Archive of Our Own ^beta

“So, let me get this straight.” Changbin shot a glare at Hyunjin when he snorted a “straight” under his breath, before turning back to Minho.

Minho hadn’t even had time to breathe before his friends had stormed his apartment, demanding every little detail from the night before. He couldn’t help but feel like he was being interrogated. Changbin was pacing back and forth in front of him, and Hyunjin and Felix were sitting opposite to him with curious eyes, looking like they’re two seconds away from pulling out a pen and a notepad.

“You made out with a waiter.”

Minho shot Changbin a look from where he was sitting on the couch. There were lots of things Minho would rather be doing on a Saturday morning. Sleep, for example. He sighed just thinking of his soft memory foam mattress and blackout blinds, the sweet tranquility of his bedroom, hidden away from the searching eyes of his friends. It should be considered a crime to be awake this early on the weekend, really. Punishable by death. Or extensive jailtime. Minho pressed the pads of his fingers into his temple. He just wished Changbin would settle down, his pacing was unnerving. “Yeah, as I said.”

“Who stole from you.”

Minho nodded.

“And somehow got his number into your phone.”

“What’s your point, Bin?” Minho sighed, massaging his forehead in a weak attempt to counter an oncoming headache.

Changbin stopped in front of him. “And you want to see him again?”

Minho rolled his eyes. “You make it sound like such a bad idea.”

“It is a bad idea!” Changbin hissed, “What if he jumps you and mugs you? Or kidnaps you? He knows you’re rich. Do you have any idea how much ransom money he could get out of that?”

Minho let that sink in for a second before huffing. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

“How am I exaggerating?!” Changbin threw his hands up in exasperation and Minho shrugged.

“I don’t think he’s the violent type.”

“You’re just saying that cause you think he’s hot.”

“That’s not true,” Minho glared at him, crossing his arms in front of his chest before adding, “He’s cute, too.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“And it’s not like it even matters,” Minho said, barely suppressing the urge to roll his eyes again, “I’m just meeting him for the bracelet.”

Changbin looked at him like he had grown a second head. Eyes piercing, lips pressed into a thin line. “So that’s what they’re calling it these days, is it?”

“Come on Binnie-hyung,” Hyunjin came up behind the smaller man, wrapping his arms around him and putting his chin on top of his head, “Just because you can’t get laid doesn’t mean Minho has to stay celibate, too.”

“He stole your bracelet?” Felix finally joined the conversation as well, looking at Minho with wide eyes from where he was still sitting on the armchair, hands clasped tightly together in his lap.

Changbin whipped his head around fast enough that Hyunjin flinched above him. “That’s all you’re worried about?”

Felix pouted. “You don’t know how long it took me to make that.”

Changbin gaped at him before saying again: “That’s all you’re worried about?!”

“Don’t be like that,” Hyunjin grabbed his arms and held him tight, swaying him from side to side as if to calm a screaming infant, “You weren’t there when it all happened.”

Felix’ expression went blank, his eyes distant. “It was a dark time in my life.”

Hyunjin let Changbin go in favor of wrapping Felix into a hug, leaving Changbin in complete bewilderment. Pulling Felix close to him, he softly patted his hair like he was a cat, cooing when Felix leant into his touch.

“Don’t worry about it,” Minho finally said, “I’ll get it back.”

Felix gave him a little smile, melting further into Hyunjin’s embrace. Hugs always did make him feel better and Hyunjin never hesitated to throw affection at the younger.

“I’m friends with complete idiots,” Changbin muttered under his breath, yelping when Minho threw a pillow at him.

Minho could see the sign from across the street. Big, chunky letters spelled out Stray Records, white on black, the only exception being the R, which was bright red. Large shop windows gave a glimpse into the store, framed by posters of various artists and displays of vinyls and the newest record releases. From where Minho was standing, he could make out the faint shadow of someone standing by the counter, but as he slowly made his way across the street, he was sure that it couldn’t be Jisung. Unless he had spontaneously grown an inch or two and gained some remarkable shoulder width overnight, that is.

A bunch of flyers were taped to the inside of the window and on the outside walls, advertising live music nights. Minho regarded them for a second before finally walking towards the door. The sign on it said OPEN :) in bright colors and clumsy letters, looking as if someone had hastily written it themselves instead of having one made. Minho snorted when he noticed the add-on below that said we also have coffee (≧∇≦) in the same handwriting.

The door made a jingling sound when Minho pushed it open, and the guy at the register looked up, a bright smile settling on his face, showing off the dimples on his cheeks.

The store was fairly small, but the space was well used. Long aisles of CD shelves filled half the room, each marked with the respective genre of the artists displayed. Posters covered grey brick walls, messily stapled over each other, covering parts of the faces and script of the posters beneath them. Further back Minho could make out a small stage, a big set of speakers placed on both sides, and a few instruments hanging on the wall. Next to it, along the wall, was a counter, set up with a coffee machine, mugs in every color of the rainbow, mismatching in form and size, and an entire box of sugar packs and cream.

Music was playing in the background, loud enough that Minho could follow the lyrics if he paid attention, but not too loud to overpower his own thoughts. As he let his eyes wander over the store, he couldn’t help but feel something inexplicably homey about it.

“Hi, welcome to Stray Records! Are you looking for something specific?” the man at the register had dark hair, similar in color to Jisung’s, but it had a soft curl to it, falling messily into his face. He wore a black shirt, the store’s logo printed on the top right, and as Minho came closer, he could make out a name tag that read Bang Chan.

“Hi,” Minho’s eyes were still moving through the store, but there was no sight of Jisung anywhere. He turned to look at Chan. “I’m looking for Jisung, actually?”

A flicker of confusion crossed the other man’s face, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. He seemed to hesitate for a second, before asking with a new edge in his voice: “What do you want from him?”

Minho blinked, taken aback.

“He’s not here to murder me, hyung,” a voice came from the door behind the register and Jisung came into sight, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his chest, “I’m capable of making friends, you know?”

Minho hadn’t been aware that their encounter qualified them as friends.

Chan turned his head, raising his eyebrows. “Since when?”

Jisung huffed, rolling his eyes, before turning towards Minho. He let his gaze wander over him, resting for a moment on the still visible bruises on his neck. They had only started to fade, blotchy purple painting a ribbon down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his hoodie.

A smirk spread on his lips as he finally met Minho’s eyes. “Hi, Minho,” he said, “Hope you found the place alright?”

He wore the same shirt as Chan, complete with his own name tag and all.

Minho blinked repeatedly. “You work here?”

Jisung looked down at his shirt, eyeing his name tag. “Yes?”

“Huh,” Minho let his eyes wander over each syllable adorning the piece of plastic, before looking back up, “Somehow I didn’t think you’d have a real job.”

The other boy gasped, a hand coming up to his chest, clenching above his heart. “Excuse me?” he said, “I’m a law-abiding, respectable citizen, thank you very much.”

Minho snorted. "Sure you are."

Jisung pushed himself off the door frame, coming around the corner until he was finally standing in front of Minho. He was close enough that Minho could feel his breath tickling his face. They younger’s eyes lingered on his neck again, the blossoms like magnets drawing him in. Minho watched Jisung’s eyes twitch, as if he wanted to count every spot he had left behind on his skin, watched his pink tongue come out to lick over his lips.

“I was almost thinking you stood me up,” Jisung then said, meeting Minho’s gaze with that stupid smirk of his, “I even considered whining to Chan-hyung about it.”

Minho swallowed dry, eyes moving between Jisung’s eyes and his lips. Biting the inside of his cheek, he worked to keep his stare blank, devoid of any emotion that might betray him.

“I’m sorry, who are you again?” he was pulled out of his trance by Chan, who was still overtly confused, eyes darting between the two of them.

Minho took a step away from Jisung, putting the faint illusion of distance between them.

“That’s the love of my life,” Jisung shrugged, as if it was so undeniably self-evident, “I’ve only told you about him a million times.”

Chan raised his brows, scowling. “You did not. How do you even know each other?”

“It was love at first sight.”

“He stole my watch.”

Chan regarded them for what felt like an eternity, before he let out a deep sigh. “Is that what you were doing when you told me you couldn’t work Friday night?” he asked in a way that could only resemble a mother scolding her child.

Jisung pressed his lips together, tilting his head as if he was seriously contemplating his answer. “Maybe?” 

Another sigh left Chan’s throat, his hand coming up to push his hair out of his face before starting to massage his temple. “And you got caught?” he asked, his voice strained.

“I mean, I guess, kinda, technically, yes?”

“And you invited the person who caught you to your workplace?”

“You know, I’m starting to get the vibe that you don’t really agree with this.”

Chan shot Jisung a glare. “You think?”

“Look, it’s not a big deal,” Jisung said, “Minho’s hot, and I’m hot, so it works out.”

“It’s not a big…” Chan clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath. “Of course, it’s a big deal, you dumbass,” he said through gritted teeth, “What if he had called the police?”

“But he didn’t.”

“That is so not the point.”

“You know, I would really love to discuss this in detail, but I’m afraid I gotta go. Duty calls and all that,” Jisung finally said, not even bothering to be subtle about pushing Minho towards the door.

Chan gave him an unimpressed glare. “Your shift doesn’t end for another two hours.”

“Great point! But you know how it is. Family emergency, my cat got stuck in a tree, the school of my brother burnt down. I’m sure something’s up, bye!”

With that, Minho was pulled out of the door, almost stumbling over his own feet when Jisung started running, strong fingers gripping his wrist, dragging him along. Jisung pulled him around the next corner. The wind was rushing past his ears, carrying the faint laughter coming from the other boy, as his feet moved on their own, trying to keep up with him.

Jisung only stopped running when the music store was in far distance, coming to a halt so abruptly, Minho tripped, but before he could feel his body hitting hard concrete, a pair of arms caught him. When he looked up, Jisung’s eyes were already on him, lips curled up in a cocky grin.

“I know I called you the love of my life and all that, but damn, you’re really falling for me, huh?”

Minho wanted to punch him. Or push him. Maybe kiss him. Anything to shut him up. The method of how was open to negotiation. He glared up at the other boy, getting to his feet and putting some distance between them. “What are we doing here?” he asked, “I just wanted my bracelet back.”

“Oh.” Jisung held up his arm, the all too familiar bracelet dangling from his wrist, “You mean this little thing?”

“Yes,” Minho rolled his eyes, “Now give it back.”

Jisung regarded him for a second, before shrugging. “I’ll think about it.”

Minho opened his mouth to protest, but Jisung had already started walking again. “What makes you think this conversation is over?” he shouted after him and Jisung chuckled, looking back over his shoulder to throw him a godawful wink.

“Come on,” Jisung said, “I’m hungry.”

Minho glared at the back of his head as he followed after him, cursing the boy for being such a pest, and cursing himself for letting him.

Jisung led him to a small coffee shop, just a few blocks over. “Their coffee is alright, but the cheesecake is to die for!” he grinned as he pushed the door open.

Minho didn’t bother listening to him as he droned on about which cheesecake was the superior kind of cheesecake, putting his hands in the warm pockets of his hoodie as they waited in line.

For the first time that day, Minho really took the time to look at Jisung. He looked so very different from the person he had met at the business party just a few days ago. His body was almost drowning in his shirt, which had to be at least two sizes too big for him, making his legs look even smaller in his black ripped jeans. His dark hair wasn’t styled in the slightest, looking soft as it hung into his eyes in messy bangs. He was taller, too, having switched out the dress shoes for a pair of platform converse.

“You really got a thing for feet, huh?”

Minho looked up from where he had been intensely staring at Jisung’s shoes. “It’s cute,” he said, opting to ignore Jisung’s jab at him, “How much you try to compensate for your height.”

Jisung spluttered, narrowing his eyes. “As if you’re so tall yourself.”

Minho suppressed the urge to laugh, regarding the boy with curious eyes. With the platform shoes, Jisung was actually a bit taller than him, but Minho found he didn’t mind all that much.

