Work Text:
Don’t ask questions, you don’t wanna know.
Learned my lesson way too long ago.
“It’s spring.”
The voice shook Minho out of his thoughts. He was seated on the couch, nose buried in his laptop, studying tirelessly for his exams. He glanced to his right, regarding Jisung, who was kneeling beside him, leaning over the back cushions with his face nearly pressed against the window. Initially, he scowled. Jisung hadn’t even started his first year at the university yet, while Minho was dealing with the stress of finishing his third; Jisung had time to gaze out the window like a cat staring at a fish tank, while Minho didn’t have such a luxury.
“Oh, is it,” Minho mumbled, disinterested, focusing back on his studies.
“Yeah!” Jisung went on, not taking the hint. “It’s the nineteenth of March, officially the first day of spring. It already shows outside, there are wildflowers on the ground! Look!”
Minho rolled his eyes and choked down an annoyed growl. “Jisung, I’m kind of busy here.”
Jisung glanced at him, and at his laptop. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
His voice sounded deflated, and Minho felt his energy deflate with it, imagining those drooping puppy ears again. He sighed, and tried to ignore the guilt he felt, the regret of shooting down someone’s excitement—yes, he’d made a pact with himself to not fall in love with his roommate; and yes, to that end, he planned to not get any closer to him than acquaintance-level; but did that mean he had to be rude?
Grudgingly, Minho pulled himself away from his laptop and turned around, looking out the window. “Where are those wildflowers you mentioned?”
Jisung beamed, flashing a blinding smile, and his energy went up through the roof again. “There, see? Down by that tree!”
Minho looked to where Jisung was pointing. Amongst the tall, unkempt grass, by the base of a tree next to the sidewalk, there was a smattering of purple and white blooms, growing freely without the help of a gardener. They were the kind that showed up as soon as the weather started to get warmer, but would disappear just before spring kicked into full gear.
“Huh. Yep, it’s spring, all right,” Minho confirmed with a small sniff. The change in seasons didn’t excite Minho nearly as much as it did Jisung. For him, it simply signalled the end of the school quarter and the start of the new one, which meant final exams were upon him. Jisung was still young, still just a kid, fresh out of high school, yet to be thrown into the turmoil of adult school life—his edges were still soft, he hadn’t been banged and bent into shape by the system of responsibilities and high expectations. That would come, though, in time, as it would to everyone, and as it had to Minho.
“You know what else?” Jisung continued, turning away from the window to sit properly. “We’ve been living together for a whole month, now. It’s like, our anniversary!”
Minho hid his cringe by stuffing his face in his laptop again. He’d been trying so, desperately hard not to fall for Jisung, but that kid surely wasn’t making it easy for him. He muttered, “Right. That’s cool, I guess.”
“We should throw a party!” Jisung announced, bouncing on the cushion. Then, he stopped, and looked up in thought. “Unless . . . We might be all partied out, actually, after Hyunjin’s birthday.”
Minho slammed his forehead against the keyboard. “Aw, shit, that’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”
Jisung kicked his feet, wiggling his toes inside his fuzzy socks. “Sure is! I’m super pumped. I’m gonna give him so many birthday bumps, he’ll be seeing tweety birds. Have you decided on a present, yet?”
“I don’t think I’m going,” Minho said.
Jisung made a pouty-face, those imaginary ears drooping again. “What? Why not?”
“Well, I hardly know the guy, first of all,” Minho reasoned, as he went to delete the keyboard smash he’d accidentally made on his document. “Not to mention, I have my last exam tomorrow. I’m gonna be super tired. Plus, I have work tonight . . .”
“Chan has exams too, and he’s still going,” Jisung argued.
Minho gave him a look. “Chan knows Hyunjin way better than I do. I don’t even know why I was invited.”
“Because you’re my roommate, and you’ve met Hyunjin plenty of times,” Jisung huffed. “He comes over to bother us, like, once a week.”
