Archive of Our Own ^beta

In his eleven years on earth, Minho has heard the phrase “you’re weird” directed towards him more times than he can count. He expects to hear it at least once from almost every kid he talks to, at this point.

It doesn’t really bother him as much as it did when he was younger, when he wanted to play with dolls and toy cars, or wanted to be the mom when playing house only to be told he can’t, he’s a boy, it’s weird. Isn’t that the point of playing pretend, though? And why can boys only play with cars and action figures but girls get pretty doll clothes and cute stuffed animals? He still doesn’t quite understand what was so weird about wanting those things.

Anyway, what he does understand better now at his big, double-digit age is that everyone is different. His mom told him there’s nothing wrong with being weird—and she’s never lied to him before, as far as Minho knows. Everyone is weird in their own way, she’d said, and if no one were weird, everyone would be the same. Everyone would be boring, and they wouldn’t be fun to learn about or play with.

So, Minho doesn’t care if he’s weird. He embraces it, even (his mom taught him that word during their talk). If people don’t want to be his friend because he’d rather catch bugs at recess than get all sweaty playing kickball most of the time, then so be it. He still has friends who like him no matter what. Like Changbin across the street. He goes to a different school, but he always rides bikes with Minho and his parents take them out to see movies on the third Friday of every month.

“You’re weird, but a funny weird,” Changbin told him when Minho was going through his crisis a year or so back and asked what his friend thought of him. “A good weird.”

Minho had sulked at that, telling him, “I don’t want to be weird, though. Even if it’s good, it still sounds mean when other people say it.”

“Well it’s not mean when I say it,” Changbin said, and he had a point. Minho didn’t mind it, coming from him. “I don’t want you to change.”

Minho didn’t want to change either, he realized. And after his talk with Changbin and then bringing it up to his mom later that night, he was happy knowing he didn’t have to.

So he didn’t try to, and now here he is, standing at the edge of the woods as far as his teacher will allow him to go as he scans the tree trunks with attentive eyes for the cicada he’d just heard in this direction.

“Hey, hyung!” a familiar voice calls out. Minho turns to see Hyunjin bounding over, his eyes nearly disappearing in his friendly smile. He has a big red ball clutched in his arms. “Wanna play? We need one more on our team to make it even.” Beyond him, there’s a small crowd of kids getting into position for the game.

“I don’t really want to today, Hyunjinnie,” Minho starts, wincing at the way Hyunjin immediately pouts, eyebrows upturned. He expected this from the way Hyunjin had talked him into playing every day this week and almost got into a fight with a girl who asked Minho to play on her team instead on Wednesday.

It being the first week of the school year though means that for one, it’s still technically summer and it’s very hot. Minho doesn’t usually mind the sweat too much, but he just isn’t really in the mood today, and on top of that, he’s really been wanting to catch a cicada while he still can.

“Pleeease?” Hyunjin pleads, but Minho is determined to follow through with his own plans, immune to his puppy-dog eyes. “You always kick the ball so far!”

Well that just isn’t true. He can, sometimes, but Minho generally isn’t very gifted when it comes to ball sports. He’s a decent player, all things considered, fairly fast and with a good, strong kick here and there (when he doesn’t miss the ball entirely), but he thinks Hyunjin is probably just saying that because he wants to play with him.

“Sorry…” Feeling a little guilty, Minho turns to scan the playground for a solution. There are several kids on the swings, some on the monkey bars, some being scolded as they climb up the slides, all busy with friends or playground equipment—all except for one.

Minho’s gaze lands on a boy sitting alone at the picnic table, staring out blankly at the playground. Minho vaguely recalls seeing him there earlier in the week and wonders if he’s played at all during their recesses, or if he’s just sat there alone. Maybe he’d like to play kickball?

“What about him?” Minho asks, pointing in the boy’s direction. 

Hyunjin follows his finger to the boy and scrunches up his nose in distaste. “Jisung? I don’t want him on my team,” he whines. “He’s weird.”

Minho frowns. “What do you mean?”

“He just is,” Hyunjin huffs, stomping his foot in the dirt dramatically. “He’s in my class, but he won’t talk to any of us, and he just sits there and stares during every recess! If he was good at kickball, he’d play already. I don’t wanna ask him.”

“Okay,” Minho says, resolutely turning back to focus on his task after blinking in Jisung’s direction for a few more moments. “Then ask someone else. I’m doing something.”

“Fine,” Hyunjin sighs, trudging off towards the swings to recruit someone else while the kids on the field yell for him to throw them the ball only for Hyunjin to ignore them.

Minho’s mind wanders to Jisung while he continues his search, inching along the treeline. He hasn’t really seen the other boy up close, but he doesn’t look familiar nor does he seem to know anyone, so he’s probably new. Minho glances over his shoulder after a few minutes to see him still sitting there, a little disappointed that Hyunjin didn’t invite him after all.

He feels a pang of sympathy, wondering if Hyunjin has told Jisung he was weird to his face. Does Jisung know it isn’t a bad thing? Minho will have to tell him. Maybe they can be friends and he won’t have to sit alone every day.

Several more minutes pass and Minho still has no luck finding a cicada or any bug for that matter, and he’s just about to give up hope when something on a tree trunk he’s just about to pass catches his eye. He gasps at the brown critter only to deflate when he realizes it isn’t a critter at all but rather just the shedded shell of a cicada.

With another glance at Jisung, Minho decides this will have to do, carefully prying it off of the bark and gently cupping it in both hands, hiding it from view. He makes his way across the playground to the picnic table.

Jisung does a double take and sits up hesitantly when he realizes Minho is approaching him, eyes dark and round with curiosity. His cheeks are even rounder despite the rest of him being so slender, and his black hair is a little longer than Minho’s in the back, but they have their rectangular glasses in common.

“Hi,” Minho greets, sending him a friendly smile. “Wanna see something cool?” 

Jisung blinks at Minho in bewilderment. “Hi…” he says, voice small as he regards Minho’s hands warily, eye level with him where he still sits on the bench. “Um… what is it?”

“It’s my friend!” Minho proclaims proudly, uncovering it and all but shoving the shell in the other boy’s face without giving him a chance to consider. Jisung screams, his back colliding with the table as he jolts away and tries to scramble out of Minho’s reach.

“Get it away!” he shrieks as Minho bursts into giggles. He takes pity though, not wanting to be mean, and withdraws his hand so Jisung can relax.

“It’s not alive,” he tells him, inviting himself to take the seat next to Jisung and setting the shell down on the wooden tabletop. “It’s an exoskeleton.”

“Exo… wha?” Jisung still looks wary, but he lifts his legs over the bench to turn around and face the table beside Minho anyway, curiously peering at the shell from a safe distance. “Bugs have skeletons?”

“Exoskeleton,” Minho corrects matter-of-factly. “When cicadas get too big, they shed their skin so they can grow bigger. Like snakes.”

“Woah…” Jisung marvels, eyes wide. “Cool.”

“Yeah, you’ll probably learn about it in class soon like I did. And if the teacher asks about it, you’ll already know the answer!” 

Jisung gives him a wide smile at that which makes Minho smile in return, but then it fades away into something contemplative and sullen as he gazes down at the cicada shell. “I don’t really like talking in class though.”

“Why not?”

Jisung shrugs, looking down at his hands as he fidgets. “I dunno. My dad says I’m just shy and I need to speak up. But… it makes me nervous. I don’t know anyone here.”

“Well, you know me now!” Minho points out. “I’m Minho, and I’m your hyung. I’m not in your class, but we can still be friends and play at recess. Wanna help me look for cicadas, Jisung-ah?”

Jisung blinks at him, processing the information, and then smiles again, bigger and brighter. “Okay, Minho-hyung. I’m—Wait! How’d you know my name already?”

Minho glances around before leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, “The cicadas told me.”

Jisung’s lips part and his eyebrows furrow as he stares at Minho. This and similar expressions are ones that Minho has learned often come before the inevitable you’re weird, but instead of any such comment, his eyes scrunch up in glee as he laughs.

Minho smiles dopily in return, proud of himself, and he can’t help but feel that he and Jisung are going to be good friends.

🐛

“Have you ever seen a praying mantis in real life, hyung?” Jisung asks, looking up from the insect encyclopedia he’s currently thumbing through on the floor of Minho’s bedroom.

It’s the beginning of summer, which means it’s been almost a year now since Minho befriended Jisung on the playground. After a week or so, they realized Jisung had moved in just down the street, so he’s hung out with Minho constantly—and sometimes Changbin, too―ever since.

