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The first time it happened Jisung didn’t know what to do with himself. One second he was going to bed exhausted and the next his hand was being held by the prettiest man to have ever existed. It hadn’t felt like a dream but upon waking up he had to come to terms with the fact that it had been.
This stranger tugging him along empty streets under the pretence of looking for a taxi, when in fact he had been trying to get both of them to sober up before they made it to his apartment. The moon shining brightly in the sky, lightning every inch of their way. The cat he had almost tripped with inside this man’s apartment. Somehow it had all been a dream despite feeling so real.
The: “you never told me your name,” whispered against his lips when Jisung’s back was already flush against the mattress and his mind was halfway to losing itself . The way Jisung’s name rolled off the stranger’s tongue and how he’d tried to say Minho as often as he could throughout the entire night because it suddenly became the most important piece of information he had ever received.
Warm hands across his skin and tangled through his hair, lips curled up in a soft smile so unfitting. A warm mouth pressed against Jisung’s temple and giggles that he’d always remember the sound of. Pliant limbs under Jisung’s touch, eyes desperate and glued to his figure. The stars in the night sky, Minho’s thin curtain that let in enough light for only half of the latter’s face to be cast in shadow.
The sparks that bursted on his chest and the blankness that filled his sight. The having someone pressed so impossibly close to him and being asked to stay the night. Whispered promises of pancakes in the morning and introductions to two more cats that would rock his world as if Minho hadn't already done that in the mere hours they had of knowing each other. The arm around Jisung’s waist and the kisses pressed against the nape of his neck.
More importantly, the “let me take you on a date,” that had filled Jisung’s chest with warmth. Because it wouldn’t happen; after all, it had all been a dream. Jisung woke up the next morning on his own bed and his own apartment, tried to remember the streets they had walked the night before and realised he didn’t even know where they had been.
Easy enough, just one dream he’d forget soon. It was all just a made up face and a common name that his mind had supplied in order to keep his fanciful dream going, all just an illusion no matter how real it had felt.
The second time it happens it’s different, maybe a bit too different. There’s a sound that startles Jisung awake and when he opens his eyes he has no idea where he could be; everything is too dark but even then he can distinguish the debris all around him, the worn sheet acting as the only barrier between his body and the floor, and the person next to him.
Whoever this person is, they look more like a shadow than they do a human; they place a hand atop Jisung’s thigh and even though he has no absolute idea what could possibly be happening he can’t bring himself to freak out. Instead he stays still and says nothing because he thinks that’s what this person wants him to do.
It’s close to dawn, judging by the humid smell lingering on the air and the way his body feels heavy and unwilling to move. The stranger stands up and expertly walks dodging all the crap littered around the floor, he reaches what appears to be a window, lifts the corner of a piece of fabric that had been covering it and sighs in relief before turning around to face Jisung’s direction. “False alarm,” he says.
“Minho,” Jisung puffs out incredulously. Now that there’s more light inside the place he can see Minho’s sculpted features almost completely clearly—he can also see they’re inside what appears to be an abandoned convenience store that’s equally as empty as it is dirty.
“Let’s pack before the sun rises entirely,” Minho says, walking up to where Jisung is still sitting on the floor and reaching out a hand to help him up. Jisung helps Minho in silence, too scared and confused to inquire about what’s going on. Soon they pack everything they seem to have into two backpacks and exit the store through the glassless window from before.
Their silence is only interrupted when Jisung asks: “where to?” And Minho answers by pointing ahead. “We keep going north, go find our friends,” he then adds.
Afterwards they just walk, kilometres with no end through a completely empty city. Jisung has many questions, like, what’s going on? Who are these friends Minho talks about? Whether he’s still asleep and if Minho will keep appearing in his dreams from now on. But he asks none of them; Minho doesn't seem willing to strike a conversation with him at the moment and he won’t push for one.
Everything is strangely peaceful until a sound loud enough for Jisung to feel it reverberate through the ground stops them in their tracks. Somehow the city grows even more silent than before only for a couple of seconds until a deafening chorus of groans and guttural sounds fills all of Jisung’s senses.
“Fuckers,” Minho curses under his breath. Then Jisung is being pushed towards some random building whose entrance door falls apart too easily against the combined force of their bodies slamming against it.
