08): Idk why
Minho (12:08 pm): It’s a friday, you guys aren’t doing anything?
Minho (12:10 pm): You’re not going to make me sit here alone, are you?

Oh, shit.

Of course. Minho knows Jisung’s friends. He knows them well. Especially Hyunjin. Of course he would expect to hang out with them while he’s here. The only issue is, Jisung still hasn’t told them he’s coming to town. It’s the one thing he’s been adamant about, perhaps the longest secret he’s ever kept; his date will be revealed when they get to the dance.

“Hyunjin,” Jisung whispers under his breath, nudging his friend.

“What?”

“Shh,” he says, putting a finger to his lips and signalling to keep quiet. They’re at lunch with the whole friend group, so he needs to keep this hush. “I need you tonight.”

“Huh?”

“I need you to hang out with me and Minho tonight,” Jisung says quietly. “Please.”

“Sure. Can I bring Jeongin?” Hyunjin whispers back. The boy looks up at the mention of his name, and Jisung offers a shy wave to him before tugging on Hyunjin’s shoulder and pulling him away from the table.

“You can’t bring Jeongin. Minho is supposed to be a surprise, remember? But I forgot that we’d have this whole day to kill and I obviously can’t let him sit alone in his room twiddling his thumbs and he knows we always hang out on Fridays so… please?” Jisung asks when they get to a far corner of the cafeteria.

“Why can’t you just hang out with him alone, though?” Hyunjin asks in return.

“Uhh… He wants to see you,” Jisung fibs. While probably not wrong, it’s not like Minho had specifically mentioned Hyunjin. But Jisung’s head is still reeling with what had happened last night, and he’s not sure he’s ready for a take two. Having Hyunjin as a buffer seems like the best and least conspicuous option in keeping himself under control.

Hyunjin looks at him, brows raised in question. “He wants to see me? Specifically?”

“Yeah,” Jisung assures him. Hyunjin had been Jisung’s first friend in pre-school, the one to turn their duo into a trio. While he lived across town and couldn’t always join in on their time together, he’s just as integral to the group as Jisung or Minho. But he and Minho clash heads pretty often, and though the fighting is playful they haven’t kept in touch quite as religiously as Jisung and Minho had made a point to. “He said you’re like his little brother. Of course he wants to see you.”

“He said that?” Hyunjin asks. He seems a little flustered by the statement, especially since praise is rare from their older friend.

“He did.”

He’d also thrown the word annoying in the phrase, but Hyunjin doesn’t need to know that.

“I mean, I guess I can. I think Jeongin and Seungmin would probably have been discussing prom details most of the night anyway. And with Felix on the decorating committee… yeah, actually, you might be saving me.”

“Exactly! So, yes?”

“Yeah. Should we just go to your place after school?” Hyunjin asks. Jisung nods enthusiastically, thrilled that his plan worked. Now Minho doesn’t have to know that he’s being kept a secret, Jisung doesn’t have to face his feelings all alone, and Hyunjin… Hyunjin gets to be along for the ride.

“Yeah, that works for me. Just meet at my locker after school?”

“Sure thing.”

Jisung (12:20 pm): It’s just gonna be me, you, and Hyunjin. The others have student council and decorating stuff.
Minho (12:22 pm): I can’t wait to see Hyunjin. I’ll get my tissues ready.
Jisung (12:23 pm): I don’t understand you two.
Minho (12:25 pm): His mom told me to stop him from swearing. Tissues in the mouth were the only good way.
Jisung (12:26 pm): That’s so not true.
Minho (12:26 pm): *The most fun way
Jisung (12:28 pm): My bell is about to ring.
Minho (12:29 pm): Ok. Pay attention in class, sweetie. Get good grades.
Jisung (12:30 pm): Yes sir.

Going home with Hyunjin isn’t a strange occurrence, it happens all the time. But for some reason Jisung is nervous. It’s not a huge mystery as to why; what if he gives himself away? Or what if Minho does? And what if he can’t look at Minho the same in broad daylight knowing what could have happened in the dark of the night?