“I don’t think so…” Minho frowns, disappointed at the realization. “Maybe they’ll have some at the garden.”

“Ooh, yeah!” Jisung lights up at the thought. Minho’s mom had promised to take the two of them to the botanical gardens sometime this summer, and with the way Minho and Jisung pester her about it regularly, he hopes she’ll give in and take them soon. “Did you know sometimes the females eat the males after they mate?”

Minho did know that, so he nods, but apparently Changbin, who is currently staring at a ‘game over’ screen on Minho’s television from his spot on the floor, didn’t. His head whips around and he gasps with wide eyes, shuffling over to Jisung’s side to look at the section of the book he points out to him. “Are you serious?!”

“Yeah, it says it right here!”

Changbin takes a moment to scan over the words before looking up at Jisung and laughing with him.

Minho watches them fondly and smiles, always happy to see them getting along and having fun together. They became friends fairly quickly after Changbin got over a brief period of jealousy he went through because Minho was allegedly ‘giving Jisung all his attention’ or something stupid like that. Minho had suggested that all three of them hang out as friends, and things have gone pretty well since then. He likes being able to spend time with his two favorite friends at once.

“Boys!” The voice startles him, Minho turning to see his mother suddenly standing in the doorway behind him. “It’s getting late. Time to tell your friends good night.”

“Mom,” Minho whines petulantly. “It’s not even eight! And it’s sum…mer.” His complaints fade out with the stern look he receives.

“I know, but Jisung has a dentist appointment early in the morning, so his mom wants him home,” she explains, then smiles. “You’ll have all the time in the world to play after he gets back tomorrow.”

That’s true, Minho concedes reluctantly. But when he turns to Jisung, he’s wearing an expression of horror.

“I forgot!” he wails, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t want braces!”

“You’ll be thankful for them someday,” Minho’s mom tells him before making her way down the hall. “Start wrapping it up, boys.” They all mutter dejected yes, ma’ams.

“Yeah, she’s right,” Changbin agrees. “Plus I heard you can get different colors! If I had braces, I would get something cool like black.”

Jisung draws his knees to his chest and pouts, tears welling in his eyes.

“Or you could get red!” Minho chimes in. “Your favorite. Or Binnie’s favorite: pink!”

“Yah! I told you it’s not my favorite!”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Minho says sternly. “Boys can like pink, too.”

“I know, but―”

“What about your favorite?” Jisung interrupts.

“Me?” Minho blinks. “I would probably get mint. Or maybe purple, if they didn’t have that.” Jisung nods, then closes Minho’s book with a pout and rises to his feet.

“I guess I should go home,” he sighs.

Wanting to comfort his friend, Minho makes his way over and picks the book up to hand it to him. “You can borrow this if you want. Maybe you can read it in the waiting room and it’ll make you feel better.”

“Really?” Jisung perks up with a grateful smile as he hugs it to his chest. “I’ll be careful with it!”

Minho nods and sees Changbin to the front door, waving goodbye to him before heading in the opposite direction to walk Jisung home. Even though Minho’s mom always watches from the window to make sure everyone gets home safe, and despite the streetlights, Jisung is scared of the dark, so Minho walks him home if he leaves after sunset.

Knowing Jisung is anxious and likely thinking about his appointment, Minho holds his hand on the way. He bids Jisung good night and wishes him luck at his front door before speed walking back (because okay, maybe Minho puts up a brave front with his dongsaengs but he’s not particularly fond of walking around alone at night either).

“Do you think the botanical garden will have praying mantises?” he asks his mom the moment he’s inside, a little out of breath.

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head before patting Minho’s. “We’ll find out soon, don’t worry.”

Minho is satisfied enough with her answer for now, plopping himself down on the sofa to watch some cartoons.

He reckons he’s sat through about an episode and a half before he starts to crave something sweet, strolling in the kitchen and flashing his best pleading eyes to his mother before successfully scoring a handful of cookies. When he makes his way back into the living room though, someone running outside catches his eye, and it scares him, but then… 

“Jisungie?” Minho tilts his head in confusion, dropping his cookies on the table for now and rushing to open the front door. Jisung is running up the walkway looking mortified, and when he gets closer and the light touches his face Minho can see tears in his eyes, sparking a mild panic. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Look!” Jisung whispers and holds his hands up. It’s then that Minho realizes he has something trapped in them (and also that he’s in his dinosaur-patterned pajamas), cradled carefully, and then his hand blinks in the darkness of the night.

Minho gasps softly, prying his hands open with cautious hands of his own hovering over them to prevent an escape. On Jisung’s palm is a firefly, blinking its pretty golden light at Minho in greeting.

“First firefly of the summer,” Jisung says, breathless as he smiles brightly at Minho with tears in his eyes.

Minho giggles, reaching up to wipe away a tear that had streaked down his soft, round cheek. “Why are you crying?”

“‘Cause I’m scared of the dark!” Jisung hisses.

“Then why’d you come over here?”

“‘Cause—well, ‘cause!” he huffs, closing his hands again so the bug doesn’t escape. “We’ve been waiting for them, and I didn’t want you to miss the very first one!”

“Oh.” Minho smiles, thankful that Jisung thought of him. He supposes it makes sense; Minho sparked his interest in bugs, after all, and they spend a lot of time learning about them and catching them together. The fact that Jisung even faced his fear of the dark to show him something like this makes him feel happy.

“Can I hold it?” Minho asks. Jisung nods, opening his hands and presenting it to Minho. He giggles as the bug crawls into his palm, blinking its light. “Pretty.”

“Yeah.”

The firefly crawls to Minho’s fingertip, and in the brief moment it takes Minho to glance at Jisung and the look of wonder in his eyes, its wings are out and it’s flying off of Minho’s front porch and into the night sky, blending in with the twinkling stars.

Jisung gasps. “Hyung!”

“Sorry! We’ll catch lots this summer, don’t worry.”

“I wanted to keep the first one,” Jisung mumbles, pouting. “It was special.”

“Do you know how to take care of a firefly?”

“Well, no, but I can learn!”

“It’s better to let bugs be free, Jisung-ah,” Minho tells him gently, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Would you like it if someone caught you and put you in a jar?”

Jisung snorts a little at that. “No.”

“See? We don’t want to do that to them, right?”

“Right…” Jisung stares at his feet as he shuffles them. “I still wish I could’ve kept it for a little longer. It was gonna keep me safe and light the way when I walked home.”

“Sorry,” Minho says again, his guilt making him bite his tongue to prevent a remark about how it wouldn’t really provide him any light at all. Minho would do a better job of keeping him safe. “Maybe I can be your firefly instead.”

“Huh?” Jisung’s hand still in his, Minho turns to head inside to ask his mom if he can walk Jisung home again only to see her standing in the threshold of the foyer, watching with a smile.

“Go ahead,” she says, nodding. “I’ll be the mama firefly watching from the window.”

Minho and Jisung both beam at her, nodding, and make their way towards Jisung’s house, hands still clasped together. Minho squeezes his hand intermittently, side-eyeing Jisung to see if he’ll notice and catch on.

“What are you doing?” Jisung asks finally, puzzled, as they near his house.

“I’m being your firefly,” Minho says. “Since I can’t light up, I’ll just squeeze your hand.”

“Oh.” Jisung grins, and Minho thinks that bright smile might be the equivalent of a firefly’s pretty blinking light. He squeezes back. “I’ll be your firefly, too.”

Once they’ve said their second good nights and Minho promises once more to make up the lost firefly to Jisung, he hurries home again. 

“Jisung’s a special friend, coming all this way in the dark to show you something he thought you’d like,” Minho’s mother says as she hands Minho his abandoned cookies. “I hope you’re friends for a long time.”

The next day when he sees Jisung after his dentist appointment and Jisung grins wide to show Minho his red and mint-colored braces, Minho thinks that he’s very lucky to have such a special friend indeed.

He hopes they’re friends for a long time, too.

🐛

“We’re gonna be dads!” is not something Minho ever thought he would hear at the ripe young age of sixteen. 

At this point in his life, he’s not sure if he’d ever hear it. The thought of even kissing a girl, let alone marrying one and having a family with them just doesn’t appeal to him like it seems to appeal to his male peers. He thinks he’d rather just have some cats. He hopes his mom might let him get his first one for his birthday this year.

Anyway, back to his becoming a father.