Stairs after stairs, the noises progressively get louder and the floor never stops shaking under their feet. They make it to the rooftop of the building in what feels like seconds but could’ve been hours, and the first thing Minho does is close the door shut, look around in panic and push himself against the door.
“It’s just our luck. There’s nothing up here to block the door with.” Minho says loudly in order to make his voice heard over the havoc.
“What’s going on?” Jisung finally questions.
“Jisungie,” Minho says in such a fond yet urgent way that something in Jisung’s stomach twists. There’s a thud coming from the other side of the door and suddenly Minho turns around to face Jisung and press his whole weight against the door. “I love you, I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you in high school,” Minho blurts, ignoring the way his body rocks forward along with the door with every new thud.
Jisung hadn’t gone to high school with Minho, at least not this Jisung who this Minho was gathering all of his courage to confess to. He didn’t even really know Minho that much, but there was this feeling on his chest that made him certain that whatever Jisung had seen Minho across the school hallway and managed to make the latter fall in love with him loved him too. And Minho deserved to know.
An especially loud thud makes Minho lose his balance and fall to the floor, Jisung runs to take his position against the door and gives him enough time to stand back on his feet and get back to where he was against the door, this time with his arm pressed closely to Jisung´s.
“I’ve always been in love with you too,” Jisung says, so that Minho knows, just in case something happens. And then he wakes up.
By the third time he’s resigned himself to simply go along with it; in his mind things can’t get more strange than last time. That is until he opens his eyes and the world is upside down.
Okay, it’s more along the lines of: Jisung is the one upside down. He’s laying down in a bed with his head hanging from the edge. There’s a stunningly pretty girl beside him mirroring his position and if he knew no better he’d say she looked a lot like Minho.
“Your face looks all red now,” the girl says before breaking out into way too amused laughter.
Jisung thinks that’s rich coming from the girl whose ears are so red they might burst. “Look who’s saying that,” he complains, playfully hitting the girl in the arm, and he’s pretty sure the voice that came out of his own mouth isn’t his.
He sits up in a rush, feels the whole world spin around him before he gets a chance to look down on himself and oh —he’s a girl now, apparently.
The girl who Jisung now supposes is Minho but as a girl—much like he is—sits up too, more carefully than Jisung and places a hand atop Jisung’s very much naked thigh. “Are you okay?” she asks; if only Jisung’s mind wasn’t reeling from the touch she’d answer.
Minho—if Jisung can even call her that—coos at her before teasingly asking, “What? Did all the blood drain out of your brain?”
“Fuck you,” Jisung answers her before pushing her on the shoulder and making the other girl fall back on the mattress.
“That’s how you want to play?” Minho asks with a challenging raised brow and suddenly they’re a mess of squeals and limbs, pulling and tickling.
Jisung ends up straddling Minho after she screams in surrender. Minho’s hands travel all the way from her knees to her thighs and even to the sides of her torso under Jisung’s shirt. It’s not too odd to have her looking up at Jisung in awe, not too uncomfortable either. Yes, the situation is a bit weird but not too weird; he—she’d take it.
“Will you come spend the winter holidays with me too?” The girl under her suddenly asks and Jisung finds herself agreeing immediately; he’s sure female Jisung would be happy to agree to it too and if this was only a dream then it wouldn’t hurt to make Minho happy, right?
Minho who smiled impossibly widely and adjusted her positions a bit so she could sit up and kiss Jisung right in the mouth like she was foolishly infatuated with her. Minho who pressed closer to Jisung and held her by the waist like the last thing she’d ever think of doing would be letting go.
After the third time Jisung starts to lose count but he realises all the Minho’s in his dreams seem to be the same Minho, just in different contexts. Always sweet and caring, effortlessly funny and responsible, passionate and dedicated; sometimes in space or as a chef, with long hair or traditional clothes but still Minho in the end.
Here Minho has purple hair and looks incredibly good with it. Jisung stares at him from the mirror as some strangers do his makeup and all through the interview in which he’s seated with other seven dudes and asked too many questions about a song “he wrote” called Maniac .
Jisung’s only relief, beside Minho, is that he doesn’t get asked to dance to the choreography of said song like that guy Hyunjin had been.
