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The first time Jisung had met Minho, his brain had gone into frantic overdrive trying to process everything at once: why is he so handsome, he’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, if I make eye contact I might die. When Chan had introduced Minho to the group, Seungmin had hidden a laugh behind his hand and struck up a conversation like it was easy while Jisung suffered. The second time—in the practice room later that night—Jisung had pulled himself together enough to not glare like a crazy person, which was a minor improvement.
It was pure luck Chan had found Minho’s old audition video at exactly the right time. The way Minho fit in with the group as well as he did was even luckier, especially for Jisung. Within a week of Minho joining their trainee group, he and Jisung were inseparable. Not that Jisung didn’t love his other friends, but the difference with Minho was startling. He wasn’t sure how he’d made it through life all these years without Minho at his side.
“You sound like a clingy girlfriend,” his brother had teased early that first year of their friendship, before debut, when Jisung hadn’t been able to shut up about a restaurant Minho had taken him to. His brother had laughed at Jisung’s affronted expression. “Are you dating him? You can be honest with hyung, I won’t tell.”
“It’s not like that,” Jisung whined. “He’s just—it’s like I found my soulmate, you know?”
That had only made his brother more skeptical. ”Jisung-ah, you know that’s not a normal thing to say, right?” he’d asked, but he didn’t press the issue after Jisung hung up on him. At the time, Jisung had been annoyed by the insinuation that he couldn’t have a best friend. It had felt like an attack, a criticism of Jisung’s anxiety and his struggles with letting people see his real self.
Four years later, with the benefit of hindsight, Jisung realized his brother’s skepticism had been warranted.
“I think I’m in love with Minho-hyung,” Jisung said to Jeongin, pausing the drama they were in the middle of watching. He couldn’t focus on the romance storyline when it was giving him an existential crisis. “Oh my god, Iyen-ah, I’m in love with Minho.”
They were sprawled out on Jisung’s bed, taking advantage of the giant television screen Jisung sort of regretted buying when they’d moved into the new dorms. Neither of them had slept enough the night before and Jisung had been happy to zone out, right up until the main romance between the female lead and her childhood best friend (who obviously understood her so much better than her asshole coworker) had really taken off.
Jeongin paused with a chip halfway to his mouth to stare at Jisung, his expression shifting rapidly from mild surprise to something like fear. “Uh, hyung, I don’t know if I’m the best—”
“Oh my god,” Jisung repeated, covering his face with his hands. “What am I gonna do?”
He heard Jeongin shift next to him, then felt a hesitant, awkward pat on his shoulder. “I’m really not the best person to ask about this,” he said. “Do you want me to see if Yongbokkie-hyung is around?”
Jisung weighed the pros and cons of telling someone else, but comforting hugs from Felix would definitely help with the mortification of admitting his feelings. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Fifteen minutes later, Felix arrived at the apartment with his hair still damp from a shower and a container of brownies he’d made the night before.
“I had extras,” he said, corralling a despondent Jisung over to the sofa. “Iyennie said you were having a breakdown? So I thought these would help.”
Felix took the top off the container, pushed the brownies into Jisung’s hands, and sat him down on the sofa in the living room, clambering behind him so Felix could wrap his arms around Jisung’s waist. Jisung made a mournful noise but relaxed against him, shoving a brownie into his mouth. Felix hooked his chin over Jisung’s shoulder, humming a song Jisung didn’t recognize. Jisung focused on the melody and the richness of the chocolate until he felt less like he might spontaneously burst into tears. The brownies really did help.
He tripped over his words at first, unsure how to talk about his feelings, but Felix’s soft reassurances made it suddenly easy, the whole story unspooling rapidly until Jisung wasn’t sure there had ever been a time when he didn’t love Minho. Jisung was a doomed crab in slowly boiling water, unaware of the danger until it was suddenly too late.
“Have another brownie,” Felix said when Jisung paused to take a breath. “Also, I don’t think that’s a very nice metaphor. Isn’t falling in love with your best friend a good thing?”
“Is it?” Jisung asked, verging on hysterical. His voice wasn’t usually that high. “Lix, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Hey, it’s okay, that’s normal, Han-ah, relax.” Felix squeezed his arms tighter around Jisung’s middle. “You don’t have to know what you’re doing. You just have to figure out what you want, and then you can figure out what Minho-hyung wants, too.”
