Work Text:
03:34am
The time on Minho’s clock is mocking him. He swears it’s read the same time back to him for the past ten minutes, yet it hasn’t shifted in its numbers.
He rolls over away from it to avoid its judgmental stare to instead make acquaintance with the wall, and sighs.
It shouldn’t be this hard to sleep. He’s done it at least a few thousand times before, he estimates, and he hasn’t changed anything about his bed. If anything, with the sheets freshly washed and tumble dried, this should be the best sleep he’s had in a while. He even followed Jisung’s advice of putting lavender oil in with the wash soap.
Jisung.
Jisung’s bed smelled more like lavender than Minho’s sheets currently do.
He hadn’t meant to crash there for the entirety of the week, they’d just had a multi-day horror movie marathon, and they’d both been too scared to sleep alone, so the logical thing to do was to sleep in the same bed. Obviously.
Maybe Minho had gotten a little too used to the rustling of Jisung next to him, of hearing his breaths deepen as he drifted into slumber, of intertwining their pinkies because Minho got too hot if they cuddled. Now, his own room feels too big and too quiet.
He turns over in bed to reach for his phone, the time ridiculing him, and finds a long playlist of rain sounds to hopefully distract from the obtrusive silence.
It doesn’t work. The time on his clock reads 03:56am and has only grown more judgmental.
“Fine,” Minho relents, tossing the covers back and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Jisung won’t be upset if he joins him, he’s sure.
He has to creep quietly through the dorm to avoid waking the rest, taking the stairs up the single flight to Jisung’s dorm, padding up in his slippers having not bothered to change into shoes on the way out. He uses his spare key to get in and thankfully finds the main area empty, not wanting to answer any questions as to why he’s there so late (or, technically, so early).
Jisung’s room sits at the end of the hall, the door just slightly ajar. He’s said he likes for the door to be open, just a little bit, to not completely shut out the rest of the world when he’s hermitting. He’s told Minho countless times about all the instances of cabin fever he’s accidentally given himself, being a homebody for just slightly too long, and feeling like he’s missing out. Minho always assures him there’s nothing important going on outside the dorm. At least, to Minho, nothing more important than Jisung himself.
Jisung’s asleep when Minho enters, curled up under the sheets, holding them tucked to his chin. Minho finds himself thinking he looks precious.
Jisung stirs as Minho climbs into bed, his eyes blinking open cutely. A smile gently curls the corners of his mouth as he registers who’s now in his bed.
“Hi, hyung-ah,” Jisung whispers.
Minho smiles at him as he crawls under the covers. “Hi hi,” he murmurs, pushing back into Jisung’s space.
Jisung flings an arm around his middle and pulls him close. “Why’re you here, Lino-ring?”
“I can leave,” Minho jokes, his tone faux-offended. It has the desired effect of Jisung tugging him even closer.
Jisung snuggles into the nape of his neck, and Minho swears he hears him inhale.
He’s out in minutes.
😴
02:12AM
His body has to be joking. It has to be the biggest asshole he’s ever encountered. Or maybe it’s his brain to blame, considering he’s pretty sure it’s the one piloting this whole not sleeping nonsense. He’s only thankful they don’t have anything scheduled tomorrow beyond vocal lessons.
He should be more than able to fall asleep in his own bed. It’s perfectly pitch dark, not a sliver of light seeping into the imposing blackness, and his bed is the perfect combination of soft but firm under his back.
And yet, here he is, staring, for the second night in a row, at a mocking clock face.
He grabs his phone off the nightstand and opens his messages to Jisung.
You awake?
Jisung’s response comes just seconds later.
Hannie
Watching SxF, wanna join?
Minho hesitates. He’s been invading Jisung’s space every night for over a week. Surely, he’ll want time to himself.
Hannie
Let me reword that: I would like it very much if you joins
Well. Minho supposes that’s a good enough answer to his inner turmoil.