A few months ago, Jisung had seen some vlogs on the internet of people raising butterflies from eggs to their beautiful final winged forms and excitedly showed them to Minho, insisting that they try it. Minho agreed easily; it’s something he’s always wanted to experience, and he thinks they’re old enough now to handle the responsibility without messing anything up.

So with his mother’s compliance and the small garden in their backyard, they finally managed to attract some butterfly eggs. Minho’s mother was the first to notice them, telling Minho who called Jisung on his friend’s new cellphone and urgently told him to hurry over.

“What is it?” Jisung asks when he arrives, looking frazzled. “What’s so important?”

Minho wordlessly grabs his hand and pulls him around the side of the house to the garden. He hears Jisung gasp when he has an idea of where this is going. “Is—Are there―?”

“Look,” Minho says, yanking Jisung down to a crouch with him and pointing at the tiny white spheres stuck to the top of a parsley plant.

Jisung gasps again, eyes lighting up as he beams, and he turns to tackle Minho to the grass in a hug. “Eggs! We’re gonna be dads, Minho-hyung!”

Minho grunts as Jisung crushes him, warmth flaring up his cheeks from more than the summer sun. “W-We’re gonna be what?”

Jisung sits up, still grinning. 

(It’s been a year since he got his braces removed, but Minho can’t get used to how pretty Jisung’s smile is—not that it wasn’t also pretty when his teeth adorned their two favorite colors, of course. Even if he did eventually get bored of them and switch them out; he still came back to red and mint a few times.)

“We’re raising them, so that makes us their dads,” he says. “Duh.”

“Right, right,” Minho brushes him off, figuratively and literally, shoving him off and sending him sprawling into the grass. “I get custody though.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the responsible one or whatever.” Jisung sticks his tongue out and rolls his eyes. “Me? I’m the cool dad. The one that wears leather jackets and, like, lets them stay up past their bedtime.”

Minho cackles, uprooting a handful of grass and tossing it right at Jisung’s face, watching him splutter. “Shut up. You’re the dad who cries all the time. You don’t even own a leather jacket.”

“Yet!” Jisung corrects, jabbing his finger at Minho threateningly. “I don’t own a leather jacket yet.”

“Whatever,” Minho scoffs, standing up and shaking off the grass and the thought that Jisung would probably look really cool in a leather jacket with it. “Let’s get these babies inside.”

. . .

As expected, it only takes a few days for the eggs to hatch.

“What’s the point of naming them if we can’t even tell them apart?” Minho asks. He likes the idea, if he’s being honest, but he likes giving Jisung a hard time, too.

“Mothers always know,” Jisung says solemnly. “Or we can just guess.”

“So now we’re moms instead of dads?” Minho scoffs, peering down at the three newly-hatched caterpillars. They’re tiny and mostly a brownish-black and nowhere near as pretty as what they’ll one day be, but they’re kind of cute regardless. “What do you want to name them?”

“Um…” Jisung tips his head back to stare at the ceiling in thought and Minho studies his profile. He’s caught himself doing that a lot these days. “Howl! Nah, that’s not really a good name for a butterfly. What about Calcifer?”

Minho smiles at the mention of a character from Jisung’s favorite movie. “Calcifer is cool. Oh! What about Heimlich? Like the caterpillar from A Bug’s Life?”

“Oh my God, yes!” Jisung excitedly swats at his arm. “So we’ve got Calcifer, Heimlich, and…”

Minho hums. “Let’s name the third one Changbin.”

Jisung bursts into laughter, leaning into Minho’s side and making him feel warm. “You’re a genius. Welcome to the family, Baby Changbin.”

. . .

As their caterpillars mature, they become a beautiful green color with black bands wrapped around them, interspersed with yellow dots.

“Which one did you name after me again?” Changbin asks, wincing as Jisung coaxes one to crawl onto his own hand.

“Whichever one looks stupidest,” Jisung answers.

Changbin glares and Minho gasps, slapping Jisung’s shoulder lightly enough to not jostle the caterpillar. “None of our children are stupid! Our Changbinnie is superior to his human counterpart.” He carefully gathers Changbin the caterpillar into his hand and coos, “Isn’t that right, Changbin?”

“Ugh.” Changbin shudders, pointedly averting his gaze. “I can’t get used to this. I don’t know how you guys do it.”

Jisung huffs. “And I don’t know how you don’t think these guys are cute! Little Heimlich is adorable. Watch him eat!”

“No, please!” Changbin cries, nearly falling off of Minho’s bed in an attempt to escape as Jisung approaches him with the caterpillar in hand.

“Whatever.” Jisung shrugs, sitting a safe distance away, and watches with a smile as Heimlich tears into the leaf he has held up for him. “Your loss.”

“Right,” Changbin deadpans, shaking his head. He looks over at Minho who is in the process of picking up Calcifer on his free hand and shudders again. “You two are perfect for each other.”

Jisung looks up curiously at the same time as Minho’s heart tries to beat out of his chest. “Huh?” Minho blurts.

“I mean, ‘cause you’re both so fucking weird.” Changbin sighs. “I need to find new normal friends who aren’t obsessed with bugs.”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “You’re just jealous because we like Larva Changbin more than you.”

“Yeah? And what if I am?!” Changbin puffs his chest out comically, huffing. “I was here first!”

Minho recollects himself in time to tease, “Maybe if you went into a chrysalis and shut up for two weeks we’d like you more.”

Changbin yells indignantly and wraps himself up in Minho’s blanket, claiming it as his chrysalis, and stays quiet for about a full two minutes before emerging to whine again.

Minho and Jisung finally relent, putting the caterpillars up safely to appease Changbin by leaving the house to hang out. And if they end up briefly ditching him for a cool beetle they found, he’ll just have to find a way to cope.

. . .

“Come over quick! Changbin is pupating!”

Minho hangs up without giving Jisung a chance to respond, intently watching the caterpillar. Within just a few minutes he hears Jisung let himself in downstairs before rushing into Minho’s room.

“How much did I miss?” he pants, leaning beside Minho to watch Larva Changbin get comfortable against a small branch they’d stuck in the net enclosure.

“He’s just starting.”

“Wow…” Jisung breathes. He balls his fist up in excitement and beams at Minho, slipping his hand into his and shaking him emphatically. The gesture makes Minho’s heart pound like it did from Changbin’s comment the other day, but worse. “This is so exciting.”

Minho nods after just staring dumbly for a moment, turning his attention back to Changbin. After a few minutes of silence, both boys holding their breath, Minho can see him start to shed his skin and push out the makings for his chrysalis.

He’s twitching and borderline convulsing as he works the skin off, and Minho is stuck somewhere between nature is amazing and I feel like I’m watching a horror movie.

He turns to check for Jisung’s reaction, stifling a laugh when he sees the excited smile gradually fade from his face, grip on Minho’s hand slackening as he stares, almost looking hypnotized in morbid fascination.

“This is… actually the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Jisung mumbles.

Minho laughs, squeezing his hand. “Right? It’s kind of horrifying, but cool, too.”

Jisung’s unblinking gaze doesn’t waver from the caterpillar as he winces. “I think I’m gonna have nightmares, but I can’t look away.”

“If it makes you feel any better, just remember that they turn into liquid inside the chrysalis. Good soup.”

Jisung turns to him, finally, releasing Minho’s hand to shove him away with a disgusted sneer. “That does not make me feel better!”

Minho laughs, throwing his arm around Jisung’s shoulder to watch the rest of the transformation. It doesn’t get any less creepy, but he feels weirdly proud of his Changbin larva, and he’s happy he’s able to share this experience with Jisung.

“Well, that was… fun?” Jisung says, once the fully-formed chrysalis has stopped wiggling around.

“Our Changbinnie will be a beautiful butterfly soon,” Minho says, pretending to wipe a tear. “They grow up so fast.”

“He needs to start doing some more work around here,” Jisung gripes with hands on his hips. “At his age—Oh! Is Cal about to do it, too?!”

Indeed, Calcifer seems to be getting into position on another branch, and Jisung leans in excitedly despite his complaining of how creepy it had been.

“You sure you wanna watch again?” Minho checks. “You’re gonna have nightmares for sure.”

Jisung shrugs, smiling as he slips his hand back into Minho’s. “Yeah, maybe, but I wanna see this with you.”

Minho flusters, cheeks prickling with warmth. He had thought as much himself, but it always embarrasses him when Jisung puts such sincere thoughts into words. He admires that ability; it’s a lot harder for Minho.

To cover his embarrassment, he mumbles, “So you don’t care about my nightmares?”

