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It was no secret that Jisung and Minho often went on dates at restaurants. Although, Jisung would insist they are more like “friendly outings between friends” rather than dates. No one else would agree with him. The two liked to try out new restaurants they saw on Instagram and then take walks around some popular river with iced americanos in hand (and if Jisung saves his one allotted americano of the day for his scheduled meal with Minho—that is no one’s business) before heading to their separate dorms.
Today Jisung and Minho were trying out a new Western-style restaurant that opened near their practice room. However, he felt an unusual dread at the plans Usually, the prospect of hanging out with Minho would brighten Jisung’s mood, but he couldn’t shake the heaviness on his shoulders from a stressful day at the studio. There were too many ideas floating in his mind that he couldn’t quite figure out how to turn into a song. It had just been hours of staring at his notes app until tears blurred his vision from forgetting to blink. Changbin and Chan tried to help of course, but nothing could dissipate the anxiety that sat in his chest. Jisung knows he should leave since he isn’t contributing much, but he can’t find the energy to leave.
“I’ll just watch you guys,” Jisung mutters. “Maybe it will inspire me.”
Chan frowns at him in a way that makes Jisung feels like he ran away from home. “What you need is a break. You made like three entire songs last week. I think our discography is gonna be fine.”
Jisung means to pout playfully, but his brain is getting further away from his body, and his mouth twists. Tears reluctantly spring to his eyes and Jisung vaguely feels Chan squeezing him tight around his shoulders as Jisung admits that he has felt like a disappointment to 3RACHA recently. It wasn’t quite writer’s block, but there was something he wanted to say that he couldn’t say nor even knew what he needed to say.
“Why don’t you go home,” Changbin suggests, worry etched into his expression. “Chan and I will go soon too. We can watch something if you want. Even those documentaries you like.”
Even with his daze, Jisung feels affection pulse in his chest for the two. He manages a faint smile before saying, “I'M Supposed to meet up with Minho-hyung. He’ll be sad.”
“You two make so many plans just cancel—“ Changbin begins, before Chan interrupts him.
“I’ll call Minho and explain to him the situation, alright? We’ll see what he says," Chan suggests soothingly.
Jisung pauses. He’d rather suck it up so at least Minho has a good day but arguing with Chan on things like this is never a good idea. “Fine,” he relents.
Chan’s phone rings on speaker for half a second before Mingo picks up.
“Hyung,” he greets and Jisung automatically relaxes slightly. “What’s up?”
Chan saves something on his computer with his left hand as he answers, “We’re at the studio. Jisung isn’t feeling great.”
“Is he sick?” Minho quickly asks, a hint of concern in his tone.
“No.”
The silence on the other end of the line lasts only a moment before Minho replies, tone final, “I’ll come to get him.”
Chan opens his mouth to say something else, but Minho swiftly adds, “We won’t do our original plans. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”
Chan smiles delicately. “I know you will.”
“See you soon,” Minho singsongs, then hangs up.
The three of them blink at Chan’s phone. “You know,” Changbin starts curiously. “I don’t think I’ve ever had the last word with him.”
Jisung giggles and squeezes Changbin’s hand, resting his head on Chan’s shoulder.
Not soon after the call ended, the door to Chan’s studio jiggles and Chan jumps up to unlock it. “That was quick.”
Minho walks in, his grey shirt loose and exposing a shoulder. Sweat or water soaks the neckline and it should be gross but Jisung appreciates the familiarity. He shrugs. “I was practicing in the dance studio to wait for Jisung. Nice and close by.”
In two long strides, Minho arrives at Jisung’s side and doesn’t hesitate to pull him up with a gentle hand under his elbow. “Let’s leave these workaholics. I have funner things planned.”
“Not a word,” Changbin buts in, his eyes focused on his phone.
Minho just sticks his tongue out at the rapper, but his eyes are kind when they meet Jisung’s. “Wanna get a coffee before heading home or are you just ready to leave?”
Jisung slides his hand down to grab onto Minho’s left one. Suddenly shy, he looks down at their feet. He and Minho’s shoes are matching converse. “Can we just go to your place and steal Seungmin’s espresso machine?”
