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“How long have you been together?”
“We’re not together.”
“Ok, let me rephrase. How long have you been kissing each other in secret?”
Jisung paused. He couldn’t remember exactly at first.
It had to be around the time he confessed to his classmate and then love-of-his-life, Lee Yongbok, to a heartbreaking rejection—love letters left to be read between the pages of a biology textbook, a quick chat during lunch break in the courtyard, silent tears rolling down puffed cheeks during chemistry lab, screams muffled by a wet pillow later in the evening when he stopped by Minho’s apartment to confide in his best friend (again).
They didn’t kiss then, but it happened a week later.
♡
Jisung became friends with Minho out of convenience. When his family moved back from Malaysia into an apartment complex on the outskirts of Seoul, he struggled to reconnect with his old friends who still lived in Incheon. Minho might have been two years older than Jisung, but he was one of the few kids around his age living in the building, which was otherwise populated by elderly couples and young families. Turns out Minho didn’t have many friends either; Jisung eventually concluded that might have been because of his dry sense of humor and uncalled-for, blunt remarks.
Not that Jisung considered himself to be any better—if anything, their weirdness matched well.
They hung out around the neighborhood and eventually at school once the academic year started; even as Jisung developed new friendships with his classmates as a first-year high schooler, he and Minho were always together wherever they went.
By the time Jisung started his second year and Minho his third (“I had to be away from school for a while when I had surgery as a child, so I’m a year behind”, he explained), their conversations got a bit more personal than cats and anime and which funny song to sing next at the local noraebang. Well, at least on Jisung’s side. He started developing a crush on Lee Yongbok, the new student who had transferred from Australia and whom he wanted to befriend as soon as possible since he missed the opportunity to speak in English.
“You know, Felix—ah, that is Yongbokie’s English name, by the way—Felix is really a ray of sunshine. He never complains about anything at school. He befriended all our classmates, all our teachers, even the canteen lady, in less than a month!”
“You mean the cafeteria?” Minho interjected between bites of honey butter chips.
“Yeah, yeah, same thing. Did you know that in Australia they also call the cafeteria canteen? That’s what we called it in Malaysia. Anyway, he’s so kind-hearted I get jealous of him. But he’s nice to me too, and I feel bad for feeling this way. I just wanna be more… like him.” Minho nodded and silently passed him the bag of chips as they continued to watch reruns of Dragon Ball Z.
When he realized his feelings for Yongbok were more complicated, more grown up, and perhaps more romantic in nature, Jisung decided to confide in Minho because, at this point, the older was his closest friend, a good listener, and never judgmental. In retrospect, living his teenage dream came at the expense of Minho’s patience.
“Hyung, you’re in your last year of high school, you must have a crush on someone too.”
“There is no rule saying that a should have one,” Minho pointed out. Jisung knew it was true, but he didn’t want to concede.
“Well, not really, but it’s kind of expected. Look at me: a second-year student already dreaming of the apartment Felix and I will share when we graduate and decide to attend the same university. All the little decorations we’ll buy for our first home together–”
“Are you sure he’ll want to share a space with you? Considering how your room is always a mess and you end up coming up to mine to hang out on my clean bed instead?”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion on my cleanliness.” To be honest, Jisung didn’t mind his messy bedroom, but he had to admit that Minho’s, same layout but emptier and cleaner, made him feel more at ease.
“Sure. Are you going to talk to him though? Yongbok?”
By then, Minho had already met Yongbok at school and he had understood what Jisung meant by saying the kid was way too nice. He had even admitted being smitten with the boy’s charms, but nothing could compare to Jisung’s unhealthy obsession.
“I don’t know,” Jisung confessed.
He had thought about it; well, he had thought about many things. First, that he had a crush on a boy being a boy himself, but Yongbok was Yongbok, and anyone could fall for him (in Jisung’s opinion). The second thing was the practicality of telling Yongbok: would Yongbok be weirded out by a sudden confession? Would he tell everyone about it and embarrass Jisung? But again, Yongbok was Yongbok, there’s no way he would do that. The last thing was, what if Yongbok reciprocated his feelings?
“Hyung, what if he likes me back?”
“I don’t know, you can hang out more together. Go out on dates. Kiss, even.”
“Wow. Do I want to kiss Yongbok?”
He kind of did.
Well, as stated at the beginning of this story, the confession didn’t go well.
Yongbok was, as expected, very polite throughout the entire ordeal, repeatedly explaining himself, not wanting to make Jisung feel any more uncomfortable than what’s natural for a rejection.
“Jisung-ah, I really appreciate the letter and the poem you wrote me, and I really like you as a friend, but… I just arrived in Korea three months ago, I don’t think I’m ready for anything else right now,” he expressed, holding the red envelope with both of his hands as a gesture of gratitude. Or maybe it was just one hand. Tears can blur one’s vision.
Jisung was, as expected, heartbroken, devastated, and inconsolable.
