Archive of Our Own

Jisung sighed wearily as he toed off his shoes. It had been a long day: he had had to wake up way too early only to spend hours upon hours dancing in a stupidly humid practice room, sweating his ass off as he tried to keep up with Hyunjin, who had graciously offered to help him learn the choreo for their new song since Jisung had been sick when the rest of the group learned it. Then, he had taken the quickest shower known to man (2.5 minutes—it wasn’t as much a shower as it was furiously scrubbing his skin raw with an old washcloth he found at the bottom of his equipment bag) before he was whisked away for a personal schedule. He was forced into full wardrobe and makeup only to spend ten minutes teaching someone how to produce a simple beat on his favorite program before he was told that was all that was required of him. They told him it would be part of a compilation, or something. He didn’t really care very much, but he still bowed politely before he changed back into his sweats and collected his stuff. 

He hadn’t bothered to take off his makeup or rinse his hair after his schedule once he looked at the time and realized he was late for recording. He rushed to the studio, bowing apologetically once he arrived. Chan had just smiled and assured him it was alright; he knew it wasn’t Jisung’s fault he was a little (or maybe an hour or two) late. Jisung tried to contain his frustration as Felix re-recorded the same two bars twelve times, knowing Felix was still a little insecure about his singing, especially when it was in such a high key. Even still, Jisung’s heart broke a little more every time he deleted yet another take from the track. 

He almost exploded when he was forced to sit through Kim “The Perfectionist” Seungmin’s recording, which was somehow worse that Felix’s. Seungmin insisted on re-recording his whole verse over and over, even though Jisung thought it was perfect the first time. Chan, bless his patient heart, didn’t mind, and actually encouraged Seungmin to keep going until he thought it was good enough. Jisung bit back a groan at that. It was a good thing Jisung wasn’t the leader—he would’ve kicked Seungmin out of the booth a long time ago if he was.

Once Seungmin was finally satisfied, Jisung scuttled all the way across the building to his vocal lesson. If he was being honest, he hadn’t even remembered he had a vocal lesson that day. He only realized when Seungmin asked him if he remembered not to eat any dairy. Luckily, Jisung hadn’t eaten anything, actually, so he didn’t have to worry about a clogged throat. He only had to worry about his general health, which was much less of a concern to him then.

After his stupid vocal lesson, Jisung slowly plodded back home. He hated days like this: days that lasted almost 24 hours, days where he didn’t get a break, days without his friends by his side. He just wanted to collapse on his bed and sleep forever. Thankfully, the next day (or would it be today? It was already 3:30 A.M.) was a free day for him, so maybe Jisung could follow through on his plan of sleeping the day away. Then again, Jisung always had a hard time sleeping, so maybe he would wake up at 8:30 like normal and cry about it like he did everytime his stupid circadian rhythm stayed on track. 

Jisung rubbed his eyes tiredly, only belatedly remembering the eyeshadow still adoring his lids. He groaned, sulkily dragging his feet as he walked to the kitchen. He hated when he forgot he had makeup on. He considered taking his makeup off now, but then he figured he should take it off after he ate something—wait, he had to take a shower, too. Goddamn it. Why did he have to care so much about personal hygiene?

As Jisung slowly made his way into the kitchen, he was surprised to see the light still on. Was someone still awake? Jisung knew he sure as hell wouldn’t be awake if he didn’t feel like he was about to get sick from how hungry he was. Maybe he should stuff a few bags of chips or something into his equipment bag so he would actually eat something on these busy days. 

Jisung startled slightly as he spied someone hunched over the stove, staring intensely into what looked to be a pot of water. Interesting , Jisung thought as he made his way over to the person. 

“Hyung?” Jisung called quietly once his tired brain forced his equally tired throat to actually make noise. The person turned around, seemingly surprised by Jisung’s arrival. Minho stood there in an old, worn band t-shirt and his signature cute, fluffy cat pajama pants. His face split into a wide smile as Jisung stepped a little closer and wrapped his arms around the older boy. 

“Hey, Zombie boy. Guess you finally decided to come home, huh?” Minho greeted playfully as he wrapped Jisung in a tight hug. They stayed like that for a while, Jisung nuzzling closer to Minho’s warm body as he breathed in the faint, stubborn trace of Minho’s body wash.

“Why are you awake?” Jisung asked as he pulled back, his hands still resting on Minho’s waist. 

“Because I haven’t gotten my Sungie time yet,” Minho said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world (which, to be fair, it kind of was: for whatever reason, Minho insisted on spending some alone time with Jisung every day—not that Jisung minded, of course. He’d use any excuse to hang out with his best friend). 

“I don’t think you want to spend much time with Zombie Sungie, hyung,” Jisung said as he dropped his hands and looked over Minho’s shoulder at the water that was just now starting to bubble. 

“Please. Zombie Sungie can’t be any worse than normal Jisung,” Minho teased as his eyes followed Jisung’s, turning away from the younger as he turned the burner down. 

“You’re mean,” Jisung pouted as he watched Minho open the cupboard above the stove and grab two packets of instant noodles. 

Minho glanced back at him. “You’re just upset that I’m right.” Jisung rolled his eyes as he turned away from his older friend and faced the fridge. What a mean guy his hyung was. He didn’t know why Minho was his best friend. 

Jisung opened the fridge door much more forcefully than he meant to, causing a half-empty bottle of ketchup to fall on the ground and slid toward the curtained off door on the other end of the kitchen. He heard Minho’s soft giggles behind him as he stared forlornly at the traitorous bottle before letting out a resigned sigh and fetching it. He placed it back on the shelf extra carefully before he started scrounging around for something to drink. 

The stupid fridge was packed full of shit like always, way too many old takeout containers stacked in there to fit anything worthwhile. He didn’t want to have to look in the other fridge for a drink—in all honesty, he kinda just wanted to curl up on the floor and pass out. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t very well do that with his older friend in the room: Minho would freak out if he laid on the floor for no apparent reason and didn’t get up, and Jisung would very much like to avoid having a talk with Chan about having a bed and knowing how to use it again (which was a rich statement coming from Chan, the resident insomniac).

Jisung was just about to give up hope of finding a drink when he spied something that made his heart race a little bit. Okay, maybe it was a little embarrassing to get so excited over a slice of plain, New York style cheesecake, but sue him. It was his favorite thing in the world (after his best friend, of course). There was a note taped to the top of the container with his name written on it, a little, barely noticeable heart next to it. Jisung smiled as he lightly traced the heart with his finger. 

He knew who it was from—there was really only one person it could be from. It wasn’t from Chan: Chan definitely would’ve gotten something for the whole group and he sure as hell wouldn’t’ve gotten cheesecake without Jisung there. 

He supposed it could’ve been from Hyunjin, the most avide cafe-goer of the group; but Hyunjin went to cafes with Seungmin these days and would never in a million years bring anything back for Jisung after his date.

Seungmin wouldn’t, either. Seungmin didn’t even buy Jisung stuff when they were together. 

It could’ve been from little Lixie, but Felix had stopped talking to him after Jisung had taken to calling him “little Lixie,” so he doubted it. It could’ve been some form of a peace offering, but Jisung knew that Felix would’ve made something himself if he wanted to make peace. 

While Changbin liked taking care of people by buying them things sometimes, Jisung didn’t think he was the cheesecake fairy. Ever since the elder had started his diet and forced himself to go to the gym more often, he’d been pushing a healthier eating style on everyone (Jisung suspected it was because he wanted everyone else to suffer like he was). He wasn’t pushing the issue forcefully, but it was certainly annoying (besides, Jisung knew Changbin wasn’t as much of a health nut as he claimed to be: he had seen his hyung sneak some of little Lixie’s brownies more than a few times).

The cheesecake definitely wasn’t from Jeongin: Jeongin hated him (lovingly, of course). 

So that left one person: the same person who Jisung could hear puttering around the kitchen behind him. Jisung’s smile widened as he tapped the container once before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge—not what he wanted, but he hadn't drank nearly enough water that day, so he could deal—and closing the door. He placed his bottle on the table before walking back over to Minho, who was still attentively staring at the pot of now-boiling water and noodles. 

Jisung wrapped his arms around Minho’s waist, pressing his front against Minho’s back. “Thank you for the cheesecake,” he said quietly as he squeezed Minho’s abdomen. 

“I know nothing of this ‘cheesecake’ you speak of,” Minho responded. Jisung craned his neck to see a small satisfied smirk painting Minho’s face, giving away the fact that he was, indeed, the one who got the cheesecake for Jisung. 

Jisung scrunched his nose. Of course, Minho just had to be difficult. “Well, will you pass on my thanks, then? Will you tell my cheesecake fairy that it really means a lot that he would think of me throughout his day even though I wasn’t with him? Will you tell him it made my rough day a hundred million times better?” 

He felt Minho laugh. “A hundred million times? That's a lot of times.” 

“Well, it made me really happy,” Jisung admitted, his voice slightly muffled as he turned his head to nuzzle the crook of Minho’s neck. 

“I was out anyway,” Minho responded with a shrug. Though he couldn’t see his face, Jisung could perfectly picture the soft smile that undoubtedly graced it at that moment. 

Minho had always been like this: he was very much a silent care-taker. He wanted literally none of the praise for doing anything, going so far as to ‘blame’ other people for giving gifts. He only did that with the other members, though. It was a little different with Jisung. 

 Like the time Jisung spilled soy sauce on his favorite pair of gray sweatpants and cried about it for an entire hour, only to find an exact replica of his ruined sweats on his bed when he came home the next day, same brand and size and everything. Minho had been the only one home at the time, and Jisung was smart enough to put two and two together. When Jisung approached Minho about it (wearing the sweatpants, obviously), Minho brushed it off, stating that the sweatpants just happened to be an extra pair he found lying on the floor of his closet that he wasn’t about to wear anytime soon. He said that he saw how upset Jisung was and ‘just decided to be nice to him for once’ (his words, not Jisung’s. Jisung was pretty sure Minho was nice to him all the time). 

Or when Jisung mentioned last October that he wanted a new game for his Switch for Christmas only to find the game he had been eyeing for weeks sitting on the coffee table in the living room a week later. He, once again, asked Minho about it, only to be told that Minho bought the game for his Switch, but Jisung could play it if he wanted. Jisung was so excited, he played for a whole week and then promptly forgot to give the game back to his older friend. Luckily, Minho hadn’t asked about it, so at least he wasn’t the only one who forgot about it. 

Not to mention the near-daily iced americanos that greet him as soon as he wakes up. Jisung knew that Minho and Jeongin, the early risers of the group, often went on coffee dates in the morning, and it was pretty easy to guess which one of them bought Jisung coffee; again, Jeongin hated him (lovingly, obviously). Whenever he thanked Minho for the coffee, he would say that he was already getting coffee, anyway, and he wasn’t going to not get Jisung anything when he knew Jisung couldn’t survive without caffeine.

Minho always painted everything he did for Jisung as a coincidence. Sometimes, Jisung wished he wouldn’t: he wanted Minho to be proud he was taking care of him, but he also understood that Minho didn’t need any recognition to feel fulfilled. 

Minho turned the burner off before he dumped the noodles into the sieve in the sink, hot water sizzling on cold metal as a cloud of smoke erupted. Jisung lifted his head as Minho turned slightly to look over his shoulder at him. “Go sit down. I’ll bring the food over.”

Jisung nodded, squeezing Minho once more before he let go and walked to the table that was definitely too small for eight fully grown men to sit around. He sat down heavily on his favorite chair—the one in the corner nestled between the table, wall, and water filter—as he grabbed his water bottle and cracked it open, guzzling down at least half the bottle in one gulp. 

He heard Minho scoff. “Slow down, Han Jisung. No one’s taking your water away from you,” he said as he took a seat across from Jisung and slid one of the bowls of noodles toward him. Jisung took it gratefully, grabbing a pair of disposable chopsticks from the little holder at the end of the table and cracking them apart, rubbing them together to get rid of the splinters. 

“Thanks for the food, hyung,” he said before he started digging in, leaning his back up against the wall and holding the bowl under his chin so he could shove noodles into his mouth easier. 

Minho shrugged as he handed Jisung a napkin. “I was making food for myself, anyway.” 

“Still. I appreciate you doing things for me, hyung. I always do.” Minho smiled softly as he gazed at Jisung, something glittering in the elder’s eyes that Jisung couldn’t quite understand. Jisung continued to stuff his cheeks full of more noodles than necessary to distract himself from his uncertainty. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Minho said quietly as he picked at his own noodles. Minho probably wasn’t even hungry, but he made noodles for himself so Jisung didn’t feel awkward or like he was stealing food from the older (which was very true. Jisung didn’t like eating around people who weren’t eating).

“It is to me. I like it. A lot,” Jisung said before he shoved more food in his mouth. It was always hard to talk about how he felt, especially about the things Minho did for him. Sure, he bragged about Minho caring for him, but he always felt like he wasn’t expressing enough gratitude toward him for it.

Minho mumbled something that Jisung didn’t quite catch. “What was that?” Jisung asked. Minho shook his head as he smiled.

“Nothing,” he said before he glanced at the clock on the wall. “You should finish up, though. You still have to take a shower.” Jisung groaned loudly at the reminder: he had completely forgotten he even had to do that. And he had hugged Minho multiple times with his dirty, sweaty body. Gross.