It takes less than two minutes to get up to Jisung’s dorm and creep into his room. Jisung offers him one of his signature, gentle, upside down smiles upon seeing him, the anime playing softly from his laptop speakers.
“Hi, Jisungie,” Minho murmurs, crawling onto Jisung’s bed and sliding in next to him, leaning back on the pillows and resting his head on Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung offers him a quiet hum in response.
They watch in silence, the only sounds coming from their occasional rustling as they get comfortable together.
Jisung shifts, and Minho realizes he’s sniffing his hair.
“What are you doing, Han-ah?” Minho asks, turning to catch Jisung shyly looking away.
“You just smell nice,” Jisung responds, ducking his chin against his chest.
Jisung always gets softer, more bashful, later at night.
They finish the episode, Jisung trying valiantly to convince Minho into watching another and only giving in when Minho very pointedly shows him the time on his phone. He closes the laptop and places it down next to the bed, curling into the sheets and whining for Minho to turn off the lamp, who does so with only minimal push-back.
Settling in next to Jisung shouldn’t feel like coming home.
😴
13:07PM
Minho’s standing over his pot of noodles when he feels arms wrap around his waist.
“Hyung-ah, did you make enough for me?”
It’s Jisung. Because it could never be anyone else but Jisung.
“No,” Minho answers, blunt, just to hear Jisung whine.
“Hyuuung.”
Exactly like that.
Jisung buries his face in Minho’s neck, and Minho can almost swear he can feel his pout against his skin.
“Fine,” Minho relents, as if he was ever going to put up any real resistance. There’s already two servings in the pot, but Jisung doesn’t need to know that.
Jisung stays latched to him while he finishes cooking, Minho tossing in an egg at the last minute and garnishing the ramen with green onion once it’s done. Jisung praises the dish like Minho made a Michelin star worthy meal instead of instant ramen.
They settle on either side of the dining table, Jisung thanking Minho profusely for the lunch. In a way, Minho owes him, as without Jisung and his bed, he wouldn’t have slept much at all the night before.
“Lino, can I ask you something?” Jisung probes, looking down at his noodles and playing with them with the chopsticks.
Minho slurps down his mouthful. “Sure.”
“Is your bed uncomfortable?”
Of course he’d ask. Minho’s been invading his sleep space for over a week, so he should’ve expected this. It’s typically Jisung to hint at something rather than just tell Minho outright that he wants his bed to himself.
“Umm, I guess it’s a little too firm,” Minho answers, because the vindictive part of him wants Jisung to just tell him to sleep in his own room, for once.
Instead, Jisung just nods along, understanding. “That makes sense,” he settles on.
Minho expects the final blow, the rejection, but instead, Jisung just keeps eating. He smiles at Minho around a mouthful of noodles when he catches him looking, and it has that usual Jisung trademarked warmth to it, so Minho assumes they’re good.
Still, he should probably try sleeping in his own bed that night.
😴
4:05AM
Sleeping in his own bed is currently going horribly. Minho has spent what feels like two full eternities staring up at his ceiling.
Still, he’s nothing if not determined, and he refuses to bother Jisung again. He’s already taken two melatonin tablets, and he’s felt their effects come and go, knocking him out for maybe ten minutes before he’s awake again, staring at the wall or the door or, at one point, face down in his pillow.
It’s infuriating. He’s slept in this same bed, on this same mattress with the same sheets for years, and one week of sleeping on Jisung’s bed has completely ruined him.
He must end up sleeping less than a collective two hours that night. His under eyes are bruised purple and his scleras bloodshot when he finally checks himself in the bathroom mirror in the morning. Splashing cold water on his face did little to remedy the grogginess, and he’s growing irritated with Seungmin banging on the door telling him to hurry up. Why he can’t just use the other bathroom, Minho will never know, but he’s exactly seven seconds away from snapping and saying something he’ll regret.
He takes his time washing his face, just to be extra annoying, and once he finally opens the door to leave Seungmin goes barrelling past him with a “gotta piss” hissed his way. Minho only smirks to himself.