Minho grins. “Anything for you Hannie. I might even cook for you if you’re nice.”
The weight pressing down on his chest doesn’t leave, but it softens into something moldable. Jisung tugs Minho’s hand, "Thank you, hyung.”
Minho looks to the side opposite Jisung as they start walking, but Jisung doesn’t miss the tender smile gracing Minho’s lips.
Minho’s dorm is empty when they arrive. With a house full of extroverts, it doesn’t surprise Jisung that they are all out. There is no doubt in his mind that if they were at his place instead, Hyunjin would be in his room or art room. It's quiet which Jisung appreciates.
“Go sit in the dining room, Han-ah,” Minho offers, speaking for the first time since leaving the studio. "I'm going to change real quick then we can get some food in us." If it were anyone else, Jisung would have felt guilty for the silence he carried on the walk to the dorm, but silences with Minho are always comfortable. Jisung nods and relinquishes hold of Minho’s hand, wiping off the thin layer of sweat that accumulated on his pants. Jisung shamelessly watches Minho's backside as he leaves for his room; drags his eyes across the muscles that ripple on his back.
Dutifully, Jisung sits in the cushioned chair and admires the kitchen like he always does. The four of them are nowhere neat but compared to 3RACHA and Hyunjin’s dorm which is kept a bare minimum clean for three weeks out of the month, it looks like it belongs on the cover of a home magazine. The kitchen is organized and shiny, counters kept clear of anything but a few appliances.
Minho tinkers with the espresso machine expertly, letting the coffee drop into Jisung’s favorite mug rather than the plastic cups Seungmin prefers to use. “Americano or latte?”
Jisung thinks for a second. The habitual creature in him wants to say americano but lattes hold a certain comfort that Jisung wouldn’t mind indulging in. “Latte, please. Hot.”
“Needy,” Minho quips but takes out the milk frother anyway. “I hope you aren’t expecting any art.”
Jisung gasps exaggeratedly, and teases, “You haven’t mastered latte art for me yet? Some soulmate you are.”
Minho pours the milk into the espresso, then quickly fixes and iced americano for himself. He sets the mug on the coaster in front of Jisung and sits across from him, wasting no time tangling his feet with Jisung’s. “I know we aren’t for serious talks, but if you want to talk about anything, I’m here,” Minho whispers, shy at the admission. Jisung knows he isn’t the type to be easily vulnerable so appreciation for the man blooms in his chest.
“Thanks, man. Nothing is really going on its just…” He trails off, not bothering to finish his sentence. Minho nods. He knows.
“I’ll make us some ramen then we can watch something in my bed?”
Jisung’s lips twitch, trying for a smile. “Sounds great to me.”
Minho frowns slightly but doesn’t make any comments which Jisung is grateful for. Explaining his bouts of anxiety when there isn’t a clear catalyst just frustrates Jisung more than comforting him. Besides, a couple of well-placed cuddles and a rewatch of a good movie always make him feel better. Especially with Minho, his traitorous mind suggests.
The savory smell of ramen envelopes him like the cloud of steam from the pot has spread throughout the kitchen. The main lights are flipped off and a small lamp near the doorway sheds a hazy golden light into the room. Jisung prefers it to the harsh florescent of the lightbulbs above him and appreciates the domestic, comfortable feeling it gives the room even more. It’s times like these that Jisung wishes he wrote more about his day-to-day life. He wants to write his daily nothings with flowery descriptors and with the same love he feels towards his favorite stories. Jisung doesn’t think he could. He can’t now at least. There isn’t anything pretty about Jisung’s ass cramping in his studio chair or the sweat that drips from him during dance practice or the nights when sleeping is impossible because energy won’t stop sparking underneath his skin.
Jisung bounces his knee. Scratches at the sliver of skin that lays underneath the small rip at his thigh until his thoughts stall. Jisung looks at Minho. There is beauty in the dramatic slope of his nose, in the light acne scars dotting his cheeks that are only visible when he’s barefaced but Jisung longs to see more often. Minho is beautiful when he is cooking food of any difficulty or simplicity and when he spends hours going over each dance move until everyone is confident and happy. He is beautiful when he goes on walks to feed treats and dinner to stray cats; when he tickles their member's chins like they’re the dearest thing to him. Minho is even beautiful when he loses all his energy simultaneously and closes himself in his room or goes to the gym alone. If Jisung was Minho, he would fall in love with his own life and write nothing else but that.