“He comes over to bother you,” Minho pointed out.
Jisung shifted grumpily. “Well, yeah, but he still knows you well enough by now. Besides, what does it matter? You were invited, which means Hyunjin wants you there. You’d have to be a Scrooge to miss a birthday party.”
Minho sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. When is it?”
“We’re gathering at Hyunjin’s at six o’clock!” Jisung declared. “Your exams will be over by then, right?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then that’s one more thing worth celebrating!” Jisung cut him off.
Minho supposed he had a point, but still, just because exams were over didn’t mean the pain stopped there. He had final assignments to worry about, not to mention his grades, his GPA, and the fact he would be moving on to his last year of post-secondary—his last year of school, ever. Jisung couldn’t understand such trivial, adult-life matters, and that was just one more thing that drove a wedge between the two of them. They were so different, so far apart in maturity and experience, not to mention that was on top of Minho’s crush and Jisung’s hetero-ness. They weren’t built to be friends, or acquaintances, or anything more than just roommates.
He spent the rest of the day studying, typing away at his laptop while simultaneously ignoring any distractions from Jisung or the cats. Of course, that was no easy task. Jisung was a difficult man to ignore—especially when he made squeaky noises at the TV whenever cute animals came on the screen, and especially when he later came out of the shower and started parading around the apartment in nothing but a towel.
Minho stubbornly focused on his studies, he did not cast glances to observe Jisung’s sculptured shoulders, his built arms, the muscles on his chest and stomach that tapered off to his enviable waist, the leftover water droplets that clung to his tanned skin. No, Minho did not do that.
Except, he did, to the point he forgot how to read.
***
It was later that night, and the club was just about ready to open—the managers were running numbers at one of the circular booths, the dancers were warming up on their pedestals, and the waitresses were lighting candles at every table. Minho stood behind the bar, dressed in uniform, white button-up and black pants, black bow-tie, and black waistcoat with his name tag on it. He was busy wiping down the counter, washing out cups, making sure the ice container was full, and doing whatever other tasks he could find to pass the time.
“You working a half-shift tonight, or full?” asked his coworker, Hayden, while he rinsed a whiskey glass.
“Just half, thank God,” said Minho.
Hayden groaned in complaint. “Lucky. I have a full shift, how am I supposed to make it without you?”
Minho chuckled teasingly. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”
“You say that, but . . .” Hayden sighed, trailing off. He hopped up to sit on the bar counter, kicking his feet. “Hey, you still thirstin’ over that roommate of yours? What was his name again . . .”
“I just wiped that spot, get your dirty butt off,” Minho ordered, shooing him off the counter and re-wiping the place he’d been sitting. “His name’s Peter, and yes, unfortunately, I still get shivers whenever he looks at me. I was hoping it would’ve worn off by now, but no.”
Hayden giggled at him, sneaking around so he could sit on a different spot on the counter. “Peter. That’s gotta be the least-sexiest name I’ve ever heard. For you to be drooling over a guy named Peter, he’d better look like Paul motherfuckin’ Rudd.”
Minho rolled his eyes. “It’s not that bad, I’ve heard worse names.”
“No, it’s pretty bad. Like, how do you even say that in bed? ‘Oh, Peter, oh yes Peter, oh it feels so good Peter,’” Hayden moaned mockingly, dodging when Minho swung up an arm to smack him.
“In fairness, it’s not his real name,” Minho explained defensively. “Like how I call myself ‘Reno’ because my Korean name is too hard to pronounce. His actual name is Jisung.”
Hayden scrunched up his face judgingly. “That just makes it worse. You’re telling me he chose that name? He could’ve picked any English name in the world, and he picked Peter?”
Minho simply shrugged, as he’d run out of arguments to make on that front. Hayden swung the washcloth in his hand over his shoulder and went on, “What do you like about this Peter, anyway?”
“I have no idea. He’s just been on my mind since I first saw him. It’s pissing me off, honestly,” Minho said, shrugging again.