He’s fidgety, and at the very least Hyunjin notices that.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks quietly, nudging Jisung as they ride the bus back home.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re shifting from foot to foot like you’re gonna pee. Are you gonna pee?”

“I’m not gonna pee! I’m fine, I just want to get back,” Jisung says, rolling his eyes at the suggestion.

“Back to Minho?”

Now, what is that supposed to mean?

“Back home. Minho is there too, so I guess yes, back to Minho.”

“Did you guys hang out when he got home last night?” Hyunjin asks. Jisung’s mind flashes back to their time together and he tries to will away any reaction his body may have. Hyunjin is grinning down at him, and that and the heat in his cheeks tell him he likely failed.

“We did, yeah,” Jisung says. At least his voice sounds relatively normal.

“Uh huh. What’d you do?”

“We just went to the beach for a while,” Jisung says nonchalantly.

“The beach? What’d you do at the beach, skinny dip?” Hyunjin asks, cackling at his own suggestion.

“What? What is wrong with the both of you, he said almost the same thing. You really are his annoying little brother,” Jisung whines. It makes Hyunjin laugh even harder, pulling looks from other students who already consider him a nuisance. “Come on,” Jisung says, tugging his friend's arm as they pull up to his stop.

“Stop tugging on me, my arm is going to come off,” Hyunjin giggles as they get off the bus. When Jisung lets go he speeds up to match their steps and grins down at him. “Ok, so what’d you do? If you weren’t naked or whatever.”

“Oh my god! What is with you, it’s like you want us to be together or something!” Jisung says, laughing at what he thinks is a ridiculous theory. No way Hyunjin would want to turn into the third wheel of their little group.

“I mean…” Hyunjin says, side eyeing Jisung without finishing his statement.

“You mean what?”

“I just don’t think it would be bad, I already told you that. I think you two are like… soulmates or something. I don’t really know under what context, but maybe you should be,” he says. They’ve just about arrived at Jisung’s house by now, and he pauses to keep the conversation away from any eavesdroppers.

“Do you really think that’s possible?” Jisung asks quietly.

“Yeah, I think so. Don’t get me wrong, I’m just an outsider. But as an outsider, yeah, I do. He’s been away for two years and you’re still so close.”

“But I didn’t like him like that before he left. Like, at all,” Jisung says. Although their timing and location are a little bit unfortunate, this is the first time he’s really processed this out loud. Maybe Hyunjin will have some insight.

“Yeah, of course not. You were sixteen, you didn’t even know you liked guys yet. Or at least it didn’t seem like you were ready to admit it if you did. And you were busy with classes and clubs and stuff, I doubt you would have noticed anything relationship-wise,” Hyunjin responds.

“What makes you say that? About the relationship thing?”

“Jisung, I watched Jiwoo try to ask you out once a week for like a month and a half and you didn’t even notice it.”

“Jiwoo? No, she just kept asking if I liked coffee. I didn’t like coffee,” Jisung says. He remembers that too, how she would come in and ask if he’d tried the latest new drink at a local coffee shop. The answer was always no, and when she asked if he wanted to try, it was still no. Coffee was gross back then. “But I’m sophisticated now, I’ve found the joy in it.”

“She wasn’t asking if you liked coffee, she was asking you to try stuff with her. As in, go to the coffee shop and try the stuff. With her. As in a date,” Hyunjin argues, rolling his eyes.

“W-what? She wanted to date me?”

“Until she realized how daft you are. I’m surprised it took her so long,” Hyunjin says. “But see? That’s my point. You weren’t romantically inclined back then. Are you romantically inclined now?”

“I…” Jisung bites back his words, wondering how much to expose. “I think I might be. Err, I definitely am. I’m pretty sure.”

“Towards Minho?”

Jisung pauses before responding to that. It might be weird to admit all this to Hyunjin if nothing ends up taking off. It will put him in a strange position, knowing what could have happened but unable to speak up on it. But it also might be really nice to actually say it out loud.