Minho rolled his eyes. “Okay, you big baby. You’re literally fine.”

“I don’t want to!” Jisung whined, pushing his head back against the wall. He looked at Minho with his best impression of Felix’s infamous puppy-dog eyes. “Will hyung-ah help me? Please?”

Minho stood up, patting Jisung’s crunchy, hair-spray-infused hair as he grabbed Jisung’s empty bowl and took it to the sink. “Sorry, Sungie. You’re a big boy. You can do it yourself.”

“But what if this ‘big boy’ needs your help because he’s about to actually fall asleep in the shower?” Minho laughed quietly. 

“Sungie, you’ll be fine on your own. Besides, I’m tired. Just take a quick shower now and then take a really long shower tomorrow to actually wash yourself thoroughly. Don’t worry about deep cleaning tonight.”

“‘Deep cleaning,’” Jisung mocked, shuddering uncomfortably at the alalogy. “Please never describe a shower like that ever again.” Minho laughed as he grabbed Jisung’s hands and hauled him out of his chair, turning him to face the rest of their dorm. 

“Goodnight, Sungie,” Minho said as he gently pushed Jisung toward the bathroom.

“Goodnight, hyung,” Jisung grumbled as he walked away from the kitchen, off to take a shower, regrettably alone.

*********

Jisung was once again in the stupidly humid practice room, but with the whole group this time, not just Hyunjin and his stupidly handsome face. Instead, he had to deal with Minho’s piercing gaze studying his every move as they ran through the new choreo again and again. 

And, on top of that, he didn’t feel very well, either. He felt like he was going to puke after every run-through, his stomach twisting painfully every time he caught Minho’s dissatisfied stare in the mirror. He was having a hard time focusing, too: he just kept thinking about everything he needed to do, including the arrangement Chan wanted him to finish in two days, even though he had absolutely zero time to work on it at all that day or the next. It seemed like every two seconds he was spacing out again, causing him to completely miss steps in the choreo he was supposed to know ‘like the back of his hand’ (Hyunjin’s words). Every time he botched a move, he could feel Minho’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his head. 

Jisung clenched his teeth as he messed up for the hundredth time, swaying right instead of left during the chorus. He was just so frustrated : he wanted to do well, he really did, but his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. 

When he stumbled again during the second verse, Minho immediately raised his hand, signaling he wanted everyone to stop (he had that kind of power as the dance leader). Everyone stopped dancing, their faces sweaty and pink as they tried to catch their breath. Jisung’s eyes stayed trained on the shiny hardwood floor beneath him as his breaths rattled in his chest—he knew it was his fault Minho stopped them. 

“Why don’t we all take a little break, yeah?” Jisung heard Minho say. He heard noises of agreement from his members, but he didn’t say anything as he walked over to his bag in the corner. He felt sick as he dug his water bottle out from his equipment bag, knocking it back to try and ease the knot in his throat. 

“Jisung,” he heard someone say from behind him. His hands tightened around his water bottle as his stomach dropped. He turned around slowly, his heart beating way too fast in his chest. 

“Hyung,” he greeted. Minho stood there, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at Jisung with raised eyebrows. His impatient expression caused a shiver to race through Jisung’s body. “What’s, uh, what’s up?”

“I should be asking you that. Are you okay?” Minho’s eyebrows lowered into a crease. 

“Y-yeah. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Jisung answered as he tried to blink away the sting of unshed tears. Why was Minho being sweet to him? Jisung had messed everything up enough for Minho to have to stop practice. That never happened with anyone else! If he were Minho, he would be furious. He swiped a hand across his face, pretending to wipe away his sweat.

Minho’s face softened. “Sungie,” he began as he placed his hands on Jisung’s shoulders, “baby, talk to me. What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything.” 

Jisung stared at his hyung as tears welled in his eyes. He didn’t deserve a friend like Minho, who was more worried about the younger's state than angry at his mistakes. Tears spilled from his eyes as he started shaking, his heart clenching painfully as Minho pulled him into a hug. 

“Sungie, please. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Minho asked as Jisung shoved his face into the soft, slightly sweat-damp fabric of Minho’s tee shirt. 

“I feel so dumb, hyung,” he whined as he sobbed quietly, desperately grasping at the sides on Minho’s shirt. “I have so much stuff to do, and I have no time to do it, and now I’m messing up the whole group’s practice because I can’t fucking do it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

Minho shushed him softly as he pet the back of Jisung’s head. “It’s okay. We all have our off days. What do you have to do?” 

Jisung sniffed into Minho’s shoulder. “ I just—“ he sighed, frustrated again. “I keep thinking about the stupid deadline for this stupid song and I can’t focus on anything else and I kinda feel like I’m dying because my legs are shaking really bad and my chest is super tight and I can’t breathe —“

Minho interrupted him with another shush, this one a little more forceful than the last. He pulled back a little, forcing Jisung away from his hiding place on Minho’s chest. Minho tilted his head as he looked at him. “I think you need a bit of a break, hmm?” he asked, but it sounded more like a rhetorical question than one directed at Jisung. Regardless, Jisung nodded slightly as he let out a ragged breath, watching as a small smile made its way onto Minho’s face. He focused on that smile, trying to keep himself grounded. “Just keep breathing, Jisungie. You’re doing so well.” Minho leaned forward slightly and pressed a kiss on the sweaty hair covering Jisung’s forehead. If Jisung had had any more sense at that moment, he would’ve been a blushing mess. 

“Do you want to come with me to talk to Channie hyung?” Minho asked. Jisung nodded, not trusting his voice as he tried to calm his soft sobs. He couldn’t be away from Minho for a second, not when he was like this, and Minho knew it. Minho grabbed his hand gently and walked toward Chan, Jisung trailing behind him like a sad, lost puppy. 

Jisung kept his gaze trained on the scuffed floor, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle the disappointed and sympathetic stares of the other members as he stopped in front of the couch Chan was sitting on, still clinging to Minho’s hand like a lifeline. He didn’t look up as Minho began speaking. 

“Channie hyung, do you think we could push lunch up a little? Hannie’s feeling a little anxious.” Anxious. That’s what he was feeling. How was Minho able to put a name to the heavy feeling in his chest when Jisung couldn’t? 

“Of course,” Chan said. “As long as we get our hours in, we can make lunch a little earlier. Hannie, are you okay?” Jisung nodded as he stepped closer to Minho, practically disappearing behind him as tears continued to slowly crawl down his cheeks. “Alright. Yeah, we can take an hour now. Just try to be back before practice starts again.” 

 Jisung gripped Minho’s hand tighter as he felt multiple sets of eyes burn against his back. Minho squeezed back before he spoke to Chan again. “We will be.” 

“Great,” Chan said as Minho began gently pulling Jisung’s hand to guide him to the door. 

“I hope you feel better, Sungie,” Jisung heard a deep voice say behind him. Huh, looks like all it took for little Lixie to forgive him was for Jisung to have a complete breakdown. 

Jisung didn’t acknowledge Felix as Minho opened the practice room door: he would feel guilty about it later, for sure, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle Felix’s sad, worried eyes without breaking down again (sometimes it really sucked to have friends who validated his emotions so much). Instead, Jisung shuffled after Minho and out of the room, heading off to wherever the hell Minho was taking him. 

———————-

“Are you feeling any better?” Minho asked as he reached across the table and dropped yet another piece of grilled meat onto Jisung’s plate. They were at a pretty popular barbecue place that, thankfully, had a small back room Minho rented out for them. Jisung’s heart swelled at Minho’s thoughtfulness: he knew Jisung wouldn’t want to be seen when he was in the midst of an anxiety attack (or maybe he just wanted to protect his own image. Jisung knew he would do anything to hide if he had to accompany a snotty, teary-eyed bitch boy. Maybe Minho felt the same). Once they had settled, Minho proceeded to order the biggest serving of meat possible and grill all of it, adding piece after piece to the steadily growing beef mountain on Jisung’s plate.

“Yeah,” Jisung responded. He had stopped crying once he’d gotten out of the company building, but his shaking hands hadn't stopped the whole half hour they had been sitting in the restaurant. 

“So, what do you have to do?”

“I-I have to get this track to Channie hyung in two days and it’s not going well,” Jisung said forlornly. “I can’t seem to figure out what’s wrong with it, which means I can’t fix it.” He frowned as he pushed a piece of meat around with one of his chopsticks. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Why don’t you just tell Channie hyung you can’t do it?” Minho asked plainly as he wrapped a lettuce leaf around a piece of meat. Jisung’s eyes widened.

“I can’t do that!” he exclaimed. “Channie hyung, he-he’ll…” he stuttered, trailing off when Minho raised his eyebrows.

“He’ll what? What could Channie hyung possibly do? Sungie, he’s just as busy as you are; I’m pretty sure he’d understand if you needed a bit more time for this project. Besides, I know for a fact that all the songs for the next two albums are already written and produced—you told me so yourself. It can’t possibly be that important.” Jisung looked down at the table, setting his chopsticks next to his plate and wringing his hands. What Minho said made sense, but his words didn’t stop Jisung’s brain from continuing its downward spiral. 

“B-but if I can’t get this done, t-then Chan hyung a-and Changbinnie hyung, t-they’ll…” he steeled himself, looking up at Minho. He knew he could be honest with Minho: Minho wouldn’t judge him. He took a deep breath, continuing quietly, “they’ll see that I don’t deserve to work with them, after all.”

Jisung sighed. It felt good to get his worries off his chest.

“Are you serious?” Minho asked, unamused. Jisung blinked: he’d expected Minho to be sympathetic, to take his doubts to heart and comfort him. He certainly didn’t expect the cold stare Minho was giving him instead.

“Yes?” Jisung said meekly, but it came out as a question rather than a statement. Jisung’s stomach twisted as Minho rolled his eyes. “What? Why are you being like this?”

“Jisung,” Minho began, gently setting his wrap down on his plate before reaching across the table and grabbing Jisung’s hand, “shut the fuck up.” 

Jisung startled slightly; Minho never talked to him like that. Had Minho finally gotten tired of him and his stupid brain? Minho normally never got annoyed with him. “W-what?” he stuttered out. 

“Shut up.” Despite the harsh command, Minho’s voice was soft, his eyes even softer as he gazed at Jisung. Jisung’s heart sped up as he worried his bottom lip; why was Minho being so… weird ? “You one-hundred-million percent deserve to work with Chan hyung and Changbin. It’s not even a question. You are an amazing producer and an even better lyricist. You never have to worry about being good enough because you always are . 

“Sungie, I know you, and I know that your brain doesn’t like you sometimes, but you are supremely talented and unbelievably incredible and you deserve everything you have. You’ve worked so hard to get to where you are right now, and I’m so proud of you. Don’t listen to your head too much, Jisung. Look at where you are. Look at where you started. The fact that you, as a twenty one year old, made all those successful songs—that’s over a hundred songs, Sungie—is astounding, and if you think Chan or Changbin or anyone can’t see that, you’re wrong.”

Sometime during Minho’s speech, Jisung had closed his eyes: the intense eye contact with Minho was way too much when coupled with his heartrending words. Jisung chuckled wetly as he opened his eyes again. “Was the Hamilton reference really necessary?” he asked as he squeezed Minho’s hand. 

“It absolutely was necessary, yes,” Minho answered as he picked up his drink and casually took a sip as though he hadn’t just broken Jisung’s heart with how supported and loved he made him feel. 

Jisung wiped his face with his unoccupied hand, ridding his cheeks of the small tear tracks that had formed there. “Hyung,” he began quietly, “do you really think that?” 

Minho caught Jisung’s eyes, forcing him to maintain the intense eye contact he was known for. “I would never lie to you,” he stated resolutely.

Jisung sniffed quietly, a strange, squeezy feeling settling in his chest as he stood up and walked around the table, never letting go of Minho’s hand. He threw his leg over Minho’s thighs and sat down, wrapping his arms around his older friend's neck (Jisung was quite thankful they were in a private room). 

“Minho,” he said quietly, almost reverently, as though saying Minho’s name was a privilege not everyone had. He buried his face in the crook of his best friend's neck. “Minho hyung.”

One of Minho’s arms wrapped around Jisung’s waist, pulling him even closer. Jisung let go of Minho’s hand in favor of squeezing his shoulders as he started shaking. Jisung wasn’t anxious this time, though, just overwhelmed by the nameless feeling blooming in his chest. 

Jisung felt a hand card through his hair and brush the dark strands off his forehead. He let out a long breath, trying to calm down as he felt Minho lay his cheek on top of his head. “Thank you,” he whispered from his hiding place. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Sungie,” Minho responded, his words rumbling in his chest. “All I did was show you what everyone else sees.”

They sat in silence for a while as Jisung calmed himself down. He didn’t understand how Minho could make him feel so… so what? He vaguely recognized the overwhelming feeling that was overtaking him, dragging him down while simultaneously leaving him floating—he’d felt it before. In fact, he felt it every time Minho did something for him, whether it was ‘randomly’ deciding to get him coffee or quietly cuddling up next to him when he knew Jisung was struggling. But the feeling had never been this strong before. 

Eventually, once he gathered the courage to, he leaned back so he could see his friend's face. The soft look in Minho’s eyes almost sent him diving for cover on his chest again. “Hyung-ah, what time is it?” he asked, his voice thick. He cleared his throat as Minho looked at his watch, hoping his friend wouldn’t ask how he felt anytime soon because he would not have an answer.