Jisung laughs, squeezing his hand a few times in a familiar pattern. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll be your firefly and chase them away.”

Minho ducks his head with a dopey smile, and he wonders what it means when your best friend makes your insides feel all gooey like a caterpillar in a chrysalis.

. . .

“I’m really gonna miss them,” Jisung says with a watery voice. A glance at him confirms Minho’s suspicions, seeing the younger’s eyes wet with unshed tears as he carries the three butterflies outside in a small enclosure.

Minho smiles, fondly ruffling his hair. “Me too, Jisungie. But we did good! And now they’re gonna go live happy lives, thanks to us, instead of getting snatched up by some bird before they could even mature.”

“Yeah…” He sniffles, setting the enclosure down in the grass. “I think I understand how my mom felt when she was crying at my middle school graduation now.”

“It’s gonna be even worse for high school.” Minho grins, nudging him. 

Jisung chuckles, then sighs forlornly like he’s about to do the hardest thing in the world. “Do you think they’ll remember us? Come back to see us?”

“Who knows?” Minho shrugs, tipping his head back to look at the blue sky. “Maybe. Maybe they’ll visit you in your dreams.”

“I hope so,” he says, voice small. “Let’s get it over with, I guess.”

Jisung opens the enclosure and dips a hand in, Calcifer obediently crawling onto the hand presented to him. He turned into a pretty black butterfly with yellow spots across the length of his wings, almost identical to Heimlich. Minho reaches in for the latter next and then lets Jisung get Changbin (who actually turned out to be female—with wings slightly less curved at the top and adorned with white spots and azure accents rather than yellow) before they rise to their feet. Calcifer wastes no time, taking off unceremoniously and heading for some nearby flowers, making Jisung pout, while the other two take their time crawling along their hands.

“It’s like they’re saying goodbye.” Jisung’s voice trembles like he’s barely holding it together.

“Guess Cal was ready to get rid of us, huh?”

A wet laugh. “Yeah. Ungrateful bastard.”

Heimlich is next, taking to the air from Minho’s fingertip, and Minho watches wistfully, admittedly sad to see him go. The floodgates open in front of him, tears spilling from Jisung’s eyes. 

“Go on, Baby Changbin, you can do it!” he cheers through his tears, holding his hand up high. Changbin only flutters from his fingers to his hair, Jisung’s eyes wide as he makes a comical attempt to look at the top of his own head. Changbin crawls down his bangs to rest on the tip of his nose, Jisung with a delighted smile on his face as he tries not to jostle his head and disturb the butterfly as he giggles.

Minho beams at the sight, dreadfully endeared. He wants to see Jisung smiling like this forever.

Carefully, so as not to startle the butterfly, he grabs his phone from his back pocket and lifts it to snap a picture of a cross-eyed Jisung staring at the pretty swallowtail on his nose. “She’s telling you she loves you,” Minho says.

Jisung sniffles and laughs, bringing his finger up to his nose to usher Changbin onto it. “Say goodbye to your less cool dad, too,” he commands, holding his finger out to Minho. Changbin listens, fluttering to land on Minho’s shoulder, and Minho feels a pang in his chest.

“Bye, Changbin,” he says softly, letting her crawl onto his finger to get one last look before lifting it to the sky. She takes off on cue, flying towards the cloudy blue sky. “Come back and visit!” he calls.

Jisung’s continued sniffling distracts Minho from the butterfly’s fluttering form as he instead turns his attention to his best friend. Jisung’s dark eyes are wet and glassy as he stares up at the sky, a pout on his lips. Minho wants to hug and comfort him more than anything, but he takes the easier route and teases instead.

“Gosh, you’re such a crybaby,” he says with a grin, but there’s an undeniable fondness laced in his words.

“Shut up!” Jisung whines. “You’re sad to see them go, too. Don’t act like you’re not!”

“Yeah,” Minho admits, pulling Jisung into a side-hug. His heart jumps when Jisung rests his head on his shoulder. “Parenting is hard, though. And we can’t keep them cooped up forever.”

“I know. I just got too attached, I guess.” Jisung sighs, then lifts his head from Minho’s shoulder to wipe at his eyes. “I’m crying over freaking bugs… This is embarrassing.”

“It’s cute,” Minho blurts. He’s called Jisung cute plenty of times before, but suddenly it feels like something he shouldn’t say for reasons he can’t comprehend, so he scrambles to cover it up. “I mean—You care about them. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Jisung gives him a squarish smile. “Thanks, hyung. I can always count on you to not judge me.” Minho blinks, taken aback by the sudden, genuine sentiment. Before he can really dwell on it, Jisung speaks up again and nearly knocks him off his feet. “What’s gonna happen to our marriage now, though?”

“Huh? Our what?” Minho splutters.

“Well, our kids are gone.” He taps his chin, pretending to be deep in thought as he stifles a laugh. “Should we get a divorce?”

“No,” Minho says before he can stop himself. He isn’t sure why he’s so distraught by the thought of their pretend marriage ending—which, by the way, he didn’t know was a thing until now. Jisung referred to himself and Minho as moms and dads of the butterflies, but never as a married couple. It makes Minho’s stomach churn. “We can just get new kids.”

Jisung laughs. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Of course it is!” Minho jokes. “Just leave it to me. I’ll save this marriage.”

“Whatever you say, hyung!”

(Minho already had plans to use his savings to buy Jisung the leopard gecko he’s been talking about for ages for his birthday, so when he does so a few months later, he declares the gecko their child who will save their marriage. Jisung is elated at the addition to the “family,” telling Minho it’s the best gift he’s ever gotten and that he’s the best husband ever.

The thought of marriage never really appealed to Minho—but maybe he was starting to get it.)

🐛

A few summers later, Minho knows all too well why marriage never appealed to him before. He’s approaching nineteen and knows himself a little better now—namely the fact that he can put a name to the funny feelings he’s felt towards other boys over the years.

Well, most of them.

“Last one in has to clean the pool!”

Upon hearing Jisung’s shouted words, Minho hurries to kick off his sandals, flinging his bag and towel aside, determined not to be last (and hopefully make Changbin last, as he usually is, so they can all tease him). He reaches for the hem of his shirt next, ready to pull it over his head, but freezes in place when he catches sight of Jisung in the middle of pulling his own shirt off.

He’d just returned from a two-week stay in Malaysia where he’d gotten a head start on his summer tan; Minho knew that, could see it on his skin even with his shirt on, so the golden glow that greeted him wasn’t what caught him by surprise. It was the slight definition of abs, of newly-bulging biceps as his t-shirt is discarded, of the beginnings of defined pecs as he jogs over to the pool’s edge and jumps in with a splash, leaving Minho to stare dumbstruck where he once stood, the image of him shirtless burned into Minho’s mind.

It’s not like he’s ripped or anything. Objectively, it’s hardly impressive, Minho adamantly tells himself. 

But this is Jisung.

Jisung, who has always been small and thin and frail, who Minho always feared would topple over in a strong breeze. Jisung, who is lazy and hates being out of bed for too long, let alone being active and working out. How did this happen?

And why is it shaking Minho to his core?

“Guess you’re cleaning up.”

Minho blinks back to reality to see Hyunjin smiling at him. He and Jisung had settled their years-long feud at the beginning of the school year and became friends, and since then, he’s often joined Minho, Jisung, and Changbin whenever they hang out.

Minho hurries to rip his shirt off, but Hyunjin already has his neatly put away in his bag, so he cackles evilly as he runs to the diving board and jumps in.

“I hope you all get sunburnt,” Minho grumbles just loud enough for them to hear. He doesn’t mind cleaning up all that much, really, but he could do without the inevitable teasing that comes along with it. 

Since he’s already lost, he decides he may as well take the time to apply sunscreen on himself before setting out to clean the bugs and leaves that have accumulated around Changbin’s family’s pool.

Jisung wades over to the edge of the pool closest to Minho, propping his elbows up on the cement and grinning. Minho’s eyes scan over his glistening arms and promptly dart away. “Why’re you so slow today, old man? Can’t believe you let Hyunjin and Changbin beat you.”

“If you’re so concerned, why don’t you clean the pool?” Minho says, smoothing sunscreen over his arms.

“No way!” Jisung gasps in offense. “I was in first. I will do this, though. Watch.”

Minho reluctantly looks back up, seeing Jisung scoop a brown beetle floating on the surface into his hands and make his way towards Hyunjin, who is too immersed in his conversation with Changbin to notice Jisung’s plight. Minho tries not to stare too hard at the planes of Jisung’s back and think about how his shoulders are getting broader and contrasting his small waist, but what else is he meant to do in the time it takes Jisung to reach his destination?