“Yeah, probably. Towards Minho.”

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL?”

Jisung and Hyunjin snap their heads around at the sound of a shout halfway down the block. Minho is standing there, waving his arms like a madman as he shouts at them again. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Jisung shrugs and starts walking, Hyunjin trailing close behind. Minho jogs a bit to meet them, stopping at the edge of Jisung’s lawn. “What are you two doing? I’m bored,” he says, scowling at them.

“Really good to see you again too, Minho,” Hyunjin says, rolling his eyes at the less than fluffy greeting.

“Hi, Hyunjin,” Minho says, opening his arms. Hyunjin steps forward slowly, lightly embracing the older boy as if frightened something bad may happen. After a few seconds, nothing has, so he tightens his grip and rests a chin on his shoulder.

“Hi, Minho. “

Jisung smiles at his friends, amused at the way they can seem so affectionate yet so put off by each other at the same time. It’s a stark contrast to the way Jisung himself had been greeted, but it seems appropriate for them. “Aw, look at us all reunited,” he coos from the back.

“You too,” Minho says, pulling away from Hyunjin just enough to grab Jisung by the elbow and pull him in. “Group hug.”

Jisung ends up wrapping himself around Minho’s back, encircling their formerly missing friend in a bear hug to be remembered. He rests his chin on Minho’s other shoulder, noting the way he stiffens slightly before relaxing upon feeling Jisung’s breath on his neck. The embrace is broken shortly after that, and when Jisung pulls away it’s hard not to take note of the pink tinge to his ears.

“You two don’t know how glad I am to see you. I thought I’d be hanging out with my mom and relaxing, but she’s just making me filter through old stuff for the thousandth time since I left for school. I swear, she wants to throw everything of mine out to make room for a home gym or something.”

“Sounds more like something my mom would do,” Jisung says, thinking back to his older brother's former bedroom and how it currently acts as a home office for his parents.

“Yeah, it does, which is why I think your mom has been whispering ideas into my mom’s ear while I’ve been gone.”

“Most likely. They have a lot of wine nights.”

“Did you get time to relax at all?” Hyunjin asks. They start to walk inside at Jisung’s lead, Minho and Hyunjin trailing behind.

“Not much, but I didn’t really want it. I had to go get some stuff done for tomorrow,” Minho responds.

Jisung’s ears perk up at that, interested as to what exactly it means. “Oh?”

“Don’t act so surprised, if I’m going to be a date I’m going to be a good one.”

“Now I’m questioning if there’s something I was supposed to do for Jeongin that I haven’t?” Hyunjin contemplates.

“It was just basic stuff,” Minho insists. “I picked up the boutonnieres, ironed my suit, broke in my heels.”

“Heels?” Jisung asks, surprised.

“Just joking about that one,” Minho says with a wink. “Wouldn’t want to make you look even shorter than me in group photos.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Aw, Jisung,” Minho coos, coming up behind him and wrapping an arm around his waist as he tucks his chin onto Jisung’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

Jisung turns to glare at him, putting them at a hairs distance. Minho lets go abruptly, jolting back to his spot by Hyunjin’s side. Jisung takes the chance to hold his bag up to his face, which is useful both for hiding his embarrassment as well as pulling his keys free, then executes his daily tradition of rummaging through the mailbox to find a certain letter with his name on it. Junk mail, bills, a sheet of coupons. No elusive envelope from JYP University. He stays faced forward as he unlocks his door, letting the two behind him inside and tossing his bag to the side as they toe off their shoes. “Anyway. What’s a boutonniere?”

“The formal name for the little flower pin,” Hyunjin chimes in. “Jeongin wanted a green one, do you know how hard that was to find? The little punk.”

“He’s not a punk,” Jisung laughs. “You’re so whipped for him, I bed you’d drive three towns away if you had to.”

“I nearly did! But the lady at the shop saw me struggling and said she’d do a custom order for me.”