Somehow he manages to avoid spending too much time with anyone that isn’t Minho after one of the other men, called Chan, takes one look at his slightly uncomfortable expression and asks everyone to give Jisung some space. He thinks that is rather nice of him so Jisung makes sure to thank him and the proud smile on Chan’s face tells him he did the right thing.
Here Minho has purple hair and sits at the back of the car holding Jisung’s hand, he asks: “want to sleep over at my dorm?” and Jisung nods almost immediately, because another thing he’s understood about these dreams is that he doesn’t know what to do with himself when he isn’t with Minho in them.
Minho’s “dorm” turns out to be a four bedroom apartment that though modest Jisung wouldn’t be able to afford paying for not even in a million years. He doesn’t get to look at it with much pause because Minho is fast in taking him to his room, closing the door and enveloping him in a hug.
“You okay?” Minho asks and Jisung can’t help but laugh; for some reason every Minho he’s ever dreamt of is always asking him this question, always worrying and fussing about him—not that Jisung doesn’t like it, he actually likes it a bit too much.
“Of course,” Jisung answers before gripping Minho by the shoulders and pushing him back a little so he can look at him, at the mole on the tip of his nose, his pink lips, the texture of his skin, his purple hair.
“You’ve been staring at me all day.” The tone of Minho’s voice is teasing but his smile looks almost shy.
“Can you blame me? The purple hair looks really good on you, plus, you’re the hottest man on the face of earth.”
“I swear you’ve been saying that since before we began dating .” Minho rolls his eyes but his ears turn red. It’s almost fascinating how Jisung already knows him so well despite not knowing him at all.
“It doesn’t make it any less true,” Jisung quickly answers before kissing him just like he had wanted to since he first saw him that day. He had learnt the hard way that he couldn’t just kiss Minho whenever he wanted after having freaked out a very sleepy Minho on another one of his dreams, so he now looked for little tells here and there—and Minho had just said they were dating.
Naturally, almost instinctively, Minho grips him by the back of his neck and kisses him harder, with a fervour that reminds Jisung of the very first time he dreamt of Minho. It’s intoxicating and strangely familiar; it’s the way kissing should feel all the time but in fact only feels like with Minho.
Jisung bites down on Minho’s lip and the latter’s mouth parts open with a sweet whine that sends shivers down Jisung’s spine. Slipping his tongue into Minho’s mouth feels like coming home.
And suddenly Minho pushes him away and Jisung is the one whining. “Stop that,” Minho says. “I want to get dinner first.”
“I can be your dinner,” Jisung suggests, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.
“Han Jisung” Minho tells him in a warning tone but then he giggles and Jisung knows he just gave in, because Minho always gives in when it comes to him.
Engineer Kim Seungmin was adjusting the last details of his suit because, just as Jisung had been reminded more than five times already, the environment he and his exploring partner were about to venture into was highly toxic and hostile—one breath of the contaminated air and they could kiss their lives goodbye.
Despite this, Minho seemed to be vibrating in pure joy on the other side of the room, trying his hardest to stay as still as possible while someone fixed his suit. “We’re finally doing it,” Minho kept incredulously saying out loud at random moments during their preparation and Jisung couldn’t help but imagine a much younger and adorable Minho living in this skyless city and always dreaming of going to the surface to see the world with his own eyes.
“There’s going to be grass, Han. We might even get to see the sun.” Minho’s eyes were sparkling, in them Jisung saw something more beautiful than he could see going to the surface. It was mesmerising, Minho’s fascination and excitement.
Jisung wanted to tell this Minho about the grass and flowers from where he came from, how the sky turned slightly pink when the sun was setting and how it was a fiery orange when it came out at the beginning of a new day. But he wasn’t supposed to know about those things and Minho was already minutes away from possibly getting to see all of that with his own eyes anyway.
They were taken to the middle of the base where an impossibly tall ladder awaited them. Jisung supposed this was one of the reasons why they had to train so much in order to go to the surface.
Minho looks in his direction one last time, his face now completely serious, and then confidently walks up to the ladder and starts climbing. Jisung follows him, because in this and every other universe Jisung would follow him anywhere.
Hours seem to pass before they reach the end, Jisung’s arms are almost giving up on him by the point in which Minho opens a hatch and the mainly obscure tunnel of the ladder gets flooded with light. Jisung squints his eyes and when he opens them again Minho is already outside, looking down at him and reaching a hand to help him up.