“Well, at least it’s something to get your mind off Jamie,” Hayden pointed out, eyebrows raised. “You’re over him now, right?”
“Yeah. I mean . . . mostly,” Minho answered quietly.
Hayden hung his head and shook it, slowly. Minho caught his air of disappointment, and continued, “Look, it’s not like I still care about Jamie. Like, I wouldn’t get back with the guy even if he begged me to. It’s just . . . I miss being wanted, I miss having someone I could talk about my day with, someone I could cuddle and watch movies with. Y’know?”
“I get that,” Hayden related, “but you can’t do stuff like that with Peter?”
Minho glanced at the floor. “No. He’s straight, remember? And, anyway, I feel like that stuff just isn’t meant for me.”
Hayden scoffed. “Just what sort of yarn are you spinnin’ now?”
“I’ve been in a lot of relationships, Dennis, and they never go well. You know that,” Minho complained. “They always end with me feeling . . . used. Deceived. Like, the joke is always on me. I’m really starting to think I’m not designed for love, like, it just isn’t for me.”
“That’s a load of bull.” Hayden hopped off the counter and took Minho by the shoulders. “The reason your relationships ended that way before is because you always date pieces of shit. Maybe, if you dated someone decent, things might go a little better.”
Minho shook him off. “I always think they’re decent, at first, only to later find out otherwise. It’s no use. It’s definitely no use going after Peter.”
“Yeah, yeah, ‘cause he’s straight, I know,” Hayden blabbered. “Then give up on him, already! Get on Tinder, Grindr, Bumble, whatever, find someone who can make you happy. You’re not doing yourself any favours, pining the way you are.”
“Can’t you see I’m trying?” Minho spat, a little louder than he would’ve liked. “I’m trying not to like him. I don’t want to like him. But every time I get a bit close to getting over him, he smiles at me, or he tells a stupid joke, or he decides to walk around the house in his underwear, and I end up right back at square one. It’s impossible.”
Hayden exhaled in defeat. “I don’t know what to tell you. You shouldn’t have moved in with the guy, if that’s the case.”
Minho turned away. “I know.”
It was then that the overhead lights in the club turned off, replaced by coloured strobe lights. In a matter of minutes, the space would fill with patrons and dancers, and Minho would spend the next four hours mixing drinks and serving them up and down the counter. He always hoped, at the beginnings of his shifts, that he’d somehow work hard enough to rid himself of thoughts of that fluffy-haired, squishy-cheeked, gummy-smiling dumb kid that haunted him wherever he went; but, no matter how hard he tried, he never could work hard enough.
***
“Welcome to the Party Castle, boys!” Hyunjin welcomed them, throwing open the door to his suite to let them in.
Minho was disgruntled by Hyunjin’s overexcitement, and extra-disgruntled when he was pulled into a tight hug by someone who was pretty much a stranger to him. Hyunjin’s apartment was decked-out for a birthday bash, with balloons clinging to the ceiling and streamers hanging on the walls, rock music playing through a stereo and party hats on everyone’s heads. Despite his protests, Minho was also forced to wear one of the pointy, cheap, dollar-store hats, rainbow stripes up the sides and topped with a glittery pom-pom. The thin string dug into his neck, and he wondered how long he’d have to wear it before he could take it off without anyone noticing.
“What’s with the streamers? Are you twelve?” Jisung teased, poking Hyunjin in the side.
Hyunjin crossed his arms and huffed. “They were Chan’s idea. He says you’re never too old to enjoy fun décor.”
Minho left them at the entryway and found the living room, seating himself on the couch and placing Hyunjin’s gift on the coffee table. He’d bought it last-minute—since he hadn’t thought he would come until the day before—and, as he hardly knew Hyunjin, he’d had to ask Jisung what to buy him. He glanced around the space, and only faintly recognized some of the others present. He knew Chan, of course, and he’d met Chan’s freckled friend once or twice, though his name escaped him. The rest were entirely foreign to him, just three indistinguishable white boys who, judging by their sweatshirts boasting matching Greek letters, probably belonged to the same frat house.