“Sounds expensive,” Minho says. He’s already on his way up the stairs to Jisung’s room, second nature kicking in and sending him up there without Jisung himself initiating the move.

“It was a bit. But his family covered the cost of tickets and stuff, so this is the least I could do.”

They all quiet down as they run up the stairs and into Jisung’s room, Minho getting comfortable on his bed as Jisung takes the desk chair and Hyunjin makes use of a beanbag chair that’s been in the family for at least fifteen years now. It’s small and ragged and barely used, but it’s helpful for this exact scenario.

“Oh, Sungie, I saw your mom earlier and she said she’d be home late. Something about a date night with your dad.”

“You talk to my mom without me?”

“You talk to my mom without me there. If I’m not mistaken, you even let her feed you sometimes,” Minho argues back.

“I- well, yeah! She makes cookies, Minho! And I think she misses you sometimes, so I have to be her replacement son.”

“She does make really excellent cookies,” Hyunjin chimes in. “I miss them.”

“Next time she makes them, I’ll snag some for you,” Jisung promises.

“Excuse me, can you please not use my mother as your personal baker?”

“Can you not let my mother use you as a personal message delivery service?” Jisung bites back. Hyunjin looks between the two and giggles, entertained by the show.

“I forget how close you two are sometimes. Like not just you two, but your families too. You’re like a married couple,” Hyunjin says.

Jisung and Minho stare at each other for a moment before turning away, though Jisung distinctly sees Minho’s tongue swipe over bottom lip in a show of nerves. Yeah, they’re close. Their families are close. Yet another reason to be mildly concerned about the change in dynamic looming between them.

“Please, we’re not married,” Jisung rebuttals.

“I’m way out of his league,” Minho agrees.

“Minho, I-”

“Anyway! What about some games?” Hyunjin says, cutting off whatever bickering argument was sure to stem from that. “Mario Party?”

“Since when do you like games?” Minho asks. Jisung would ask the same, that’s never once been Hyunjin’s first suggestion. He’s much more of a conversation guy, or a movie guy, or a pretty much anything but video games guy.

“Since it seems like a good way to shut you two up,” he returns.

“Aw, Hyunjin, I’ve been away for nine months and you’re done with me after ten minutes?” Minho asks, grabbing one of Jisung’s pillows off the bed and standing up to loom over the boy.

“Uh- no, I just-”

“Pillow for you!” Minho declares, bringing the cushion up before plunging it down onto Hyunjin’s head. Jisung cackles at the scene from his spot at his desk chair, which causes them to both look up and focus on him. Minho hands the pillow over to Hyunjin and grabs another from the bed as they launch an unspoken attack towards the boy.

“Stop! No, this is my house, stop!”

“When has that ever mattered?”

Jisung does his best to dodge and weave as he leaps from his chair, but is ultimately taken down by his friends.

He’s missed this.

No matter how old they get, or what dynamics shift between them, he hopes they will always have this. This goofing around and teasing each other, despite how much time has passed. When they calm down Hyunjin starts grilling Minho on his year; what he’s doing, who he hangs out with, what kind of advice he has to offer a soon-to-be college student. Things that Jisung and Minho have long discussed on their regular calls. Jisung takes the opportunity to sit back and relax, toss in little bits of info about Minho’s life that he himself had forgotten to mention. Hyunjin seems a little bit surprised that he knows so much, as does Minho, but what can he say? Perhaps he’s been listening even harder than he thought.

It’s a calm night, really. Perhaps that’s for the best. At some point they venture down the stairs to watch a movie on the big TV in the living room, Minho squished in the middle so Hyunjin and Jisung can split him evenly while he’s here.

And Jisung tries to be ok with that. With the way Minho folds his left leg up and tucks it under himself while his right leg presses into Jisung, arm looped low around his waist. It’s subtle, at least enough that Hyunjin doesn’t seem to notice, but it’s the only thing Jisung can focus on. He leans into the touch, he can’t help it, and tries to maintain some sort of self control before giving up and melting into his best friend’s side. By the end of the movie there are fingertips playing with the hem of his shirt, a head rested atop his own, and a set of very curious eyes scoping out the situation.