When they finally placed their orders, Jisung practically forced Minho to get a slice of every cheesecake they offered, because, apparently, he hadn’t lived life to its fullest if he didn’t have a favorite flavor.

The barista rang them up, and Jisung held up a hand, stopping Minho from reaching for his wallet. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, “I got it.”

Minho watched as he pulled out an all too familiar looking faux leather wallet, generously taking out cash without counting how much it actually was, as if he was the rich one of the two, leaving the barista a ginormous tip as well. Minho stayed silent all up until Jisung shoved the wallet into the back pocket of his jeans.

It was almost funny. But Minho didn’t want to give Jisung the satisfaction, instead opting to stare him down until he noticed, looking back at him with big, innocent eyes.

“What?”

Minho raised his eyebrows. “Did you really just pay with my wallet?”

The way Jisung’s eyes crinkled shouldn’t make Minho feel like this. He cursed his heart for betraying him as it skipped a beat at the gleeful smile Jisung gave him. That little dumbass had stolen from him, again. And he hadn’t even bothered to hide it, instead taking joy in his own blatant boldness.

“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to trick,” Jisung shrugged and pulled the wallet back out, turning it in his fingers like a shiny little plaything.

“You’re so full of shit,” Minho said as he reached for the wallet. Jisung didn’t even make a half-hearted attempt at keeping it, laughing as he let Minho snatch it right from his hands.

Taking the tray full of cheesecake, Minho walked away from the other boy, finding an empty table towards the back.

It didn’t take long for Jisung to follow him, plopping down opposite to him, his feet immediately finding Minho’s under the table as he wrapped them around his ankles, pulling them towards him. He took a sip from his Americano, watching Minho with twinkling eyes.

Minho took one of the forks on the tray to cut out a piece of raspberry cheesecake, shoving it into his mouth.  

What had he even gotten himself into?

At some point Jisung had begrudgingly admitted that he had to go back to the music shop, seeing as his things were still very much there after having left prematurely.

Minho didn’t really ask to accompany him back, but Jisung didn’t seem to look for confirmation when he took his hand and pulled him with him. Minho wanted to protest, throw sharp words at the younger. But as he watched Jisung swing their joint hands between them like they had always belonged together, turning his head every now and then to look at Minho as he argued that there’s ‘no way in hell chocolate chili cheesecake is anyone’s favorite cheesecake’, Minho let the protest die on his tongue.

Instead, he laughed at Jisung when he stumbled over his own feet, barely catching himself as his grip on Minho’s hand tightened. Jisung scowled at him and pulled, daring to take Minho down with him, flashing a smug victory grin when Minho was caught off guard and almost fell, too.

The moment Jisung pushed the door to the store open, Chan looked up from where he was standing behind the counter. He dropped the pen he was holding to stem his hands into his hips, a scowl on his face and eyebrows deeply furrowed. “You,” he glared at Jisung, “In the back. Right now.”

“What?” Jisung looked at him with big eyes, making a futile attempt at hiding behind Minho. Gone was the cocky grin and mischievous eyes, replaced by a painfully fake innocence.

“You’re not getting off the hook that easily,” Chan said, nodding his head towards the backroom in a silent request, “You can try and run away all you want, but we’re gonna have this discussion.”

“Is it really a discussion if you’re just gonna scold me for like half an hour and then we pretend I learned something from it?” Jisung huffed, but despite his protests, he made his way into the backroom, pulling Minho with him.

Minho wasn’t sure if it was his place to stay, or if by some godforsaken miracle he was now actively involved and also on the receiving end of the imminent scolding. Chan shot them a look he couldn’t quite decipher, eyes darting down to where their hands were still intertwined, but he didn’t argue with Minho’s presence. 

The backroom only consisted of a table with a few mismatched chairs placed around it, a couple of cupboards against the wall, and a mini fridge. Another door stood slightly open, giving a glimpse at white tiles of a bathroom.

“Innie!” Jisung exclaimed when he saw someone already sitting at the table.

Said boy looked up from his phone, eyes wandering from Jisung’s wide grin to Chan’s scowling. “What did you do?”

“Why does everyone always assume I did something?” the bright grin on his face fell to make way for a pout. It looked dumb, Minho decided. Almost as dumb as his cocky demeanor if only for the fact that it made his stupid heart kick him from the inside.

“And who’s that?” the boy ignored Jisung’s whining, looking at Minho. He seemed younger than Jisung, hair dyed a midnight blue and facial features oddly reminiscent of a fox.

“That’s the love of his life,” Chan said with a deadpan voice.

“Huh,” the boy nodded, “Okay.”

Minho blinked at them. “I have a name, too,” he said dryly, before adding with a sarcastic tone, “But I guess the love of his life works, too.”

“I’m blushing,” Jisung sent him a sly smirk, pulling Minho closer by the hand he was still holding to put his chin on his shoulder, looking up at him, “Does that mean I can call you love?”

Minho pushed him off, shooting him a glare, but Jisung didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“How about baby?” the grin was basically stapled onto his face, “Babe? Honey? Sweetheart? Why aren’t you saying anything, snookums?”

Minho pulled a grimace, lips pressed into a tight line, his glare hardening to stare Jisung down. Which seemed to have the exact opposite effect. Instead of backing down, Jisung stepped closer to him again, deliberately invading his personal space and having the actual audacity to wiggle his eyebrows.

“As disgusting as this is, I’m curious,” the boy sitting at the table drew their attention back to him, making them break their eye contact, “What did you do to get yourself another one of Chan-hyung’s dad lectures?”

Chan moved out of the door frame and sat down next to the boy before pointing to the chair opposite to him. Jisung rolled his eyes, but followed his request.

“Please don’t say you’re disappointed in me,” Jisung said before Chan could even get a word in, “I will visibly cringe.”

“Fine,” Chan said, clenching his jaw, “I’m not disappointed, I’m mad.”

“Look, I’m sorry I bailed on you this morning,” Jisung started, but Chan didn’t let him finish, pulling out a shoe box that had a sticker of a hamster and Jisung’s name in scrawly letters on the top side, dropping it onto the table.

“You wanna explain how you got your hands on this much stuff?” he asked as he opened the box.

Minho recognized some of the jewelry and wrist watches from his first meeting with Jisung, looking like they’d been thrown into the box with little care.

“You didn’t even try to hide it,” Chan said with a strained voice, “What did you do? Did you break into a mansion and rob it clean?”

Jisung scowled. “You know I don’t do breaking and entering,” he said, sighing when Chan shot him a glare, “I may have applied for a job as a waiter at some fancy business party. That’s it.”

“Are you serious?” Chan hissed, “Sometimes I think you want to get caught! Didn’t they all see your face? What if they track you down? Normal people don’t just own jewelry and watches worth a few million won!” he ran his hands through his hair, “I thought we’d talked about this. You need to be careful.”

“I am-“

“No, you’re not,” Chan got out behind gritted teeth, shooting a pointed glance at Minho, “Don’t they have a record of everyone who worked that night?”  

“I’m not completely stupid, you know,” Jisung huffed, rolling his eyes, “I didn’t give them my real name.”

“I guess that’s at least something.”

“I used Jeongin’s name.”

“You did what?!” The boy who had been watching the conversation with an amused smile stood up so abruptly his chair almost tipped over. The glare on his face almost matched Chan’s, who looked like he was positively fuming now.

“What the fuck, Jisung?!”

Jisung gasped at his outburst. “You’re not allowed to curse, you’re our little baby!”

“You stole my identity!”

“Borrowed your identity!”

Chan was swearing under his breath, face buried in his hands.

Watching the three of them, Minho couldn’t help but feel incredibly out of place. How had he even ended up here? Intruding on something that could only be a pitiful attempt at a family intervention?

“I can’t believe I called you my best friend,” the boy, Jeongin, said in disgust, face pulled into a grimace.

“I’m your best friend?” Jisung’s eyes widened, lips stretching into a big, heart-shaped smile and cheeks bunching up cutely, “I knew you loved me!”  

“Well, not anymore!”

Jisung jumped up, his hand leaving Minho’s in favor of skipping around the table to pull Jeongin up from his chair and into a hug. Jeongin didn’t seem too excited about the blatant display of affection, trying to shove the other boy away from him. Nevertheless, Jisung wouldn’t butch, tightening his arms around him.

“I love you, too.”

“Get the fuck off of me.”

“What happened to our cute, innocent baby?” Jisung whined.

“I don’t know,” Jeongin said, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm, “Someone stole his identity.”

“I’m sorry for borrowing your identity.”

“Stealing,” the other boy didn’t hesitate to correct him, but Jisung ignored him.

“Please forgive me?” he said instead, “I’ll make you Samgyeopsal as an apology. Just how you like it!”

“You can’t cook for shit.”

“I’ll buy you Samgyeopsal as an apology. Just how you like it!”

Jeongin let out a loud sigh. “Fine,” he growled, finally succeeding in pushing Jisung away from him, “But I can and will hold this against you every single time you want something from me. Or you annoy me. Or I just feel like it. No limits.”

Jisung nodded quickly.

“And if anyone knocks at my door for the shit you did, I will rat you out,” Jeongin added, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“You have so little faith in me,” Jisung huffed, walking back around the table, “I literally just used your name.”

“I’m just saying,” Jeongin said as he sat back down, “I’m not going to jail for you.”

Jisung let himself fall into the chair, wiggling around a bit as he subtly edged closer to Minho until their knees were touching. His hand found Minho’s knee and squeezed softly. Minho tensed under the touch, his eyes widening for a split second, before narrowing them at Jisung when the other boy chuckled.

“So, since we’re done here, anyone else hungry?” Jisung then asked into the room.

Minho’s eyes darted over to Chan, who looked about ready to smack the younger boy. Something told him they were nowhere close to being done.

The evening wind blew softly through Minho’s hair when they finally stepped outside the store. Jisung took a deep breath next to him, closing his eyes as he let the breeze wash over him.

Minho let his eyes wander over his face. His slightly parted lips, the small mole on his cheek begging to be touched, and dark lashes fanning out over honey skin. He was all sharp angles and soft cheeks. And he was beautiful. Standing next to him like this, Minho had the urge to commit the image to memory. Immortalize it in his mind.

“Hey,” his fingers grazed over Jisung’s, making him open his eyes, “Why did you tell me your real name?”

Jisung shrugged. “You seemed trustworthy.”

A snort escaped Minho’s throat. “Are you just saying that cause I’m hot?”

Jisung just grinned.

“I could’ve told on you.”

“But you didn’t,” Jisung said, wiggling his eyebrows, “It really didn’t seem like you minded me stealing from you all that much. Almost as if it turned you on a little, really.”

Minho pushed Jisung away, who burst out laughing, the sound ringing loudly through the streets and daring to fill Minho’s heart. He almost let it.

It wasn’t until Minho got back to his apartment, falling into his bed without bothering to change out of his clothes, that he remembered his bracelet.

Jisung <3<3<3
what’s ur favorite color?

Minho stared at the message as he pushed his damp hair out of his forehead. He grabbed the towel around his shoulders to dry his hair with one hand, while his other hand was holding his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. It was a simple question, and yet, he felt like Jisung was playing some sort of game that Minho didn’t know the rules to.  

Minho (=^・・^=)
Why do you wanna know my favorite color?

Jisung <3<3<3
why not?

ur favorite color tells a lot about u as a person

or sth like that

from what I heard or whatever

like if we’re compatible

Minho (=^・・^=)
Isn’t that zodiac signs?

Minho walked into his room, throwing the towel into the laundry bin before pulling a white shirt and a pair of blue jeans out of his closet. Putting the clothes on, he tucked the bottom of the shirt into the waistband of his jeans and picked out a simple silver chain necklace. He eyed some of his bracelets, before deciding against wearing one. Ever since Jisung had taken the one Felix had made for him, his wrist had stayed empty. The weight and feeling of the gemstones and material of other bracelets just never right, unable to replace what was missing.