The sight when he’s finally out and on his feet leaves him speechless. He was a fool to think that his description of a sunset could ever satisfy Minho when what he had been dreaming of seeing all his life was this.
In the sky there were, not one, but three moons orbiting so close to the planet that they appeared enormous in front of their eyes. Every star in the dark expanse around them could be clearly seen and shone upon the vast green under Jisung’s feet that seemed to keep going and going with no end.
It took him a while to manage to look away and instead look at Minho whose eyes had never been more wide and filled with wonder. Jisung fell in love with the sight of him not for the first time.
“How is it?” he finds himself asking dumbly, just to make Minho’s shining eyes look in his direction for at least a second.
“It’s everything I ever imagined and more,” Minho says, looking at Jisung while reaching to take his protective mask off. Jisung has half the mind to try to stop him but he reasons that Minho knows what he’s doing.
Minho’s mask drops to the ground before he takes a deep inhale of fresh air and laughs out loud. “Han, I was right!” Minho is jumping towards Jisung to get his mask off before he even finishes the sentence. “The air is breathable!”
Jisung suspects this means something huge, if Minho’s trembling hands are anything to go by. He wonders how long had Minho been dreaming of this, theorising against everything he’d learnt about the outside world, hoping all of this could be something for him to keep.
Jisung takes a deep breath and it feels astoundingly refreshing, the smell of damp and untouched soil fills his nostrils. He wonders about what comes next; instead of worrying Jisung reaches to hold Minho’s hand, he squeezes it under the pretence of wanting to calm Minho when instead he’s just trying to wrap his head around the situation.
“We can’t go back down now, can we?” Minho asks with a hint of worry; Jisung reasons it’d be strange if a person didn’t feel overwhelmed by the sudden possibilities in front of them.
Instead of answering Jisung squeezes his hand once again, a silent I’m here , I’m scared too.
Sometimes they're just Jisung and Minho, existing somewhere that looks awfully similar to Jisung’s apartment but with yellow curtains instead. Those are perhaps the worst dreams of all because the things they have there feel like they could actually belong to him; in those dreams he feels like Jisung and not only a Jisung.
They wake up beside each other and kiss even with their morning breath because all they can care about is to be as close as physically possible; and they always look at the other with that look in their eyes. They’re always in the process of falling in love and Jisung gets to miss it.
It feels like the thousandth time it has happened; he doesn’t think he could ever get tired of Minho but he is getting tired of feeling lost. Jisung opens his eyes and is so used to not knowing where he is that the sight of his own room shocks him into letting a sob out, and once he lets it reverberate through his chest with freedom there’s no stopping the ones that come next.
There’s shuffling coming from behind him; the last thing he wants right now is Minho. Jisung presses his eyes shut and his fist against his mouth in an attempt to stay quiet, but it’s too late, a pair of arms bring him closer to a warm body until his back is pressed against a firm chest. Perhaps for the first time Jisung doesn’t want to be there, doesn’t want to be in Minho’s embrace.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Minho asks softly, breath hitting the back of his neck. The term of endearment only makes things worse, because Jisung loves it just like he loves Minho and he can’t have any of it once he wakes up.
Everything , Jisung wants to answer but he doesn’t feel like he can; if there’s a chance that this is somehow real, that Minho and Jisung get to be together everywhere but in his own universe then Jisung doesn’t want to ruin it for them. So he’s always careful, always alert, always faking on behalf of all the other Jisungs that exist.
More than anything he just craves having this to himself, to have it be actually his.
He doesn’t push Minho away because even though he’s half the reason why Jisung is crying, he's also his biggest source of comfort. He’d take suffering next to Minho for an eternity over having to suffer on his own.
His eyes are closed and Minho is far away enough for them to not be touching anywhere and yet Jisung can feel him, he knows Minho’s looking at him and the exact look he has in his eyes.
He has no idea how they got there and yet all of their tumultuous past weighs down heavily in his chest; he knows about the mistakes they’ve both made.
Jisung reaches blindly to lay his open palm in the middle of the bed and waits very little before Minho presses his hand against his, metal cold band pressing against the middle of Jisung’s palm.
They both know about their wrongdoings.