Jisung reaches Hyunjin finally, getting his attention and shoving the beetle in his face. Predictably, Hyunjin shrieks, splashing away. Minho can’t help but laugh at his dramatics and laughs even harder when Jisung grimaces in pain from one of Hyunjin’s kicks as he tries to flee the scene. 

Changbin reaches for a lime green pool noodle that had been floating nearby, brandishing it at Jisung. “Get behind me, Hyunjin!”

Jisung barks out a laugh. “Ha! You think a flimsy pool noodle will stop m―” He’s promptly quieted as said flimsy noodle hits him in the face. Minho snorts. “Oh, it’s on.”

Jisung makes his way for the red pool noodle and engages Changbin in a duel while Hyunjin looks on in amusement, intermittently checking around him and yelping when a bug, dead or alive, floats too close. Meanwhile, Minho retrieves the skimmer net and uses its long pole to rake it across the surface of the pool and collect the debris.

By the time he’s done and easing into the shallow end of the pool, the water pleasantly cool on his sweaty skin, the noodle fight has subsided, and Jisung is instead making his way towards Minho with something cupped in his hand and a smile on his face. And his muscles flexing. Because he has those now, apparently.

“Hyung, look.” At the sound of his gentle voice, Minho tears his eyes away from Jisung’s arms to instead look at his hand as he unfurls his fingers. “This is the tiniest frog I’ve ever seen.”

Minho gasps softly as it’s revealed; he can hardly see the thing without his glasses, a blur of brown in Jisung’s palm that can’t be much bigger than his pinky nail. He leans down to get a better look, tilting Jisung’s hand towards himself. The frog jumps, and Minho’s hand darts out to catch it as Jisung exclaims and then giggles.

“So cute,” Minho coos, holding it close to get a better look, its microscopic legs splayed across his fingertip as it stares back at him, unblinking.

“What have you weirdos found now?” Changbin groans from the deep end.

“Mind your business!” Jisung snaps.

“This is my pool,” Changbin reminds him. “Whatever weird bug you found is my business, whether I like it or not.”

“Come and get it then,” Minho says, sticking out his tongue, and Changbin seems to contemplate it before he’s waving them off.

“Just get it out of the pool whenever you’re done,” he says, resigned.

“Please,” Hyunjin adds.

Jisung scoffs. “You guys are such babies. It’s not even a bug; it’s a cute little frog!”

“Ew,” Hyunjin exclaims. “You’re gonna get warts.”

“That’s a myth, you dumb f—”

Jisung’s insult is cut short by Hyunjin yelping and quickly submerging himself under the surface of the water as something large flies towards him.

“Ooh, dragonfly!” Jisung supplies. “Let’s try and catch it! I’ll put this guy back.”

Minho agrees, saying goodbye to the tiny frog as he passes it to Jisung. He pokes his index finger up out of the water and squints, scanning the area for the dragonfly. Jisung joins him shortly after, mimicking his posture.

It’s something Minho has done since he was much younger—when he’d see a dragonfly flying around, he’d poke a finger up in the air to offer it a perch to land on. It worked surprisingly well, and ever since he passed his knowledge onto Jisung, the pair have always tried to catch them when they spotted one.

“You guys look stupid,” Hyunjin tells them, laughing when Jisung puts his finger down and offers his middle finger instead.

“Don’t they sting?” Changbin asks. Jisung immediately rolls his eyes. “With those long… things?” 

“We’ve been through this,” he says at the same time Minho says, “That’s the ovipositor, dipshit.”

“That’s even worse!” Hyunjin cries. “It’s gonna lay eggs on you!”

“No, it’s n—” Jisung is cut off once more by his own gasp as the dragonfly comes out of seemingly nowhere and perches right on the tip of Minho’s finger. It’s a strange feeling, its thin legs clinging to his skin, but Minho doesn’t pay it much mind, grinning as he observes its iridescent blue sheen.

“Hi there.” Minho tries to rotate his wrist for a better look but must move too fast, disturbing the dragonfly and making it take off again. He decides to give up, putting his finger down to give Jisung a chance. A few minutes of idle chatter pass by before Jisung’s eyes bulge as his fingertip is chosen as the next destination.

Jisung beams his best gummy smile, his teeth pretty and white against the pink tint of his lips and his tanned skin. Minho thinks he’s stunning.

He’s startled from his sudden thought by Jisung meeting his eye, carefully holding up his finger and nodding as if to say hyung, look! Like he always does when he has something cool to show Minho. Minho remembers then that it’s the dragonfly he should be looking at.

The dragonfly. Not his best friend’s pretty smile.

“I had a dream about dragonflies once,” Hyunjin says, grabbing their attention, “so I looked it up. Apparently they symbolize, like, transformations and maturity. New beginnings. Stuff like that.”

Minho lets the words settle in his mind as he glances back at Jisung, looking pensive as he looks from Hyunjin to the dragonfly flicking its wings on his fingertip. Minho isn’t really the type to believe in things like that—symbols, omens, signs, what-have-you. But as his gaze drifts lower, drags over Jisung’s muscles glistening in the sun, he can’t help but think there’s definitely some transforming and maturing going on there.

New beginnings… He’s not so sure about that one, but…

New perspectives, maybe.

It hits Minho all at once how much they’ve grown. How much Jisung has grown. He isn’t quite the shy, awkward little beanpole with braces Minho once knew, the one he always handled with a gentle fondness and cared for like the younger brother he never had. There are parts of him that haven’t left, will probably never leave, just like Minho’s fondness and doting will never cease, but there are new things, too. A feisty spirit, a bold, budding confidence that sometimes peeks its head out. Subtle gestures that show Minho’s attentiveness isn’t one-sided, that Jisung wants to care for his hyung, too.

Minho doesn’t know what to think. His sweet, dearest Jisung is becoming a man right before his eyes, and to make matters more confusing, an attractive one, at that.

But no, Minho can’t think like that. He isn’t attracted to Jisung. He can’t be attracted to Jisung.

Can he?

Reeling from the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that just tore through him in the past few seconds, Minho has to make a conscious effort to focus on the words that Changbin says next.

“New beginnings and transformation, huh?” he repeats, contemplative. “Don’t tell me you two are gonna go to college this fall and transform into, like, obnoxious frat boys.”

Hyunjin holds his hands up out of the water. “Not me,” he says. “Hmm, I can’t see Jisung doing it, either. He’s gonna go join, like, a bug club or something.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they have plenty of those in college,” Jisung says with a scoff.

“What, you can’t see him at a frat party?” Changbin teases, giggling at the thought. “Hitting on every girl that looks his way? Ooh, I wonder which of you will get laid first.”

Jisung splutters with red cheeks, scaring the dragonfly away, and Minho inhales sharply through his nose, the thought making his stomach churn unpleasantly. For a fleeting moment he tells himself that he’s simply being protective as he always has been, that he wants Jisung to be safe and not let himself get hurt, but he knows that’s not all there is to it.

“I mean…” Hyunjin says, “I’m not in any rush, but probably me.”

“Yah!” Jisung cries indignantly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Minho pictures Jisung at a party with enough liquid courage in his veins to follow a girl upstairs, doing things with her he’s never done before, and it awakens something ugly within Minho.

“You’re just… you.”

“And what’s wrong with me?”

He thinks about what it might be like if it were him, about how it would feel to have Jisung’s lips pressed against his, to run his hands over his tan skin, and the fluttering in his chest is enough to confirm his newly unearthed fear—that whatever he feels for Jisung isn’t completely platonic.

Well. Fuck.

“Nothing! I’m just saying, you’re like, really introverted, and especially without Minho there—”

“You’re introverted, too!”

Minho tunes back in at the mention of his name, catching Changbin eyeing him with a peculiar expression. He tries to make his own void of emotion so he doesn’t bely the chaos whirling within, and decides he should probably break his silence. “Don’t worry, guys. If Changbin can get some action, so can you.”

Changbin sends him a glare while the other two laugh. “Inspiring words.”

The conversation (thankfully) veers away from sex as they discuss other things about college life, Minho and Changbin giving tips on everything from cheating on exams to putting themselves out there and making friends. Minho knows Jisung especially struggles with this and hopes he’ll do well on his own—but not too well. He doesn’t need him finding a replacement best friend, or worse.