“10:47,” he answered before turning his attention back to Jisung. 

“We have to go back soon,” Jisung pouted. Even though he was overwhelmed, the feeling in his chest wasn’t bad . It was actually… nice, somehow (it would’ve been nicer if he knew what the feeling was, but that’s neither here nor there).

“You should talk to Channie hyung, Hannie. He’ll understand that it’s just not possible for you to get your project done. And, if he doesn’t, I’ll break his kneecaps,” Minho threatened, causing Jisung to dissolve into a fit of giggles. Minho smiled at him softly, reaching up and holding Jisung’s face in his hands. Jisung smiled brightly. Despite his stuttering heart and overwhelmed brain, he felt better than he had in a long time. Having the unnamed feeling encircling him entirely wasn’t so bad. The feeling inspired him, made him feel like he could write lyrics for hours and hours and never run out of things to say.

“Hyung, I’m gonna write a song about you,” he decided, his mind already fitting together the instrumentation for a song that was so Minho no one could mistake it. 

“Yeah?” Minho asked as he raised his eyebrows playfully. 

“Yeah. About how you make me feel,” he said. Jisung watched pink dust Minho’s ears, feeling proud that he made Lee Minho flustered. 

But it seemed Minho regained his bearings quite quickly, responding with a “And how do I make you feel, Sungie?” It was Jisung’s turn to blush, ears turning red as his face warmed. Minho smirked at him, that cocky little smirk that always irked Jisung: when Minho smirked like that, he knew he had won. 

“You make me feel special,” Jisung answered, giving Minho little jazz-hands, automatically deflecting to humor in order to ignore the way his gut twisted at Minho’s arrogant expression. Minho rolled his eyes before he slowly leaned closer to Jisung. Jisung held his breath as Minho’s face moved closer to his. What was happening? Why was his heart beating so fast? Why was Minho getting even closer? Did Minho just glance at his lips? Jisung squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing as his mind raced with every possible outcome of what was about to happen.

He felt the gentle pressure of soft lips pressing against his temple before he opened his eyes again. “Come on, TWICE boy, you’ve been spending too much time with Felix,” Minho said, patting Jisung’s thigh to signal for him to stand up. 

“Why do you always do that?” Jisung grumbled as he stood, looking down as his face flushed. Stupid Minho making him flustered all the time.

“Do what?” Minho responded innocently as he stood up and stretched, his shirt lifting slightly. Jisung huffed as his face burned, turning away from his friend and grabbing his phone from the table, refusing to play Minho’s little game. He wasn’t exactly sure why Minho’s actions made him so frazzled, but he chose not to dwell on it. Instead, he began to make his way out of the back room, a giggly Minho following him.

“Sungie!” he sing-songed as he linked his arm through Jisung’s. “Aww, baby, don’t be mad! Come on, hyung-ah’ll give you a real kiss if you want.” Minho puckered his lips and tried to lean closer to Jisung. Jisung gently pushed him away, all the while trying his best to ignore the strange, dizzying feeling of all the blood rushing to his head at the prospect of kissing his best friend (it was kind of concerning, if he was being honest. Shouldn’t he be, like, disgusted, or something? Minho was almost like a brother to him [at least, that’s always how he thought of Minho. But he didn't think he should’ve been this weirdly expectant for a kiss from someone he considers a brother]). 

“Go away,” Jisung demanded, trying to sound stern, but the small smile on his face betrayed him. Regardless of how he felt about the weird almost-kiss thing with Minho, Minho was still his best friend, and he still enjoyed joking around with him (besides, Minho had kissed his forehead . He kissed Jisung’s forehead all the time [platonically, of course]. He hadn’t even been going for Jisung’s lips [Jisung probably imagined Minho glancing at his mouth, anyway]).

“I’ll go away and take all your cheesecake with me,” Minho threatened as he slipped his hand into Jisung’s and led him out of the fortunately unpopulated restaurant (strange, considering it was prime lunch hour. This place was normally packed at this time). Jisung’s eyes widened as he squeezed Minho’s hand, clutching their conjoined hands to his chest. 

“Please don’t. I’m sorry. Please, I can’t survive without my cheesecake.” Minho laughed as he pulled Jisung out of the restaurant and back toward the company. 

“Alright, fine. Maybe I’ll stay. But only because I know you’ll be a disaster without me.”

“That’s true,” Jisung admitted, swinging their hands back and forth between them. “I’ll be the first to admit that I’d be a mess without you, hyung-ah.” Minho didn’t say anything to Jisung’s confession, just gave his hand a quick squeeze as they continued walking back to dance practice.

——————————

Minho was right, of course: Jisung talked to Chan once they returned to the practice room and Chan gladly gave him an extension, saying that he hadn’t even meant to set a deadline and that Jisung could work on it at his own pace (which would’ve been nice to know before Jisung had an anxiety attack, but c’est la vie). Thankfully, after their talk, Jisung was able to focus a whole lot better and the rest of their practice went off without a hitch. He even apologized to Felix for ignoring him earlier, to which Felix responded by wrapping him up in the tightest hug possible and begging for Jisung’s forgiveness for not talking to him ‘just because you called me something stupid. But it’s okay! You’re stupid, and I still love you!’ Jisung just rolled his eyes and assured Felix that he knew the younger ignoring him was all in good fun. 

After practice, they had a few group schedules to attend to, so they did their patented quick-change act and stuffed their sweaty practice clothes in their lockers before piling into two separate vans. Unfortunately, Jisung got stuck in the car with Seungjin, which meant he had to suffer through hearing them be all lovey-dovey in the backseat the whole time. Luckily, Changbin had to suffer along with him—he had chosen to sit next to Jisung so the two of them could discuss lyrics, but it was difficult to discuss much of anything over the loud giggling emanating from behind them. Changbin and Jisung decided to put their conversation on the back-burner until they were in an environment that was a little less… intimate (there were a few suspicious noises coming from back there). Jisung distracted himself by plugging in his headphones and staring out the window. He wished Minho was in the car with him: Seungjin wouldn’t dare do anything suggestive with Minho around. 

Eventually, they made it to their first schedule: some interview for a magazine or something. If Jisung was being honest, he didn’t particularly like interviews, but this one was for some American magazine, which meant it was virtual, which was good. At least then he didn’t have to worry about meeting new people. 

The interview finished quickly, thankfully, and the group was ushered to Music Bank to pre-record a performance of their latest Japanese single. It was hard work, recording the same song over and over again, thinking each take was pretty good, only to monitor the video and have to do it all over again because of the tiniest mistake.

When they finally finished, Jisung was exhausted . He tended to get tired easily, but his enervation was exacerbated by his anxiety attack earlier that day. His eyes drooped as he stuffed his laptop into his equipment bag before throwing the strap over his shoulder. He made his way out of the green room, stuffing his hands in to the front pocket of his hoodie (okay, maybe it was Minho’s hoodie, but in Jisung’s defense, Minho left it in his room a few days ago and hadn’t come back for it, so it was basically free game). 

He turned a corner and promptly ran into someone. He stumbled back, quickly muttering an apology as he steadied himself. He looked up at the person he had just bumped into, smiling at the familiar face.

“Hey, Gyu,” Jisung greeted goodnaturedly as he readjusted the strap of his bag. Beomgyu smiled at him as he pushed his long hair out of his face. He was in casual clothes, but he certainly didn’t look nearly as tired as Jisung felt, so Jisung assumed he just arrived. 

“Hi, hyung,” Beomgyu responded shyly. “What’s up?”

“Eh, nothing much,” Jisung shrugged. “Just finished pre-recording for our new Japanese release. How have you been? How are promotions?” 

Beomgyu nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been good. Promotions have been hectic as always.” He gave a little awkward chuckle and Jisung internally cringed. Beomgyu and him weren’t very close—Jisung was actually closer with Yeonjun because Yeonjun was friends with Changbin and would occasionally show up when Changbin invited him to group dinners. Sure, Jisung knew Beomgyu, but it was all surface level. Beomgyu was actually very good friends with Jeongin and Hyunjin, and Jeongin would never let Jisung hang out with them: Jeongin hated him (lovingly, naturally). 

“Well, that’s good,” Jisung said as he took his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. He sucked in a sharp breath, noticing he was supposed to be in the van ready to go ten minutes ago. “Sorry, Gyu, I gotta go. Want me to say hi to Innie for you?” Beomgyu scratched the back of his neck, looking down sheepishly.

“Actually, I, uh, I came here looking for, uh, you. I have something to ask you,” Beomgyu admitted, his voice small. Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed as he tilted his head slightly, looking up at the taller in confusion.

“Huh? What is it?” Jisung asked. Beomgyu opened his mouth to answer, but, before he could, Jisung felt an arm wrap around waist. He jumped slightly, looking over at the new presence. 

“There you are, Jisungie!” Minho said, his voice sounding uncharacteristically enthusiastic as he looked over at the younger. He was dressed in his comfy clothes (aka a plain black sweater and matching joggers), his black jacket draped over one of his arms. His face was make-up free (Jisung could see the cute little mole on Minho’s nose that was normally covered by foundation), but his hair was still styled up off his forehead, much like Jisung’s. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, babe! Come on, the vans are leaving soon.”

“Alright hyung, I’ll be there in a minute,” he said, patting the hand on his waist before gesturing to Beomgyu. “Beommie said he wanted to ask me something.”

“Well, Beomgyu can text you, can’t he?” Minho asked, glancing over at Beomgyu coldly. Jisung let out a confused chuckle as he leaned closer to Minho. 

“Be nice,” he commanded quietly. He didn’t know why Minho was being so difficult, but Beomgyu didn’t deserve it. He had just wanted to ask Jisung a question, for goodness sake. There was no need for Minho to get hostile. Minho huffed, letting his gaze linger on a frozen Beomgyu for a moment before he turned to Jisung, eyes instantly softening. 

“Fine. But only because you told me to,” Minho responded, smiling at the younger and nudging his shoulder with his own. “But seriously, Manager-hyung is getting impatient. We still have to go to dinner.” Oh, fuck. Dinner. Jisung had completely forgotten that was even a thing. Good thing Minho reminded him, though: he was absolutely starving (he definitely needed to pack some snacks in his bag. The whole ‘accidentally forgetting to eat’ thing was getting real old, real fast).

“Alright. It’ll seriously only be a second, hyung-ah.” Minho nodded before his hand moved from Jisung’s waist to ruffle his hair. Jisung whined as he swatted Minho’s hand away, patting his mussed hair down. “Hyung, don’t be mean!” he pouted. 

“Aww, come on, Sungie. You love me,” Minho practically purred as he grabbed Jisung’s hand and kissed his palm, maintaining his signature way-too-intense eye contact with him before leveling Beomgyu with a stony glare. He dropped Jisung’s hand, patted his head once, turned around, and walked off. 

“S-sorry about him,” Jisung apologized, red decorating his ears as his palm burned. He was stunned: he’d known Minho almost five years and had never seen him display his affection so publicly. It made his heart race a bit, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. He figured he was probably just embarrassed that Minho had done something like that in front of Jeongin’s friend. “So, what, uh, what did you want to ask me?” 

Beomgyu seemed to defrost from his Minho-induced freeze as he shook his head slightly, his long hair sweeping the top of his shoulders. “I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to get a coffee or something sometime, but I didn’t realize you already had a boyfriend. Sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Oh,” Jisung said intelligently as he stared up at Beomgyu. 

“I should, uh, I should go. Don’t tell Innie about this, please.” And with that, a very red-faced Beomgyu turned and walked away, leaving a very confused, open-mouthed Jisung in his wake. 

Already had a boyfriend? Who, Minho? Minho wasn’t his boyfriend! They were just friends! Best friends! Why would Beomgyu think they were dating? Minho would never date him (Jisung tried very hard to ignore the strange way his heart clenched at that thought)!

Jisung shook his head. He was just embarrassed—he wasn’t used to Minho being so affectionate with him in front of others (he was far more used to Minho’s relentless teasing when they were anywhere outside the dorm). But it was okay; it wasn’t like what Minho did was bad. He liked when Minho was affectionate (even if he showed it in an… unconventional way). Beomgyu just happened to misread the situation. 

That must be it: Minho was just being his normal strange self, Beomgyu misinterpreted it, and the weird hand kiss Minho pressed on his palm didn’t mean anything. Yeah, it actually meant absolutely nothing and totally did not make Jisung’s heart flutter or his face burn when he thought about how pretty Minho’s dark eyes looked as he pressed his soft lips on Jisung’s hand. Absolutely not. 

He let out a long breath, gathering himself as he slowly started making his way out of the building. He was fine. In fact, everything was fine: he was calm, not anxious at all , and he certainly wasn’t feeling any particular way about any particular hyung. Absolutely not. 

Why would he? Minho was his best friend; it was as simple as that. Their relationship had always been simple, ever since Minho walked into that practice room the day they met and Jisung was jealous of how handsome he was. There was nothing more to it. Nope. Absolutely not. 

Jisung didn’t even like guys. Don’t get him wrong: he didn’t have anything against guys liking guys. There was a gay couple in his group, for goodness sake! And he knew Felix liked guys too, as well as girls and everything in between. Jisung didn’t care, but it just wasn’t him . And it wasn’t Minho, either… right? 