Hyunjin and Jisung joined everyone in the living room, along with the final guest—the muscled and pointy-chinned kid whom Minho had also met through Chan, but again, couldn’t remember the name of. Hyunjin found the small box Minho had placed on the coffee table and picked it up, eyeing it.
“Ooh, this for me?” he asked, and Minho nodded. “D’aww, shucks, you didn’t have to get me anything!”
While he said that, Minho didn’t believe it for a second. Though he hadn’t known him long, he could already tell Hyunjin was the type that was filled to the brim with boastful entitlement, and would complain if he was not given presents on his birthday.
Hyunjin put the box back where he found it. “We’ll save that for later. First, everyone’s here— Well, almost everyone. Jeongin couldn’t come because he has ‘work today,’ what a loser, skipping out on my birthday, the prick . . . Anyway, shall we do introductions, or does everyone know each other?”
“No. Who are these people?” Minho muttered.
“I know, like, four of you,” Jisung said.
“Okay, well, I’m Hwang Hyunjin, some of you may know me as Sam, and today is my twentieth birthday.” He went first, a hand over his chest in a pompous manner as he stated the obvious.
Jisung rolled his eyes. “Yeah, duh, why else would we be here?”
Hyunjin jutted his bottom lip at him. “Shush, you. What’s your name?”
“I’m Han Jisung, or Peter Han, I’m the birthday boy’s best friend,” Jisung explained to the group, before adding, “unfortunately.”
“I’m Lee Minho, or Reno. I’m Jisung’s roommate,” he announced, then, quietly so no one would hear, “unfortunately.”
Eyes turned to Chan, so he went next. “I’m Bang Chan, or Chris, I’ve known Hyunjin since high school. We met through Jisung, our mutual friend.”
Freckles went after him, his voice shockingly deep, unmatched by his bright personality and cute demeanor. “I’m Lee Felix, Hyunjin and I dance together.”
“My name’s Seo Changbin, or Lewis,” said the one with the pointy chin, “I’ve also known Hyunjin since high school. Again, Jisung’s our mutual friend.”
Minho heard Jisung whisper “That’s right, I’m Mr. Worldwide” under his breath, and he scarcely stifled a laugh.
One of the three white boys, the one with a blonde buzz-cut and hazel eyes, announced, “I’m Kade, and these are my frat brothers, Finn and Ashton. We belong to Zeta Delta Phi, and we met Hyunjin at a party a few weeks ago.”
Minho looked between the three of them boredly. Finn was a nerdy, shy type, with shaggy brown hair and glasses, while Ashton had straight, dark brown hair, striking blue eyes, and dark freckles. Minho had never cared much about fraternities, and didn’t understand the pride boys like them held in their ‘brotherhood’—it was little more than an excuse to drink and party excessively, after all.
Jisung, however, gasped excitedly, and leaned forward with a sparkle in his eye. “Oh, sick! I heard ZDP holds crazy good parties! You guys are like, famous around here!”
Kade shut his eyes and pointed his nose up boastfully. “Yeah, we know how to throw a rager. You should come to one, sometime. They’re unforgettable.”
“Oh, we will. Count on it,” Jisung said giddily, rubbing his hands together.
It was nearing seven o’clock, and as the days hadn’t quite started to get longer yet, the sun was gradually disappearing from the sky. While Chan disappeared into the kitchen, Felix went to dim the lights, and soon Chan returned carrying a large rectangular cake, the candles glowing luminously in the gloom. Hyunjin sat eagerly on the couch next to Minho, and Chan set the cake down on the coffee table. Minho stared curiously at it—it was Dr. Seuss-themed, swirly lettering reading ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAM-I-AM’ above a drawing of green eggs and ham made with icing.