The reason why Jisung refuses to open his eyes is because he can’t bear looking at the grey hairs in Minho’s head or the barely there wrinkles beside his eyes, it’s because he’s not strong enough to take in the sight of a Minho who isn’t even remotely his.
He presses his eyes tighter before gripping Minho’s wrist and bringing his hand close to his mouth. “What are they like?” Jisung asks softly against his skin, hoping that Minho won’t hear him.
But the thing about every Minho he’s ever met is that they always hear him, always feel him coming even before he can step inside a room. “They’re really smart,” Minho begins and then seems to hesitate before continuing, “determined, responsible. The most hardworking person I’ve ever met.”
“What am I like?” And Jisung’s lips ask the question against the coldness of Minho’s ring.
“You’re passionate and sweet.” There’s rustling and Minho’s warmth seeks Jisung in their newfound closeness. “You’re beautiful, funny, comfortable. A dream come true.”
Jisung knows about the mistakes they’ve both made and the reasons why; he can’t say he wouldn’t have made the same mistakes if given the choice.
“What about me, Jisung?”
He finally opens his eyes to stare at Minho’s impossibly hopeful ones. Jisung has a million answers at the tip of his tongue but only one feels appropriate. “You’re…everything,” Jisung says, forehead pressed to Minho’s and ring pressed against his beating heart.
In the darkness and emptiness of the night Jisung can hear his own steps clearly. One after the other: tap, tap. His heartbeat feels as if paused, his body would as if floating if not for the floor resonating with his footsteps.
There is something missing—a destination, a purpose. The hallway stretched out before him seems to go on forever.
He wonders if he should be coming or going, running or taking hesitant steps, looking for something specific. There’s a constant urge for answers inside of him; tonight it’s grown so big that there’s barely any space left inside him for anything else.
There has to be a right way, he knows that, but tonight he could be walking on the ceiling and not notice the difference. The large windows could be doors, the darkness could be dawn, he might not even be walking at all.
All his other dreams were easy, all the other Jisungs laid cracked open before him to prod and figure out, all the other Minhos were within reach. This time he only has the hallway; he walks and does not get anywhere.
He walks—the sudden sense of finality hits him before he can make sense of it; his hand is twisting a knob before his fingers recognise the object they’re holding.
Then there’s Minho, because he had to be, at some point he had to. He’s sitting on a chair, hands falling limply by his sides, in his face there’s a defeat Jisung had never witnessed in him before.
Moonlight is filtering through somewhere, it hits Minho’s nose and the tears trying to recreate the defined slope of it down his cheeks. The sheets of paper sprawled around the floor don’t make sense until Jisung starts to read in them some kind of music.
It’s silent and the silence is heavy; Jisung feels suffocated under the same pressure that seems to have stolen something important from Minho. In the room there’s two broken hearts; Jisung doesn’t doesn’t know why his aches but the sudden tremor of Minho’s fingers give away the reason behind his.
“You shouldn’t be here,” fills the room; it must’ve come from Minho but Jisung hadn’t seen his mouth move at all.
“Let me help you,” Jisung answers immediately. His body and mind is less his in this dream than it had been in any other.
Minho’s soul comes back to his body as soon as he registers Jisung’s words; he’s suddenly on his feet and he is furious. “I would rather rot in here than accept help from you.”
His words hurt, right in the middle of Jisung’s chest where it feels like his breath gets stuck. This is the reason behind his ache.
“I just want you to be happy, Minho.” It feels like Jisung has to fight his own mouth to say this; as soon as the words come they taste false on a tongue Jisung refuses to call his own.
“You should’ve thought about that before you came here with all your flashy years of experience and stupid talent. Way before you took all my chances away from me.” Minho’s hands touch him only for a second when the latter pushes at him, pushes him away; Minho’s touch has never felt this indifferent and cold.
Suddenly he’s walking and the hallway seems to go on forever. He doesn’t know if he’s coming or going, doesn’t know what to do with himself when there’s no Minho willing to let him stand beside him.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately,” Minho suddenly blurts out; Jisung hums softly to show him he’s listening. There’s cold metal under their backs and a dry breeze ruffling their hair, they’re somewhere but Jisung doesn’t know where.