Jisung <3<3<3
nah

zodiac signs don’t mean shit

colors are where it’s at

Minho (=^・・^=)
What’s yours?

Jisung <3<3<3
not fair

I asked u first

Minho (=^・・^=)
Fine

I like mint

Jisung <3<3<3
mint?

Minho stared at his phone, waiting for Jisung to elaborate, but nothing followed. He frowned. Was mint a bad color according to his weirdly specific standards? Incompatible to his or something?

Minho (=^・・^=)
Something wrong with that?

Jisung <3<3<3
no no, mint is fine

didn’t know u were so fancy

u could’ve just said green

Minho (=^・・^=)
Are you implying that mint is the same as green?

Jisung <3<3<3
well…

Minho (=^・・^=)
Mint is not green

Jisung <3<3<3
mint is a shade of green tho

hence, it’s green

If Hyunjin were standing next to him right now, he would flat out laugh at him for how he was gaping at his phone.

Minho started to type out a message before deleting it again and promptly closing the app, leaving Jisung on read. He pushed his phone aside and picked up his bag from the ground, starting to pack his study books. He shoved the single sheets of scribbled on paper that were scattered across his desk into folders with little care and pushed those into his bag as well when his eyes fell onto the internship application that had been rotting away at his desk for weeks now.

Minho picked it up, eyes lingering where he had filled out his name, but nothing else. “We’re so excited to see you finally take foot in the company,” his mother had said just days ago, the words still ringing in Minho’s mind. He didn’t actually need to fill out the form to get the internship. It was his parent’s company after all, and they were beyond ecstatic to finally have him under their wings. The application form was really only for protocol’s sake. Minho pushed it away. He didn’t want to think about it right now. He would do it later.

Pulling on his black bomber jacket, he shouldered his bag and left his room.

The university campus was only a fifteen-minute walk away from where he lived. He stopped by the coffeeshop just around the corner of his apartment, deciding that today was a good day to further fuel his coffee addiction, before walking towards the university. Changbin and Seungmin weren’t anywhere to be seen yet, so Minho leant against the cold wall of the building, taking a sip from his coffee and pulling out his phone.

Jisung <3<3<3
do u ever think about how mint is not actually mint?

like, why call the color mint if the actual mint isn’t even mint?

if we’re being technical, mint is a green plant

so when I say mint is green, I’m technically right

            Minho (=^・・^=)
Are you serious?

Jisung <3<3<3
I’m just saying

Minho (=^・・^=)

What’s yours then?

If your taste is that much more superior

Jisung <3<3<3
mine’s red

Minho (=^・・^=)
And what does that say about you?

Jisung <3<3<3
that I’m awesome, duh

also

red is by far the hottest color

just saying

Minho didn’t ask him if that made them compatible. Something told him he didn’t really want to know anyways.

All things considered, Minho couldn’t really pretend like he didn’t understand Changbin’s concerns. But god, how he wished he would just shut up.

If it were anybody else, he would be able to avoid them pretty easily, but Changbin shared most of his classes. They’d known each other since freshman year, bonding quickly over having successful parents who wanted their sons to take over their businesses. In a way, if there was someone who truly understood Minho, it was probably Changbin. Having said that, Minho couldn’t think of one good reason why Changbin had to make such a big deal out of this. He hadn’t even done anything. Yet.

“Your location should be turned on no matter where you go,” Changbin said as he walked next to him, “If you meet him again, you have to tell me beforehand. And where you meet him. And when you will get back home.”

Minho had tried his best to ignore him, but his best friend was excruciatingly adamant about getting his attention, watching over his shoulder like a hawk as Minho activated the location function on his phone with a huff. He rolled his eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Hyunjin.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re turning into a full-on drama queen,” Minho said, “If you keep that up, Hyunjin will have to look for a new job.”

Changbin scowled, a protest ready on his lips.

“He’s right,” he was interrupted by Seungmin who had been walking next to them in silence, “What’s gotten you all riled up?”

If Changbin was the person who understood Minho better than anybody, Seungmin was probably a close second. Except for the fact that he wasn’t actually rich. And not really forced into a career path he didn’t enjoy. Nope. He actually liked all his business classes and marketing strategies and whatnot. So, on second thought, Seungmin probably should’ve been closer to the person who least understood him. That is, if Minho hadn’t known him since he was in diapers. Growing up next to each other really cemented their relationship. Or damaged it significantly, depending on Minho’s mood.

Usually, Seungmin would take any chance he got to take jabs at him, a constant effort to keep their childish rivalry afloat. But sometimes they younger took mercy on him.

“He’s been fraternizing with criminals,” Changbin scowled, and Minho rolled his eyes once again.

“Fraternizing?” he scoffed, scrunching up his nose, “That sounds weird.”

“Fine,” he was met with another glare, “He’s been fucking around with criminals.”

“You really got your details messed up.”

“Point is, if he keeps this up, he’s gonna get murdered. Or kidnapped.”

Minho snorted. “As if Jisung is even physically capable of kidnapping anyone. He’s almost as tiny as you.”

Seungmin’s eyes wandered between the two of them, contemplating in silence for a moment. “I think I’m missing some vital information,” he then said, “But I’m pretty sure Minho just called your tiny ass weak.” He laughed when Changbin’s eyes widened.

“Yah!” Changbin hit Minho’s shoulder when he snickered as well, glaring at both him and Seungmin, “This is not about me!”

“So, what if Minho was kidnapped?” Seungmin shrugged, “It’s not like that would be such a great loss.”

Minho nodded in agreement. “And I wouldn’t have to listen to you nuisances anymore,” he said, “My life would be so nice and quiet.”

He couldn’t quiet contain his laughter as he watched Changbin desperately grasp for words before finally giving up, grumbling under his breath as he stomped ahead. “Fine, go get yourself killed, see if I care.”

It didn’t take long for Minho to see Jisung again.

When Felix had asked about the bracelet at their next dance practice, Minho had almost smacked himself for forgetting. And when the younger boy had looked at him with his wide, sad eyes, he felt a pang of guilt hit him like a brick wall. And so, he found himself back at the music store, determined to get his bracelet back.

That was the plan, at least. And yet, he hadn’t even gotten any words out before Jisung had taken one look at him and bitten his lip, putting on that god awful smirk that did way too many things to Minho it wasn’t allowed to. If Minho were someone with a little less self-restraint, he might’ve shoved Jisung against the counter in that very second. Instead, he glared at him. And Jisung snorted, meeting his gaze head on, eyes daring him to abandon any self-control and decency Minho still had left.

“Not in my shop.”

Minho blinked, the voice pulling him out of the staring contest he had going on with Jisung. He turned towards the voice, facing Chan who had lifted a warning finger, eyes darting between the two of them.

“Take your weird sexual tension elsewhere,” he said.

“But I’m working!” Jisung shot back, cocky grin being replaced with the pout of a petulant child.

Chan lifted his eyebrows, doubtful. “One of these days,” he sighed, “I will fire you.”

Jisung rolled his eyes and turned back to look at Minho, flashing him a crooked smile. “How about you come back in an hour and maybe you’ll get what you want.”

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” Minho huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “That bracelet isn’t even worth money or anything.”

Jisung lifted his wrist, regarding the bracelet for a moment before shrugging. “I do think it looks awfully pretty on me. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Minho reached out, fingertips gracing over the gemstones, but Jisung pulled his hand back. “Don’t even try that,” he said, “I’ll see you in an hour.”

Minho didn’t know why he didn’t try harder. Why he let Jisung do whatever he wanted. Let him play with him, tease him as he pleased.

Changbin would argue that he should just take the bracelet by force, but Minho was afraid it might break if he tried, which, all things considered, was a valid fear to have if Felix’ track record of making bracelets was anything to go by.

Hyunjin would argue that Felix would be happy to fix it for him if he really did manage to damage it in his attempt to retrieve it, but Minho didn’t want to put Felix through all that stress again after already going through this multiple times before while making it in the first place.

It seemed easy enough, though. Grabbing Jisung by his arm and taking the bracelet off probably wouldn’t even require that much force. There was no way Jisung would actually be able to overpower him. And yet, he let the younger push him out the door, only blinking uselessly when he was subjected to yet another stupid wink.

He was weak. That’s what it had to be. So very weak.

He sighed, pulling out his phone. Wiping away a message from his mom, he groaned when he saw that she had also called and left a message on his voice mailbox. Maybe he’d listen to it later.

He considered texting Changbin, but quickly disregarded the idea. Minho hadn’t told him about his plans to see Jisung again, despite his promises. If he kept that up, his best friend might spontaneously grow an aneurysm. So instead, he pulled up his private chat with Seungmin.

Minho (=^・・^=)
I’m weak

Minnie 😈
duh

Minho (=^・・^=)
huh

Really thought you’d defend my honor or some shit

Minnie 😈
what honor?

Minho (=^・・^=)
rude

I didn’t come here to be slandered

Minnie 😈
your expectations are too high

Minho (=^・・^=)
Fuck this I’m texting Felix

He’s nice you know?

You could learn something from him

Minho (=^・・^=)
I’m weak

Lix 🐣
what happened? :ooo

Minho (=^・・^=)
Jisung

I hate him

Lix 🐣
does that mean u still don’t have the bracelet back? ㅠ ㅠ

Minho (=^・・^=)
…

No

I’m sorry

Lix 🐣
yah

u should really stop putting ur dick above ur friends. We r always here for u and care for u and we would even miss u if u died or sth so the least u could do is appreciate us for the awesome friends that we r

this is hyunjin btw

lixie was about to say something nice and reassuring

couldn’t let that happen

Minho (=^・・^=)
I hate you

Minho groaned, resisting the urge to throw his phone onto concrete floor.

With almost a whole hour to kill, he decided to go to the coffee shop Jisung had dragged him to just a few days ago. Considering it wasn’t too far away, Minho thought he might actually call his mother back while he waited.

He ordered himself a large Iced Americano and sat down on an empty table in the corner. Taking a sip, he looked at his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button on his mother’s contact. What would he even say? She would undoubtedly ask about the application and Minho would have to tell her that it was still lying in his apartment, dust slowly starting to collect on top of it.

He stared at his mother’s number for a while, before finally giving up and closing the call function again. Instead, he started to scroll through his social media apps, though nothing really managed to hold his attention for long. His eyes constantly moved to the clock on the top left corner, cursing under his breath when the minutes went by at a glacial pace.

It felt like entire years had passed by the time the hour was up. Minho had finished a second coffee and opened Instagram for what felt like the tenth time only to close the tab again when nothing interesting had happened within the last two minutes he had checked. Standing up, he rolled his shoulders back and stretched his neck which was tense from how hunched he had been sitting at the table. He was about to leave the shop, when his eyes fell onto the counter where various cakes and cupcakes were displayed behind glass.

He would say that it had little to do with the way Jisung’s eyes sparkled at the mere sight of cheesecake and everything to do with it being a tool of bribery to get his bracelet back when he ordered a slice of cheesecake to go. Something he could trade for the bracelet.

He ignored the nagging in the back of his head, the sneering laughter that once again declared him weak.

With the cake box in his hand, he made his way back to the music store.

Jisung was already waiting for him when he got back, leaning against the wall of the building and looking at his phone. He had thrown a large black hoodie over his work shirt, the hood pushed into his face and the sleeves almost drowning his hands, only the tips of his fingers peeking out as he tapped on the screen.

Jisung looked up when Minho got closer, shooting him a grin.

“So?” Minho gave him a pointed look.

Jisung stayed quiet for a few seconds before he pushed himself off the wall and pocketed his phone. He got up into Minho’s face, grinning gleefully when Minho blinked repeatedly but didn’t move away, and said: “I don’t know. Maybe you gotta catch me first.”

He gave Minho a little push and got into motion. Within a second, he was across the street, running away from Minho.

There were few things that Minho truly despised. Running was probably the number one of them. Jisung might be a close second, though.