“I’m… gonna go to the bathroom,” Hyunjin says, snapping the two out of their daze as they sit up and straighten themselves out. Jisung nods as Minho utters some sort of confirmation, and they spend the next minute alone trying to avoid eye contact. This isn’t what they’re supposed to do, right? How they’re supposed to act, especially in front of their oldest friend. But just as Minho seems on the verge of speaking Jisung is saved by his phone once again.

Or so he thinks.

Hyunjin (8:36 pm): You didn’t say something had already happened you little goblin

Jisung shoves the phone back in his pocket, hoping Minho doesn’t see the message, but one glance at his best friend’s face shows that he has no such luck.

“What does that mean?” Minho asks quietly, a small smirk on his face.

“I don’t know. Who the hell knows what anything Hyunjin says means?”

“Seems like he’s implying something to me.”

Minho schooches closer to Jisung, untucks his leg from beneath his body, and reaches around quicker to grab Jisung’s calves. He can’t do anything but blink in surprise as he’s pulled halfway into Minho’s lap, but he doesn’t try to fight it. There are worse things he could do.

“Oh, come on, what the hell?” Hyunjin asks, pulling Jisung out of his confusion as he wipes his hands on his pants and walks over from the bathroom. “I’m still here, you know?”

“Yeah, how could I forget?” Jisung deadpans, letting his torso fall back onto the couch so he’s lying mostly flat aside from his legs across Minho’s. “I could hear you making a mess of my bathroom. Pfffft,” Jisung says, making his most disgusting noise only to be met with a flick on the forehead from Hyunjin.

“That’s bullshit and I did nothing of the sort.”

“I heard it too,” Minho chimes in, blocking Hyunjin’s incoming hand and swatting it away. “And I smell it.”

“You two are full of it. You’ve always been obnoxious together, but somehow it’s even worse now.”

“You missed it,” Jisung says with a grin.

“Only kind of. Man, the others really are in for a surprise tomorrow night,” Hyunjin says fondly.

“A surprise?” Minho asks.

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re prepared for all this. The consensus has been that Jisung’s date is some quiet guy that we just don’t know that well, not his evil partner in crime,” Hyunjin explains. Jisung feels his pulse quicken as Minho’s face contorts in confusion, and he can’t help but shrink into himself when the grip on his legs tightens and Minho turns to look at him.

“What does he mean?”

“Uh, I guess… Just what he said. They’re going to be surprised and happy to see you!” Jisung tries.

“Why surprised, though? Did you not tell them I’m taking you?” Minho asks. He’s mad, reasonably so, but Jisung doesn’t know what to say. It’s too late now.

“Shit.” Hyunjin looks guilty, incredibly so, and mad at himself in a way Jisung recognizes and really needs to put a stop to. But Minho needs to come first.

“I- Uh, no, I didn’t tell them. I thought you’d be a fun surprise!”

“A surprise or a secret?”

“A secret surprise,” Jisung says, framing his face with his hands and making spirit fingers. “Surprise!”

“Is that why nobody else is here tonight?” Minho asks.

“Shit, guys, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to like… start something. I should go,” Hyunjin says, heading slowly towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though? For pictures?”

“Wait, Hyunjin, it’s not your fault. Don’t leave,” Jisung says, scrambling off the couch and jogging to his friend. “It’s fine.”

“He’s pissed,” Hyunjin whispers, glancing over at Minho. “I didn’t mean to start that.”

“That’s not your fault, it’s mine. Come on, it’s fine,” Jisung whispers back. He puts a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder and tries to guide him back to the couch, but Hyunjin is taller and stronger than him. He doesn’t budge.

“You need to talk to him. I really need to go home anyway, it’s getting late,” Hyunjin says, a little louder now.

“How are you going to get home? It’s too far to walk.”

“I’ll take him,” Minho jumps in, standing up from the couch and walking towards them.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll call my mom-” Hyunjin starts to say.