Now that he thought about it, he realized he didn’t really know. It wasn’t something he ever really talked about with his best friend. He had no idea if Minho liked guys or not. He bit the inside of his cheek as something akin to disappointment flared in his chest.

But why would he be disappointed? Because Minho liked guys, or because he didn’t ?

Then again, it didn't matter if Minho liked guys, because Jisung didn’t. Jisung liked girls. Yeah. Girls. Definitely. 

Jisung didn’t like Minho, and Minho definitely didn’t like him. Minho could do so much better than Jisung anyway, and Jisung knew it. 

Minho was his best friend (emphasis on the friend bit). Minho was affectionate, but platonic. He hadn’t meant to send Jisung spiraling with his PDA; it just happened. That was okay: Jisung would rather Minho be affectionate with him than ignore him. Nothing had changed, and nothing would change, because Minho was his best friend. 

Cold air washed over Jisung as he pushed open the metal doors that led to the loading bay, momentarily clearing his mind as he quickly jogged over to the black van with the open door. He climbed in, a shiver racing down his spine as he pressed the button to close the door.

“About time,” someone grumbled, most likely Hyunjin, who was sitting right next to the door. Jisung smiled apologetically as he clambered into the back seat next to Chan. Thankfully, Minho was not in the car with him (he didn’t know what he would do with himself if he was), the other middle seat occupied by Felix, who turned around and smiled at him brightly once Jisung was settled in his seat. Jisung smiled back timidly as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. 

“Are you excited?” Felix asked as the door clicked shut and the engine roared to life. Jisung tilted his head, giving Felix a confused pout. 

“For what?” 

“Dinner, duh!” Felix smiled brighter, if that was even possible. “Hyunjinnie decided we’re going to Namsan tower! God, I love the view up there. Don’t you?” 

“Uh,” Jisung began shakily. Namsan tower was the second highest point in Seoul and also happened to be the place he went on a (platonic) date with Minho once and had to deal with his friend clinging to his arm the whole time, terrified he was going to actually die if he let go. He hadn’t been up there since.

Jisung’s wavering answer caused a small crease of concern to etch between Felix’s brows before his eyes went wide. “Oh, my god! How could I forget? You’re scared of heights, aren’t you?” Jisung nodded. “You and Minho hyung, right?” Jisung nodded again, his heart burning slightly at the mention of the older. Felix smiled at him again. “Well, at least your fear isn’t as bad as his. Maybe comforting him will make you feel better.”

Jisung let out an awkward little chuckle. “Yeah, maybe,” he agreed hesitantly. Felix seemed satisfied, though, as he playfully scrunched his nose at Jisung before turning to Hyunjin and excitedly bringing up whatever random video game he’d been into lately. 

Jisung let out a long breath, glad his friend's attention had been diverted. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to comfort Minho—Minho was his best friend, of course he wanted him to be comfortable and happy—but the squeezy feeling that had been plaguing him since lunch had returned full-force, and he didn’t really know what to make of it. All he knew was it got worse when he was around Minho. 

A sudden hand on his knee caused him to jump slightly and look over at the man next to him. Chan offered him a small smile as he squeezed Jisung’s knee. “Hey. How are you feeling?” 

“Uh, fine?” Jisung responded, but it came out as a question rather than a statement. Chan chuckled. 

Mean. It wasn’t his fault his thoughts were in a tizzy.

“That bad, huh?” Jisung nodded, looking down into his lap. Could everyone read him as easily as Minho? Maybe Minho wasn’t as special as he thought. “Sung, if you aren’t up for Namsan, I’m sure you can get Hyunjin to go somewhere different.” 

Jisung shook his head. “No, it’s okay.” In order to avoid the hours of unnecessary arguments that came with having eight people trying to agree on where to eat, they had all agreed to take turns picking where they’d get dinner. It was currently Hyunjin’s turn and, unless Jisung wanted some very passive-aggressive ‘constructive criticism’ next time it was his turn to choose, he would deal with Hyunjin’s decision. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well, if it gets too much, I’ll call you a taxi,” Chan offered. Jisung nodded. “Besides, you’re not the one I’m worried about. No offense.”

Jisung smiled as he looked over at Chan. “None taken. Seriously, hyung, I’m fine.” Jisung's face fell as he watched Chan’s soft smile slowly disappear.

“Listen,” Chan began in his serious voice. Jisung’s heart sped up in his chest at the prospect of a confrontation with Chan (especially since it wasn’t just Chan, but leader Chan. Today was not a good day to have crippling anxiety). “I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I-I should’ve realized you needed a break before you had to tell me. I just,” he sighed, “I just thought you were still a little sick and, you know, you weren’t there when we learned the choreo all together…” he trailed off, looking down at the seat in between himself and Jisung, his hands coming to land heavily in his lap. “I didn’t realize it was my fault you were anxious.”

“Hyung, stop,” Jisung said, grabbing Chan’s hands. Chan looked up at him. “I don’t blame you for my anxiety and you shouldn’t blame yourself, either. How were you supposed to know what was going on in my head without me telling you?”

“Well, yeah, but—“

“No,” Jisung cut him off, firmly gripping his hands. “Hyung. It’s done. It’s over. Don’t shoulder this when you can just let it go. I-it kinda makes me feel like a huge burden when you do stuff like that.” Chan looked torn for a moment before he sighed, resigned. 

“Fine. But I’ll be better in the future, Sung, I promise. You can always come to me when you have concerns. You know that, right?”

“Of course,” he answered with a nod as he dropped Chan’s hands. He knew he could always rely on Chan, along with everyone else in the group.

“I’ll always try to be available whenever you need me, and just because you have Minho doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me, too,” Chan concluded. Jisung pursed his lips as he nodded.

Just because he ‘had Minho’? What the hell did that mean? How did he ‘have Minho’? Minho was his friend: just his friend. The only way he ‘had Minho’ was through friendship. 

Chan didn’t seem to realize what he had insinuated as he smiled at Jisung before turning and looking out his window, evidently done with their conversation. 

Jisung tried not to think about what Chan said the rest of the ride. Luckily, if he didn’t actively focus on one thought, it was easily swallowed by the torrent of the rest, meaning he didn’t have to think about anything if he didn’t want to. That was good, because he definitely didn’t want to. 

Eventually, they arrived at the base of Namsan tower, the driver parking close to the line for the cable cars. They all piled out of the vans and huddled together so Chan could do his obligatory head count. Once Chan was done, Hyunjin looped his arm through Seungmin’s and took off, causing Seungmin to yelp loudly. Hyunjin excitedly dragged Seungmin all the way to the line. Jisung watched them with a small smile on his face, loving the fact that two of his best friends were in love. Even though he was distracted as hell at the moment, he still appreciated how happy they made each other.

He looked to his left as he felt fingers lace through his. His thoughts quieted as he gazed at the source of his spiral. 

“Hi,” Jisung greeted quietly. 

“Hi,” Minho said back as he gave Jisung’s hand a quick squeeze. 

“How are you holding up?” Minho shrugged as they began walking to the line, the rest of the group following after them, except for Jeongin, who skipped off ahead of them. 

“We’re on a really big hill,” Minho expanded. Jisung barked out a laugh as Minho smiled at him timidly. 

“Yes, we are on a big hill.” Minho chuckled with him. It was… comfortable, like always. He wasn’t even sure why he was even worried in the first place. Besides, Jisung knew his hyung needed him right now; he could put aside his tangled thoughts for a night if it meant he could make his best friend even a little bit more comfortable. “Hyung, we can leave, if you want. Channie hyung said he’d call me a cab if I asked.”

Minho shook his head, his teeth chattering slightly. “No, it’s… well, it’s not fine, but I’ll deal with it. But Hyunjin will definitely only be eating wet tissues next time I pick dinner.” Jisung giggled as they stopped in the line, a few people in between them and Seungjin. Jisung could see Hyunjin’s head bobbing up and down as he bounced excitedly. 

Minho didn’t talk much as the line crept forward, which was understandable: he hated heights with a passion, his acrophobia being much worse than Jisung’s. It was kind of cruel for Hyunjin to choose Namsan tower when he knew that not one, but two of his group mates had a debilitating fear of heights, but Jisung knew Hyunjin only chose the tower so he could buy a love lock with Seungmin without it being suspicious. 

Having millions of fans made it difficult to date in general, but insane shippers made it even harder. Jisung had been privy to many of Hyunjin’s late-night crying sessions back when he was trying to figure out what to do—he was in love with Seungmin and wanted to be with him, but he didn’t want to let Stay down, either. Stupid Hyunjin and his stupid big heart nearly tore himself apart trying to make everyone happy (well, everyone except for himself, it seemed. Jisung had never seen him so miserable). It certainly didn’t help that Hyunjin and Seungmin had to deal with blatant, oftentimes violent homophobia when they finally decided to be together openly (‘openly’ meaning the group and management knew and the rest of the world suspected). It was a hard transition, and it didn’t give Jisung much hope for his own future relationships, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about living in a conservative country. All he could do was support his friends unconditionally, and if that meant having to face his fear for them to go on a date, then so be it. 

The cable car Hyunjin and Seungmin had gotten on was full, so the rest of the group (aside from Innie, who had somehow managed to slip into the same car as Seugjin) had to wait for the next one. Minho and Jisung were nearly at the front of the line, the rest of their group and their manager behind them. Jisung could feel Minho shaking and tried to divert his attention from the view of the mostly naked trees beneath them by squeezing his hand. Minho squeezed back, his grip a lot tighter than normal. He didn’t let go, either, so Jisung clenched his teeth to try and distract himself from his best friend squeezing the life out of his hand. 

Minho let out a shaky breath as their cable car pulled up to the platform. Minho crouched down a little as Jisung let go of his hand and grasped his elbow instead, leading Minho onto the cable car. The rest of their group followed behind them, scattering around by the car, thankfully covering up some of the windows. Minho looked a little green as they stopped in the middle of the car, as far away from the windows as possible. Luckily, no one was in line behind them, so Jisung didn’t have to worry about any fans seeing his friend like this (not that Stay didn’t know Minho was afraid of heights, but Jisung didn’t like the idea of strangers seeing his best friend at his most vulnerable). 

Minho gasped as the car jolted to life, his hands flying to hold onto anything they could, which just so happened to be the front of Jisung’s sweatshirt. Jisung didn’t mind: it was better than the death grip on his hand earlier. 

“Hyung, it’s okay,” he comforted, placing a hand on the back of Minho’s head as Minho shuffled closer to him, the fabric of Jisung’s sweatshirt still bunched up in his hands. Minho’s wide eyes flitted around the car erratically as they started moving up toward the tower. “Don’t look over there,” Jisung commanded softly as Minho stared out at the limited view of the window to his left. “Look at me.” Minho ignored him, eyes continuing to dart around the car. “Hey, darling, look at me.” Jisung gently grabbed Minho’s chin, coaxing the older to look at him. 

“Hi, honey,” he greeted, smiling kindly as Minho’s panicked eyes finally landed on his face. Jisung’s hand moved from Minho’s jaw to cup his cheek gently. “It’s okay. You’ve got this. Here, c’mere,” he said as he guided Minho’s head to the crook of his neck. The older gladly complied, nuzzling even closer. “See? It’s fine. I’ve got you.”

Minho’s hands slid from Jisung’s chest to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. Jisung hummed softly as he rested his cheek on the top of Minho’s head, rubbing up and down his back to try and distract him. Minho still shook like a leaf, but he seemed to relax a little bit under Jisung’s ministrations. Jisung closed his eyes, not exactly ecstatic about watching the car travel higher than humans were ever intended to go anymore than Minho was. 

Minho practically ran to the middle of the platform as soon as they stepped off the cable car, Jisung following closely behind as Minho splayed out on the ground. For any normal person, the view of the cityscape and the overflowing love lock bridge would qualify as breathtaking, but for Jisung, it was slightly terrifying to be so high up with only a metal railing separating him from certain death. He sat next to Minho, trying not to think about what would happen if he fell through the platform. “Oh, sweet relief,” he heard Minho mumble as he ran his hands over the wood of the platform. 

After a few deep breaths, Minho (and Jisung, but he was trying not to show it) calmed down enough to stand again. Together, they made their way over to where Chan was waiting for them outside the door, Minho clutching the sleeve of Jisung’s sweatshirt the whole way. 

Minho shook a little less once he got inside, thankfully; as much as Jisung liked taking care of Minho, he was also scared of heights himself, which made it hard to relax all the way up there. He was grateful that Minho had calmed a bit. Unfortunately, Minho’s tepid tranquility didn’t last very long once they had to ride the elevator to the second floor: he clung to Jisung’s back the whole way, his arms squeezing Jisung’s shoulders. 

Minho let go of him once they got off the elevator (which Jisung  was grateful for: his hyung was unexpectedly strong. His shoulders kind of hurt already). Minho seemed to want to stay away from the windows—he would drag Jisung back to the middle of the room by whatever body part he was holding on to when he strayed too close to the windows. Jisung didn’t mind too much: he certainly didn’t want to be by the windows, either. Fuck that shit. 

Once Jisung managed to coax Minho over to the restaurant they had decided to eat at, most of the group was already there, except for Hyunjin and Seungmin; in fact, Hyunjin and Seungmin weren’t even on the same floor as the rest of them. They had continued to one of the higher floors, and Jisung couldn’t have been happier to have not been invited. Sure, maybe all the cool restaurants were higher up, but Jisung would rather not have an anxiety attack in the middle of a very popular tourist attraction, thank you very much. He’d happily settle for eating greasy burgers next to Minho instead. 