Sprinting after him, he tried to get closer, catching Jisung’s laughter as he ran past pedestrians, almost bumping into a woman coming out of a store but catching himself fast enough. Jisung rounded the corner, making his way down a side walk that led into a small park. Minho was still a few meters behind him, only slowly gaining ground on him.

Inside the park they ran past people taking walks with their dogs or strollers, and through the grass fields where some people had brought blankets to lie in the afternoon sun. The further into the park they got, the more Jisung slowed down. Minho wasn’t sure if it was on purpose, or if he was getting tired.

He reached out, willing his legs to move just a bit faster, his hand coming into contact with Jisung’s arm, and pulled. Jisung stumbled, taking Minho with him as he fell into the grass, startling a squirrel that scurried up a tree and out of sight.

Minho groaned as he made contact with the hard ground, half falling on top of Jisung, who was still laughing through heavy breaths. The box he had carried with him landed next to them, the cake inside probably shaken up and deformed from the impact. But all thought Minho had regarding the cake left his mind when he noticed how close he was to Jisung.

The boy was looking up at him, his lips somewhere in the middle of a smile and a smirk, hands holding onto Minho’s arms which he must’ve grabbed when he fell. Minho could feel his breath tickling his face, their noses almost touching. He blinked, his mouth going dry.

Jisung’s hair was fanned out on the grass, a single leaf sticking out of the dark strands. His cheeks a rosy color as his eyes moved over Minho’s face, letting out another laugh when all Minho did was blink at him, mouth slightly agape. “I guess you caught me.”

Minho clenched his jaw, not moving even as Jisung pushed himself up from the ground, their noses bumping into each other. His heart was pounding, beating violently against his ribcage, and Minho wasn’t sure if it was from the running or from the way Jisung’s eyes darted down to his lips.

Just as he was about to give in, self-control be damned, his phone went off, making him jump in surprise. He crawled off of Jisung, pulling his phone out of his jeans. Minho groaned when he saw his mother’s contact lightening up the screen and tossed the phone aside.

“You don’t wanna get that?” Jisung was sitting up now, hands running through his hair, fingertips finding the lonely leaf.

Minho scrunched up his nose. “Not really,” he said. He let the phone ring until the vibrating finally died down, a single sound coming from the speaker that told him his mother had left another voice message.

His heart was taking it easier on him now that he had a safe distance from the other boy again.

“What’s this?” Jisung picked up the cake box, peeking inside. “You brought me cheesecake?” he said, face lighting up, “You like me!”

Minho’s eyes widened for a split second. “That’s my cake,” he said with a scowl.

“That you brought to meet me,” Jisung grinned, taking the small plastic fork that the barista had put into the box next to the slice.

“In case I got hungry.” Minho reached out to take the fork from Jisung, but he quickly turned away.

“Well, I’m kinda hungry,” he said, taking a generous chunk of cheesecake and shoving it into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

“You’re annoying,” Minho said, ignoring how his stomach clenched at the sound that had left Jisung’s lips.

Jisung looked at him from under his lashes. “And yet, you like me.”

“I caught you, didn’t I?” Minho said, pretending like he hadn’t heard Jisung’s last statement, “So give me my bracelet.”

Jisung’s cheeks were stuffed full of cake, the boy apparently shoving more into his mouth before he had even swallowed anything down. He really had no business looking that stupidly cute when Minho was trying his best to stay cold and serious.

“As far as I remember,” Jisung grinned around a mouthful of cake, “I said maybe.”

Minho shot him a warning glare, but Jisung just turned back to his cake. And so, Minho took matters into his own hands. Pushing himself off the ground he launched himself at the other boy. Jisung yelped as he was shoved to the ground, laughing when Minho wrestled the cake box out of his grasp and it fell onto the grass, some of the cake crumbs falling out. His hands found Jisung’s sides, digging into his skin though the soft fabric of his hoodie. 

“I got you cake,” Minho gritted out when he was easing up on the tickling.

“I thought,” Jisung got out, trying to catch his breath, “It was your cake.”

“You know it wasn’t,” Minho growled, and Jisung quickly caught his hands when he made a move to tickle him again, pulling his knees up to his chest in a weak attempt to shield himself.

“No, no, no, don’t,” he laughed, gripping Minho’s hands hard, not letting him go, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Minho said with a glare, though he did sit back on his knees and let Jisung breathe.

“Come on, baby,” Jisung looked up at him with twinkling eyes, intertwining their fingers, “I can share?”

Minho huffed, scrunching his nose up, but let himself be pushed further back so Jisung could sit up himself. Jisung took the cake box, taking out the fork once more and picking up a piece of cheesecake, shoving it into Minho’s face. Minho blinked at him and Jisung rolled his eyes. When Minho gave in and wrapped his lips around the fork, Jisung broke into a blinding smile.

Minho had no idea what he was doing. Not when he let himself be fed. Not when the box was empty and Jisung leant against him, idly playing with Minho’s fingers.

His eyes found the bracelet still hanging on Jisung’s wrist like a trophy. And Minho was indeed a weak man, who let just the tiniest glimpse of Jisung’s smile be enough to abandon all plans.

At some point it was starting to get painfully embarrassing.

Somewhere along the way Minho had lost sight of his initial goal. It really shouldn’t be that hard to get back a tiny little bracelet, and yet, he let Jisung get away with it, over and over.

Minho was sitting on the cold gym floor, phone in his hand as he pretended like he wasn’t stupidly smiling at a stupid cat picture stupid Jisung sent him.

“Oh my god.”

He looked up, eyes meeting Changbin who looked positively disgusted. Changbin’s outburst had gotten the attention of Felix and Hyunjin as well, who were going over some steps in front of the mirrors while Minho took a short break on the sidelines, but were now glancing in their direction.

Minho tilted his head, frowning at his best friend. Changbin wasn’t even part of their dance team, sometimes he just watched their practices when he had time and they had plans to hang out afterwards.

“You actually like him,” Changbin looked like it pained him to say the words out loud, “How is your taste in men that bad?”

Narrowing his eyes, Minho scowled. “No, I don’t.”

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Hyunjin and Felix coming closer, taking interest in the exchange.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Changbin said.

“I’m not,” Minho rolled his eyes.

Changbin snatched his phone out of his hands, ignoring Minho’s protest and shoving the screen back in his face. “You still have his name saved with a bunch of hearts!” he exclaimed, “And he’s sending you cat pictures!”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Minho said, though the words sounded weak in his own ears. He tried to reach for his phone to get it back before Changbin had the chance to scroll up and look at their conversations, but before he could get his hands on it, Hyunjin had already taken it from Changbin, looking at the screen with Felix.

“This is a violation of my privacy,” Minho scowled, and Hyunjin had the actual audacity to shush him.

“You’ve been texting him almost every day,” he said, gasping in excitement, “You’re full on in love!”

Minho finally pushed himself off the floor, forcibly ripping his phone out of Hyunjin’s grasp. “Shut up, I’m not,” he spit out.

“I thought I’d never see the day,” Hyunjin wiped an imaginary tear from his eyes.

“Is that why you let him keep the bracelet?” Felix asked, and Minho gaped at him.

“I didn’t let him keep anything,” he said, “He’s just being a little shit.”

“I could make him his own,” Felix said, “If he likes it that much.”

Changbin’s eyes widened almost comically. “Why would you make him a bracelet if he stole it in the first place?” he got out and Felix shrugged.

“He seems nice.”

“You think everyone is nice,” Hyunjin said, wrapping an arm around Felix and poking his cheek, “How else did you end up with friends like these?” He pointed at Minho and Changbin.

“Yah!” Changbin narrowed his eyes at the taller boy, and Minho was sure his facial expression almost matched it to a tee.

“Luckily you have me to cancel all that evil out,” Hyunjin added with a mischievous grin.

Minho resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the younger when his phone vibrated again. Changbin’s head whipped around and Minho cursed under his breath.

“Don’t think we’re done here,” his best friend said, making Minho grimace, “Since you’re basically dating a criminal, we should meet him. Just in case you ever go missing.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Jisung’s harmless.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Changbin crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“I’d love to meet him,” Felix said, a genuine smile on his lips. Maybe Hyunjin was right to some extent. How did someone as pure as Felix ever end up with them?

“Hell yeah!” Hyunjin added, but unlike Changbin’s wary glance he seemed downright ecstatic, “We gotta make sure that he’s deserving of your undying love!”

Changbin may question his taste in men, but sometimes Minho questioned his taste in friends. He never should’ve told them about Jisung in the first place, but here he was, regretting every single decision in his life.

Minho hadn’t meant for his friends to accompany him. He hadn’t even told them where he was going, and yet they were trailing behind him like a flock of baby ducklings that imprinted on him. He let out an audible sigh. “If you’re gonna follow me, just walk next to me like normal fucking humans,” he said, not bothering to turn around and face them.

It was quiet for a few seconds, and then came the answer. “Who says we’re following you?”

Minho took a deep breath, gritting his teeth.

“Honestly though, I don’t actually know why we’re here. I just didn’t wanna be left behind,” Felix said, seemingly taking a few bigger strides to catch up to Minho, finally walking next to him.

“I just wanna make sure you don’t get yourself killed,” Changbin said, and Minho could perfectly picture him in his mind with his arms crossed and brows furrowed in a glare.

“It’s all in the name of love!” Hyunjin said.

Minho really should pick better friends. Except for Felix. Felix made him cookies. Felix could stay.

“Are we there yet?”

Minho suppressed another sigh that’s threatening to leave his throat at Hyunjin’s words.

“I’m just asking cause I still have that cramp in my leg from the last dance practice, which is your fault by the way, and it’s starting to hurt again and I don’t really feel like losing a leg today.”

 Minho turned left at the next crossing, ignoring the whine Hyunjin let out behind him.

“Changbin,” he heard Hyunjin say, his voice painfully saccharine, “Carry me?”

“No.”

“But I’m in pain,” came the answer.

“I said no.”

They were quiet for a moment, trailing behind Minho and Felix, before Hyunjin spoke up again. “Minho, carry me?”

Minho almost sighed in relief when the store’s sign came into view. Finally pushing the door open, he greeted Chan standing behind the counter. 

“Is that him?” Changbin came in behind him, pointing an accusatory finger at Chan.

Chan looked up, eyes wide and cocking his head. “Excuse me?”

Minho rolled his eyes, finally facing his best friend to glare at him. “Can you stop that? That’s Chan.”

“Oh, you’re Chan!” Hyunjin stumbled forward, “You employ criminals!”

“Excuse me?”

Minho wanted to smack his friends. This is what he got for letting them be too involved in his private life. He shot Chan an apologetic glance, who looked positively dumbfounded as Hyunjin introduced himself. 

“If that’s not him, where is he?” Changbin asked, “I thought you were gonna meet him today.”

Minho scowled. His friends really thought he only ever met Jisung when he went out. It’s not that they were wrong, but how dare they just assume? As if there wasn’t even a possibility that he had other people to meet, other things to do.

“You mean Jisung?” Chan said, a little warily, “He’s just finishing up in the back, he should be out in a bit.”

“What’s he like?” Changbin came closer.

“He’s a little shit,” Chan deadpanned.

“Yah, don’t talk shit about me behind my back,” a voice said from the door and Jisung appeared, “I expected better from you.” He pulled a pained grimace, hand coming up to his heart.

Chan merely rolled his eyes.

“That’s him?”

Jisung looked affronted, looking Changbin up and down. “No need to sound so disappointed.”

“He’s cute,” Felix said from the side where he had been flipping through some CDs, smiling at Jisung.

“Thank you!” Jisung practically beamed, turning to Chan, “See, that’s what I always tell you.”

His boss didn’t move a single muscle, eyes piercing into his skull. But Jisung didn’t let the glare unsettle him, moving towards Minho like there was an invisible string pulling him to his side.

Changbin was watching him, observing how Jisung threw an arm around Minho’s shoulders and then laughed when Minho grimaced.