“No way, that’s going to take ages. Just let me drive you,” Minho insists, walking to the door to get his coat and keys. “My car’s in my driveway. Come on.”

“Minho, wait,” Jisung calls out, a little nervous to have him leave on that note. “Can I come with you guys?”

“I think it’s best if you don’t,” Minho says, face softening when he sees how nervous Jisung looks. “I’ll come back. Just wait for me here.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jisung,” Hyunjin says quietly, following behind Minho as they head out the door. Jisung sees Minho turn to him, say something that he can’t make out and put a comforting arm around Hyunjin’s shoulder. Sees the way Hyunjin leans into it for a moment before straightening up and saying something back before the door closes and he’s left all alone.

Of course this would blow up in his face. There’s no way he could just hide Minho’s presence from everyone and not have someone get hurt. Nor was there any way for him to hide whatever feelings are brewing beneath the surface between them without getting caught, especially from Hyunjin. Minho saw the text, they’re going to have to talk about it at some point, especially now that there’s evidence he’s spilled the beans to someone else.

But talking will lead to some kind of change, and that’s a little frightening. Too much is changing already. School is ending, he still has no idea if he got into JYPU, Hyunjin is almost certainly going to be across the country from them, and now this? Where is his sense of stability going? The foundations of his life are crumbling beneath him, and maybe it’s for the better or maybe it’s for the worse, but he’s scared shitless either way.

For now, for tonight, he really just needs to make sure Minho doesn’t go to bed pissed at him. To make sure he still has a date as well as a best friend. He’s not foolish or dramatic enough to think this type of thing would end their relationship, but with the way things have been going since Minho got home last night… hell, since last summer, the scales seem a little more prone to tipping.

It takes seventeen minutes to drive to Hyunjin’s house. He lives across town in a wealthy little cul de sac surrounded by lovely little mansions. Perks of being the son of two doctors. Seventeen minutes there and seventeen minutes back leaves Jisung thirty-four minutes to stew in his emotions and anxiety. Sitting on the couch is doing nothing for him, so he gets up and moves, paces through the house until his parents arrive home, then tries to fill some time with small talk about their day, follows his mom into the kitchen as she pulls takeout boxes from a paper bag and stores them in the fridge, tries to steal a bite of some potatoes before she swats his hand away. Oh well, he’ll have them later.

“Are we going to Hyunjin’s tomorrow?” she asks, pouring a glass of water for herself and one for Jisung.

“Huh?”

“For photos? I want nice pictures of you and Minho, I have no use for selfies,” she says.

“Oh, uh. I don’t know. Can I let you know tomorrow?” Jisung asks.

“How do you not know? The dance is tomorrow, Jisung, please tell me you’re not this disorganized?”

Before he can answer, there’s a flash of headlights in the street, and Jisung jumps up from the kitchen island. “I, uh- can I tell you tomorrow? That’s Minho, I need to check with him,” Jisung says, already jogging to the door.

“Jisung?” His mom calls out. “Can you tell me in the morning?”

“Sure,” he says, grabbing his keys and running out the door. He can’t have this conversation with his parents in the house, and if his mom catches sight of Minho she won’t let go for hours. He jogs over to Minho’s driveway, opening the passenger side door as soon as the car pulls to a stop.

“Holy shit- What are you doing?”

“Parents came back,” Jisung says. “Can’t be in there.”

Minho glances at Jisung’s form and waves him into the car. “Well, get in then. You ran outside without shoes again, for god’s sake.”

“Yeah,” Jisung says with a grimace, climbing into the car. “Didn’t seem that important.”

“Uh-huh.”

There’s silence between them, the uncomfortable kind, for the first time that Jisung can remember in years. Since Minho broke the news about leaving for a school away from home, probably. He wants to break it, knows someone needs to break it, but he can’t quite figure out how.

“So?” Minho asks, egging him on. He’s clearly not making the first move on this one (nor should he).