“There are some things that are meant to happen. Some blows we’re meant to take because life isn’t always about the good stuff.” Suddenly Minho sits up, leaning back on his elbows to look at Jisung from above. Jisung doesn’t want to think about the spaceship they’re laying down on top of, doesn’t want to question why the night sky looks ablaze with its orange colour, not when Minho is talking about things that are meant to be.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is…” He looks away from Jisung and throws his head back with a nervous laugh. “There are places you’re meant to be at and people you’re meant to stick with, you know?” Jisung wishes he could see his face as he says that but Minho is too busy staring at the lights in the sky that are more people—perhaps some of them having a similar conversation to theirs.
Jisung nods before whispering his agreement only loud enough for Minho to hear him. He gets it, truly gets it; these dreams are the place he’s meant to be at and Minho is the person he’s meant to stick with, his person.
“You- I- Here,” Minho stammers and Jisung can’t help but laugh softly; he gets it, he always gets it when it’s Minho. “Right now,” Minho says and it feels like the end of the conversation until he adds under his breath, almost like an afterthought only for himself, “I think I like you too much.”
There’s a long pause afterwards and then Minho is laying back down against the ship. “Are you seriously not going to say anything?”
And Jisung doesn’t know how to explain he doesn’t feel like he can, that he isn’t and doesn’t feel like the person that made Minho feel that way in the first place, that he feels like this is where he belongs but knows better than to actually believe it.
“What do you want me to say?” Jisung answers instead of admitting the thoughts running through his head. “I always knew you found me irresistible.”
Minho hits him in the arm with a scoff but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t deny it or try to change the topic. He hits him in the arm and leaves his hand there, warm and heavy against Jisung’s skin. They stay watching the other ships in the sky and Jisung wonders about the possibility of there being another them somewhere up there.
Come find me, his own text reads. Jisung wonders if Minho knows where he is or if he’s raking through his head for possibilities in order not to question him further because that would somehow mess up their mutual understanding of always just getting each other.
The former makes more sense; he doesn’t really think Minho would risk not running his way immediately over a single inquiring text. Jisung doesn’t think Minho would risk him and he doesn’t even know what to expect of the Minho that’s surely on his way.
Well, he does and he doesn’t. He knows Minho’s hair is light brown here and that he’s a better texter than Jisung, he knows they went out for dinner a couple of days ago or at least planned for it. He doesn't know what Minho is majoring in but he knows his schedule seems to be full of classes these days, doesn’t know what Minho had told him on the call he asked Jisung to take more than a week ago.
He only has some pieces of a puzzle, a chat history and a gallery full of photos of him but no real answers.
Jisung doesn’t know where he is, he just knows it looks like a college. He doesn’t know if he has someone else here to text for help who’ll actually find him without the need for directions. Doesn’t dare guess the name of the cats Minho keeps mentioning over text. Does not want to get his hopes high in case nobody actually comes to find him.
Maybe Minho is mad at him and that’s why he didn’t answer his message; that doesn’t make much sense because they seemed to be texting just fine hours before. But that’s the thing, Jisung doesn’t know and there’s only so much he can figure out about his life through their messages.
He isn’t completely sure what Minho not answering to the I love you Jisung sent him yesterday means, doesn’t know what the fact they continued to talk like nothing happened after a couple hours could mean.
He’s frustrated, confused, and lost. He’s completely alone, it’s two in the morning, his text was read.
Suddenly there’s a figure approaching the building Jisung had exited in a daze minutes before and he doesn’t just know that it’s Minho, he recognises it on the sound of his footsteps and the way his body moves as he walks.
“Minho,” Jisung throws out into the silence and Minho’s body immediately reacts; he doesn’t look lost, not even for a second as he turns around and starts walking in Jisung’s direction instead.
“Thought you’d be inside,” Minho says and Jisung knows he should’ve guessed the sound of his voice would be the same as always but it somehow takes him by surprise, fills his eyes with tears.
“How did you know I was here?”
Minho doesn’t answer and it probably has something to do with the fact that the questions Jisung asked just now is the stupidest one he’s ever made in his life. Of course Minho knows, how could he not? Instead he supplies an: “I thought you were angry with me.”
“Why would I be?” Minho quirks his eyebrow in that silent way that tells him he doesn’t believe him. But Jisung means it, even if this is about the unanswered I love you ; because how could he ever be anything but happy about loving Minho?