“You’re supposed to be some master thief?” he finally got out, “You look so…”

Jisung raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he watched Changbin search for the right words.

“What Changbin’s trying to say,” Hyunjin jumped into the conversation, “You don’t really look like a dangerous criminal. You’re so cute and tiny.”

Jisung screwed up his nose. “We can’t all be giants,” he said, eyeing Hyunjin’s long legs with distaste, “And I am cute.”

Minho felt Jisung’s arm slipping from his shoulder, his hand coming to rest on the small of his back instead, his torso still pressed close to Minho’s side. It was a warmth that Minho had gotten used to over the last weeks, and yet, it made his heart stutter all the same.

Changbin was still staring intensely at them, as if he was trying his best to figure them out, but came out empty-handed.

Minho’s eyebrows shot up once in a silent question, and Changbin visibly deflated.

He huffed. “I still think your taste in men is trash.” He then turned towards Jisung, narrowing his eyes at him. “And I’m watching you.”

Jisung shot him a cocky grin. “Please do.”

The air was chilly as Minho and Jisung walked down the street, the only sound carrying through the air were the cars passing them by.

The silence was oddly comforting, a welcome change to his loud friends.

Minho watched as the sun slowly set, painting the cloudy sky in a pink hue, tall buildings and towers already lit up to counter the approaching dark. The light emitted from the streetlights fell onto the pavement, reflecting in the remains of the rain that had fallen just an hour ago.

Like so often, Minho found himself glancing over at Jisung. And like so often, he found Jisung already looking back at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“What?” Minho asked.

“I was just thinking,” Jisung looked at him with wide eyes as he pulled out a set of keys, “Do you think Changbin will miss these?”

Minho blinked at him.

Part of him wanted to laugh and ignore the rational part in his brain that demanded him to scold the younger man. In the end, what left his throat was a strangled snort.

“Are you choking or something?”

Minho shot him a glare. “You think you’re so funny.”

“Ah, that’s not true,” Jisung grinned cheekily at him, “I know I’m funny.”

Movie nights have always been a mess. But now, with an additional three people, it was downright chaotic.

It wasn’t that Minho had invited Jisung, it was more that Jisung had invited himself, and Minho didn’t have the heart to tell him no. So, when he turned up at his place, Chan and Jeongin in tow, he just sighed and let them in, not before shooting Jisung a warning glare to stay away from his silverware.

Needless to say, Changbin wasn’t too excited to see the thief after he had noticed his keys missing. And while Jisung had begrudgingly given them back, Changbin still held a grudge and made a point to sit as far away from Jisung as the couch let him.

When Jisung noticed the withering glances Changbin shot his way every chance he got, he seemed to make a decision. Jumping up, he walked towards the smaller man and promptly let himself fall into his lap.

“What the fuck!” Changbin tried to shove him off, but Jisung was persistent.

“I’m just getting comfortable,” Jisung said with a cheeky smile.

“Minho, get him off me!” Changbin turned his head towards Minho, who just shrugged. Jisung let out a gleeful laugh, wiggling in his lap to get more comfortable, clearly having no intention of moving again.

Minho put the bowl of popcorn in his hands on the coffee table and sat down next to them, glancing in their direction every now and then, not being able to stop himself.

Hyunjin and Felix were huddled together on an armchair, which clearly hadn’t been made to fit two people at once, but the two of them made it work anyways. Seungmin had taken the other armchair, immediately moving it so he was facing the TV straight on, probably pretending he wasn’t with any company. Next to Minho, both Chan and Jeongin sat a bit awkwardly, as if they weren’t quite sure what they were even doing here.

“I can’t see shit!” Changbin complained, but Jisung ignored him in favor of excitedly pointing at a movie he had wanted to see for ages but hadn’t had the time to yet.

Minho pressed play on the movie Jisung had pointed to, not even taking the other’s suggestion into consideration. He ignored the knowing stares of his friends, pretending like he didn’t notice them in the dimmed room.

“Are you fucking serious?” he heard Changbin snarl next to him, “At least move your head a bit, you’re blocking my view.”

“Shut up,” Jisung hissed, reaching back awkwardly to pat his head. Changbin looked like he wanted to bite his fingers off. “I can’t hear anything with you complaining so much.”

Changbin growled at him, murmuring something unintelligible under his breath.

Turning up the volume, Minho settled back onto the couch, letting the opening scene of the movie wash over him.

It wasn’t until they were well into the movie when he felt fingers grazing the back of his hand. He turned to Jisung, who sent him a lopsided grin, holding his hand out in a silent request.

Minho almost laughed out loud when he saw the position Jisung was currently in. Apparently, Changbin had given up on complaining and had hooked his chin over Jisung’s shoulder, arms coming around his small waist and holding him tight.

Jisung shot him a short glare, shaking his hand more persistently, until Minho gave in, letting their fingers lace together. Minho watched as Jisung’s lips curled up, eyes forming little crescents, looking annoyingly pleased with himself. Still, Minho let his hand rest in Jisung’s warm grip, turning back to the screen.

As the night went on, both Chan and Jeongin got more comfortable, their tense posture easing up. Jeongin started to talk, complaining loudly at any stupid decision the main character was making. Seungmin joined in, instantly warming up to the younger boy. He even started to turn his chair a bit, so he could face Jeongin easier. Hyunjin frequently shushed them, but they both ignored him.

The bowl of popcorn Minho had put on the table before had found its way into Chan’s arms, who seemingly had no intention of sharing it with anyone, except for aiming some at Felix’s mouth whenever the younger looked at him with big, pleading eyes. 

When the first movie was over, Seungmin had immediately snatched the remote from the table before Minho had the chance to take it himself. They watched some shitty horror flick, and Minho had the suspicion Seungmin had only picked it so he could complain even more.

By the time the third movie had ended, Chan and Jeongin both got up to leave. Chan said something about Jeongin’s curfew, to which the younger loudly complained that he was “already an adult for fuck’s sake.” Seungmin left soon after, since he had an early morning class the next day, and Felix and Hyunjin dragged Changbin off the couch and out the door.

Minho closed the door behind his friends, walking back towards the living room.

Jisung was still sitting on the couch, stretching his arms out and yawning. Minho watched him from the door, arms crossed in front of his chest and leaning against the frame. If Jisung were to turn his head he would see the way Minho was looking at him. And if he did, he would flash him a teasing smirk and Minho would ignore his thumping heart, scowling at him instead.

But Jisung didn’t turn around, instead he let his head rest against the back of the couch, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. And so, Minho kept looking. If he didn’t know any better, he might think Jisung was already asleep. Chest rising with steady breaths and body relaxed against the couch’s cushions. He looked unfairly soft and small, the large shirt he was wearing falling over his elbows and drowning his frame. Sometimes Minho wondered if Jisung even owned clothes that actually fit him.

Minho pushed himself off the door frame, walking into the room. “You wanna stay?” he said, and Jisung opened his eyes, finding his.

“You want me to stay?” he said, a lazy smirk spreading on his lips. Even when his eyes would barely stay open, he wasn’t able to stop the cocky grin.

Minho blinked at him. “Forget it.”

“No, wait,” Jisung groaned, shaking his head, “I wanna stay. Don’t make me go back to my place this late, I’d probably fall asleep on the bus and then miss my stop and end up in some ditch and die or something.”

Minho shrugged. “Sounds more like a you-problem to me.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Jisung laughed, lifting his head up from the couch, “You’d miss me.”

“What would I miss?” Minho said, staring blankly at him, “Maybe I would finally get some sleep without you annoying me constantly.”

The twinkle in Jisung’s eyes warned Minho before Jisung could even say the next words out loud. Biting his lower lip as that irritating smirk spread on his face, he asked: “I make you lose sleep, baby?”

Minho’s eyebrows shot up, staring Jisung down, who seemed to understand his mistake in an instant.

“Sorry, sorry,” he quickly said, “I didn’t mean that. Don’t make me sleep outside. Have mercy on my meek soul.”

“Maybe I’ll just stuff your mouth with tissues to get you to shut up.”

Jisung snorted. “Kinky.”

Before Minho could glare at him again, he added: “Sorry, again. These things just come out. I’m really tired, my filter doesn’t work.”

“I wasn’t aware you had one,” Minho deadpanned.

“I totally do,” Jisung said with a stupid pout, “Usually I just ignore it on purpose.”

Minho sighed. “Whatever.” He walked towards one of the cupboards, pulling out a spare pillow and a blanket, before dumping both on top of Jisung. “The guestroom is the last door on the right, sheets are fresh but the bed isn’t made otherwise, and I’ve got a spare toothbrush in the bathroom.”

Jisung’s head reappeared underneath the blanket, a tired but beaming smile on his face. “Thanks baby.”

Minho didn’t say anything, not daring to move a muscle in his face, before turning around and walking towards the bathroom. He ignored how Jisung jumped up from the couch, trailing behind him like a lost puppy, and how his ears were still warm from that stupid nickname that Jisung had grown way too comfortable throwing around.

The light inside the bathroom was blinding, making Minho squint his eyes as he was getting used to the brightness. All the other lamps inside his apartment had been dimmed at least, so the harsh white light felt like knives behind his lids.

Without sparing Jisung a glance, he took out the spare toothbrush from one of the cupboards, shoving it at his chest. He took his own brush, putting a generous amount of toothpaste on top of the bristles, before holding the tube out to Jisung as well.

When he looked up at the mirror hanging above the sink, he saw Jisung already staring back at him. His eyes didn’t move from where they were fixated on Minho as he put his toothbrush into his mouth, closing his lips around the handle. Minho swallowed dry as Jisung started to move his hand, brushing his teeth slowly, mouth opening around the head of the toothbrush.

Jisung had the audacity to smirk around the brush, a low chuckle escaping his throat. Minho huffed and started to brush his own teeth like a normal person, forcing himself to ignore the boy next to him. Still, he found his eyes always wandering back to Jisung. And anytime he would grow weak, the younger boy would already be staring back at him. He seemed annoyingly awake again, as if the sheer opportunity to torture Minho was enough to shake off any tiredness that he had been feeling just minutes prior.

Jisung finally tore his gaze away to rinse his mouth, before turning on the faucet to wash his face. Minho’s eyes followed the water droplets on his lips, watching as they ran down his chin and fell. Jisung’s lashes stuck together, and the tips of his bangs were wet as well. Minho couldn’t help but wonder what he would look like completely drenched in water. Hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping down his neck.

He could feel Jisung’s eyes on him, watching him like a hawk its prey. Minho clenched his jaw, tearing his eyes away from where they had lingered on the younger’s neck. Shaking off any thoughts that dared to intrude his mind, he finished brushing his teeth and washed his own face as well. By the time Minho looked up again, Jisung had dried off his face, but the image had already been burned into the back of his skull. 

Jisung shot him a wide grin. Unlike the smirk he had been giving Minho before, it was full of glee. He knew exactly what he was doing, seeking for any button to push and abusing it to tears. And once again, Minho was overcome with the urge to push him against the wall. Or be pushed against the wall. He wasn’t picky. 

Instead, he pressed his lips together in a tight line. “Good night,” he said, rushing past Jisung without sparing him another glance. He heard the other boy laugh behind him. “Night, babe,” Jisung said, but Minho ignored him in favor of slamming his bedroom door shut.

It felt like hours until Minho was able to fall asleep. Twisting and turning on his sheets, he tried to find a comfortable position, before giving up and lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He shouldn’t have let Jisung stay. This was bad for his health.

There was a loud crash coming from his kitchen.

Minho groaned, blindly reaching for his phone on the nightstand. He cursed when the screen lit up, painfully bright in the darkened room. Squinting his eyes, he tried to get used to the light, until he could make out the time. 10:42.

He shoved the phone away, before reaching around the nightstand until his fingers came in touch with a remote. He pushed a button and the blackout blinds that were covering the large windows slowly moved up to make way for the sunlight breaching his room.