Once the group had finished eating, they broke off into smaller groups, Minho and Jisung still very adamant about staying away from the windows as they wandered aimlessly. Minho, evidently, was convinced the whole tower was a death trap that was out to get him and kept mumbling as much every time Jisung meandered too close to the windows. Jisung would pat his head and smile at him, not really talking as he knew Minho wouldn’t listen to him when he was in such a state. 

Minho and Jisung somehow found their way into a gift shop (which was kind of surprising as the shop was very close to the accursed windows, but the shelves covered most of the view if they didn’t turn around, which was probably the only reason why Minho was even close to being remotely okay with being there). With the view blocked, Minho seemed a bit more at ease—his shoulders relaxed and his breathing seemed a bit less ragged. Jisung led the older around as Minho clung to his arm.

Jisung absentmindedly ran his fingers over the package of a red, heart-shaped love lock on one of the many displays. “You want a love lock, hyung?” Jisung asked, not really expecting an answer as Minho stepped even closer to him. 

“If you want,” Minho said quietly, his voice shaky. Jisung looked over his shoulder at him, smiling brightly. Minho hesitantly gazed at the lock display, but Jisung reasoned it was because Minho was a little hesitant about everything right then. Minho squeezed Jisung’s arm as he reached out and grabbed the red lock Jisung had been eyeing. 

“Will you write on it with me?” he asked as he grabbed the lock from Minho. Minho nodded.

“Sure. As long as you lock it on the bridge, because I’m not going anywhere near that place.” Jisung laughed at Minho adamance as he pulled the older behind him to go pay. 

After purchasing the lock, Jisung dragged Minho back to the middle of the room, noisily ripping the plastic off the lock. He plopped down on the floor and Minho followed, sitting so close that his knee was on top of Jisung’s (was Jisung a bit wary of sitting in the middle of the room? Yes. But it was also 7:30 on a Tuesday night, so they wouldn’t be disturbing too many people. Besides, Jisung was more concerned about staying away from the windows, anyway). 

Jisung shook the marker that came with the lock out of the plastic and set the packaging down before he bit the cap off the marker. He heard Minho scoff and looked over at him, spitting the cap into his hand. “What?” Jisung asked as he wiped the cap off with his sleeve. 

“You’re an animal,” Minho responded, taking the lock and the marker from Jisung’s hands. Jisung scowled at him as he turned away. Minho placed the lock on the ground and bent in half, purposely using his arm to block Jisung’s view as he began scribbling on the metal heart. Jisung whined as he shifted around to try and see what his friend was writing. 

After a few moments, Minho sat back up, evidently finished as he flipped the lock over and placed the marker next to it. Jisung reached out for it, curious about what his friend had written; before he could grab the lock, however, Minho grabbed his wrist.

Jisung looked over at him, eyebrows raised—Minho normally shared everything with him. Why was this any different? Minho pursed his lips as he looked down at the lock in front of him. “Please don’t look at what I wrote,” he requested quietly. The corners of Jisung’s mouth turned down. 

“Why not?” he asked, curious. Minho locked eyes with him.

“Because I asked you not to,” he responded simply. He looked… scared, almost. Or maybe wary. Like what he wrote on the lock was somehow incriminating. Jisung couldn’t help the itch of curiosity slowly building in his mind as he looked between the lock and his friend. 

Jisung exhaled, his shoulders slumping forward slightly. If Minho didn’t want him to look, he wouldn’t. Maybe Minho was embarrassed: what he wrote on the lock most likely had to do with Jisung, and Minho was never very comfortable expressing his feelings with words (actions on the other hand… well, the image of Minho kissing his palm was forever burned into his brain).

“Fine,” Jisung began petulantly, pretending to agree begrudgingly just to be difficult. “I promise I won’t look.” Minho narrowed his eyes at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m serious! I promise promise promise I won’t look!”

Minho eyed him for a few more seconds before he slid the lock over to him. Jisung smiled as he grabbed the marker off the floor and turned his attention to the love lock. 

Minho , he began with the full intention of eloquently expressing the platonic love he held for his best friend but… his mind went blank. As he stared at the lock, Minho’s name on one side and his secret on the other, it hit him just what he was doing. 

Holy shit . He just bought a love lock with Minho . On Namsan Tower , a very popular date spot. Fuck , and on the same day where they had almost kissed (Minho did land a kiss on his temple, but when he had leaned in, it certainly didn’t look like he was going for Jisung’s forehead). And now, Minho had written a secret on a love lock meant for Jisung. What the hell? 

But, wait. None of that mattered. Like he thought earlier, Minho’s secret was probably just detailing the adoration he felt for Jisung, like Jisung was about to do for Minho. Just two bros, expressing how much they care about each other. Platonically. 

“Sung?” Jisung heard Minho ask as he felt a tentative hand on his bicep. He startled a bit, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Etch-A-Sketch style. “Are you okay?” 

Jisung looked over at Minho. He couldn’t even bring himself to smile as his eyes found Minho's concerned ones. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he responded quietly, fingers fiddling with the marker. 

Minho’s lips quirked up slightly. “You’ve been staring at the lock for a while. What, you don’t have enough words to describe me or somethin’?” Minho was clearly teasing, but Jisung couldn’t find it in him to respond with his usual playfulness. Jisung just blinked as he stared into Minho’s big, galaxy eyes. Had Minho’s eyes always been so pretty?

“Not even close,” he found himself saying, the words slipping out of his mouth faster than he could stop them. 

What the fuck was he on ? Why would he say that? Where were his normal, impeccably witty comebacks that always made Minho so playfully annoyed with him? Why would he—oh, God— flirt with Minho? Is that what just happened? Did Jisung just flirt with his best friend? Sure, they jokingly flirted with each other all the time, but Jisung knew this wasn't a joke. Why wasn’t it a joke? What was going on ?

Jisung opened and closed his mouth like the dumbass he was, trying to come up with an explanation for why what he admitted actually was a joke as the tips of Minho’s ears turned pink. 

Not that he had to explain himself. He was just being nice to his friend… right?

While Minho wasn’t famous for his way with words, he could certainly make Jisung feel things when he complimented him. He was just… returning the favor.

If that was the case, why did he feel so… weird when he looked at Minho? If he was only being a good friend, why was he lifting his hand and brushing a stray lock of hair out of Minho’s eyes and tucking it behind one of his burning ears? Why did his hand linger, slowly tracing the shell of his friend's ear? Why was he leaning closer to Minho? Why wasn’t Minho pulling away?

“Hey, guys!” a voice cut through the tension between them, causing Minho and Jisung to startle away from each other quickly as Changbin squatted in between them, slinging an arm over both of their shoulders. “There you are! Come on, Hyunjin and Seungmin are back. We wanna go on the bridge!” 

Jisung rolled his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to calm the fire under his skin. “Good luck getting Minho hyung to move,” he mumbled as he pushed Changbin’s arm off of him. He bent down, scribbling a quick you mean the world to me on the lock before grabbing it and standing up, carefully trying not to smudge the drying ink. 

He looked back down at Minho, who was already looking up at him, cheeks abnormally red and lips slightly parted. He looked a little out of it, if Jisung was being honest (not that it mattered what he looked like, because it didn’t). He steeled himself, refusing to think about the implications of what just happened. He was understandably a little worried he had severely messed up his relationship with Minho. 

But, hey. At the very least, if everything was fucked, the only way for Jisung to go was up. 

He held his hand out to Minho, who looked between it and the owner a few times. “Do you want to come with?” Jisung asked tentatively. “You don’t have to, ah, go on the bridge, but maybe you wanna make sure I pick a good spot to put this,” he suggested, holding the lock up.

“Oh, hey, is that a love lock?” Changbin butted in, standing up and leaning toward the lock in Jisung’s hand. Jisung nodded, pulling the lock away from Changbin slightly so he couldn’t read what was written on it. “Yeah, Felix got some and made the rest of us write on them. That’s why we’re going to the bridge.” 

See. It wasn’t weird for two bros to write on a love lock together. It was actually completely normal and the weird ‘leaning in like we were about to kiss’ thing was just a side effect of the day's stress and not because Jisung had almost confessed his undying love for his hyung. 

Wait, what? His undying love for his hyung? What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t in love with Minho! Why would he be in love with Minho? Minho was his friend, his bestie, not a potentially romantic partner! Jisung didn’t even like guys, least of all his best friend! 

A sudden weight on his hand caused him to shift his attention back to the man on the floor. Minho firmly grabbed his hand, hauling himself up while simultaneously almost pulling Jisung down. Jisung stumbled forward, bumping into Minho’s chest. He quickly scrambled away, eyes downcast as he began pulling Minho toward the exit. 

“Hey, wait up!” he heard a new voice call. He stopped suddenly, causing Minho to quasi-crash into his back. He expected Minho to pull away just as quickly as he had, but Minho seemed to double down, placing his unoccupied hand on Jisung’s waist. The touch burned through his hoodie and traveled up his spine, all the way to his already-flaming face. What was Minho doing?

He’s being your friend, a voice in his head answered. Because that’s all you are. Friends. 

Rights. Just friends. Best friends. Not partners, not lovers, not boyfriends. Friends. There was no reason to be so frazzled by Minho’s casual touch. It was normal, everything was normal, everything was fine.

Jisung jumped as a face popped into his vision. “Hi!” Felix smiled, grabbing Jisung’s wrist and beginning to guide him toward the exit. “Sorry, I just saw you guys and didn’t want you to leave without us.”

Jisung offered him a strained smile. “It’s okay, little Lixie.” Felix looked over his shoulder and frowned at him. Jisung’s face broke out into a real smile. “What? You forgave me, remember?”

“I called you and the name stupid,” Felix pouted as he pushed the door open. “And I stand by that.”

Jisung gasped, feigning offense as he used his and Minho’s intertwined hands to hit Felix's arm. “Rude.”

Felix stuck his tongue out. “Stupid.” Jisung lifted Felix’s hand and licked the back of it in revenge. “Eww!” Felix exclaimed, ripping his hand away from Jisung and scampering off to Chan, who was standing by the railing, gazing at the impressive night view. “Channie hyung! Sungie licked me!” he complained loudly. Jisung giggled as Chan cooed over Felix, taking Felix’s hand and wiping it off with the bottom of his sweater. 

He felt a tug on his hand and looked over his shoulder. Minho appeared to be scared again, his eyes remaining trained on the twinkling lights of the city behind Jisung. “Sung, I’m sorry, can we do this quickly? I-I literally cannot stand being up here for any longer.”

Jisung smiled at him, letting go of his hand and stepping back. Whatever had happened earlier didn’t matter that much when Minho was scared: Jisung was used to putting his feelings aside for other people, anyway. “Of course. Ask Channie hyung if we should call a cab or if we’re all going together.” Minho nodded, moving toward Chan as Jisung turned to the bridge. 

He took a deep breath as he followed the flow of people onto the bridge. It was cold without the walls protecting him from the wind. He kinda wished he’d brought a jacket, but he’d woken up late that morning and had completely forgotten to grab one. He ran his hands over the thousands of locks on the sides of the bridge, trying to distract himself from the fact that he would literally die if he fell over the railing. He stopped at one of the mounds of locks, looking for a good place to put his. 

Jisung looked over to his left, back where he came from. Minho stood at the end of the bridge, looking terrified to be so close to the edge but dutifully watching Jisung nonetheless. He looked down at the heart in his hand and couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t the only one he was holding.

Well. That was certainly not a thought he wanted to unpack right now. 

He slid the shackle of the red heart onto the metal of another lock, clicking it shut, his own red heart stuttering in his chest. 

Love locks were a promise. They were never to be removed from the bridge, symbolizing how the bond of love would never be broken. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Jisung knew nothing about how he felt about Minho was platonic anymore. Maybe it never had been. Maybe there was a reason Minho always took care of him more than the other members that went further than just being best friends.

Best friends. Had they ever been just best friends? Jisung certainly felt differently towards Minho than, say, Seungmin. Sure, he loved Seungmin, but he loved Minho. 

God, he loved Minho. He was in love with Minho. Maybe he was into guys, after all. 

He hadn’t realized he was crying until a gust of wind washed over him, his drying tears almost freezing on his face. He wiped the tear tracks away quickly, his fingers lingering on the lock. It would be so easy to flip it over and read what Minho had written. It would be so easy to see if he felt the same way. 

He let out a frustrated sigh as he shoved both of his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. He couldn’t do that to Minho: couldn’t break his trust, couldn’t do him dirty like that. There was a reason Minho didn’t want him to look. He had to respect that, no matter how far down a spiral he was. 

Jisung slowly walked back to Minho, numb even to the fear of falling over the side as people pushed past him. All he could see was Minho. All he could think was his name. All that mattered was his… best friend. 

Jisung’s breath caught in his throat as he froze, halfway to Minho. He was Minho’s best friend. Minho was his friend. Minho was being nice. Minho was always being nice. Minho was nice to everyone . Minho didn’t like him.