He decides he may as well head upstairs to the other dorm, as with nothing else on schedule for the day, bothering Jisung seems like the best idea. Only, it’s not Jisung who he finds in the living room of the dorm, but Changbin, who gives him a knowing look upon entering.
“Here for Hannie?” he says, his tone mirthful.
“Maybe I wanted to see you,” Minho easily replies.
Changbin rolls his eyes at him. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t sleep here.”
Minho feels his face flush at being caught out. “My own bed is just fine,” he counters, feeling argumentative, all of a sudden.
Changbin just snorts, clearly unfazed by his clipped tone. “Well, in case you’re wondering, which I know you are, Jisung went out to grab coffee. I’m sure he’ll have one ready for you, though.”
Minho makes a non-committal noise to confirm he’s listening, trying to remain nonchalant at the mention of Jisung. He can already guess, based on Changbin’s smug expression, that he’s not very successful in his attempt.
He could almost thank the angels above that Jisung takes that very moment to walk through the front door of the dorm.
“Hyung!” he greets, his excitement honest, even if he’d seen Minho less than 24 hours prior.
Minho offers a wave, already feeling the fond smile splitting his face and avoiding Changbin’s knowing look.
“I brought coffee,” Jisung says, holding one out from the tray to Minho. He smiles at him when he takes it, turning to Changbin and offering him one, as well. He then uses his free hand to drag Minho down the hallway towards his room, dropping the other coffees off outside Chan and Hyunjin’s doors.
He closes the door quietly behind him, dropping the tray onto his desk before taking a seat on his bed, his own iced coffee straw stuck between his lips. “What’s up, hyung-ah?” he asks around the straw.
Minho shrugs. “Figured we could watch a movie, or something.”
Jisung brightens at the suggestion, fluffing his pillows out and getting up to change into sweatpants, throwing a spare pair at Minho’s head for him to wear. Minho obligingly changes, settling on Jisung’s bed and watching him as he grabs his laptop off the desk and brings it over to the bed, snuggling into Minho’s side.
“What’d’ya wanna watch?” Jisung asks.
Minho didn’t think far enough ahead to have a suggestion ready, so instead he encourages Jisung to decide for them, who ends up settling on some low budget, American teen rom-com that they only half pay attention to, instead spending most of the movie critiquing the script and making jokes about the cheesy lines.
It’s about halfway through the movie that Minho feels the tiredness from his sleepless night begin to take him over. Jisung’s shoulder has become the perfect resting spot, and he promises himself he’ll only close his eyes for a minute.
Except, when he next looks at the screen, there’s credits rolling, and he’s no longer on Jisung’s shoulder but instead leaned back against the pillows, the covers pulled up to his chest.
“There you are,” Jisung’s voice says from somewhere off to the side of the room. Minho turns and finds him sitting at his desk with a bowl of what looks like hobakjuk. “Would you like some?” he asks, offering the bowl to Minho, who politely declines and sits up.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Minho asks.
Jisung shrugs. “You looked tired all morning, Ilinong, I figured you needed the rest.”
Minho appreciates it, though it doesn’t help his body’s current obsession with Jisung’s bed. He suddenly feels inexplicably embarrassed, like Jisung will be able to tell he can’t sleep in his own bed anymore, and he pushes the covers back to step out of the bed.
“I’m gonna head back to mine,” Minho says, abruptly. Jisung looks ready to question him, but Minho doesn’t spare him a second glance as he bails as quickly as possible out the bedroom, thanking his earlier self for choosing to wear his slides as he slips them on at the door and steps out of the apartment. He breathes for a moment in the hallway, sending a quiet apology across the door and hoping, somehow, Jisung will hear it.
😴
12:08AM
Minho’s been watching the little typing bubble appear and disappear for what must have been three centuries by now, his own text ridiculing him from the screen. He sort of wishes he’d never sent it, considering how long Jisung is taking to respond.