Jisung is aware he is staring but Minho doesn’t ask why. His red ears speak for themselves and Jisung holds back a laugh; the intense feeling that burned in his chest cooling down to something more manageable but just as fond. There is a bowl of ramen in front of him and Minho joins its view. Jisung whines. “Sit next to me.” Minho raises an eyebrow, but Jisung isn’t deterred. “It’s just so I don’t have to see your ugly face in front of my food,” he explains. An obvious excuse to someone like Minho who says similar lines multiple times a day. Nevertheless, Minho moves to sit on his right.
The ramen is cooked so that the noodles give some resistance, just a minute away from being cooked thoroughly. It’s just how Jisung likes it, and he digs in happily with a hum.
Subconsciously, he finds his chopsticks being shoved into Minho’s face. “Ah,” he mimics, and pushes the noodles into Minho’s open mouth.
“I have the same food, dumbass,” he mutters but chews it with a satisfied chirp. “Wow, whoever cooked this did a good job. Do you have a private chef or something, Jisungie?”
Jisung rolls his eyes and slaps his shoulder. “Compliment yourself more, would you?”
“I’d rather compliment you, honey,” he flirts and winks.
Jisung wrinkles his nose. “That was greasy, hyung.”
Minho shrugs. “You love it.” He does. Just a little.
Their knees bump under the table and Minho has his foot hooked around the inside of Jisung’s ankle. The sound of chewing fills the space and it’s a little gross but it's their normal. Slowly, the gnarled knot unravels in Jisung until it leaves, and he sinks into himself, slouching happily over his ramen. Earlier, Jisung felt guilty for canceling their dinner date, but this is just as good. They have good food, they are together, and Jisung is happy. The ramen is gone in no time, Jisung’s chopsticks swooping to grab a bite, but gets met with the load clank of hitting an empty bowl. Jisung pouts. His stomach is close to full but he could eat more—wants to eat more just so he can keep this warmth inside his skin.
“I can’t finish this,” Minho says suddenly. A scrape sounds against the table as Minho pushes his bowl in front of Jisung.
The bowl is half full and Jisung knows Minho must be starving after dancing for probably hours. One bowl of ramen wouldn’t be enough to quell his hunger. Offering it to Jisung is such a Minho thing to do.
“I love you,” Jisung blurts. His heartbeat quickens but for all good reasons. Minho’s lips part slightly but Jisung keeps going, making sure to keep steady eye contact so he can see how much Jisung means each word. “Like so much. You’re too good for me and just… I really don’t deserve to say it even but I’m so in love with you.”
Jisung feels like he should be embarrassed or nervous. Probably even worried that he and Minho’s friendship will change, but he feels comfortable as he always does around him. All the anxieties in the world couldn’t make him doubt his relationship with Minho. In fact, it feels natural to confess to him like this. Being in love romantically with Minho was something Jisung never had a large revelation about or even thought of until right now. They openly referred to each other as soulmates and loving Minho came easier than breathing to Jisung—it never mattered in what way. Realizing he is in love with Minho feels like the inevitable next step in their relationship. A part of him as always expected it because he can’t imagine going further than Stray Kids without Minho. It feels so right and Jisung’s brain works miles a minute thinking about every interaction between him and Minho and how much sense it makes in the context of romantic love.
Jisung doesn’t say all that, but the soft smile on Minho’s face shows he already knows. “Really? This is how you’re gonna say it for the first time?” Minho’s words are cheeky and Jisung doesn’t know what else he expected.
Jisung sputters. “Hey! I’ve said I love you tons of times.”
Minho’s voice is soft when he counters, “You know what I mean.” He does.
With his admission floating in the air, Jisung shovels Minho's leftovers into his mouth. Minho watches him with hawk eyes and Jisung can't help but squirm.
When Jisung's bowl empties, Minho pushes his seat back and stands up, offering his hand to Jisung. “It’s movie time now.”