“I told you to cut the frills and just tell him to his face that you liked him.” Minho threw his squid pillow at Jisung from the other side of the room for the younger to hold while he continued to cry on Minho’s bed. His bed pillows were already drenched in tears, and he had been forced to listen to sad heartbreak songs for at least two hours by then.
“Well, for all that’s worth,” Jisung managed to say between sobs, “I don’t think that would have made any difference, and can you please respect my mourning?”
Jisung said nothing for a while, trying to regain his composure, a mission that was made much more difficult by his runny nose and red eyes. Minho was glancing at him with a weird expression on his face, which Jisung supposed might have been a natural aversion to his relentless bawling. They remained in silence until Jisung decided it was a little too late in the night; he needed to go back home before his mom came down to the 8th floor looking for him.
“Thanks, hyung” was all he could articulate before leaving.
That wasn’t the last time he cried about Yongbok in Minho’s bedroom—the scene repeated itself almost every day for a week, and Jisung was surprised at his own ability to produce tears continuously. Seven days into this hell of emotions, Minho was exhausted himself, and maybe he had started to lose it.
“Do you wanna try it, at least?”
“Try what?”
“Kissing. With me.”
Jisung was taken aback by the offer. He had indeed been curious about the act: kissing was one item on his imaginary list of things he wanted to try with Yongbok. Not with Minho.
He hadn’t thought about it, but he wasn’t against the idea either.
♡
“It’s been a year, maybe?”
“You’re telling me you’ve been kissing your best friend and neighbor, Lee Minho-ssi, also known as Minho hyung, when no one’s looking, for a year?”
Jisung counted the months in his head just to make sure. He didn’t remember the exact date, because that would make it too special, but he remembered how warm that afternoon was, how the tears were still drying on his cheeks, how they were both sitting on Minho’s twin bed, how close Minho’s face was to his, how welcoming the other’s mint-scented breath felt, how they didn’t have to explain themselves afterward.
“Yeah? Listen, Jeongin-ah, it’s nothing much. I was upset because of Yongbok, he offered to kiss me so I could know how it felt like, I liked it, I guess he liked it too, and it now just happens occasionally. It’s not like it means anything.”
“Occasionally? I knew you guys were weird, but I wasn’t expecting this.”
Jisung wasn’t offended. “Do you want me to kiss you too?”
“No. Hyung, it’s just…” A very much frustrated Jeongin gesticulated his internal conflict before resorting to words. “I’m sorry, but this is not the first time that I caught you two by accident. I thought you were hiding something from me and that’s why I asked, because you don’t need to hide anything from me, but if you’re telling me the truth… This arrangement doesn’t sound healthy.”
Jisung hated how rational Jeongin could be, even though he was the youngest in his friend group. He didn’t know exactly why he felt like he needed to defend himself, but before he could come up with a reasonable argument, the younger continued:
“You two are always together. You were at school, before Minho hyung graduated; even now that he started going to university, he still hangs out with us boring high schoolers, and I’m sure it’s only because you’re there. You’re even planning on attending the same university as him and—don’t you dare tell me it’s not because of him, because I know you know their music program isn’t the best, and yet you put it as your first option in the list you submitted to the school last week.” (How was Jeongin saying all this without catching a breath?) “Seungmin and I used to joke all the time that you were dating and it was all fun and games until—remember when we were playing Mario Party at Minho hyung’s place? And I went to get drinks?”
Yes, maybe he should have closed the door before claiming a peck from Minho as his winner’s prize, but now it was too late.
“I came back, and I really thought I was seeing things, so I just ignored it. But it happened again, at your place. Then one last time, at my place, and that’s when I decided enough is enough. If you’re kissing in my living room when I’m not there, I might as well ask you directly about it.”
“In my defense, it was a quick and chaste peck kiss, and I would not—I would never!—engage in profane behavior in your residence and slash or in your presence.”
“Hyung, honestly, I don’t care about that.” Jisung knew Jeongin did care, but he appreciated the other’s effort not to show it. “I care about you, and I care about Minho hyung. And something about this doesn’t seem right. You know it’s impossible to read his thoughts, and nowadays we don’t meet as much because he’s very busy, but I think that—I don’t know.” Jeongin looked straight into Jisung’s eyes and continued, “Can you talk to him, please? To make sure that you’re both on the same page? That if this doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything to both of you?”
To be honest, Jisung had no intention to talk to Minho about it, because the last thing he wanted was to disturb the peace and stability of their relationship, something he cared for deeply. A night and a day lost to overthinking, however, was enough to change his plans.
When he met Minho the next afternoon (warm, like the day they first kissed) and sat on Minho’s bed (comfortably, like the day they first kissed) as they laughed together at some silly meme on Minho’s smartphone (standing very close to each other, like the day they first kissed), Jeongin’s words became too loud in Jisung’s head to be ignored. He convinced himself that if he was ever going to talk about this with anyone else, it would be with the person he was most comfortable with—even if said person was one-half of the problem.