Jisung made a strangled noise. He barely knew what he wanted; he certainly didn’t know what Minho wanted. There were a lot of things he knew about Minho that other people didn’t—like the disagreements he had with his parents, or how many hours he spent in vocal practice, terrified of dropping off key at a concert—but so much about Minho was still a mystery. Talking about their feelings, especially anything romantic, had never been a part of their relationship. Jisung was pretty sure Minho hadn’t even been on a date since he’d joined JYPE.
“I just don’t think he’s interested.” Jisung put the half-empty container of brownies on the coffee table and squirmed around to face Felix, who was doing a poor job of hiding his amusement. “I mean, he’s the type of guy to do what he wants, you know? If he wanted to—to do anything like that with me, he would’ve asked.”
Felix hummed, tilting his head back and forth. “You think so?”
Jisung narrowed his eyes. “Do you not think so?”
“I think,” Felix said slowly, moving an arm around Jisung’s shoulders, “that you can’t make assumptions about anyone. You definitely can’t make assumptions about Minho-hyung. The only thing he’s ever honest about is how much he loves his cats.”
“I guess so,” Jisung said, frowning more. “I don’t think he lies to me, though. I mean, I hope not? He’s my best friend.”
Felix rubbed a hand comfortingly across Jisung’s back. “You won’t know unless you ask.”
He knew Felix was right; he also knew there was absolutely no way he’d be able to manage that. When Jisung tried to picture himself confessing to anyone the way people did in dramas, it just made him want to throw up. The thought of doing anything like that with Minho was somehow even worse.
“There has to be another way,” he said miserably. “Come on, Felix, you know I can’t just ask.”
For a second, Felix looked like he might argue the point, but then he sighed. “You really should just talk to Minho-hyung about this,” he said, “but I guess you might be able to get him to make the first move. You could try to find a date. Really make it clear you’re looking for a boyfriend.”
“Okay, no,” Jisung said. “That idea might be even worse than confessing.” He’d never gone on a date period. The thought of just finding some random guy to go out with was the worst of both worlds.
Felix laughed at whatever expression he saw on Jisung’s face and bumped their foreheads together. “I might have one more idea, but I don’t know if you’d be into it.”
Jisung groaned. “Just tell me, so I can decide if this is hopeless and if I have to quit the group and move away from Seoul and change my name and never hang out with any of you ever again.”
Felix rolled his eyes at the dramatics before smiling mischievously. “It’s obvious. Just do something to make hyung jealous.”
Jisung stared at him, blinking stupidly. “Jealous?”
“Yeah, Han-ah. He’s always saying he gets jealous easily, right?” Felix shrugged like this was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe for Felix it was. “So try and make him jealous.”
It was a simple concept, but tricky in execution. Aside from the previously stated issues of never having been on a date and never having a boyfriend of any kind and being terrified at the prospect of confessing any feelings to anyone.
“How am I supposed to do that?” Jisung asked with a huff.
“Easy,” Felix said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I’ll help you.”
It was a good plan, probably. Jisung couldn’t think about it objectively, because it stressed him out too much, but he trusted Felix. If Felix said it would work, he had to believe it, because otherwise there wasn’t any hope and Jisung really would have to run away forever. It was also easy to put into action: all Felix had to do was send Minho a message asking if he could run to the convenience store for them. He sent back some grumpy stickers but didn’t actually say no. Jisung felt like he might vibrate out of his skin with nerves.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jisung asked while they waited what Felix deemed an appropriate amount of time for a convenience store run. “I don’t really have, uh, experience.”
Felix gave him a bright smile and patted his cheek. “Don’t worry. Just think about it as practice for the real thing.”
Jisung flushed at that suggestion, and Felix smiled wider as he checked his phone. “Probably five minutes or so until he gets here. You ready?”
“Uh,” Jisung said, because he absolutely wasn’t, but Felix was shifting in place to face him, and Jisung couldn’t back out now. Besides, it was just Felix. He wasn’t intimidating at all. “Yeah. Go for it.”
Carefully, still smiling, Felix tipped Jisung’s face up with a knuckle beneath his chin before leaning forward to kiss him. It wasn’t—sexy, exactly, because Jisung really wasn’t interested in Felix like that, but it was still nice when Felix angled Jisung’s face to the side, pressing their lips together a little harder. His other hand was at the side of Jisung’s neck, warm and gentle, an anchoring touch.
“Okay?” Felix asked, close enough for Jisung to feel Felix’s breath on his face. When Jisung nodded, Felix leaned in and kissed him again.