Jisung was… devastated . How had he managed to fool himself so badly? He didn’t have a shot with Minho. Minho deserved better than him, anyway. Minho got better, too (Jisung may or may not have eavesdropped on Minho telling Chan about his hookups once or twice or everytime a disheveled Minho came home in the wee hours of the morning. At least the gut-twisting sensation he felt every time was starting to make sense). 

“Are you good?” said a voice right into Jisung’s ear. He looked over to see Changbin, who had his Concerned Hyung Eyes on. Jisung gave Changbin a shaky smile. 

“Of course,” Jisung responded, his voice watery. Changbin glared at him.

“Don’t give me that shit, Han. You’re fucking crying in public. You’d never cry in public unless something was very wrong.” Changbin’s strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Tell me what’s up, okay? I won’t judge you.”

Jisung sighed wearily. Changbin was right, of course: Jisung’s anxiety would never let him embarrass himself by crying in public like this. But he knew this day would haunt him, anyway, so what’s one more embarrassment on top of the others?

Changbin looked at him expectantly. “Fine,” Jisung began quietly. “But not here. Not now.”

“Tomorrow?” Changbin asked. God, Jisung would not be able to sort through his emotions by tomorrow. There was no way.

He shook his head. “By the end of the week,” he compromised. “I’ll come to you when I’m ready.”

Changbin’s brows were pinched together and the corners of his lips down-turned, but he nodded, squeezing Jisung’s shoulders as he began guiding him off the bridge. Jisung used his sleeve to wipe the stray tear tracks from his face. 

Minho reached out as soon as Jisung got close enough to him, concern evident in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked softly as he placed his hands on Jisung’s forearms. Jisung shrugged. “Scary?” Jisung nodded. 

Being on that bridge was scary, but probably not for the reason Minho thought. 

Minho frowned as he pulled Jisung closer, his own fear of heights evidently forgotten as he wrapped his arms around Jisung’s shoulders, protectively blocking the view with his body. “D’you wanna go home?” Minho asked. Jisung nodded into his friend's chest, all too tired to let his feelings distract himself from the warm comfort of his best friend. 

**********

It was Friday. It had been three days since Jisung’s realization on Namsan tower. He hadn’t talked to Changbin yet—in fact, he hadn’t talked to much of anyone since then. Not Changbin, not Chan, and certainly not Minho. 

When Felix had asked him the day before why he was acting so strange, Jisung told him he was sick. He wasn’t lying when he said that, either: Jisung had been running on nothing but anxiety and iced americano’s for the past half a week, mostly because whenever he ate real food, he almost immediately threw it back up.

That was… fine, he supposed. Not eating was a common occurrence when he got super anxious. When he took a break a few years ago, he didn’t eat a single thing for two weeks straight. Three days was nothing. 

Or it would be nothing if he wasn't absolutely exhausted all the time. 

When Jisung went on hiatus before, he didn’t really work. He wrote—a lot—but he didn’t dance or go to meetings or even produce very much. This time, he still had the responsibilities he normally had when he wasn’t in the throes of one of the worst bouts of anxiety he’d ever experienced. He felt constantly drained, like his battery was always at zero no matter how much time he spent in his bed, hiding away from the others.

His friends had tried to interact with him, of course, but Jisung couldn’t so much as look at his members without the unfortunately familiar feeling of complete and utter dread crawling up his throat, choking him and forcing his forbidden feelings to stay inside his tangled, tired mind. 

That was, until Changbin cornered him in the studio Friday evening. 

It had been a normal day (or as normal as a day could be when Jisung outright refused to contribute to any project 3racha was working on). Jisung sat on the couch behind the desk where Changbin and Chan were working, staring blankly at his phone (which may or may not have been turned off) for hours, unwilling to so much as talk even when he was asked a direct question. All Jisung wanted to do was wallow in self-pity with the knowledge that his best friend could never feel the same way Jisung felt about him.

Eventually, the other two gave up on trying to include him, quickly finishing their little project instead. When Chan announced they were done for the day, Jisung tried to make a mad dash for the door, but Changbin grabbed his arm and forced him to stop. He almost fell on top of Changbin as he struggled, trying to force his way out of the elders iron grip. Chan skirted around them, flashing Changbin an encouraging smile before he slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

Oh. So they had definitely talked about this before. How wonderful. 

Changbin managed to manhandle Jisung into the office chair next to his. Jisung deflated as soon as he slumped into the seat, the fight quickly draining out of him. He eyed his hyung wearily as Changbin took a deep breath, his head so full it felt empty.

“Jisung,” he began. The cold tone in Changbin’s voice made the gnawing panic in Jisung’s stomach surge upward, along with the americano he had just finished. He grabbed the small trash can from under the desk, gagging as he placed it on his lap. He leaned forward as he emptied his stomach into the metal bin. 

He saw Changbin wince out of the corner of his eye as he swallowed down the excess bile burning the back of his throat. Jisung sniffed, grabbing a tissue from the box on the desk and wiping his mouth and nose. He set the bin down and threw the tissue away, crinkling his nose at the taste of vomit stuck on his tongue. 

He turned back to Changbin, who offered him a little plastic water bottle that appeared from god knows where. Jisung took the bottle gratefully, cracking it open and chugging it. Maybe it wasn’t his best idea as the water made his empty stomach turn, but it felt nice going down his throat, and it would probably feel better than acidic coffee when it inevitably came back up.

“Hannie, what is going on with you?” Changbin asked softly, a hand coming to rest on Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung just shrugged. “Don’t, don’t do that, Han. I’m worried about you. Everyone is worried about you. Minho especially.” His stomach clenched, causing the water he had just drunk to slosh around. Of course Minho was worried about him. Minho cared about all his friends. 

Jisung knew he couldn’t deal with this issue on his own. It was eating him alive. It wouldn’t hurt to tell Changbin the truth—it’s not like Changbin would tell Minho if Jisung didn’t want him to. Plus, maybe Changbin could help him deal with it without messing everything up (something Jisung normally had a tough time doing).

Jisung groaned as he dropped his face into his hands, defeated. The hand in his shoulder moved to his upper back, gently rubbing between his shoulder blades. “I don’t know what to do,” Jisung finally admitted, his voice scratchy from lack of use. 

“Why? What happened?” Jisung felt his heart start beating faster, not super comfortable being interrogated. He did understand why Changbin was worried, though—if one of the others stopped talking and eating and sleeping (yay, insomnia) for half a week, he would be concerned, too. But it was different when he was the disturbed one. 

“Hyung,” he started, tired of feeling like he was drowning in his thoughts, “I-I think—“ he hesitated, steeling himself. “I think I’m in love with Minho hyung.” 

Somehow, saying it out loud made his feeling so much more real. God, he was in love with Minho hyung, wasn’t he? He was in love with Minho’s stupid pretty eyes and his dumb endearing laugh and his endless, senseless caring. He was in love with his dazzling smile and doting tendencies and the way he looked at Jisung when he did something stupid. He loved everything about Minho. That fact made everything hurt more. 

There was no way Minho felt the same. He was Minho’s best friend, for goodness sake. Normal people didn’t just fall in love with their best friends. Sure, Minho cared about him and definitely loved him, but he wasn’t wasn’t in love with Jisung. 

The pain that had been plaguing him for days shot to the forefront of his mind. Minho was too good for him. Minho was perfect. Minho would never fall in love with someone like Jisung. Jisung was childish and immature and he definitely didn’t have anything to offer Minho. 

“O-okay,” Changbin said slowly, interrupting Jisung’s downward spiral. Jisung looked over at him as he felt tears slowly crawl down his face. 

“What?” he asked thickly as he studied Changbin’s raised eyebrow. Changbin looked… confused. What was confusing about the fact that Jisung was in love with his best friend?

“I don’t—is that what you’re worried about?” Changbin asked. Jisung nodded slowly as he played with the frayed sleeve of his sweater (the same sweater he had been wearing since Namsan tower, but don’t tell anyone). “Are you, like, wondering how to tell him, or something? Is that why you went all ‘depressed Jisung’ mode?”

Jisung looked at his hyung incredulously. “Yes?” he answered. “Wouldn’t you freak out, too, if you were in love with your best friend?”

Changbin’s expression soured. “Ew. I’d never be in love with you .” Jisung scoffed. “But just, I don’t know, tell him?” he suggested. “It’s not like Minho hyung’ll mind.”

 “Uh, I beg to differ,” Jisung said as he wiped tears off his cheeks. Did Changbin really not understand how big of a deal this was? Jisung couldn’t just tell Minho he was in love with him—it would ruin their whole dynamic. Minho might not even want to be friends with him afterwards. The thought scared him and sent a fresh wave of tears down his face.

“Why are you so scared to tell your boyfriend you love him, anyway? I mean, I get that it’s scary, but I don’t think it warrants three days of whatever the hell’s been going on with you.” Jisung’s breathe froze in his throat, his eyes going wide as his mouth hung open slightly.

“My what?” he asked, fingers curling in the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Your boyfriend,” Changbin said, as if it was obvious. “Telling your significant other you love them is scary, sure, but it’s not like your feelings aren’t reciprocated.”

“Hyung,” Jisung began, “Minho hyung is not my boyfriend.”

“What?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Minho hyung and I are not dating.”

“You aren’t? Really? I coulda sworn…” Changbin trailed off, looked up at the ceiling with his brows scrunched together as if trying to recall when Jisung and Minho became official (which was never and would be never, since Minho didn’t like Jisung).

“Yes, really! That’s the entire problem actually! I’m literally in love with Minho hyung, and all he sees me as is a friend, a little brother! Don’t you understand how bad this is?”

“Ji, I don’t think that’s the case,” Changbin said as Jisung took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down (he hated yelling almost as much as he hated being yelled at). He glared at the older man. “I’m serious! You know he acts differently toward you than the other dongsaengs. He definitely treats you differently than he treats me.”

“Yeah? How so?” he challenged. 

“Well, for starters, Minho hyung bullies me.”

“Hyung-ah bullies me, too,” Jisung retorted.

“No, Minho hyung teases you. He doesn’t bully you,” Changbin clarified. Jisung huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Sure, maybe Minho didn’t poke fun at him the same way he did with Changbin, but nobody treats all their friends the exact same way. Everybody has their limits, and Jisung wasn't afraid to admit that he’d set his boundaries with Minho a long time ago. “And Minho hyung is so doting toward you, it’s almost as nauseating as the puke in that trash can over there. Like, hello? Get a room.”

“Fuck off,” Jisung offhanded. Yeah , Minho cared about him. It kinda came with best friend territory. But doting certainly wasn’t the right word.

“Look, Sung, there has to be a reason I thought you two were already dating, right?”

“Yeah, and the reason is because you’re a dumbass,” Jisung deadpanned. Changbin glared at him.

“Think about it. Come on, Sungie.” Jisung rolled his eyes as he stood up.

“Goodbye, Changbin,” he said as he grabbed his bag and turned to the door, beyond done with this useless conversation. 

“Wait!” he called as he grabbed Jisung’s arm and spun him around. “You have to talk to him.”

“And lose my best friend forever? Yeah, no thanks,” he said as he ripped his arm from Changbin’s grip. 

“You aren’t gonna lose him!” Changbin countered, pushing past Jisung and standing in front of the door. 

“Move,” he demanded, crossing his arms again.

“Sungie, please. Listen.” Jisung let out an annoyed huff, but still raised his eyebrows as if to say I’m listening. “Look. If Minho hyung is really your best friend, you won’t lose him if you tell him how you truly feel. Plus, if you don’t tell him, you know you’ll feel like you’re lying to him. Hell, you’ve ignored him for three days straight! I’ve never seen you go more than 20 minutes without talking to him before! You don’t wanna talk to him because you know he’s more than just your best friend now and it scares you and you don’t know how to deal with it without it becoming Minho’s issue. Well, newsflash—it already is his issue! I’ve never seen anyone more head-over-heels for someone than Minho is, and it’s all because of you! So, get your head out of your ass and talk to him!” 

Changbin took a few ragged breaths as Jisung stared at him blankly. 

Changbin was right, wasn’t he? Minho wouldn’t drop him because of some silly little crush, not if he really cared about Jisung. It wasn’t a question if Minho cared about him, and that fact made all his moping that much more pathetic. 

He sank to his knees, a broken sob leaving him as he wrapped his arms around himself.

“I don’t want anything to change,” he admitted through sobs. “He’s my best friend. I can’t just tell him about my feelings!” Changbin knelt next to him and gathered Jisung up in a comforting hug.

“Sungie, if you didn’t want things to change, you wouldn’t be this worked up,” Changbin noted. 

Jisung looked up at him, blinking tears from his eyes. “He’s my best friend, hyung. What if he gets uncomfortable when I tell him and starts acting weird around me? I-I can’t lose him! I don’t know if I’ll survive if I lose him!” Another sob forced its way out of Jisung at the thought. God, losing Minho would literally be the worst thing in the entire world . 

“You won’t lose him. Hell, I don’t think you could get rid of him if you tried,” Changbin joked as his eyes softened. He brought a hand up and brushed the tears off Jisung's cheek. “But seriously, Sungie, Minho really cares about you. You don’t have to worry. Just talk to him, okay?” 

Jisung took a shaky breath as he gazed at his hyung. Changbin was right. He couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t lose Minho over a silly little crush. He’d tell Minho, and even if Minho laughed him off, he’d be able to be honest. Minho was always honest with him; it was the least he could do to return Minho’s honesty with his own. 