So, he asked about the kissing.
“I like it,” Minho replied. He seemed unfazed, almost following a script. Meanwhile, Jisung was drowning in stress-induced sweat.
“I mean, yeah, it’s kinda nice, but… what does it mean?”
“It means I like kissing you.”
“You like kissing me?”
“Yeah, Han Jisung, I like kissing you.”
Jisung examined Minho’s words for a few seconds—he knew Minho wouldn’t engage with something he truly disliked, but this was the first time he’d heard the other admit loud and clear to enjoy their little habits. It was comforting to hear, and he figured honesty goes both ways.
“I guess I like kissing you too.”
“That’s great then.” As if this was an everyday conversation, Minho averted his eyes back to his smartphone and added, “no misunderstandings there.”
“No, but—that’s not my point,” Jisung interjected.
Silence followed as he hadn’t yet figured out a way to express what he wanted to say. Or whatever his point was, period.
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
Of course not. There was nothing about kissing Minho that manifested discomfort—well, besides having his other friend spy on them a couple too many times. On the contrary, he was frequently initiating the act because it felt… Easy? Natural, even?
“No.”
“Do you want it to stop?”
“Also no.”
“Then that’s it. We’re good.”
“No, hyung, listen…” Jisung held Minho’s hands in his to get his full attention. Minho’s smartphone slipped and fell on the bed; his lock screen featured a funny selfie they had taken together at the beach during the New Year holidays. “When Jeongin admitted he saw us, he asked if we were dating. Of course, I said no since we’re just friends, and we’ve never really talked about this. But the more I thought about his question the more I realized how weird this is? I mean, I don’t kiss my other friends. I don’t kiss Jeongin, and even if I wanted to, he would hate the idea. You don’t kiss your other friends… right?”
“No, Detective Han, I don’t kiss the other two friends I have besides you and your circus troupe,” he responded. Minho’s hands were colder to the touch than usual, probably because they were both sweating. It was a warm afternoon after all.
“Then what is this about?”
Jisung saw something flash before his eyes, something like irritation, something like desperation in Minho’s expression.
“I don’t know. You’re sitting on my bed, holding my hands, asking me about kissing. You tell me what this is about.”
“Do you think we are dating?” was what Jisung meant to ask. He was, however, interrupted by Minho blurting out, “I like you, dumbass.”
Wow, ‘dumbass’ was really crossing the line—What?
“Just listen for a second. I like like you, Han Jisung. I figured out you don’t like me back the same way since you wouldn’t shut up about it if you did, and I’m fine with that, but this is getting ridiculous.”
Jisung couldn’t really process what was being said by Minho and what was happening right before his eyes because, suddenly, his chest was boiling: a warmth was so intense it rose to his neck, to his face, to his nose. He could almost see fumes leaving his nostrils like a dragon about to spit fire, but his hands and feet never felt colder. He knew what a crush was supposed to feel like—both the happy and sad feelings that came with it, but this was different: this wasn’t him thinking that he liked someone, this was his body telling him that there was more there than he was willing to acknowledge.
“We should stop.” Minho released his hands from Jisung’s grip and lifted himself from the bed, sitting on the floor instead. “This is all my fault—I should have ended this a while ago, but I was selfish. I was afraid of telling you, and I was afraid of destroying our friendship. I’m sorry.”
“When?” was the only word Jisung could conjure from the cauldron of burning new emotions he found himself in.
“Before my graduation, I guess. We were studying together a lot then, remember? I had to see your ugly face almost 24 hours per day. Gave me a lot to think about.” Minho used his hands to support the weight of his head. “At one point, I had to admit to myself that I liked your kisses for more than what they were. And that was it.”
Jisung could hear a sweet smile in Minho’s voice, but his tone suggested he had given up the fight a long time ago. Meanwhile, Jisung didn’t even realize he was in one.
“Hyung, I—I don’t know what I really want to say, but…”
What he felt for Minho wasn’t anything like what he felt for Yongbok. With Yongbok, it was rational, conscious, and easily vocalized—he knew he liked Yongbok, he talked about it multiple times, and he lamented over a relationship that never really existed. With Minho, there were never words to explain to him what was going on, but somehow the pieces were always falling into place like magic. His unconscious mind must have been playing tricks on him because this—whatever his bodily reactions were revealing to him—couldn’t be just about kissing your best friend to get over a crush who rejected you a year ago.
This wasn’t about the relationship he longed for, the one he romanticized; instead, it was the one he was slowly welcomed into, the one that felt like home to him. The one that had him enchanted.
“I meant it when I said I didn’t want it to stop.”
♡
“And may I ask who was the idiot that confessed first?”
Jeongin was the first to know when they started dating officially. ‘Officially’ is the keyword here, because what Jisung discovered after Minho’s confession and his self-realization was very simple:
He had been dating (and loving) Minho for a very long time.