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“What are you two, really?” the question echoes in Minho’s head, words he’s heard so many times before yet never had an answer for. It used to make him restless, now he knows they don’t need to be answered at all. Because what does it matter, as long as they’re happy?
Isn’t that enough?
Minho and Jisung have a special relationship, there’s no doubt about that. One that involves resting their heads on each other’s shoulders when they find themselves cuddling on the couch and pressing kisses into the other’s hair when they feel giddy; one that makes it easy to approach Jisung whenever Minho feels down because he knows the younger will have his back, just like he does.
It’s a relationship that borders with traditional romance on the spectrum, but for Minho and Jisung, it’s simply a relationship. A bond between them that is stronger than a tidal wave and perhaps more dear to Minho than anything he’s ever experienced. Not that he’s admitting that to anyone soon — Jisung knows, and no one else needs to.
They don’t owe anyone an explanation for spending each night together under one blanket nor for the hushed giggles, not for the lingering touches they leave in the wake of their fingers when they cannot hold each other any longer. Minho doesn’t have an explanation anyway. He just likes what they have built.
It’s been growing and shaping itself ever since the start, ever since they uttered their first hello’s. A force leading them together, and a curiosity to follow. What started out as sleepless nights and laughter echoing in the empty dance studios now ties them together with a red knot.
It was never hard to notice – and they never had the urge to hide. They quickly learned they couldn’t even if they wanted to, too drawn towards the thrill of one another. They got used to being called out. Lovebirds, boyfriends, those names stick even until now.
Overall, it doesn’t have a name. Jisung calls it being soulmates, Minho calls it being themselves. It’s that simple, like everything else about himself, and about Jisung.
It just comes naturally. Step by step, gently pulling them in like gravity and warming them up like rays of sun on a lazy afternoon. Just a thing they developed without words during the few years of knowing each other.
Jisung calls it love, whispers these words into Minho’s skin in the early mornings when he feels gleeful and late nights when the veil of darkness caresses their vulnerable sides. Minho also calls it love, although he doesn’t believe he truly understands the meaning of such words.
Ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter. Not to them.
What’s important is that they can lean into each other’s sides and intertwine fingers when no one is looking, that they long for the other’s warmth and touch, that they always notice each other across the room. That when the time is right, they find themselves in a tight embrace that holds everything they feel for each other closer together, blooming into words and pictures Minho treasures in his heart dearly.
With Jisung, Minho is happy, no matter what they do, and no matter who they’re supposed to be. And Minho loves the carefree glee and tender affinity the younger brings out, so maybe he truly does love Jisung. But it doesn’t need to be put into words, anyway.
Because Jisung understands him beyond words, beyond actions; when he holds his eyes for a second too long, gaze swimming with adoration and pride, when his touch seeps through his skin and makes him warm to the core of his soul. Jisung knows. And Minho knows, too.
It reflects in Jisung’s eyes when the younger looks up at him through his lashes. Minho brings up his hand to brush his fringe away from his forehead so he can lean down and press his unspoken words into his skin.
It echoes around them when Jisung bubbles out a laugh, and Minho soon follows.
It strengthens when Jisung’s fingers find their way into Minho’s palm, tracing idle circles before intertwining with his own. Minho squeezes their hands tightly in answer.
“I love you,” the younger breaks the silence first, hushed words lighting up the whole room. His words are soft, but his confession is firm. Minho’s voice breaks when he says those words back, but he hopes his eyes are strong enough to deliver the message for him.
Jisung leans in to connect their lips, a simple confirmation. He understands.
It’s so simple.
Sometimes, Minho wonders what led them to seek warmth in each other’s embrace, to seek a companion in each other’s orbits. It must have been fate, Jisung would say. Minho doesn’t believe in fate, but he’ll give him this one. It’s hard to believe meeting Jisung was no more than luck.
By chance he found the one person who brightens up his world. But by choice he keeps him, knowing there is only one person in the whole world who can make him feel this warm.
The one person who completes him like a puzzle, who owns the key to Minho’s heart and mind – although Minho doesn’t remember giving it to him. The one person who Minho wants to see grow into his best self and shield the back of.
The one and only person he wants to hear whisper into his ear at night, “sleep well, love,” so he can whisper it right back once he’s sure Jisung is fast asleep and deaf to his stuttered confession.
The one person he could easily see himself spend the rest of his life with. It doesn’t have to mean anything – married or companions, having Jisung by his side is enough. To have his love wake up next to him for the next eternity is all he’s asking for.
And maybe Minho doesn’t fully understand what it means to love yet, but he’s fairly sure he will find the meaning with Jisung very soon. That’s a given. Just like they are.