Jisung found himself nodding, his breathing still a little shaky. Changbin smiled at him. “Good. He’s at home, I think.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “What, you mean now?” he asked incredulously. 

“Uh, yeah. You’re gonna chicken out if you wait any longer. You know that.” Jisung did know that. Jisung was a little chicken boy. 

“I can’t talk to him now!” he exclaimed as Changbin all but dragged him to his feet before clapping him on the shoulder. 

“You can, and you will. Go on, lover boy,” he commanded, opening the heavy studio door and stepping out of Jisung’s way. “You got this,” Changbin comforted softly when Jisung looked over at him, unsure. “Just be honest. Minho hyung loves honesty, even if he teases you for it later. Please, Ji, you gotta do this. For you and for him.”

Jisung nodded. He could do this. All he had to do was talk to Minho. He talked to Minho all the time. How hard could it be?

————————

Evidently, it was a lot harder than Jisung expected. The whole way home, his brain screamed at him to go literally anywhere other than where his feet were taking him. He stopped in front of every shop along the way, gazing longingly into the storefront windows and wishing he could go inside and forget all of his problems, but he knew Changbin was right: he would definitely chicken out if he waited any longer. So, he plucked up the courage to keep moving, if only to stop in front of the next window down the street. 

It was a long walk home. 

It didn’t help that it felt like a walk of shame, either. God, he was a popular, successful k-pop idol who had a fucking breakdown over a crush on his best friend. What would Stay think if they could see him now? If they saw him three days emaciated, tear tracks tattooed on his cheeks, would they pity him? Would they still see him as someone to look up to? Had he failed Stay by being so weak? 

No, Stay would never think like that. They loved Stray Kids, which, in turn, meant they loved Jisung. They would understand. Probably, anyway. 

Jisung almost ran right back out as soon as he stepped inside the dorm—he was so fucking on edge, it was kind of a miracle he even managed to make it back to the dorm at all. Thank god for cognitive maps. 

He walked past the kitchen, glancing in to see if his hyung was in there. Someone was in there, but it wasn’t Minho. Felix was twirling around the kitchen, his long hair tied back in a ponytail as he stirred whatever was in the bowl in his hands. Jisung smiled softly at the sight; even though his world felt like it was ending, he was thankful that not everyone was as miserable as he was. 

He quietly slipped past the kitchen, not wanting Felix to catch him; he didn’t want to talk to anyone before he talked to Minho. If he did, he was worried he wouldn’t be able to gather the courage to do it again. 

Jisung took a deep breath, trying to gather himself as he stopped in front of the door to Minho’s room. He could do this. Minho was his friend, and would still be his friend after this, even if he doesn’t return Jisung’s feelings (which he probably didn’t. Jisung didn’t have much hope). He would be honest and straightforward and tell Minho exactly how he felt.

But…what if Minho didn’t want to talk to him? Jisung had been ignoring him, after all. He hadn’t so much as looked at Minho since Tuesday—why would Minho listen to him if he hadn’t acknowledged the older for the past three days? 

Before his thoughts could deteriorate further, the door in front of him opened. Jisung jumped back slightly, his heart rate accelerating. “Oh, hey Sungie,” Seungmin said nonchalantly as he slipped around Jisung. Jisung froze as he looked into the room to see Minho’s attentive eyes peeking out from behind the curtain hiding his bed. 

“Jisungie,” Minho said softly as he pushed the curtain open, sliding off his bed and padding over to the frozen boy. Minho smiled gently as he placed a hand on Jisung’s cheek, his thumb caressing his cheekbone. Jisung unconsciously leaned into the touch. “What’s up, little honey?”

Little honey. He was still Minho’s little honey. Everything was okay. Guess it didn’t matter how much Jisung ignored him, after all. 

“Hyung,” he choked out before clearing his throat. “Hyung, c-can I, uh, talk to you?” 

“Of course,” he said as he grabbed Jisung’s hand and led him into the room. Jisung glanced at the bunk above Minho’s to see a lump of a figure under the black and white comforter. 

“Uh, alone, please,” Jisung requested, his voice perpetually quiet. Minho flashed him a smile before he climbed onto the ledge of his bunk and ripped the blanket off the figure. 

“Get out,” Minho commanded. The figure whined.

“Hyung!” Hyunjin drawled. “It’s my room, too! And I was here first, anyway!” 

“Do you want me to go get some tissues, Jinnie?” he asked saccharinely. Jisung saw Hyunjin quickly sit up after that, climbing down the ladder at the end of the bed as Minho hopped off the ledge he was standing on. 

“Hyung is mean. Be careful,” Hyunjin mumbled as he passed Jisung. Jisung giggled. He had kind of forgotten what it felt like to giggle. 

As soon as the door closed behind Hyunjin (he appreciated that Hyunjin closed the door, most likely sensing this was a serious discussion), Minho turned to Jisung, eyes not necessarily expectant but definitely questioning. 

“So, what’s up?” Minho asked as he swept the curtain aside and sat on the edge of his bed. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he began, shrinking in on himself as he took a step away from Minho, trying to stay as close to the door as possible.

“Why are you sorry?” Jisung frowned—did Minho really not know, or did he just want Jisung to admit he was a bad friend?

“I-I’ve been ignoring you. I shouldn’t’ve done that. M’sorry.” Minho just smiled at him as he played with the edge of the curtain. 

“Jisung, I don’t care.” Well, that certainly got Jisung’s attention. His eyes widened as Minho went on to explain. “You’ve clearly been struggling with something. It’s okay to struggle. I knew you’d come to me when you were ready and, lo and behold,” he vaguely gestured to Jisung, “I was right.”

God, curse Minho for knowing him so well. Of course he knew Jisung would talk to him eventually: Jisung talked to him about everything. Minho wasn’t worried, and Minho didn’t hate him. Minho would never hate him (or, at least, he hoped Minho would never hate him. He might have to revisit that statement once he told Minho the real reason he was there).

“I have something to tell you,” Jisung all but whispered. 

“Well, go ahead. You can tell me anything, babe.” Babe. Did Minho really have to do that? Did he really have to call him babe when he was on the verge of a breakdown? 

“I-I—“ he cut off. What the hell was he doing? How was he supposed to tell his best friend he was in love with him? What if Minho really didn’t reciprocate? What if he didn’t want to be around Jisung anymore? Jisung had forgotten what life was like without Minho. How was he supposed to go back to that?

Minho stood up slowly, as if Jisung would get spooked and run away if he moved too fast. “Jisung, baby, it’s okay,” he comforted as he crept toward the boy. Jisung furiously scrubbed stray tears off his cheeks with his sleeve as Minho stopped in front of him. 

Minho took Jisung’s face in his hands and wiped his tears away gently. He looked into Jisung’s eyes, his brows furrowed. “Jisungie, tell hyung-ah what’s wrong.”

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, wrapping his arms around Minho’s waist and pulling him closer to bury his face in Minho’s shoulder. He was torn: Minho was his safe space, his main comforter, and he was in definite need of some comfort. But Jisung couldn’t help but feel like he was taking advantage of Minho’s friendship by taking comfort in him when he had an ulterior motive.

“It’s okay. I told you, I’m not mad that you ignored me. It’s okay.” He gave Jisung a comforting squeeze. 

“No, n-not about that,” he admitted, pulling back to see Minho’s face. Minho’s concerned gaze broke his heart even more. He didn’t deserve Minho’s concern. “Hyung, I’m sorry, b-but…” he trailed off. Minho gave him a comforting smile.

Minho loved him. He might not be in love with him, but Minho would always care about him, no matter how Jisung felt about him. 

Jisung looked at him through watery eyes. “Hyung, I-I’m in l-love with you. I’m sorry.”

Well, that was certainly something he didn’t tell Minho every day. It felt… weird. Not bad, necessarily, just… different. Like something about their dynamic shifted as soon as Jisung let his true feelings be known. 

Fortunately, Minho didn’t push him away. Jisung wasn’t exactly sure what to do now, though. What was the protocol for telling your best friend you have romantic feelings for them? Reassure them it’s okay if they don’t feel the same, right?

“Hyung, please don’t feel like you have to lie to me to save my feelings,” he began, looking anywhere but Minho’s face, scared to see the inevitable disgust in his older friend's eyes. “If you don’t feel the same way, please tell me. I’m serious, hyung. Now is not the time to be nice to me just to make me feel better. It’s worse to give me false hope, hyung-ah. Please, just tell me if you want me to leave you alone or, I don’t know, leave the group, or something—“

“Jisung,” Minho interrupted. Jisung quickly deflated, taking his arms from around Minho and wrapping them around himself. “Sungie, honey, look at me, please.” Jisung hesitantly lifted his gaze to his hyung’s face, terrified of Minho’s reaction, only to see Minho smiling at him kindly. Minho looked… happy. That was a good thing, right? 

“There you are,” Minho said softly once Jisung met his eyes. “Jisung, I don't want you to leave.”

“You don’t?” Jisung asked, his voice thick. Minho shook his head. 

“No. Just the opposite, in fact.” Minho pulled him close and wrapped his arms around Jisung. “I want you to stay by my side forever.” 

Jisung smiled lightly as he timidly wrapped his arms around Minho’s waist again. This was a good sign. 

“Hannie, y’know all those things I’ve done for you? Like get you coffee or cheesecake or new headphones when yours stop working?”

“Yeah,” Jisung said, his voice slightly muffled by Minho's shirt. He took a deep breath of Minho’s familiar cologne.

“Have you ever thought about why I do those things?” Minho’s question rumbled in his chest. 

“Because you’re a nice guy?” Jisung guessed. Minho laughed quietly.

“Well, I’m glad you think as much, but that’s not quite it.” Minho pulled back from Jisung so he could look into his eyes. “Do you wanna know the real reason?” Jisung nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. “It’s because I love seeing you smile. I love seeing you so happy over small things like coffee or an unprompted hug. I love when you thank me, even though I insist you don’t have to, just to let me know you appreciate me. I do it because I love you, Jisung.” 

Jisung blinked. Had he heard Minho right? “Huh?” he asked intelligently. 

“I love you, Sungie. I have for a long time. And, before you go down another spiral, I love you in a very romantic, very much non-platonic way. Just to, ah, clarify.” 

“Holy shit,” Jisung said under his breath as he searched Minho’s eyes for something to suggest he was joking. All Jisung saw in Minho’s galaxy eyes was sincerity and something Jisung couldn’t quite understand; it’s the same thing he saw the night Minho stayed up to make him ramen when he came home late, the same thing he sees when he catches Minho’s eye after teasing one of the others, the same thing he sees when Minho makes fun of his bed head after cuddling with him. Jisung couldn’t put a name to the look before, but he thought he might be starting to understand. 

“Hyung, you’re serious?” he asked, shying away from the answer. 

“I would never lie about something like this,” Minho insisted. “I love you, Sungie. I’ll do anything to prove it to you.” 

“Kiss me,” Jisung said. Minho tilted his head, bemused. 

“What?” Minho didn’t sound opposed to the idea so much as surprised Jisung suggested it. 

Jisung cocked his head coyly. “You said you’d do anything to prove it to me. So, if that’s the case, then kiss me.” Jisung himself wasn’t quite sure where this burst of confidence came from, but he sure was glad for it when Minho placed a gentle hand on his cheek and leaned closer. 

Jisung squeaked as he felt Minho’s lips brush against his, causing Minho to break into cute giggles. Jisung groaned and hit his chest softly, embarrassed. Minho whispered an apology as he composed himself before he leaned closer to Jisung again, his hand sliding to the back of Jisung’s neck to keep him in place. 

Jisung sighed as he felt Minho’s lips land firmly on his. Minho’s lips were so soft and his touch so gentle and holy shit , this was actually happening! He was kissing his best friend ! Were they even just best friends anymore? No, they couldn’t be—not when Minho told him he loved him, too. They had to be more. 

But, what, exactly? Jisung hoped it was boyfriends. God, he wanted to be Minho’s boyfriend so bad . 

Minho pulled back and Jisung opened his eyes, not even realizing he’d closed them. “You okay, babe?” Minho asked as he brushed a stray lock of hair off Jisung’s forehead. Minho’s lips were just a tinge pinker than before and Jisung couldn’t help but wonder what they would look like all red and puffy after being well kissed and—oh , Minho asked him a question. 

“I’m more than okay.” He sounded breathless even to himself, blushing a little at the thought of Minho just as breathless as he was, hair messy and shirt ruffled, eyes filled with something Jisung had yet to see. He almost squealed at the thought of being the one to make Minho like that. 

Minho smiled at him softly. “You should go shower, Stinky,” Minho suggested, playfully crinkling his nose as he sniffed. 

Jisung balled his fingers around the sleeve of the sweater and hit Minho’s chest. “Baby!” he whined, latching onto the front of Minho’s shirt and pulling back and forth. “Don’t call me that!” 

Minho gave him a little smirk. “Then don’t not shower for three days and try to cover up the smell with Axe body spray. You smell like a Middle School locker room after Phy. Ed.” 

Jisung pouted at him. “But you kissed me,” he tried to reason (not that there was really a need to—he knew he needed a shower. Very badly, at that). 

“Yeah, and I also touched your gross, greasy hair. It’s, like, slimy.” Minho stuck his tongue out, shuddering slightly in disgust. 