“What about the dishes?” Jisung frowns.
Minho shrugs. “Leave them for Seungmin to do. He owes me constantly.”
Jisung snorts. “Do you make Jeongin or Felix do any chores?”
The silence Jisung receives gives him his answer. He grins and shakes his head. That’s his Minho.
On Jisung’s list of top ten places, Minho’s room is right at the top. Lots of people assume Minho’s the type to have minimalist décor, but they aren’t further from the troop. Clusters of pictures fill the wall in small patches. There are sections for his cats, for his friends back home, for places he likes to visit in Gimpo, and of course, for the members. Right next to his pillow is a polaroid of him and Jisung in some coffee shop. It’s one of many that exist and Jisung wishes he remembered the exact events. Despite that, the pair are wrapped up in each other in the small frame, and looking at it makes Jisung fond.
Other than the pictures, Minho’s room has a small bookshelf with an arraignment that would give librarians an aneurysm, a neatly made queen bed pushed against the wall then a desk and wardrobe against the opposite wall. It’s a little chaotic and the flow makes no sense to Jisung, but every corner screams Minho so he can’t help but love it.
The two bounces onto Minho’s bed, both giggly as Minho turns his laptop on and opens Netflix. They scroll through Minho’s “my list” for a couple of minutes, shoulders pressed against each other, until settling on a Studio Ghibli movie. It’s just the simplicity Jisung needs today.
When they lie down, Jisung pushes the laptop onto his lap and tilts the screen closer toward Minho. He then manhandles Minho’s head to rest on his chest with the top of it safely tucked close to his chin. Minho’s fingers curl into Jisung’s t-shirt, his breath quivering each time he breathes out. Jisung’s heart quickens barely with the knowledge that the feelings beneath their closeness are vulnerable in the open. It’s the same in the way Minho’s body melts into Jisung’s but different from how attuned Jisung feels to Minho. It makes him hold Minho just a bit tighter.
Whimsical music floats out of the speakers from the opening scene of the movie. “Thinking awfully hard today, Jisungie,” Minho whispers and Jisung feels his warm breath disappear into his shirt.
“All good things now,” he whispers back and they settle into the movie without more words.
Around halfway through the film, Jisung asks what has been lingering on his mind since their confession. “Can we be boyfriends now?”
Minho snorts. “We both like each other. What else would we be?”
“I’m serious,” Jisung huffs. His words are spoken with a lighthearted whine, but he means it. While Minho and Jisung aren’t complicated, being an idol is.
Minho falls into silence then, catching the underlying meaning in Jisung’s words. Jisung doesn’t rush Minho to speak, instead focusing on the movie again. He knows Minho prefers to think carefully over what he says because of his tendency to be impulsive and blunt to a fault. Actions come easier to Minho than words and Jisung doesn’t mind waiting for him.
After a few minutes, Minho slowly begins his words. “I want to be boyfriends. I want our dates to be real and I want everyone to know they are real.”
Jisung doesn’t bother correcting Minho that they can’t do that. Minho already knows.
“Me too.”
“We can tell the boys,” Minho says and taps Jisung’s calves with his sock-clad toes mindlessly.
Jisung hums. “And management?”
Minho grimaces. “We will probably need to. For the best of everyone.” It doesn’t escape Jisung that Minho doesn’t say ‘want’ this time.
Jisung slips his hand into Minho’s hair, carding through it rhythmically. Minho’s head leans into it and his eyes flutter shut. Like Jisung’s personal cat. “We’re boyfriends?” He asks again, his voice fragile.
Minho is firm when he tilts his chin up to peck the underside of Jisung’s jaw. “I’d like nothing more.”
Jisung doesn’t bother stopping the dreamy smile from jumping to his face. His body squeezes tighter over Minho in every place the two meet. “I’m your boyfriend,” he repeats more to himself than Minho. Jisung is sure they will end up talking more in-depth about the implications their new relationship brings the group and their daily life, but for now, Jisung is satisfied with him and Minho just doing what comes naturally. Communication in words is important for everyone and Jisung is confident it will come in time.
“We can kiss!” He gasps.