“Look,” Minho begins and suddenly he’s crouching in order to stop a sitting Jisung from having to look up at him; instead Minho is the one who now has to look up at him—that somehow says a lot about their relationship. “I’m sorry for not saying it back but-”
“Stop.” It’s all that has to escape Jisung’s mouth for Minho to stay quiet and look at him; that says a lot too. “I don’t care about that– I mean, I do care but it’s okay.”
“It’s just not the time for me yet.”
“I know.” I think understood it as soon as I saw the messages, Jisung thinks but doesn’t say. “And it’s okay.”
The first thing that catches his attention is how silent it is despite all the people around them, the second thing is Minho wearing a tux and standing in front of him at what looks like a makeshift altar.
If this is an actual wedding— their wedding, Jisung feels sick to his stomach at the prospect of this Minho’s Jisung missing out on the whole thing.
Jisung can’t look anywhere else but at Minho whose stare doesn’t stray far from his face either. They stand there for what feels like forever until suddenly Minho starts moving his hands in movements that look too practised to be arbitrary. For a moment Jisung is confused until he looks around for a second and catches what should be many sources of noise moving and existing silently.
Since it had started it has almost felt like he had been underwater, unable to hear a single thing, and that was because this Jisung most likely couldn't. And Minho was signing things for him.
He tried to stay mindful of all Minho’s movements and cues during the ceremony and only grew to respect this Jisung because it wasn’t easy. Definitely not easy at all to watch Minho mouth an I do while not getting to know how he was supposed to sound or saying it himself while not being sure if he had been heard.
But then came an easy part when Minho broke out into the biggest and most satisfied smile he had ever seen and leaned towards Jisung to kiss him. Jisung had kissed him so many times he’d lost count by now, but it had never been like this, never so full of carefully built love, never so not new and yet mind-blowing as having Minho press all of his raw affection against his mouth.
When they parted Jisung couldn’t help but call for his husband. “Minho. Minho,” Jisung kept saying, feeling his own voice but not hearing it, asking for Minho to look at him even when the latter had yet to look away.
Minho cradles his face with one hand and says something with the other; what shocks Jisung the most isn’t what he says, it’s that he would understand those words coming from Minho in every other language and in any other universe.
“I love you too. I love you so much,” Jisung answers and he means it.
Jisung is making an effort to make out what Seungmin is saying through the loud music of the club, something about leaving already and looking for the rest of their friends, when he feels a pair of hands landing with force against his ass and gripping it.
He’d feel unnerved if not for the familiar voice slurring an I caught you in his ear.
Before he has the chance to turn around Minho moves to wrap his arms around Jisung’s waist, pressing his body flush against Jisung’s back. Seungmin throws Minho a funny look when the latter starts nosing at Jisung’s neck but he quickly dismisses the action and excuses himself to go look for the people that must’ve come with them.
Despite Minho’s firm grip around his waist Jisung has no trouble turning around to face him. Minho’s face is completely flushed but the thing that gives away his drunkenness is the dopey grin stretching his lips.
“Dance with me,” Minho says but makes no move to get closer to the dance floor.
“It’s time to go home,” Jisung says with his mouth hovering right beside Minho’s ear; partly because of the loud music but also because of how Minho shivers when Jisung’s breath hits his skin.
“Stay the night?” Minho’s eyes are always sparkling, full of constellations unknown to mankind; tonight they seem to be inviting Jisung to look closer, to put a name to everything that’s been left undiscovered for far too long.
“Of course,” Jisung replies—to Minho, to his eyes.
Everyone squeezes into Seungmin’s car and Minho ends up sitting on Jisung’s lap; Seungmin throws a look at them through the rearview when Minho starts whispering nonsense into Jisung’s ear and playing with the hair of his nape. If the others in the car weren’t as drunk as Minho—or worse—he’s sure they’d be looking at them like that too; Jisung isn’t stupid, he understands what’s going on.
They make it to Minho's apartment with the latter leaning practically all of his weight against Jisung, arms thrown around his neck and giggles way too loud for the hour. Jisung starts looking for the key on Minho’s back pockets when the older protests, “you need to ask permission first before you touch my ass!”
Jisung shushes him in between laughs. “You never ask for my permission though,” he counters and Minho does nothing but giggle as if he’s been caught.