“You’re so mean to me. I don’t know why I’m in love with you,” he huffed as he slipped around Minho and walked deeper into the room—totally not trying to hide the blush dusting his cheeks due to the fact that he’d just admitted not once, but twice that he was in love with Minho—making his way over to Minho’s wardrobe. He opened the drawers haphazardly, pulling out the first pair of sweats and boxers he saw. 

“What are you doing?” Minho asked as Jisung felt a hand wrap around his waist. Jisung looked over at him as he blindly reached into the drawer and grabbed a shirt. He gave the older a bright smile as he held up the bundle of clothes. 

“Just stealing some of my boyfriend's clothes. Why? Is that a problem?” Jisung asked, putting a little extra emphasis on the B- word, testing the waters to see Minho’s reaction. And, god, what a reaction it was. Minho’s face broke out into a wide grin, his eyes portraying something so inexplicably fond that it made Jisung’s heart skip a beat. 

“Doesn’t matter that you’re my boyfriend. Stealing is a sin,” Minho replied softly, still grinning widely (which was an ironic thing for the elder to say, considering Minho was the least religious person Jisung knew). 

“I’ll show you a sin,” Jisung retorted as he turned around to face Minho, not really knowing what he meant himself. Minho raised his eyebrows. 

“Yeah?” he challenged, leaning closer to Jisung. “What sin will you show me, exactly? Because I can think of a few I’d like to show you.” 

Jisung’s face erupted into flames as he stared into Minho’s big, shiny eyes. “W-what’s that supposed to mean?” 

Minho smirked, but it didn’t irk Jisung as much as it used to; instead, it sent a chill down his spine. Minho leaned even closer, stopping when his mouth was next to Jisung’s ear. “I think you know exactly what I mean.” His voice was low, lower than Jisung had ever heard it. It caused his heart rate to skyrocket as he took a step back, eyes frantically searching for Minho’s. Minho’s eyes were dark, the warm brown of his irises eclipsed by the never-ending darkness of his pupils. 

Shit. Jisung hadn’t thought about this part. 

Sure, he’d thought about kissing Minho (honestly, who wouldn’t?), but he’d never thought about what a good make out session might lead to. He wasn’t ready for more, not when he’d only just come to terms with the fact that he 1. Liked guys, and 2. Liked his best friend/now boyfriend. There was absolutely no way he was ready for anything beyond a good ol’ lip-lock.

“Hyung, I—“ he said, choking on his words. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I don’t… I can’t…” He couldn’t seem to be able to find the right words to explain how he was feeling. He groaned as he clutched the clothes in his hands closer to his chest. Minho staring at him certainly didn’t make this any easier, either—it wasn’t like Minho looked impatient or disappointed or anything like that, but Jisung was convinced the elder had a bit of a staring problem, anyway, and his naturally guarded gaze was doing Jisung absolutely zero favors.“I can’t do more. Not right now, at least. It’s just that, a lot’s happened these past few days and I would honestly have no idea what I was doing and—“

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Minho cut in with a soft smile, his familiar brown eyes returning slowly as he cupped Jisung’s cheek. “I understand. We won’t do any more until you’re 100% ready and on board. I’ve waited this long for you: what’s a little more time?” Minho visibly cringed, his eyebrows furrowing as his hand moved from Jisung’s cheek to his own forehead, hiding his eyes behind his hand. “Sorry, that was bad. I’m not waiting on you for this, babe. God, no. That’s not what I meant. What I meant was,” he looked up, staring directly into Jisung’s eyes, “ if you ever wanna go farther, I’m always open to it, but if that day never comes, then that’s okay, too.” He nodded to himself. “Yeah, that’s better.”

Jisung smiled at him, a strong pull-y feeling settling in his chest as Minho’s hand dropped to his waist. God, he was so in love with Minho, it was insane. How in the world had he gotten so lucky ? Minho was so kind, so understanding that it left Jisung breathless. He never pressed for things to be his way—he never had—and was willing to do anything he could to make Jisung comfortable, even if it meant slowing their relationship down even though Minho clearly wanted to take it further. He knew Minho wouldn’t push it, either. Jisung didn’t think he’d ever been so thankful toward someone in his entire life.

He surged forward, capturing Minho’s lips in a chaste kiss, smiling as he pulled back. “How long?” Jisung asked. Minho tilted his head at him. “How long have you waited?” he clarified. 

“Too long,” Minho answered vaguely. He giggled when Jisung gave him an unimpressed look. “Fine. You remember on the survival show when you held my hand to help me rap?” 

Jisung’s mouth fell open as his eyes widened. “That long?” Minho nodded, a hand coming to rest on the back of his neck sheepishly. “Wow. How did you deal with it for so long? I realized I was in love with you, like, four days ago and proceeded to completely shut down until Changbin basically told me to stop being a pussy and talk to you.” 

Minho snorted as he gathered Jisung’s cheeks in his hands again. “Well, I didn’t exactly try to hide it. It just took a while for you to see it.” Minho gently thumbed over his cheekbones, eyes almost disappearing as he smiled widely. He smushed Jisung’s cheeks together, forcing his lips into a pout. “But it’s okay. I’ve got my baby now. I knew you’d come around eventually.”

“ Hyung !” he whined, lightly slapping Minho’s hands away. Minho laughed as he drew Jisung into a hug, squeezing him tightly. 

“I love you sooo much, Sungie,” he drawled as he rocked them back and forth. Minho hummed contentedly as he kissed the top of Jisung’s head. 

Minho drew away, his face twisted in mock disgust as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “God, I forgot you’re a stinky little boy. Seriously, go shower. Grease is not a good look for you, babe.”

Jisung scrunched his nose at the elder, turning away from him and marching toward the door. “Please never call me a stinky little boy ever again,” he said as he stopped in front of the door. He looked over his shoulder, fluttering his eyelashes innocently. “Won’t hyung-ah join me?” 

Minho groaned as his head tilted back slightly. “ Fuck , Sung,” he murmured as he made his way over to Jisung, pressing his front against Jisung’s back and placing his hands on Jisung’s waist. “I meant it when I said I would indulge you whenever you’re ready,” he whispered right in Jisung’s ear. Jisung wasn’t scared or uncomfortable this time. He just giggled as he turned his head and planted a kiss right on the tip of Minho’s nose. 

“I’ll let you know as soon as I’m ready, baby. Maybe I’ll even let you help me get ready,” he teased.

“Yes, please,” Minho said before he planted a kiss right behind Jisung’s ear. “I love you, Jisung,” he murmured against Jisung’s skin. “So much.”

“I love you, too,” he responded as Minho’s arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed. “Now, come on. I have to go take a shower before my boyfriend badgers me again.”

Jisung felt Minho smile against his neck. “Lead the way.”

Bonus

“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Jisung asked as Minho practically pulled him down the hall. “I mean, the relationship is still so fresh. Aren’t we gonna, like, jinx it, or something?”

Minho huffed as he looked over his shoulder. “Sungie, it’ll be fine. Besides, we have to do this. It’s not like we have a choice.”

“But it’s scary!” he whined as he dragged his feet. Minho stopped and turned to him, letting go of his hand and grabbing onto his shoulders. 

“Sungie, it’ll be fine. It’s not like Channie’s gonna be disgusted, or anything. You do know there’s already a gay couple in our group, right?”

“We aren’t a gay couple,” Jisung said resolutely. Minho’s brows scrunched in confusion as he tilted his head. 

“We aren’t?” he asked. “You do know we’re both guys, right? And that we’re dating? And that two guys dating is kinda gay?”

Jisung shook his head. “We aren’t a gay couple. We’re just Minho and Jisung.” Minho blinked once before his face broke into a smile.

“Baby, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Minho said. He leaned forward, sweeping Jisung’s wet hair off his forehead so he could drop a kiss there. “You’re absolutely correct. We’re just Minho and Jisung.” Jisung nodded curtly as Minho grabbed his hand again. “Now, com’on. We gotta go tell Channie hyung we’re official.”

Jisung allowed himself to be led into the living room where, surprisingly, most of the guys were. Chan sat on one end of the couch, his face buried in his laptop as he grooved along to whatever beat was playing in his headphones (which reminded Jisung of the track he hadn’t touched for a week. Oops). Hyunjin was cuddled up to Seungmin’s side on the other end of the couch, gazing up at his boyfriend dreamily. It didn’t seem like Seungmin cared about his boyfriend’s adoration at the moment as he was more concentrated on the book in his hands. Jeongin was in between Chan and Seungjin, splayed out on the black cushions, seemingly asleep.

Jisung’s heart rate skyrocketed as they stopped in front of Chan. He squeezed Minho’s hand as Chan glanced up at them, pausing whatever was playing and taking off his headphones. 

“Hey guys, what’s up?” he asked with his stupidly charming dimpled smile. Jisung used Minho’s body as a shield, inching behind him as Chan looked at them expectantly. 

“First of all,” Minho began, “just wanted to let you know Sungie’s doing better now. I know you were worried about him.”

Chan chuckled. “You were more worried than I was.” Jisung felt a small smile make its way to his face. Minho had said he hadn’t been worried, but knowing he had been more worried than their leader made his heart swell.

Minho scoffed, evidently still trying to keep his tsundere façade. “Was not.” He looked back at Jisung, evidently ready to say right to Jisung’s face that he wasn't worried about him. Before he said anything, though, he paused, eyes scanning Jisung’s face before he smiled. “Actually, I was worried. I was very worried.” Minho squeezed Jisung’s hand as he turned back to Chan. “But that’s not the point. The point is, Jisung’s getting better, and I’m taking him to dinner later.”

“You are?” Jisung asked. He hadn’t been told about any dinner.

“Yes,” Minho said as he glanced back. “Didn’t I tell you? I got reservations for that one place you like when you were in the shower. You know, the one with the fancy steaks and stuff.” Jisung’s face split into a big grin. 

“You didn’t tell me that!” he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around Minho’s middle, squeezing him and he pressed his forehead in between Minho’s shoulder blades. “Thank you!”

He felt Minho chuckle. “Don’t thank me yet, Sungie,” he said as he placed his hand on Jisung’s. “I can still change my mind.”

Jisung gasped as he lifted his face and glared at the back of Minho's head. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me,” he returned.

“As entertaining as this is,” Chan’s voice cut through their conversation, “I’m just wondering… is that all? I mean, obviously I’m glad you’re doing better, Sungie. Make sure you drink a lot of water and eat until you’re full. But I also do have some work to get done.”

“Oh. Right.” Minho cleared his throat as Jisung hooked his chin over his shoulder. “We need to fill out that form. You know, the, uh, the dating one.”

Chan’s eyebrows scrunched. “You haven’t done that yet?” he asked. Minho turned his head to look at the side of Jisung’s face as if to say, what’s he on about?  

“Um, no? Why would we have done it already?” Minho asked as he turned back to Chan. 

“Because you kind of have to fill it out when you start dating? I thought you two did it a long time ago?” Chan sounded just as confused as Jisung felt before it clicked.

“How many of you thought we were already dating?” Jisung asked, looking at the others in the room. Hyunjin immediately raised his hand, along with Changbin, who had come from god knows where and was now sitting on the arm of the couch. Chan raised his hand, looking cautiously around the room. 

“I did, too,” Jisung heard from behind him. He turned around to see Felix’s head poking out from the kitchen, a streak of flour decorating his forehead. “Just for the record,” he said before he slipped back into the kitchen, the melody of some English pop song softly floating into the living room. 

Jisung unlatched himself from Minho’s back and looked at the others, exasperated. “We literally started dating today! Were we really that lovey-dovey that most of you thought we were already together?”

“Yes,” Seungmin deadpanned, not even looking up from his book. Hyunjin nodded when Jisung looked at him for support. 

Jisung huffed as he turned to face Minho. “Well, I guess our big announcement doesn’t even matter.” Minho smiled as he brought a hand to cup Jisung’s cheek.

“Of course it matters. Just because they were wrong doesn’t make this any less special.” Jisung smiled as he leaned into the touch.

Something soft suddenly hit the side of Jisung’s head. He yelped as he jumped away from Minho, looking down at what hit him. A balled up sock laid on the floor, next to Jisung’s foot. He looked around for the culprit to see Jeongin pushing himself up to his elbows as he glared at them, sans left sock. “Go be gross somewhere else. I’m trying to take a nap.”

Giggling, Jisung bent down and grabbed the sock before tossing it back to Jeongin. “Sorry, Innie,” he apologized. 

“I’m not sorry,” Minho said as he grabbed Jisung face with both hands and forced Jisung to face him before planting a big kiss right on Jisung’s lips. Jisung heard a chorus of groans as his hands found purchase on Minho’s waist. Minho tilted his head to deepen the kiss and someone gagged. 

Jisung smiled into the kiss. As fun as it was torturing his friends, he was much happier to be able to express the affection he held for Minho in a way he hadn’t realized he’d always craved to. He giggled at the thought of getting to kiss Minho forever. 

“Alright, alright,” Chan said. “Enough traumatizing the kids. You two have paperwork to do.” Minho pulled away first, gazing at Jisung with impossibly fond eyes. Jisung smiled at him. 

“I love you,” Jisung whispered, trying not to further traumatize the youngest. Minho smiled at him, his big galaxy eyes curving into pretty crescents. 

“I love you, too.” God, Jisung could get used to hearing Minho say that.