Minho looks at him weirdly, but his eyes are all affectionate. “Is that another question?”
Jisung doesn’t concern himself with answering, rather, he gently tosses the laptop off his lap onto the foot of the bed as far away from the pair as he can. In one swift move, Jisung rolls over to hover above Minho and cradles his jaw in one hand as his other arm’s elbow is beside Minho’s head, bracing Jisung’s body over him.
“I’m gonna kiss you,” Jisung says, his eyes flitting all over Minho’s face to read every small tic that crosses it. “I mean if that’s OK.”
Minho is more than a little breathless when he replies, “More than OK. It’s so OK actually. Please kiss me.”
Intense yearning to do just that expands in Jisung’s body and he stares hungrily at Minho’s lips. Even with his eagerness, Jisung hesitates as he leans in. Not nervous really, but a good overwhelmed that he doesn’t know what to do with. Stick to the original plan, Jisung reminds himself and without holding back, he presses his lips to Minho’s.
Jisung keeps the pressure gentle but presses firmly with meaning. He hopes Minho pulls from his lips what he can’t gain from Jisung’s words. It’s chaste but Minho’s lips are perfectly soft, slotting neatly between Jisung’s and stirring a satisfying warmth in Jisung’s belly. After a few seconds, he puts a small distance between their lips and goes cross-eyed to garner Minho’s response. Minho’s eyes are closed still, and his breaths come out in small pants. The air between them is fragile but a small tug on Jisung’s collar from Minho makes Jisung dive back in with fervor.
The kiss is deeper this time and Jisung thinks he can become addicted. He is hyperaware of all his senses, of the light smell of Minho’s perfume, the headiness of old sweat that lingers from dance practice earlier, and the small noises Minho makes when Jisung tilts his chin just so or the wet smack when their lips meet again and again. Jisung feels like a boiling pot all over, Minho’s jaw burning his fingertips and his hair staticky. It’s unbearable and not enough all at once.
Jisung’s arm begins to ache so he pushes more weight into his thighs on either side of Minho’s hips. Their lower halves brush with the movement and Minho lets out a small gasp, hips barely bucking up. Jisung puts distance between them. They have time.
Minho’s shirt rides up, showing the bottom of his soft stomach and Jisung doesn’t deny himself access—immediately grabbing Minho’s waist. It’s solid in his palm and Jisung can’t hold in his shaky breathing. He runs his tongue along Minho’s teeth and bites his lip lightly. The two mirror each other’s actions and even now, Jisung finds a part of Minho cute. He wants to be as close as possible to Minho but settles for dropping kisses around his jaw and down his neck. In return, Minho sucks at Jisung’s Adam’s apple, hard enough to make it red but light enough that a mark won’t last.
“Heart,” Minho mumbles, and Jisung grins into Minho’s neck.
“Baby, can I mark you? It’ll be hidden.”
Minho nods without hesitation, tightening the arm that is wrapped around Jisung’s neck and tugging the hair at his nape. He turns his head to press a kiss to Jisung’s head and another to the top of his ear.
Jisung smiles and slides his hand to the back of Minho’s neck then up his face to run his thumb along the ridge of his cheekbones. “You’re really beautiful Minho,” he murmurs.
Minho glares although his red ears betray him again. “You’re pretty too,” he says, voice rough. It dissolves into a faint whimper when Jisung begins pressing open mouth kisses to his neck, darting his tongue out every now and then. Honestly, he didn’t really expect Minho to be so vocal. He knew he would be receptive but more on the subtle side with signs Jisung would need to acclimate to. Not that Jisung was complaining. Jisung presses his forehead to Minho’s and they breathe into each other’s mouths but Jisung feels loved and so infinitely better.
Not today, but one day, Jisung is intoxicated with the prospect of learning all Minho’s ticks and desires. It is a side of him that Jisung hasn’t seen before and from someone like Minho who tends to keep secrets about themselves, it is a privilege. It makes pride blossom in Jisung.
When Jisung tells his boyfriend (boyfriend!) as much, Minho answers breathily but surely, “I want you in any way you will let me.”
It’s better than any ‘I love you too’ could be.