“Sorry. I didn’t tell anyone you were coming,” Jisung says quietly.

“You didn’t even tell Hyunjin.”

“Wh-”

“He told me. That he guessed that I was the one who asked you,” Minho says.

“What else did he tell you?”

“Let’s talk about you, ok?” Minho says. The words are harsh but his expression is soft, though it does little to ease Jisung’s nerves. “Why the hell didn’t you tell anyone? Is there a reason?”

“Well, I kept it a secret because I actually did have fun making people guess. And I wanted to see the look on their faces when you walked through the door. It seemed like fun,” Jisung says.

“Seriously? That’s it?” He asks. “Why are you so paranoid, then? You could have just told me that, I’d totally be in on the plan,” Minho says, looking at him questioningly. “Why are you so nervous about that?”

“You’d be in on that?” Jisung asks cautiously. That side of the story is easy. Digestible. It’s also not the whole truth.

“Of course. I mean, it will be funny. We can totally do that,” Minho says, grinning. Jisung tries to smile back, but it feels strained. “Hey, I’m sorry if I freaked you out,” Minho says, placing a hand on each of his cheeks and directing his head up before squeezing a little. “It’s not a big deal! If that’s all it was, I overreacted.”

“That’s not it,” Jisung admits, unable to keep up the lie when Minho is just so… Minho. Perfect. So Understanding.

“Huh?”

“I was embarrassed,” he says. Minho’s face shifts to one of surprise as he slowly lets go of Jisung’s cheeks.

“Embarrassed?”

“Yeah,” Jisung says, folding his legs up under him to get some warmth back into his toes. It’s colder outside than it was last night, and even through the car door the wind bites into him. “Because nobody asked me. Or, nobody asked me romantically. So I was embarrassed to admit that my best friend, who went to both of his own proms and doesn’t even live here anymore, felt obligated to ask me.”

“It’s not like I felt obligated, Sungie. I wanted to. Want to.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re great like that. But it’s still a little hard to admit that nobody actually liked me, like liked me, enough to ask me,”Jisung admits. “Not that I liked anyone enough to ask them either.”

“So you were embarrassed to go with me?” Minho asks, making his distaste for the statement rather clear with his tone.

“What?”

“You didn’t tell people because you’re embarrassed to be going with me. It was easier to not tell them who was taking you than to admit it was me.”

“No, Minho, it’s not like that,” Jisung says, panic rising in his chest. “It’s not because it was you. How the hell could I be embarrassed of you?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Minho strikes back.

“I can’t! I’m not! You’re like- you! You were one of the most popular people at school when you went there.”

“Right, but I don’t go there now. I’m just an old guy going to his old high school prom.”

“Minho, it isn’t like that. It’s embarrassment on my end. Of my character. For only being able to get like… I mean, it basically is a pity date, right? Even though you won’t call it that?”

“I already told you, I’m happy to be taking you-”

“I know, you said that,” Jisung says. “But it’s kind of hard to call it almost anything else, let’s be honest. And even if you don’t call it a pity date, it’s still one friend taking another. Not a traditional date.”

“Jisung,” Minho says quietly, grabbing onto one of his hands and squeezing. He looks like he has something important to say, and Jisung doesn’t dare to hope. He’s nervous, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, and that makes it even harder not to make assumptions as to what may be coming. Finally Minho speaks, releasing his lip from it’s hold and making his expression soft. “A date is what you make of it,” is what finally comes out of his mouth, a near echo of the idea Hyunjin had placed in Jisung’s head a month and a half ago.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means,” Minho says quietly before clearing his throat and starting again. “It means. We have everything in place for a lovely date. Boutonnieres, suits, tickets, the ability to dance. Our devilish good looks. If you stop calling it a pity date it will just be a date.”

“Just a date?”

“A prom date,” Minho confirms.

“A normal prom date with a friend,” Jisung says.

“Oh my god. You’re the only one adding these extra terms onto it, you know that, right? Yes, I’m your friend, but… it’s a prom date. Stop adding qualifiers.”