At first, Jisung couldn’t stop himself from overthinking it, analyzing every movement, every shift of Felix’s mouth against his own. Then Felix squeezed his neck and mumbled, “Stop thinking so much,” and Jisung shuddered, focusing on Felix’s warmth instead. It was nice, he decided, a much better kiss than his previous experiences, comfortable in the way their skinship always was. Jisung had only kissed two people before this: a girl in his last year of middle school, which was miserable for everyone involved, and Jeongin in one of the vocal practice rooms, back when he’d first started wondering if kissing boys might be better.
Kissing Jeongin had been better than his first kiss, but that wasn’t a high bar to clear. He’d had braces still, which wasn’t very pleasant, and he’d looked ready to throw up after, which was rude. But later, Jisung had thought about feeling of Jeongin’s shoulders under his hands and the way Jeongin had grabbed his waist after flailing uselessly for a second. Those things had been nice, and when he’d imagined kissing one of his favorite actors, Jisung had known for sure that kissing guys was way better.
Kissing Felix was another new experience. It was better than both of his previous attempts, but it still wasn’t what Jisung wanted. He thought about kissing Minho—about Minho kissing him—and shivered. He wanted to know what Minho would do. Would he be slow and careful like Felix? Or would he be just as demanding as when he pushed Jisung around in the practice room, or when he pulled Jisung back against his chest while they watched movies?
The thought of that made him gasp, hands tightening in the fabric of Felix’s shirt. Felix laughed softly into his mouth.
“Whatever you’re thinking about,” Felix mumbled, “keep thinking about it.”
Heat rushed to Jisung’s face, but he listened, imagining all the ways kissing Minho might be different—the way it would feel to be the center of Minho’s focus, always so intense. He wanted that. The desperation in his veins was enough to draw out a soft whine when Felix coaxed him into opening his mouth. Felix seemed to take that as permission, nudging Jisung back until he was lying down on the sofa with Felix above him, one hand on his jaw while the other moved down to his hip. Jisung couldn’t help cataloging all the differences between Felix and Minho, all the things he knew after years of friendship: the width of Minho’s shoulders, the strength in his thighs, the texture of his hair, always soft no matter how often the stylists dyed it. He could pretend, but only so much; he could enjoy the fact that Felix obviously knew what he was doing and still wish Felix was someone else.
It felt good, though. Good enough that he didn’t hear the beeping of the keypad, or the door opening and closing, or the sound of someone taking their shoes off. He didn’t hear anything at all until—
There was a heavy thump as something hit the ground in a rustle of plastic, followed by a shocked, strangled noise. Felix pulled away, and when Jisung opened his eyes, Felix was flushed pink, looking over in the direction of the entryway.
“Oh, hey, Minho-hyung,” Felix said, like any of this was normal. He clambered off of Jisung and smiled brightly. “You dropped the snacks.”
Jisung scrambled to sit upright, peering over the back of the sofa just in time to see Minho spin around and vanish back into the entryway. A second later the door slammed shut. Jisung and Felix both flinched.
“Oh my god,” he said quietly. Were his hands shaking or was his vision just getting blurry? “Ohhh my god.”
“Han-ah,” Felix said, placing a careful hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure it’s fine. He’s your best friend. It’ll be fine.”
Jisung shook his head. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have—done anything, or said anything, oh my god—”
“What? No.” Felix tightened his hold on Jisung’s shoulder. “It was my idea anyway. I can explain—”
“I need to go? I should go find him.” Jisung shrugged off Felix’s hand as he stood up, but Felix lunged forward to grab him around the waist.
“Maybe let him calm down a bit!” Felix said. He tried to keep Jisung from moving any further by going dead weight, but honestly, Felix didn’t weigh much. Jisung took a couple steps and dragged Felix along the sofa. “Or let me talk to him first! Han-ah—”
The door beeped again and they both froze, with Felix halfway off the sofa, clinging like a koala to Jisung’s waist. They looked at each other, eyes wide, as someone stomped through the entryway, shoes hitting the wall, then looked back in that direction just in time for Minho to reappear. His hair was a ruffled mess, his face red, and he was slightly out of breath, like he’d run back up the stairs to the dorm. Maybe he had.
“Did you do that on purpose?” Minho asked, staring at Jisung as if Felix wasn’t even there. “Did you want me to see?”
Without thinking, Jisung said, “It was Yongbok’s idea!”
His voice was louder than he’d meant it to be, and he winced. Felix slid off the sofa and let go of his waist, looking back and forth between Jisung and Minho.