Minho let out a yawn, stretching his arms. Considering the time he had fallen asleep the night before, it wasn’t all that surprising how late it already was.

Suddenly, another loud crash rang through the apartment, followed by a curse.

And then Minho remembered. Jisung was still here.

He groaned once again. What was that idiot doing?

He threw his legs over the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes. Usually he would take his time, but hearing the continuous loud noises coming from outside told him he really shouldn’t. Reaching for a random hoodie thrown over his desk chair, he got up. He pulled the hoodie on and ran his hands through his hair in a pitiful attempt to flatten the unruly strands sticking out in every direction, before sighing and giving up.

When Minho entered the kitchen, he was met with a sight that evoked a multitude of feelings, one more confusing than the next. Jisung was grilling meat in a sauce pan, the rice cooker was plucked in and set to ‘keep warm’, and an array of side dishes was lined up on the kitchen counter. Jisung’s shirt was completely drenched, a few drops of liquid falling onto the floor, which looked like someone had spilled an entire bottle of milk, the tiles smudgy and damp on some spots. He was humming a song, singing a few words out loud before going back to humming the melody, like he didn’t know all the lyrics by heart. Apparently, he hadn’t noticed Minho entering yet.

“What are you doing?”

Jisung let out a shriek, whipping around to meet Minho’s frown.

“Oh,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his head, “I’m making breakfast.”

Minho blinked at him. “Why are you wet?”

“Oh that?” Jisung pulled the wet fabrics off his skin, looking at it in dismay before collecting himself, “That’s totally on purpose. Thought you might think it’s hot.”

“Sure,” Minho said, though his eyes followed Jisung’s hands, hating how the hard lines of his upper body were visible through the wet shirt. Considering how tiny the other boy always looked in his big clothes, Minho hadn’t really expected him to be built. Fuck him.

“In all seriousness though,” Jisung said, making Minho look up again, “I saw that you had soup in your fridge and wanted to warm it up, but I might have accidentally dropped it, so, sorry for that.”

Minho nodded slowly. That explained Jisung’s appearance. “I heard another crash.”

“You have a shit ton of pots and pans in your pantry.”

“So?”

“I tried to find a good one and some fell out. Almost fell on my foot, too, that would’ve been bad,” Jisung said.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be inside a kitchen,” Minho said after some contemplation, “I’m just glad you didn’t burn my place down while I was sleeping.”

“Hey, I might not be a master chef, but I can grill some meat and use a rice cooker,” Jisung puffed out his cheeks, “Sometimes I even manage to cook noodles, so don’t underestimate me.”

Minho tried listening to him, he really did. He just wasn’t all that awake yet, and maybe Jisung’s stupid wet shirt was really distracting. And knowing the younger, he was definitely aware of how his eyes were fixated on his stupid chest and his stupid toned stomach. 

“You know,” Minho could already hear the teasing in his voice, “I know I’m hot and all that, but it’s really rude to not pay attention when someone is talking to you.”

It was no surprise when his eyes met Jisung’s and that annoying smirk was already gracing his lips. Minho really shouldn’t want to make out with someone who was in the middle of destroying his kitchen. He really had questionable taste.

“Whatever,” he said, gruffly, “You stink, you should take a shower.”

“If you wanted me naked that badly you could’ve just asked.”

Minho glared at him.

“Too early?” Jisung asked, and Minho wanted to shove him. Hard.

“Just,” he sighed, before pushing Jisung away from the pan, “Go. I’ll take care of this so it might actually be edible.”

Jisung laughed, the angelic sound a harsh contrast to his otherwise entirely evil persona. He let himself be pushed away. “You gonna give me some of your clothes or am I supposed to run around naked? I wouldn’t mind, really, but I’m afraid your weak heart might not be able to take it.”

“Fuck off,” he growled, ignoring the warmth that dared to spread to his ears, “I’ll get you some clothes.”

“Thanks, babe,” Jisung grinned, finally walking out of the kitchen. Minho watched him go, cursing his heart when it thumped hard.

Minho put a pair of sweatpants, underwear, and a shirt that was easily too big on him and would probably drown Jisung completely in front of the bathroom door before going back to the kitchen, finishing up the meat and setting the table.

Jisung had raided his fridge alright, finding numerous side dishes Minho had prepared over the last week to avoid cooking every day.

He put some of the kimchi in a bowl, putting the rest of the jar back into the fridge, before setting it and the other side dishes on the table. Turning the oven to a lower level to keep the meat warm, he finally turned to his coffee machine. Usually, he would drink coffee before making breakfast, but he was kinda glad Jisung hadn’t tried to use it. If he had broken his coffee machine he might’ve actually resorted to murder. No matter how annoyingly attractive the younger was.

With a cup of coffee finally in his hands, he took the first careful sip, the liquid hot on his tongue. He groaned in relief, savoring the bitter taste of the coffee, the faintest trace of sweetness balancing the flavor out.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter when Jisung entered the kitchen again.

Minho was right. The shirt he had given him was indeed too large, loosely hanging from his shoulders and falling well over his thighs, hiding all that stupid muscle the boy apparently had. Minho gulped at the sight. There was something unnervingly domestic about seeing him in his own clothes.

Jisung looked at him, a chuckle on his lips, hair still damp and falling into his face. “Like seeing me in your clothes?” he asked with that stupid smile, but Minho didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“You look like a wet dog.”

“Really?” Jisung laughed, “People usually compare me to a squirrel. Or a quokka.”

Minho cocked his head, eyes wandering over his chubby cheeks and small frame. “I can see that,” he then said, “you’re so tiny. It’s almost cute.”

The glint in Jisung’s eyes was dangerous as he stepped closer. “I could rip you to shreds,” he said, jokingly.

Minho knew. And he would let him.

Jisung’s gaze fell onto the mug in Minho’s hands, coming closer until he was standing right in front of him, taking it from Minho to take a sip as well. He let out a sigh at the taste. “God, I was craving coffee so bad, but your machine looks hella expensive and I didn’t want to accidentally break it,” he said, taking another sip and letting out a groan.

Jisung was standing too close. His bare arms almost touching Minho’s where he was leaning against the counter. Faint traces of sandalwood and mint hit Minho’s nose, the smell of his own shampoo coming from the other boy and it made his heart twist.

Jisung put the mug back into Minho’s hands, but Minho barely acknowledged it. He hated how soft the boy looked. So utterly soft he wanted to pull him closer and kiss his stupid lips and see if he tasted like his coffee.

Jisung met his eyes and grinned like he knew exactly what he was doing, and no matter how hard Minho tried, he played right into his hands. Minho took a sip from his coffee, tongue coming out to swipe over his bottom lip, catching any droplets that might’ve escaped.

He watched as Jisung’s eyes fell to his lips, before moving back up again. Minho blinked, mouth open, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. Jisung moved closer, just an inch.

“If it’s cool with you,” Jisung finally said, “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Minho gulped. He could feel Jisung’s breath on his face, watched as he bit his lip in anticipation, before he finally nodded. This was such a bad idea. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to.

Jisung’s lips felt soft against his own, capturing them in a gentle kiss. Kissing Jisung shouldn’t feel like this, Minho thought. So very different from the first time they had kissed all those weeks ago. Instead of frantic pulling and roaming hands, Jisung had his hands on the counter behind Minho, chuckling when his chest came into contact with the mug Minho was still holding. And yet it felt intense in a way that Minho had a hard time describing. He couldn’t help but be glad that his mug was still between them, so Jisung couldn’t feel the frantic beating of his heart. His body was tingling all over, his fingers clenching around the mug, afraid he might drop it otherwise.

Jisung bit his lower lip teasingly as he pulled away. Minho opened his eyes slowly, Jisung’s gaze already on him, a small smile on his lips.

He was about to move back in when there was a loud knock on the door. Minho jumped, almost spilling his coffee.

“You expecting company?” Jisung chuckled, slowly getting out of Minho’s personal space. Minho groaned, placing his mug on the counter before making his way out of the kitchen.

“Don’t drink all of my coffee,” he shot Jisung a warning look, glad that his voice was surprisingly even considering how jittery his entire body felt. The other boy already had his mug in his hands, sending him a lopsided grin.

Part of Minho expected Changbin behind the door, scolding him for letting a thief stay over, probably expecting his apartment to be stripped empty. What he wasn’t prepared for were his parents standing in front of the door, completely unannounced.

“Hello, darling. Is this a bad time?” his mother asked, eyes wandering over his appearance. He was still in sweatpants, and the hoodie covering his upper body might even have some stains on it, Minho hadn’t checked.

“What are you doing here?” he got out, frowning.

“You keep ignoring our calls,” his father said in his usual stoic manner.

“Yeah, sorry,” Minho said, moving aside to let them in before closing the door behind them, “I was busy.”

In that moment Jisung appeared from the kitchen. “Hey, do you think we should add some more soy sauce to the meat? I think I might’ve skimped on it the first time around.” He stopped dead on his track when he saw Minho’s parents standing there.

For a second, Minho dreaded the chance his parents might recognize him as a waiter from the business party, but then his mother asked: “And who’s that?” Her voice was a tad bit strained, even though she kept the sweet smile on her face.

“Uhm, that’s Jisung,” Minho said.

“We didn’t know you had company, should we come by sometime else?”

Minho shook his head. “No, no. It’s fine,” he sighed. In hindsight, he should’ve expected something like this to happen with how often he had ignored their calls. Usually, they wouldn’t even call that much, but with the internship coming closer they were getting impatient.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jisung said, putting on a shy smile and bowing to greet them. Minho’s parents didn’t say anything, regarding him for a few seconds. His mother forced herself to smile, before turning back to Minho.

Minho kept his eyes on Jisung, watching as the younger boy let his eyes wander over his parents, his expression schooled, eyes resting just a bit too long on the jewelry his mother was wearing.

“We were just about to eat breakfast. Do you want to join us?” Minho then asked, even though every fiber of his body wanted them to leave.

“It’s almost noon,” his father said, taking a look at his wristwatch, this one a sterling silver, “You shouldn’t sleep that long.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “It’s Saturday.”

“Still, a rhythm is important throughout the entire week, The weekend is no excuse.”

Massaging his forehead, Minho sighed. “Is that a no?”

His parents shared a look before finally giving in. “I guess it’s almost lunch time anyways,” his mother said.

Minho set another two additional plates on the table before walking back into the kitchen where Jisung was pouring soy sauce over the meat, heating the pan up once more. 

“You okay?” he asked, shooting him a worried glance.

“I’m fine.”

Jisung looked calm. Maybe a little too calm. He was standing with his shoulder’s slightly hunched, arms close to his body. Minho watched as he glanced out the door where his parents were still standing in plain sight. Weeks ago, Minho might’ve assumed that he was just shy around people he didn’t know well. Now he knew better, though.

He caught Jisung’s eyes. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed, raising his eyebrows at him in a warning.

Jisung put his hands up in fake surrender. “I wasn’t about to do anything!”

Minho glared at him. His eyes were darting between the boy in front of him and the kitchen door to pay attention to his parents in the other room.

“Don’t play coy,” he said, “I saw the way you eyed my mother’s bracelet.”

Jisung pressed his lips together, hands coming together behind his back as his eyes fixated on everything that wasn’t Minho.

Minho pinched his forehead, sighing. “Jisung,” he gritted out.

The other boy huffed, his shoulder’s visibly falling. Rolling his eyes, he said: “I just thought it would look prettier on me.”

“How… when did you even?” Minho started before cutting himself off, “You know what, I don’t even wanna know. Put it back.”

When Jisung hesitated, Minho raised his eyebrows even further. Any more and they would disappear in his hair line.

Jisung narrowed his eyes, glaring back. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll put it back.”

“So, what do you do?” Minho’s mother tried her best to show an encouraging smile, “Do you go to school with Minho?”

“Oh no,” Jisung laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I work at a music store, actually.”

“Are you already finished with your studies?” she looked surprised, “You look quite young.”