“I see,” Jisung says. He knows what Minho is getting at, he isn’t completely daft, but hearing it come from his mouth, in the flesh, where the ability for more to happen is so viable and real would be intimidating to think about on a good day. The suggestion of something romantic still hasn’t been voiced explicitly, and maybe if he were braver Jisung would ask or try to pull it out of Minho. But he’s not, at least not yet, so he simply brushes his hand against Minho’s and lets it rest there. “Ok. A date.”

“I don’t want to wait until the dance to see my friends.”

“Ok.”

“They’re my friends too. It’s not fair that you’re trying to hide me from them.”

“I know,” Jisung says. “Sorry. We can do pictures at Hyunjin’s tomorrow, ok? Everyone will be there, we’ll just have to drive separate from them after.”

“Do I get to meet Jeongin? I never met him last summer,” Minho asks.

“Yes, you’ll meet Jeongin,” Jisung laughs. “But Seungmin is going to be there, you can’t pick fights with him.”

“The hell I can’t, that kid is a brat. I haven’t forgiven him for puking on my DS.”

“He was like twelve. You shouldn’t have fed him cotton candy for dinner.”

“His parents shouldn’t have expected a fourteen year old babysitter to cook dinner!” Minho argues back. Jisung laughs and Minho joins, loud and hearty. He’s missed that laugh, especially in person. He’ll probably miss it as soon as Minho goes back, too, even if it is only for a couple weeks. Out of everything that seems to be changing around him, there are still some things about Minho, at least, that remain the same. His laugh, his eyes, his teeth, his sense of humor. His hands haven’t really changed either, Jisung notices, only the feeling he gets in his chest when he touches them.

That’s a change he can live with.

“Minho,” Jisung says, filling the space between Minho’s fingers with his own. “I really am glad you came.”

“Well. Anything for you,” Minho says smugly, closing his hand around Jisung’s. “I can’t just abandon you now, after all this time.”

“You’re being mushy.”

“So are you.”

“I’m allowed to be mushy, it’s the night before my prom,” Jisung argues back. It’s a nice mood, one that would probably lend itself well to an honest and open discussion of their feelings. Jisung isn’t ready for that yet. “Speaking of. I should probably get my beauty sleep, huh?”

Minho locks eyes with him, a knowing look taking over, and squeezes his hand just enough to acknowledge he’s been heard. Maybe he’s not quite ready, either. “You should,” he agrees, “you need it.”

“Hey! You’re such a dick,” Jisung says with a laugh, weakly trying to pull his hand away from Minho’s. He only grabs on tighter, grinning wide and yanking Jisung’s hand closer to him.

“Yeah, well, I may be a dick but I’m still your best friend,” he says. He pulls Jisung’s hand closer and leans down, placing a small kiss to the space where their thumbs interlace and tucking their fists under his chin. “Always.”

“Mushy,” Jisung says quietly, voice laced with even more affection than earlier. “So damn mushy.”

“Yep,” Minho agrees, finally letting go of Jisung’s hand. “Now, get out of my car.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Jisung says, opening the door and flinching as a breeze blows past him and his bare foot touches the cold gravel. “Hey, you don’t want to piggyback me again, do you?”

“Nope. It’s time to start learning from your mistakes, Han Jisung. You’ll be an adult soon.”

“I’m an adult now.”

“Then face the repercussions of running out here barefoot. Just don’t get glass in your foot or anything, you owe me a night of dancing,” Minho says, pushing him gently out of the car. Jisung sighs and steps out, turning to look at Minho one more time before closing the door.

“We’ll meet out here at five, ok? Head over for pictures and some food at Hyunjin’s and drive over for the dance at seven?”

“It’s a date,” Minho confirms.

“Yeah. It’s a date.”

With that he shuts the door and runs, over the freezing gravel, the dewy grass, and into the warmth of his childhood home.

Sleep comes late that night, but when it does he spends his dreams dancing across the floor with Minho, bodies pressed so close to one another they may as well become one.