“Okay, ‘Sungie, can I touch your ass, please?” Somehow Minho manages to look smug even when drunk out of his mind.
Jisung bites back the almost immediate affirmative to Minho’s request and instead shakes his head. “I need to get you inside first.”
Minho’s eyebrows raise at the first included in his sentence and before he can react he’s pushing away from Jisung and squinting at his door before reaching into his pants and finally unlocking the door. When he’s done he turns around triumphantly and unceremoniously reaches to pat Jisung’s ass.
Jisung helps him inside and out of his shoes before dragging him all around the apartment to get him ready for bed. They do all of this in silence until Minho, sitting at the edge of his bed with only his arms inside the shirt Jisung gave him and looking a bit more sober, says, “Do you ever think about parallel universes?”
The question isn’t weird per se but Jisung finds himself looking at Minho like he had just grown another head; he never thought he could be this speechless.
“You know, other possible realities,” Minho suddenly elaborates; Jisung wants to laugh but doesn’t. “I do.”
Minho seems to give up on his shirt, he throws it to the floor and moves further up the bed before looking at Jisung. “Maybe there’s another universe where we’re both cats, and we got adopted by the same family. We always wake our owners up at the strangest times of the night and—” Suddenly he looks sad before saying, “we cuddle together all day on the couch.”
Jisung walks towards Minho and takes his face in his hands. “I do think about it,” he finally says before leaning in towards Minho who immediately closes his eyes in anticipation, but Jisung doesn’t kiss him—he doesn’t kiss this man who dreams about spending his life beside his best friend in this universe and the next.
He presses his lips softly against Minho’s forehead and pulls away only when he doesn’t feel like crying anymore. Minho looks at him, only looks at him; he says: “For a second I thought you were going to kiss me,” and Jisung can hear it in his voice, he’s tired of hiding.
“I’ll do it tomorrow. Promise,” Jisung says because Minho is still drunk and he’s not the one that should be kissing him.
Minho looks at him like he just hung all the stars in the night sky.
It happens unceremoniously. Jisung wakes up, gets ready to go out, doesn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. He steps inside the coffee shop, a bell rings above him at the entrance. His order is halfway out of his lips before he registers his own voice.
The irony of how the most important things in your life can occur so casually isn’t lost on him. He’s drinking the same kind of coffee he became attached to in his teenage years and almost manages to walk past Minho who is sitting at one of the tables of this place Jisung frequents on the daily.
It’s not fair, the lack of warning he receives from this universe—the one he actually belongs to. What’s also not fair is how good Minho looks when he’s actually within Jisung’s reach, when he’s not theoretically someone else’s.
Jisung’s leg threaten to give out under him, his heart beats wildly, and his cheeks turn warm at the sudden intrusion on his routine.
There is Minho, dreamy, beautiful, exactly how Jisung remembers him to be from before he woke up that morning. Minho who laughs loud and unabashedly, who cooks for Jisung on every occasion he gets, who sleeps on the same side of the bed in every universe.
Minho who looks up from his phone and dedicates an interested smirk to Jisung who has been standing there looking at him for minutes now. Minho, whose love for cats doesn’t waver not even when they’re from other planets, whose sincere smile hides his eyes away, whose soft whispering Jisung has felt pressed against his skin too many times.
“Can I help you with something?” Minho finally asks when he understands that Jisung is not planning to say anything.
“I- Well-” This is Minho and Jisung loves him, could never not love him. He doesn’t know how to go about telling this man in front of him that they’re inevitably orbiting around each other in every single universe Jisung has seen.
“Take a seat,” Minho says, much too sweet to be talking to a stranger, with his eyes brimming with fondness and amusement. “C’mon, I don’t bite,” he adds when Jisung stays frozen in place.
Jisung knows Minho doesn’t because at this point he knows Minho better than he knows himself; he knows Minho always has a soft spot for him, he knows how he likes his eggs in the morning and how loudly he talks in his sleep.
He sits down and Minho immediately brightens, delighted at his successful attempt to rope a stranger in. “I’m Minho,” he says, hand outstretched towards him. Jisung takes his hand and throws all he thinks he knows out of the window.
This is them, Minho and Jisung who seem to be able to work out the way to end up together in every other universe. Minho and Jisung who aren’t another Minho and Jisung; this is his, finally.
“I’m Jisung.”