Minho refused to lift his eyes from the plate in front of him, poking around in his food.

“I didn’t go to university,” Jisung corrected her, still smiling, “School wasn’t really for me.”

“Oh,” his mother shared a look with his father and Minho felt his stomach clench, “What do you parents say to that?”

Jisung blinked at her.

“Mom,” Minho said, “Is that really necessary?”

She gave him a strained smile. “I’m just curious, darling.”

“It’s fine,” Jisung said, flashing him a reassuring smile before turning back to his mother, “They don’t really care. They were a bit apprehensive when I dropped out of high school, but I got my GED and they know that school just wasn’t the right thing for me.”

Minho’s father coughed suddenly, choking on the food in surprise. He cleared his throat, regarding Jisung with a calculating gaze. “There’s not a lot of respectable work one can do with only a GED, isn’t there?” he then said, a deep frown settling on his face, “Don’t you have aspirations in life?”

Jisung laughed, and maybe Minho fell a little bit in love. He was glad the boy didn’t seem to take his parent’s words to heart. “I want to make music, actually. I don’t really think that there’s only one way to find ‘respectable work’ as you say. Maybe our definitions of what is respectable differ, though,” his smile was a touch too sweet, and Minho’s father looked quite affronted by his response.

“Music, that’s nice,” Minho’s mother said when her husband stayed quiet, “Quite a challenging lifestyle, isn’t it?”

Minho resisted the urge to groan out loud. What did he do to deserve this?

Jisung was putting the dirty dishes in the sink, turning the water on and letting the dirty plates soak a bit, before turning back to Minho. Minho was glancing at his forgotten coffee mug, mourning the now stale liquid. When he noticed Jisung’s eyes not leaving him, he looked up. “What?”

“Can I just take a tiny little coin out of his wallet?”

Minho’s eyes hardened. “No.”

“Does he count his change?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“You’re joking. Nobody counts how much change they have in their wallet.”

Minho shot him a look and Jisung huffed, puffing out his cheeks. “What good is one tiny little 500 won coin to him?”

“What good is it to you?”

“I can buy a pack of chewing gum?”

Minho rolled his eyes. “If you shut up now, I’ll buy you chewing gum.”

“That’s not the same,” Jisung pouted.

“Why does it matter? He won’t know that his money went to chewing gum of all things.”

“Yeah, but I will,” Jisung reasoned as if it was the most obvious thing, “I will know.”

When the dishes were clean and drying on the drainboard, Jisung went to get his clothes from the night before. Minho watched as he eyed them with distaste, still wet from the soup he had spilled on himself. “Just keep my clothes,” he said.

Jisung looked up, a surprised expression crossing his features before composing himself, making way for a knowing smirk.

Minho scrunched up his nose. “Shut up.” 

“I didn’t say anything!” Jisung said, holding up his hands in defense.

Minho gave him a pointed glare and Jisung chuckled.

If it weren’t for Minho’s parents still sitting in his living room, Minho would’ve been tempted to pull Jisung back in. Kiss him again. The way Jisung had kissed him so softly in the kitchen, just hours before, was still vivid in his mind, and while his parents had put quite the damper on his fantasies, it kept coming back, over and over again.

Minho glanced down to Jisung’s lips. But before he could give in, he forced himself to take a step back, putting some distance between them.

“Okay then,” he said, quickly turning around and walking out of the room, ignoring the way Jisung’s stare drilled into his back.

Minho shot his parents an apologetic look when he walked into the living room. They were still sitting on the table, but Minho could sense how tense they were, impatient to finally get to the reason they had come all the way to his apartment in the first place.

Jisung came out of the room shortly after. He turned towards Minho’s parents, smiling sickeningly sweet at them. “It was nice meeting you,” he said with a bow.

Minho’s parents gave him a tight smile in response, so painfully forced it almost hurt just to watch. But Jisung didn’t pay them any more attention, instead turning towards Minho.

“I would stay longer, but Chan said he needed my help setting up the recording booth at his place,” he said.

Minho nodded, walking him to the door. When Jisung was standing outside, looking back at him, he hesitated. Should he kiss him goodbye? But what if that kiss was just something that happened in the heat of the moment? Kissing didn’t actually have to mean anything, regardless of how meaningful it had felt.

Jisung seemed to sense his hesitation, making a decision for Minho when he simply waved, a cheeky smile on his lips. “Bye, baby.”

Minho closed the door behind him, taking a brief moment to collect himself. When he turned back around, his mother regarded him with an unreadable expression.

“Minho, darling. What are you doing?” she finally said, “You shouldn’t let yourself be distracted like that.”

“What do you mean?” Minho blinked at his parents, furrowing his brows. His mother shot a look at the door where Jisung had been standing just seconds ago.

“Jisung is not a distraction,” Minho got out.

“Don’t tell us you’re serious about that boy,” his father said, “What can he give you? He has nothing to offer.”

Minho cocked his head to the side. He hadn’t even thought about how serious he was about Jisung, and yet, when his father said it like that, all his instincts went into overdrive. “Why does he have to offer me anything?”

His father scoffed. “He works at a music store. Never went to college. Dropped out of high school. Do you know how much people will talk when they find out?”

“You have to understand.” his mother reached out to him, her hand gently coming to rest on his cheek. Minho willed every cell in his body to not evade her touch, gritting his teeth together.

“We care about you, darling,” she said, “You know how hard we work to give you everything you need, but you have to do your part as well.”

Minho gulped. He wanted so say something, anything, but the words stuck in his throat.

“We know you haven’t sent in your application yet. We’ve been patient with you, but you’re graduating next year and this internship is an important step in taking over the company when you’re older.” His father stood up from the table, straightening his tie.

“What if,” Minho paused, forcing the words out, “What if I don’t want that?”

His father made a noise. “I won’t let you take an internship with the competition! Do you have any idea what that would make us look like?”

Minho sighed, not quite meeting their eyes. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, but the words were lost on his parents.

“I’m expecting your application on my desk by the end of the week,” his father said with finality, taking his suit jacket from the coat hook by the door.

Minho’s shoulders fell, biting the inside of his cheek.

“You’ve accomplished so much already,” his mother said, her hand coming up to remove a strand of hair from his face, “we’ll be so proud of you once you’ve reached your place.”

Minho didn’t know how long he’d been staring into space when his parents had left. He bit his lips, clenching his jaw, hands hanging uselessly by his sides. It was always like this, he thought bitterly, he really should expect it by now.

“You okay?”

Minho’s head shot up from where he had been staring at that stupid application form. He hadn’t managed to get very far. Name, birth date, citizenship. And then, he had stopped. Just staring at it as if it would fill itself out.

“I’m fine,” he said, not meeting Jisung’s eyes.

He felt the other boy move closer, a shoulder bumping into his. They had been sitting on the couch in silence, Jisung flipping through one of Minho’s books while Minho himself was hunched over the coffee table.

Jisung had just invited himself in, smug grin and sparkling eyes. And Minho couldn’t really say no. It was a thing they did now, apparently. Sitting in silence next to each other, as if they just enjoyed each other’s presence.

They hadn’t kissed again. Yet, every time Minho looked over at Jisung, the feeling of the other boy being so close to him, kissing him so gently, overtook his mind, and he wanted to wrap his arms around him and make sure he would never leave.

Jisung hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t even made any indication that anything had even happened at all. And so, Minho didn’t say anything, either. Part of him feared that the kiss hadn’t meant anything to Jisung at all, just like their very first one all those weeks ago hadn’t meant anything, either. They had been just strangers at that point, and while there had been attraction, there certainly hadn’t been any deep feelings that went beyond want and curiosity.

He felt Jisung lean closer, looking over his shoulder and eyeing the application form.

“Do you want this?” he then asked, quietly.

Minho sighed. “I…” he stopped, pushing his hair back, before sighing, “No, not really.”

He felt Jisung nod against him, his breath tickling the side of his neck. “Do you want me to burn it for you?”

A snort escaped Minho’s throat. “It’s not that easy,” he then said.

“Why not?”

Finally, he turned towards Jisung, meeting his wide eyes. “It’s just,” he hesitated for a second, trying to find the right words, “It’s stupid, I guess. I hate almost everything they ask of me. They never listen when I tell them what I want, or maybe they just don’t care. And yet, in some twisted way, I still need their validation and approval so much it feels like it’s destroying me.”

His eyes fell back onto the application, lingering on where he had filled out his name. He felt Jisung move against him, softly taking his hand and squeezing it. A hum leaving his throat to show him he was listening.

“I just wish they would be proud of me for what I want,” Minho said, staring blankly at the sheet of paper, “No for what they want from me.”

Jisung stayed quiet for a while, his hand still holding onto Minho’s, thumb rubbing over his knuckles, before saying: “Maybe I’m not the right person to say this, but I think you already have plenty of people who are proud of you. Changbin. Hyunjin. Definitely Felix.” He paused shortly. “And me, too.”

Minho lifted his head, turning so he could look at Jisung, only to find him already looking back at him. Jisung was so close to him, and it would be so easy to just lean in and close the distance. For once, Jisung had let himself drop the façade, looking at Minho with so much sincerity, Minho’s heart dared to give out. If Minho were to move even a little, their noses would bump together, their breaths already mingling, making a shiver run down Minho’s back. And Minho wanted it. Wanted to kiss him so bad it hurt.

And then Jisung pulled away.

He smiled at Minho, squeezing his hand once more before letting it go, pushing himself up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen.

“I’m gonna get something to drink. You want anything?”

“Again.”

Hyunjin let out a whine. “We’ve been at this for hours,” he said, lying on the floor, refusing to get up even as Minho kicked his leg.

Felix sat beside him, taking a gulp from his water bottle. “He’s right, I’m kinda beat,” he wiped the sweat from his forehead, pushing his hair back.

Minho scowled. “Just one more time,” he said, “Then we can call it quits.”

“You said that five times ago,” Hyunjin whined, “Forget it, I’m gonna keep lying here. I will never get up again. Moving is overrated.”

“You look tired, too,” Felix said as he pushed himself up, tossing Minho his water bottle.

“I’m not tired.”

“If anybody cares, I’m dead.”

Minho shot Hyunjin a pointed glare as he took a sip of water, but the younger didn’t see it, having his eyes closed. He sighed. “I just feel like there’s something not quite right yet, I just haven’t figured out what it is.”

“You worry too much.”

“Well, someone’s got to when we have so much dead weight,” Minho said, staring blankly at Hyunjin as he kicked his leg again.

Hyunjin let out a pained whine. “Why are you so mean?” he moved his hand down to rub the part Minho had hit, “You know I’m fragile.”

“I think it looks amazing,” Felix said, “I’m sure people will love the performance.” He shot Minho a bright smile, but he could see the weariness behind his eyes. “Maybe you should sleep on it,” Felix added, “Overworking yourself won’t help.”

Minho sighed. “I know,” he said, massaging his temple, “It just won’t let me go.”

Felix came closer, taking Minho’s arm and sitting down again, forcing Minho down with him. Minho shoved him lightly in response, but Felix just laughed.

“Is there something else going on? You’re usually not that stressed about a showcase.”

Minho scrunched up his nose. “I’m gonna tell my parents that I don’t want to take over the company,” he finally said.

Felix’ eyes widened. “You will?”

Minho nodded. “I think I’m ready.”

“That’s great!” Felix pulled him into a hug, “I’m so glad you’re finally gonna do what makes you happy.”

“And Jisung kissed me.”

“He did what?!” Hyunjin shot up so fast one might forget that he had declared himself a corpse just minutes beforehand.

“But now he’s acting like it never happened,” Minho groaned, “And I should really talk to him about it, but I don’t even know what to say.” He felt Felix pull him closer in an attempt to comfort him, and chuckled.

“How are we only hearing of this now?” Hyunjin said, eyes wide, “I thought we were your friends!”

“Maybe he’s just as unsure as you,” Felix said, “I’m sure you can figure this out.”