Feeling a little jealous when it comes to Jisung is admittedly not a new thing for Minho, but it’s always been a platonic thing—or so he thought. The way his stomach twists at the thought of Jisung getting a girlfriend or anything like that, though… 

Minho squeezes his eyes shut when he catches himself staring at Jisung while he’s lost in thought—again, not necessarily new—and wonders what the hell has gotten into him.

Hyunjin and Jisung snap him out of it, getting his attention to help Changbin judge and see who can jump the farthest since, according to Jisung, Changbin is biased towards Hyunjin, so it’s only fair that Minho judge, too. Hyunjin argues that Minho’s bias is even worse, which sends his brain spiraling again, and the bickering goes on until Minho and Changbin shout at them to just jump in already.

Minho should probably confront these feelings head-on, figure out what’s going on with him, but for now he’ll neatly bottle them up and enjoy the nice summer day with his friends.

🐛

Those feelings Minho always felt when it came to Jisung—he doesn’t even know how long they’ve been there, forever maybe—have made themselves dreadfully apparent since then. To Minho himself, at least. 

(And Changbin. And Hyunjin. And Minho’s mother. Just about everyone but Jisung, it would seem.)

He can put a name to it now, the fluttering in his stomach when he sees Jisung’s smile, the quickening of his heartbeat when Jisung touches him, the heat flaring under his skin when Jisung playfully flirts with him and Minho thinks about what it would be like if he meant it.

But just because he can put a name to it doesn’t mean he should. Especially when the name his brain provides makes his stomach churn with such uncertainty. 

Being in love with your best friend is a big pill to swallow. One like in those awful commercials that list off about twenty horrible side effects. Sure, it could heal what ails you, but it can also result in things like nausea, anxiety, heart palpitations, ruining your relationship with your best friend of ten years, and so on.

Even if sometimes he thinks that Jisung might feel the same, his shameless staring and flirting and honeyed words making Minho want to take a dangerous leap of faith—but their friendship is too precious and perfect for him to risk.

Minho doesn’t know what to do. He’s vowed to keep these feelings bottled up and locked away deep in his chest, less scared of the consequences that might follow from that than the prospect of rejection or messing up what they have.

Jisung makes it hard.

“Give me a kiss!” he demands.

It helps that Minho doesn’t have to look him in the eye since Jisung is currently thousands of kilometers away in Malaysia. It also helps that Jisung isn’t really asking Minho for a kiss through his pair of old earbuds, but rather demanding that Minho maneuver his Animal Crossing character to sit next to Jisung’s and use the emote wheel to lean forward and make it look like their characters are kissing.

Minho blushes, despite it all. 

“No,” he says, flicking the analog stick down and making his character dash away in the opposite direction.

“Minhooo,” Jisung whines, chasing after him. “You’re ruining our date.”

Minho giggles when he spots Jisung’s avatar chasing after him, the red rose he’d equipped to be held in his mouth when he’d first declared this to be a date still there.

“I’m just making it more exciting,” he declares. “Oh!” Like in real life, it’s nearing nighttime in the game, sunlight fading, so Minho almost doesn’t see the bug he’s approaching where it glints on the tree trunk. He stops just in time, managing not to scare it away, and equips his net.

He holds down the A button, creeping up on his prey slowly. He’s about to release it and catch himself a golden stag when Jisung comes barreling across the screen, sprinting between Minho and his would-be catch. He scares the stag off and Minho’s net whacks him instead.

“Jisung!” Minho hisses. “You shit!”

Jisung’s avatar pauses for a moment and turns to Minho before it starts laughing, cartoonish yellow lines appearing around his head.

“All right.” Minho equips his axe. “Hand over all your bells.”

“Never!” Jisung cries, taking off, and this time Minho is the one chasing him. He escapes to the museum, going straight to the left like Minho knew he would. Since entering buildings forces Minho to unequip his axe (boring), he has no choice but to give up the chase, instead trailing peacefully behind Jisung as he makes his way through the bug sanctuary and reads off some of the fun facts listed on the virtual plaques.

Minho smiles softly, dopily at his screen, endeared and so far gone.

They make their way to possibly their favorite area in the game, the atrium filled with butterflies. It’s beautiful, almost magical with the orange rays of the sun filtering through the ceiling, colorful butterflies fluttering around Minho’s screen.

Jisung’s avatar sits on the fountain and insists Minho do the same so they can take a photo to commemorate their date. Minho doesn’t know how many screenshots they both have of the two of them sitting in this spot, but he’s happy to add to the collection, sitting beside Jisung. If he remembers correctly, last time he had his avatar make a sad expression, so this time he goes for sleepy. Jisung’s, meanwhile, is blushing, while the real Jisung grumbles about Minho never taking nice photos.

They make their way back out into the night, Jisung gasping excitedly when he spots a firefly hovering around the river. They spot some more and spend several minutes just catching them together while Minho fondly recalls the first time Jisung had caught a firefly (in real life).

“Remember when you caught one of these and ran to my house crying like a baby?” he asks, snickering when Jisung groans.

“You bring it up every time,” he sighs. “How could I forget?”

“Sorry,” Minho giggles, unapologetic. “You’re just so cute.”

“Says you, Mr. ‘I’ll be your firefly.’” Minho can hear the smile in his voice, can picture it stretching his lips in his favorite heart shape. “So cheesy.”

Minho scoffs, cheeks warming. The gesture hasn’t left them since that night when they were children, the feeling of Jisung’s hand in his intermittently squeezing or vice versa being a familiar one by now. Minho does it in bustling crowds, or when he can sense Jisung becoming anxious or upset. Jisung takes ahold of Minho’s hand and squeezes sometimes when he’s trying and failing to bottle up or let out pent-up emotions, or sometimes when he doesn’t even realize that he needs it.

It always seems to calm Jisung down, make him relax, and for Minho it’s immensely comforting and he never wants to let go. Each gentle squeeze or tap or brush of Jisung’s thumb is like a reminder. I’m here. You’re okay. I’ve got you.

And maybe sometimes Minho needs those reminders, not ever really being one to voluntarily burden others with his emotions or worries. Jisung is there with him, observant, kind, patient, willing to take the time to draw his emotions out of him. Willing to sit with him on top of the box he’s crammed them in, talking about everything and nothing to distract him. To give him a safe space to feel, or to just be.

So maybe Minho was onto something with the whole firefly thing all those years ago. Or maybe it works because they’re Minho and Jisung, and with them everything just does.

Thoughts of holding Jisung’s hand linger in his mind as they continue to play, catching more bugs and some fish. Minho is starting to get tired but won’t dare to be the one to end their so-called date (seriously, where did that come from?), trailing around behind Jisung until he stops and gasps.

“Quick, make a wish!”

A star streaks across the blue sky on-screen and Jisung’s avatar bows his head and brings his hands together as if in prayer. Minho presses A and copies him just in time before the star disappears over the horizon.

“Let’s go watch,” Jisung says. Minho smiles sleepily and agrees, endeared as he follows Jisung to what he knows will be the elevated part of his island that’s cutely decorated with flowers, a heart-shaped pond, a picnic setup, and telescope, their designated stargazing spot when they can’t do it in person.

There’s also two mats in the grass which they lie down on side by side to watch the stars streak across the screen. Jisung hums a familiar tune that Minho swears could lull him right to sleep. He starts singing, too, softly, and Minho’s consciousness is starting to drift off when he murmurs, “Pretty.”

“You are,” Jisung shoots back in a cheeky tone. Joking or not, it’s enough to pull Minho back from the edge of slumber. He wonders if Jisung has any idea of the effect the simplest words have on him.

Then, “I miss you,” Jisung says suddenly, sincerity like an arrow piercing Minho’s heart. “I wish we were looking at the stars together for real.”

It’s been almost a month since Jisung went to Malaysia to visit his grandmother, and he still has eight days before he’s set to come home. Normally his stays don’t last this long, but his grandfather passed away last fall, and his parents’ job gives them work in the area so they’re staying as long as possible to keep his grandmother company. Minho understands, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t miss his best friend.

“Me too,” he agrees quietly. “We can do it next week.”

“I know, but then we’re both back off to school right after I get home!” he whines.

“Our schools aren’t that far,” Minho reminds him, smiling. “Aw, you miss me that much, huh, Jisungie?”

Jisung scoffs. “Binnie-hyung says you’ve been moping all month.”

“I have not!” Minho denies. Maybe he has, but it wasn’t supposed to show, what the fuck? And why is Changbin airing him out like that? Asshole.