Hyunjin closed his eyes for a moment, hands clasped together, before he leaned forward and blew out all twenty candles in one powerful puff. Everyone clapped enthusiastically, while Felix turned the lights back on and Chan began cutting the cake and handing the pieces out, making sure to give Hyunjin the piece with the green eggs and ham on it. Minho got the slice that said ‘HAPP.’
While they ate, Hyunjin began opening his presents, starting with the small box from Minho. He untied the fine yellow ribbon and opened the gift, squealing with glee. It was a new pair of dangly earrings, and expensive ones, too—Minho couldn’t discern why he’d bothered spending so much on a present for someone he hardly knew, but he was nothing if not generous. Hyunjin thanked him graciously, pulling him into another unwanted hug.
Hyunjin went on to open the rest of his gifts. The three frat boys collectively gave him an expensive bottle of liquor, some finely-aged whiskey variant with an old-timey label. Chan, ever the overspender, bought him a JBL bluetooth speaker. Felix got him a ‘Junior Beading Set,’ because, apparently, Hyunjin had a thing for making beaded bracelets, and Changbin got him a graphic t-shirt and a couple pairs of funky socks. Finally, Jisung gave him a silver necklace with a cool unicorn-skull pendant and a gift card to a local bubble tea shop.
After thanking everyone once again, Hyunjin put away his presents, all except for one—the liquor bottle, which he cracked open and poured a few shots of. Chan cranked up the music, and they all drank and danced together in the living room, something Minho initially didn’t engage in, until Jisung suddenly took him by the wrists and pulled him into the fray.
They spent the next few hours grooving like idiots and drinking like teenagers, pouring the gasoline-flavoured beverage down their gullets until the room swayed with their movements. Chan and Hyunjin jumped up on the table and started grinding together, shaking their hips in unison, performing what looked like a strip-tease except without the removing of any clothes—thankfully. Minho felt dizzy, but he kept stepping his feet and bobbing his head, letting Jisung lead him in some silly dance moves. Despite his promise not to get close to his roommate, he thought tonight could be the exception, as they were drunk anyway and probably wouldn’t remember much of this tomorrow.
Eventually, Minho grew too tired and too drunk to stand, and he flopped himself down on the couch with exhaustion. He was soon joined by Jisung at his left, who squeezed himself into the tight space between the arm of the couch and Minho’s body; and Chan, a little ways to his right. Hyunjin stumbled on his feet and all but tripped into Chan’s lap, where he drunkenly curled up amidst a fit of giggles. Felix laid down like a starfish on the carpet, and Changbin sat cross-legged beside him, poking his cheek as though checking to see if he’d died. The three frat boys also sat down on the floor, and none of them seemed nearly as drunk as everyone else, like they’d become immune to alcohol due to constant partying.
They spent the rest of the night watching Adult Swim on low volume and chattering about typical drunken things, like stories of past intoxicated experiences, whether or not aliens really existed, and the meaning of life and existence itself. Soon enough, Jisung’s eyes got droopy, and he promptly fell asleep, his head falling forwards and settling itself into the crook of Minho’s neck.
Minho froze up at the sudden proximity, as while he was very drunk, he was not drunk enough to deal with this, Jisung snuggling himself into his side and making incoherent sleepy noises. It was too much, Minho’s heart beating so hard he thought it’d come leaping out of his throat, and he seriously considered shoving Jisung away. He was prepared to do just that, as he braced his hands against Jisung’s arm and shoulder.
But he couldn’t do it. Looking at Jisung’s peaceful, snoozing face, he couldn’t bring himself to push him away. He was truly defenseless when it came to this stupid kid, as everything Jisung did caused another one of his carefully-constructed walls to come down, despite everything he did to try and keep it up. Thus, he simply sat back and allowed it, gulping thickly. He looked over and caught Chan giving him a leering, all-too-knowing gaze, so he looked away sheepishly.
After a while, his nervousness died down enough for him to fall asleep, too.