Minho let out a deep breath. “I hope so,” he said, before going quiet. He bit his lip, pulling his face in a grimace. “I really like him,” he then said, the words barely audible, feeling indescribably heavy on his tongue.

“Well, fuck.”

Minho snorted at Hyunjin’s words. He watched as his friend’s eyes suddenly widened.

“Oh damn, wait till Changbin hears about this,” Hyunjin draped himself over Minho’s back, yelping when Minho shoved him off in an instant. “His head might actually explode,” the younger snickered, letting himself fall back onto the floor.

Minho couldn’t help but exhale through his nose, a slight smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, it might.”

Maybe his taste in friends wasn’t all bad.

“You’re pathetic.”

Minho looked up to find Jeongin grimacing at him.

“Respect your elders,” Minho said, dryly, and Jeongin rolled his eyes.

He had been blissfully pretending to look through the various records at the store, waiting for Jisung to finish up whatever he was doing in the backroom. Jisung had mentioned it in passing, but Minho’s mind had been occupied by the fact that Jisung had been wearing a sleeveless shirt, and that was all kinds of unfair.

“Then don’t sulk in front of me,” Jeongin said, “It’s distracting.”

Minho frowned, regarding the younger boy for a moment. “You don’t even work here.”

“Opening all the sugar packs to make sure they’re edible is work.”

Minho snorted, going back to the record he had been looking at, only to find that he had no idea who the artist even was and how that particular record had even made its way into his hands. He stared at it for a second and then put it back.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but,” Jeongin made a pause for dramatic effect, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“About what?” Minho didn’t bother looking up, this time pulling out a record that was actually familiar to him, looking through the track list like he didn’t know all the songs by heart.

“You look like someone took your cold tiny heart and stomped on it.”

Minho cursed himself under his breath at how fast his head whipped up, blinking at Jeongin’s blunt choice of words.

“And how would you be able to help me with that?” he said, mockingly.

“You’d be surprised,” the younger came around the counter, walking towards Minho, “I’m actually sort of an expert.” He held out an unopened sugar pack to Minho, who took it with slight confusion. “Considering with how much Jisung has been moping around lately.”

Minho blinked again. “He… has?”

“It’s almost like you’re both stupid,” Jeongin groaned, “Like, I already knew Jisung is. Somehow I expected better from you.”

Minho narrowed his eyes at him. “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes again, opening a pack of sugar himself and dropping the contents into his mouth. “All I’m saying is, the heart eyes you make at each other is probably the most disgusting shit I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Putting back the album he had been holding in his hand, Minho started twirling the sugar pack around. “Well then, if there are so many heart eyes involved, maybe Jisung should just fucking talk to me about it like a normal human being,” he said, glaring at the sugar pack like it had offended him.

“You know,” Jeongin regarded him for a second, “Jisung only acts confident.”

 Minho didn’t quite know what to say to that, but he didn’t have to, as Jisung loudly entered the room, groaning: “I’m finally free!”

He noticed the two of them standing in the middle of the store, and frowned, cocking his head to the side. “Jeongin,” he then said, “Are you eating all our sugar again?”

“Yep,” the younger boy said with no regret in his voice.

Jisung nodded slowly, before shrugging. “Give me one, too,” he said.

Jeongin threw one in his direction, and Jisung tried to catch it midair, but failed miserably as the pack bumped against his hand and dropped to the floor.

“That was planned,” he pointed finger guns at them, before picking the pack up.

Minho watched in horror as Jisung ripped it open and poured the sugar into his mouth just like Jeongin had done mere minutes ago.

Jisung sighed, closing his eyes for a second to savor the sweetness on his tongue. “I needed that.” When he opened his eyes again, he turned to Minho, his heart shaped grin daring to melt his insides. “Okay, baby,” he said, “You ready to go?”

Minho wanted to smack him.

“One of these days, you will have to give my bracelet back to me,” Minho said as he let Jisung into his apartment, “I think you proved your point.”

Jisung looked down onto his wrist and back up at Minho. “You remember!” he said, widening his eyes almost comically, “I thought you forgot.”

Minho rolled his eyes.

“Also, Felix and I have been texting and stuff,” Jisung grinned, “I think I qualify as an owner of his friendship bracelet.”

Minho glared at him, shoving his shoulder. Jisung laughed out loud, bumping into Minho with enough force to make him stumble.

“That’s it,” Minho growled and Jisung shrieked, making a run for it. He almost stumbled over his feet when he tried to jump over the coffee table.

Minho grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him back, but Jisung used his entire weight instead, making them both fall onto the couch. It was a bit awkward, with Minho being half on top of Jisung and half on the edge of the couch, trying not to fall. His hands came to rest on Jisung’s chest, pushing himself upright.

He gulped when Jisung was looking at him, pupils blown and mouth slightly open, tongue coming out to lick over his lips.

For a moment, Minho thought he would push him away, maybe laugh it off. But then Jisung moved closer, his stupid bare arms in his stupid sleeveless shirt coming up to wrap around Minho’s waist.

And then, he felt Jisung’s lips on his.

Minho climbed into Jisung’s lap, hands gripping the shirt and nails digging into his chest, before wandering up to his hair. He pulled at the strands, keeping Jisung close to him, not wanting to separate their lips for even a second. His thighs settled around Jisung, and he felt hands gripping them, slowly wandering upwards. Minho tilted his head, pressing harder into Jisung, coaxing his mouth open to slide his tongue in. He let out a breathy moan when he felt Jisung’s tongue move against his.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that this wasn’t his best idea. After what Jeongin had said, he thought about doing this right. About confronting Jisung, putting his feelings out in the open. And yet, with Jisung so close to him, he felt himself drown.

As much as he craved his closeness, he feared his rejection. Kissing was fine. Kissing was fun. But feelings? This could all be a game to Jisung, but even if Minho knew, he would still find himself right here, slowly grinding his hips down on Jisung’s lap. Cause even if it were all just a game, he was too weak to deny him.

Minho felt Jisung’s hands move further up his thighs until they reached his ass, gripping him and pulling him closer. They broke apart, both breathing heavily, their lips still close enough to be touching, neither of them moving fully away.

Jisung’s eyes found his, searching for something Minho wasn’t sure he’d find. But Jisung seemed successful when his lips broke into a smile, so very gentle compared to the way he had just been kissing Minho.

“Jisung,” Minho didn’t know why he said his name, it felt like a prayer on his lips and he wanted to say it over and over again.

“Yeah,” Jisung breathed against his lips, like he understood. Like he knew.

And Minho couldn’t do anything but pull him back in, crashing their mouths together once more. He felt Jisung bite his lower lip and groaned, reconnecting their lips again and again, always pushing more in an attempt to get even closer.

He barely noticed when Jisung pushed him to his feet. They stumbled through the living room, and Minho let himself be pushed through his bedroom door as he pulled on Jisung’s clothes. His lips left Jisung only for the time it took him to push that stupid sleeveless shirt up and over his head, the fabric getting caught around Jisung’s elbow, evoking a breathless laugh.

When he finally got it off him, Minho was pulled back against him.

The back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell. He huffed when his back met the soft mattress, and Jisung crawled on top of him, reconnecting their lips as Minho’s hands wandered over his back, feeling the warm skin beneath his fingertips, pushing into the tense muscles.

“This okay?” Jisung asked, his hands pulling softly at Minho’s shirt, “You want this?”

Minho nodded. “Do you?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t,” Jisung laughed, “But yeah, I do.” His lips curled into a smile, different from his cocky, over-confident smirk, or his shy, sheepish smile he put on as a façade. Minho’s heart dared to skip a beat, and he was almost sure Jisung could feel it from how close they were to each other.

Minho surged up, pulling Jisung back towards him. Lips were pressing deeper into his, as if the non-existent space between them was still too much. And as Minho gripped the dark strands of Jisung’s hair and felt him whine against him, he could do nothing but let himself be consumed by the storm that was Jisung.

Minho woke up with arms wrapped around his torso. Soft hair tickled the back of his neck where Jisung had buried his face, breathing against Minho’s flushed skin. Minho slowly touched the hands holding him, remembering where they had been.

Something in him longed to turn around in the younger’s embrace, to watch his face as he slept. But he didn’t move, afraid Jisung might wake up if he dared to.

Jisung let out a noise behind him, arms tightening around his waist.

Minho could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against his back, the younger’s legs intertwined with his own.

And with Jisung’s warm body holding his, Minho fell back asleep.

When Minho woke up the second time, the arms around his middle were gone, as was the warm presence that had been pressed up against his back. Minho rolled over, only to face an empty bedside. He frowned, his heart clenching uncomfortably at the sight. Had Jisung left?

He pushed himself up on his elbows, willing himself to wake up. The sunlight was already shining into the room as Minho hadn’t really thought of closing his blinds the night before.

Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, he rubbed his eyes and let out a long yawn, before standing up and pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

When he walked into the living room, he came into the sight of Jisung, his clothes already pulled back on, doing very little to hide the bites and bruises Minho had littered all over his skin.

“You’re awake,” Jisung said, his expression unreadable. He was standing by the door, shoes already on.

Minho regarded him for a moment. “You’re leaving?”

Jisung rubbed the back of his neck, an unsure half-smile gracing his lips. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to stay,” he finally said.

He looked so different from the man Minho knew so well. There was no grin stuck to his face, no mischievous glint in his eyes, even the bite to his lip didn’t look teasing, but rather nervous.

And then it hit him.

“You don’t know.”

Jisung frowned, looking a bit taken aback. “I don’t know what?”

“You’re an idiot,” Minho got out, moving closer until he was standing right in front of Jisung.

“What?” Jisung took a step back, the frown on his face deepening.

“You’re an idiot,” Minho said again, “And I like you.”

Jisung stared at him for what felt like hours, and Minho felt the urge to pull back, hide in his room and wait until the other boy had disappeared.

“You… like me?” Jisung finally said, face pulled into a grimace of utter disbelief, “How?”

Minho shrugged. “I guess I’m an idiot, too.”

Jisung just stared at him, his mouth agape. “You like me,” he said again, a breathless laugh leaving his lips.

All this time Minho had assumed Jisung was playing games with him, using the obvious feelings he had been denying all this time to rile him up and get what he wanted. But here Jisung was, so utterly dumbfounded by the idea that Minho liked him.

“Yeah, as I said,” Minho rolled his eyes. He reached out his hand, softly touching Jisung’s fingers, careful to see if Jisung would pull away. But Jisung let him take his hands, glancing down at them in awe.

Finally, Jisung stepped back into Minho’s space, meeting his eyes with the brightest smile that made all of Minho’s insides burst and scream for help.

“I can’t believe you actually like me,” he whispered, “You really have bad taste in men.”

Minho laughed out loud, pulling Jisung towards him until he felt like they were breathing the same air.  

“If it’s cool with you,” Minho said with the tiniest hint of a smirk, “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Jisung pushed himself up to meet Minho halfway.

Minho felt Jisung practically melt against him as he kissed him right there in the doorway of his apartment. He cupped his cheeks, pulling him closer as their lips moved together in a slow rhythm, so very gentle it made his heart soar.

Jisung started pushing his shoes off again, stumbling a bit against Minho when he lost his balance, making him chuckle. Minho’s arm came around his waist, steadying him. Just as Jisung finally managed to get both his shoes off, he put some distance between them. “Just in case it wasn’t clear,” he said, “I like you, too.”

Minho laughed, pulling him back in.

Binnie
Yah, not that I don’t think your boyfriend is nice and all, but I swear to god if one more thing goes missing from my pockets I will smack down his door and break his stupid little fingers

“Jisung, baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you steal from Changbin again?”

Jisung looked up from his phone, putting a hand to his chest. “I would never!”

Minho raised his eyebrows. “You sure?”

“Totally.”

“So, his things go missing coincidentally?”

“Jup, got nothing to do with me.”

Minho (=^・・^=)
You probably just misplaced your stuff :)

Binnie
I hate you