“Bet you haaave,” Jisung sings, snickering. His voice softens, earnest when he says, “I do, though. This is the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other since we met.”

Minho hums, smiling at their virtual figures lying next to each other, sleeping peacefully.

“And…” Jisung continues, hesitant, “I’ve had a lot of time to think.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Minho teases weakly, his mouth suddenly a little dry. When Jisung doesn’t respond any more than to chuckle, he asks, “Think about what?”

“Um… You?” Another chuckle, nervous this time, and Minho’s stomach flutters. “Me? Us?”

“What about us?” Minho asks, nearly a whisper. Hope swells rapidly in his chest; he isn’t sure if he should try and stamp it out or feed into it, but it’s quickly growing out of his control. His palms are sweaty where they meet his Switch, and he laughs nervously when Jisung doesn’t reply right away. “This almost sounds like the beginnings of a confession.”

Another few seconds pass without Jisung saying a word, and then he groans. His words come out in a jumbled panic. “I knew I should’ve waited till I got back. Fuck.”

Minho swallows. “Jisung?”

“Sorry. Shit, sorry. I had it all planned out what I was gonna say, and I just—ugh, I―”

“Jisungie?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay,” Minho says, gentle. “Deep breath.” He hears him inhale, then exhale. “Okay? I’m here.”

“I wish you were,” Jisung replies sullenly. “I wanna hold your hand.”

“I’d be holding your hand so hard right now,” Minho says, smiling when it earns a giggle. A few beats pass before Jisung is speaking again.

“The thing is, um… I wanna hold your hand all the time. And cuddle you, and listen to you laugh, and just, like, be with you all the time.”

The hope in Minho’s chest turns into a blazing ball of warmth, his heartbeat rabbiting. He holds his breath, waits to see if Jisung will continue.

“God, I really shouldn’t have done this over Animal Crossing while I’m in a different country, huh?” A strained laugh. “This is the worst confession ever. But yeah, this is a confession, so um… Yeah. I like you, kind of a whole lot. Romantically. Also, I’m gay! Surprise?”

“Um.” Minho breathes out an incredulous laugh, lips stretched wide with a smile. “Nope, that part’s not a surprise. I gotta say I wasn’t expecting a confession though. You missed me so much you realized you like me?”

“Hyung,” Jisung whines, then sighs. “I think I’ve been… in the process of realizing it for a while. I just, uh, I guess I’m at the point where I can’t deny it anymore. And the more I thought about it, the more I knew this wouldn’t ruin our friendship or anything, even if you don’t like me back―”

“Hey, Jisungie?” Minho’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

“Yeah?”

“You’re kinda dumb.”

“Wha―?!”

“Of course I like you, idiot,” he giggles giddily. “The only bad thing about this confession is that I can’t kiss you right now.”

“Oh. Oh. O-Okay. Wait, really?”

“Really.”

“Wow. Okay. Cool,” he says, wondrous. Then he clicks his tongue, seeming to regain his composure. “Yeah, that does kinda suck though, doesn’t it? Especially for you. You are missing out on some soft lips, I’m telling you.”

“Oh, I’m sure. You’ll show me what I’ve been missing next week, right?”

“You know it, baby.” In this context, the pet name makes Minho’s stomach whirl with ten times more butterflies than usual. “Ah—Shit, sorry, this is the worst timing, but my mom wants me to run to the market with her before it closes.”

“Okay,” Minho says, still grinning. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung sighs, fondness evident. “I’ll text you. Bye.”

“Bye, Jisungie.” He hangs up.

Minho lets his Switch slip out of his hands and onto his mattress while he stares up at his ceiling with a dopey grin, almost dizzy with happiness as he allows it all to settle in.

Jisung likes him. Jisung has feelings for him. Jisung wants to kiss him. Jisung is going to kiss him.

Minho makes an embarrassing, high-pitched noise somewhere in the back of his throat, covering his face with his hands and kicking his feet on his mattress like a goddamn schoolgirl. It’s just—He can hardly believe this is real, that the object of his affections for so many years, longer than he even knows, his best friend, his Jisung, returns his feelings.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He was falling asleep just ten minutes ago and now he feels like he can never sleep again. How is he meant to survive another eight days knowing he’ll get to hold Jisung in his arms as more than a friend soon, get to kiss his cute pink lips?

Without much thought, he reaches for the postcard on his nightstand that arrived from Jisung just last week. He smiles at the short but cute message written on the back, and then reads the return address, struck with a sudden thought.

What if… 

No, Minho tells himself. No, you’re being ridiculous.

But he keeps scanning over the address.

He unlocks his phone and checks to see when the next flight leaving for Malaysia is. Checks how far Jisung is from the airport. Just for fun. Wishful thinking! He’s waited this long for Jisung; what’s a few days more? 

Unless…? No. No. He can’t actually, possibly be considering―

“Fuck it.”

Minho springs up out of his bed and starts packing.

🐛

Minho managed to get a last-minute flight dirt cheap, and after hours of trying to pay attention to movies, texting Jisung inconspicuously, dodging his requests to call, and jittering nervously have passed, he’s landing in Malaysia only to realize he has no idea what to do from here.

After some struggling and help from a kind older lady, he manages to call a taxi and shows the driver the address on Jisung’s postcard. He tries to make conversation on the way with his minimal knowledge of English to distract from his sudden nerves, the whole thing suddenly feeling a lot more real the closer he gets to Jisung’s grandmother’s house.

He’s not scared, not really, but still nervous. Everything is about to change.

It’s past one in the morning when they arrive, and Minho is more thankful than ever for his friend being such a night owl. He thanks the driver and retrieves his bag from the back—just a small carry-on with essentials and a few changes of clothes—and faces the house, breathing in the cool summer night’s air.

He’s been here before, having visited with Jisung and his family once in middle school, so he knows which room is Jisung’s even barring the fact that it’s the only window still lit with dim lamplight. He figures it will scare Jisung if he knocks on it, but it’s not like he can call him without racking up ridiculous data charges—something he failed to consider on this impromptu trip—and it’s better than knocking on the front door and scaring the whole house.

So he approaches the window, stomach fluttering and heart hammering, only to be distracted by a gentle light blinking in the air before him. He smiles, setting down his bag.

Not a minute later he’s knocking softly on the windowpane, and then several seconds after he knocks a little harder, stomach flip-flopping when the curtains hesitantly draw back and Jisung’s face appears before him, eyes round and wary. He startles at Minho’s figure, and then squints, and his jaw drops to the floor.

Minho giggles uncontrollably to himself as Jisung scrambles to unlock the window and pulls it open with a huge grin on his face, hissing, “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Minho holds his hand out and uncurls his fingers to reveal the firefly crawling over his palm, blinking serenely. “A little friend spirited me here.”

Jisung barely spares it a glance before it flies away into the night, staring at Minho and shaking his head in disbelief. “Come here, you crazy bastard.” Jisung yanks him in the window by his hoodie; the bed is right up against the wall with the windows, so Minho can crawl directly onto it and into Jisung’s embrace as he hugs him tight. Minho closes his eyes and smiles as he hugs him back, warm and content as he relaxes in Jisung’s hold.

Jisung’s arms are strong around him as he runs a hand up and down Minho’s spine, breathing in deep. “Mm, you smell like home.”

With his face buried in the crook of Jisung’s neck, the familiar scents of his soap and shampoo mixing, Minho can’t help but think the same.

“You feel like home,” is what comes out of his mouth. He should be embarrassed, but when Jisung pulls back it seems like it was the right thing to say, his eyes big and starry as they search Minho’s face, hand slipping into his.

The world slows to a stop as a tentative hand cups the side of Minho’s face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. Jisung’s eyes flicker to Minho’s lips as he wets his own, parting like he wants to ask permission.

Yes, Minho thinks, squeezing the hand still in his. Yes, do it, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me―

It’s enough for Jisung. He leans in, brushing his lips against Minho’s, and it turns out they are as soft as Jisung said after all. They slot together perfectly, and nothing has ever felt so right. Minho pushes back more insistently, his free hand slipping into Jisung’s soft hair as they deepen the kiss, lips moving in a rhythm as easy as things have always been with the two of them together.

It’s beautiful. It’s perfect, it’s everything Minho could have asked for and more, his heart pounding with glee under Jisung’s palm where it’s come to rest on his chest.

They have to part for air eventually, both guilty of stealing little pecks as they try to pry themselves off of each other, pulling back enough to look each other in the eyes. Jisung looks like a dream before him, all pink and breathless. Because of Minho.