“I just, you know, thought it might help move things along,” Felix said, wringing his hands together. “You get so jealous when any of us touch Hannie anyway—”
Jisung stared at him. “Wait, he does?”
“Yongbok,” Minho said, low and a little dangerous.
“Okay! I’m leaving!” Felix scuttled around the sofa, grabbing a bag of chips from the plastic bag Minho had abandoned on the floor. Jisung hadn’t even remembered it was there. “I’m going now!”
Neither of them watched Felix as he left. The door closed quietly behind him, barely breaking the silence that had settled over the apartment. Jisung felt like a butterfly pinned in a frame, stuck in place by Minho’s gaze alone. He couldn’t run away even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. Not if Felix was right.
“Jisung-ah—” Minho started to say something more, but he cut himself off, hesitant.
“Do you—” Jisung cleared his throat when his words came out scratchy and strained. “Do you really get that jealous?”
For a second, Minho didn’t say anything. Then he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unable to make eye contact. “I mean. Yeah.” He shrugged, just one shoulder. “I’m not—subtle.”
“Oh.” Jisung was pretty sure this was what people called an out of body experience. He heard himself saying words, but it was like someone else was controlling his body. Someone much braver than Jisung had ever been. “So you’re jealous right now? Because I wanted it to be you.”
Immediately, Minho’s head whipped up to stare at Jisung again, mouth falling open in surprise. He blinked rapidly, the way he always did when he was confused, before his expression began to clear into a helpless smile. Jisung laughed a little and wondered if his heart would burst out of his chest.
“Of course I wanted it to be you, hyung,” he said again, putting his hands against his flushed cheeks. “That was the whole point.”
Somehow it was still startling when Minho moved, suddenly standing in front of Jisung. He wrapped his hands around Jisung’s wrists, pulling them down and away from his face, thumbs rubbing softly across his skin.
“Good,” Minho said, leaning forward. “You should only kiss me.”
Kissing Minho, Jisung thought, was kind of like having a first kiss all over again. He felt it along every nerve, an explosion of sensation that made him whimper softly and sway closer to Minho. As if that was the signal Minho had been waiting for, he tugged Jisung forward, dropping one of his wrists to wrap his arm around Jisung’s waist. It was all Jisung could do to follow Minho’s lead: where Felix was careful and gentle, Minho seemed to know exactly what Jisung wanted and exactly what he could take. He adjusted his technique with every tiny reaction he pulled from Jisung, every twitch of his body, every gasp lost to Minho’s mouth.
Of course Minho could read every signal Jisung gave him. They fit together in every other way; it was hardly a surprise they fit here too. All of Jisung’s worries vanished from his mind, leaving only the feeling of Minho’s tongue sweeping against his own, the feeling of Minho’s teeth scraping teasingly at his lower lip, his hand firm against Jisung’s lower back.
Minho squeezed his wrist as he pulled back, and the pressure—the promise—nearly had Jisung’s knees giving out. If he fell over while kissing Minho for the first time he would never live it down. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying not to think about the way Minho was supporting so much of his weight or the breadth of Minho’s shoulders beneath his palm. Those things would just distract him. When Jisung blinked his eyes open, he found Minho just watching him, eyes half-lidded: the fondness in his expression wasn’t new, but it was suddenly clear just how much meaning Jisung had missed all these years.
“Sorry about kissing Felix,” Jisung said, pushing past his embarrassment. “It was a stupid idea.”
Minho hummed, tilting his head to the side before leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. “It did work,” he said, one side of his mouth quirking up in a wry smile. “I guess I can forgive you.”
Jisung smiled, then laughed, draping his arms over Minho’s shoulders. “If it worked,” he said, “does that mean you’ll kiss me again?”
“Probably,” Minho said, raising an eyebrow.
“Like, every day?” Jisung tilted his head so their noses pressed together, which made Minho cross his eyes. It made him look stupid and adorable. “Like a boyfriend?”
Minho hummed again, pretending to think about it, and Jisung kicked him gently in the shin. “Yah! Han Jisung!” He pinched Jisung in the side, but he was laughing, too. “Fine, yes, like a boyfriend. I’ll kiss you whenever you want.” He paused, then said in a softer voice, “Just don’t kiss Yongbokkie anymore, okay?”
Jisung pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Minho’s mouth, still smiling, unable to stop. He didn’t think he’d stop smiling for a long time. Not as long as Minho was by his side. “It’s a deal.”