Absentmindedly, Minho squeezes his hand. Jisung squeezes back, and they keep going back and forth a few times before they both erupt into senseless giggles.

“Wow,” Jisung says, beaming brighter than the light of a thousand fireflies.

“Wow,” Minho repeats, ducking his head shyly under the weight of Jisung’s gaze, overwhelmed with how happy and in love he feels.

“Worth the flight?” Jisung asks.

“Hmm, I dunno,” Minho teases even though he knew it was the moment he saw Jisung peek out the window. “I’ll have to gather some more data before I make that call.”

“That can be arranged.” Jisung smiles, meeting him halfway for another kiss, but he breaks it early and Minho has to bite back a whine. “But seriously, what the fuck? Did you just hang up and go straight to the airport?”

Minho shrugs. “Uh, kinda. I told my mom first, at least.”

“What did she say?”

“She said ‘finally’ and started cheering.” Minho laughs as he recalls how happy she was. “Changbin said the same thing when I texted him.”

“Was everyone waiting for us to get together?” Jisung balks.

“Pretty much.”

“I guess we were both kind of obvious, huh.” Minho shrugs and Jisung chuckles, shaking his head, and grins down at their hands in silence for several seconds. Minho squeezes, and he squeezes back. 

“I can’t decide if you flying out here like that is the most romantic or most insane thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Minho flutters his eyelashes and pouts. “It can’t be both?”

Jisung considers him, then nods. “Yeah, I guess it can. Congrats on being a chaotic romantic.”

Minho would never have believed himself to be one before, but he supposes he can’t deny that what he’s just done would fall under the category of being both insane and romantic. What can he say? Jisung turns his brain to caterpillar soup.

“Congrats on having someone so romantic as a—a best friend.” He falters a bit at the end—what are they, now?

Jisung picks up on it, of course. “Best friend?” He smiles, toothy and beautiful, and fixes Minho with an expectant stare.

“I mean, or… I don’t know,” Minho mumbles and tugs at his earlobe, embarrassed. “What do you call someone who goes through this much for a kiss?”

“Hmm.” Jisung brushes Minho’s hair aside, seemingly wanting an excuse to touch him. “I’d call him the man of my dreams. My match made in heaven. Soulmate, if you will.” Minho groans, his face on fire and certainly a bright shade of red in the lamplight as he weakly hits Jisung’s shoulder with his fist for being so unbearably sappy. Jisung grabs his wrist, laughing, and brings it to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. “My firefly.”

Never did Minho think being called a bioluminescent beetle as a term of endearment would make him swoon, but here he is, blushing like crazy as he blinks at Jisung and wills his brain to produce words.

His reflex is to make fun of Jisung for being so cheesy, but he can’t even do so without Jisung spinning it back at him for being the one to start the whole firefly thing in the first place. So all he can do is stare, marveling at the light shining in Jisung’s eyes, the warmth in his smile, setting Minho alight with the sheer fondness and affection in his gaze.

He may be a silly little beetle, but Jisung is light itself, Minho thinks, and he feels like little more than a helpless moth drawn to his brilliant flame.

He doesn’t dare speak the thought out loud though, instead letting himself give in to the pull he always feels towards Jisung and connecting their lips again and again, greedily drinking in all the light he has to offer and giving it a home in his own heart.

“And what about me?” Jisung breathes; they’ve fallen onto his abundant pillows at some point while kissing, entangled with their foreheads pressed together.

“Hm?” Minho hums, dizzy with bliss as he plays with the hair at the nape of Jisung’s neck.

“What do you call someone you’d jump on a plane for just to come get a kiss ‘cause you can’t wait eight more days?” He grins.

Minho narrows his eyes. “Annoying.” Jisung giggles, a sweet sound, and Minho’s eyes wander down his face. His long day is catching up with his body and mind, sleepiness making him soft, and he tries his answer again as his thumb brushes over Jisung’s cheek. “I’d call him beautiful.”

Jisung’s lips purse in a poor attempt to hold back a smile, his pink cheeks darkening as his long eyelashes flutter. “Annoying but beautiful. I’ll take it.”

“I’d call him… a dung beetle―” Jisung scrunches up his nose and Minho laughs, “—just to see him make that face. But really… he reminds me of a butterfly. He’s always been such a cute little caterpillar,” a pinch to Jisung’s nose, “but now he’s grown into something really amazing.”

“Jeez…” Jisung tries to shy away, but Minho gently keeps him there with a hand on his cheek and a tender smile. “Careful, Lee Minho. If someone hears you talking like that, they might think you’re in love with me or something.”

Minho hums with an enigmatic smile, choosing not to confirm nor deny it just yet. “I don’t care.” He kisses Jisung again, softly, smiling lips meeting smiling lips.

“Hyung?” Jisung murmurs.

“Hm?”

“You’re beautiful, too.”

“I know.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to be romantic.”

“Okay,” Minho giggles, “go on.”

A huff, and Jisung averts his gaze and says in a small voice, “You helped me find my wings. I’d still be an ugly little worm without you.”

“Cute caterpillar,” Minho corrects, “and no you wouldn’t. Give yourself more credit, Jisungie.”

“What I’m saying is―” He slips his hand into Minho’s again. “I don’t know where or who I’d be without you. You mean everything to me. You make my heart feel so warm and comfortable and safe. You’re my soulmate. I mean that.” He takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

Minho’s heart soars.

He smiles giddily, so big and wide that his cheeks hurt and his vision even blurs a bit—wait.

“Hyung?” Jisung gasps, disbelief coloring his voice. “Are—Are you crying?”

“I’m not! I’m not,” Minho denies, blinking rapidly and willing the wetness welling in his eyes to go away. Unfortunately, the action sends a single, warm tear streaking down his face, and before he can get rid of it, Jisung is wiping it away himself. His own eyes are wide and glistening as they dart between Minho’s.

“I’ve never seen you cry,” he whispers incredulously. “Shit, now I’m gonna cry, too.”

“I’m not crying,” Minho insists, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. “I’m just—just tired.”

Jisung pouts and gathers Minho into his arms as he rolls onto his back, running a hand down Minho’s. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Jisung, I’m fine,” Minho laughs, but he’s so comfortable atop Jisung’s warm, solid chest that he doesn’t bother pulling away, just relaxes into his hold.

“Just let me have this,” he jokes. “I’m not the crybaby for once.”

Minho bites back a retort about how he barely teared up and Jisung still almost cried, instead content to let himself be held and nearly lulled to sleep when Jisung’s hand starts playing with his hair. His touch is so soothing that Minho nearly forgets how they ended up here.

Shit. He didn’t return Jisung’s confession.

He lifts his head from his chest to do so, faltering when he meets Jisung’s gaze, warm and content as he smiles softly at Minho. His brain turns to static.

Minho really has become such a bumbling fool in front of Jisung. What happened to the cool, collected, sensible hyung he once was? And why is part of him so delighted by the gradual turning of the tables? At least Jisung seems to be on the same page—but rarely is he not.

That aside, he still has feelings to profess before he sleeps, dammit.

“Jisungie?” he starts.

“Mhm?”

You’re everything to me, too. My soulmate. The gentle breeze beneath my wings and the butterflies in my stomach. You’re warmth and light and happiness.

“I love you,” is what he settles on. The rest can come later, or Minho can just show him all that he means to him. “My Jisungie,” he adds, reaching up to pinch his cheek.

“Love you,” Jisung returns with a heart-shaped grin, running his hand through Minho’s hair again, and Minho could cry again from how good everything feels. “My big cat.”

Minho inches his way up Jisung’s body to capture his lips again; he doesn’t think he’ll be used to this any time soon, each and every meeting of lips as wonderful as the first. Maybe better.

He wants to kiss Jisung for a long time.

They do need air though, and also to get ready for bed and brace themselves for an embarrassing day of explaining all of this to Jisung’s family when they wake up and find Minho in Jisung’s bed tomorrow.

After preparing for bed and quietly sneaking back into Jisung’s room, they slip under the covers and Jisung is clinging to Minho in an instant, cuddling up close until his chest is flush against Minho’s back. He presses a kiss to his shoulder. 

Minho smiles, holding Jisung’s hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss before he cradles it close to his chest and squeezes. “Good night, Jisungie.”

“Sweet dreams, Minho.”

He squeezes back, and in the dark of night with Jisung’s arms around him, Minho’s world has never been so bright.

🦋