Sorry for running out earlier
Jisung’s reply finally comes in.
Hannie
Hyung-ah, are you ok? Are we ok?
Minho takes a moment to think. They’re ok, but he’s not. He’s exhausted and confused and wishes he could just fall asleep in his own bed. It’s not like them to talk about serious things, but Minho needs his best friend, so he decides to just be honest.
Just really tired. Haven’t been sleeping well lately.
The next response comes much quicker than the last.
Hannie
:( Anything I can do to help?
Maybe he’s just over-tired, maybe he’s delusional, but something inside of him makes him type out a message far too honest and Minho has to take a moment to bury the shame from being so raw and earnest before hitting send on his next message.
I like being in your bed.
It takes a moment for Jisung to respond, the little typing bubble popping up then disappearing over and over, and Minho worries he’s been too honest until Jisung apparently finally braves hitting send.
Hannie
What if I said sometimes I wish I had you in my bed in more ways than one?
Minho doesn’t breathe for a solid ten seconds after reading the message.
At first he assumes he must have read it wrong, then with the fourth read coming back with the same thing, he assumes he’s interpreting Jisung’s meaning wrong, because there’s no way he wants him back. Minho has kept his feelings anchored offshore for years, assuming they’d stay there forever, or perhaps, if he was lucky, drift off to sea. But now, if he’s really not just started spontaneously hallucinating, there may just be a real chance that Jisung wants him back.
The bubbles appear again, and another text comes in from Jisung.
Hannie
Hahaaa uuh you can pretend you never saw that, if you want. No hard feelings.
And if I say I don’t want to pretend I never say it? Actually, I want to extra see it?
Hannie
…Hyung, I need you to know you can’t be joking right now.
I would never do that to you.
Can you come here?
There’s no response, not even the little bubbles, for a good two minutes, and Minho is sure he somehow fucked it all up and will have to bury himself beneath concrete until there’s a small knock at his bedroom door, and Jisung cracks it open to peak in, offering a timid smile.
“Jisungie,” Minho says, the name coming out far too breathy. It would be embarrassing if Jisung didn’t visibly preen at the nickname.
“Hyung-ah, can I come in?” Jisung asks, as if Minho is ever going to tell him no.
“Please,” Minho breathes.
Jisung takes a moment to collect himself, slowly closing the door behind him and standing back against it, still holding the handle, and smiling shyly at Minho. Minho beckons him over, tapping his hand on the place next to him on the bed, and he watches the tension drain from Jisung as he walks over.
“Hey,” Jisung whispers, once he’s settled, the quiet around them as delicate as pulled sugar.
“Hey,” Minho responds, then breaks into nervous giggles.
“So, uh, I guess I should be up front,” Jisung murmurs, facing his lap and playing with his own fingers. “I like you.”
Minho leans forward to take Jisung’s hand in his. “I know you like me,” he teases.
“Hyung, you know what I mean,” he whines.
Minho giggles, interlacing Jisung’s fingers with his own. “I like you, too,” he admits, quietly.
Jisung looks up at him and beams, that same heart-shaped smile that Minho has fallen in love with over the years.
“Could I kiss you?” Jisung asks, braver than Minho has ever been.
Minho leans in, stopping just before their mouths brush, a silent incentive. Jisung, like he always does when they hug or cuddle, or now, do this, closes the gap.
The kiss is sweet and tentative, almost innocent in how little they’re touching, just with their fingers intertwined but their bodies separate. Jisung pulls back after only a moment, to then apparently think better of it and lean back in for another kiss, this one more persistent. He pushes into Minho’s space, letting out an anxious breath against his mouth, pressing them solidly together until Minho is lying back on his pillows and has an overly enthusiastic Jisung on top of him.
“You’re so cute,” Minho teases, the words spoken directly against Jisung’s lips. Jisung whines, batting him in the shoulder in retaliation, only for Minho to yank him down into yet another kiss.
Jisung makes a desperate little noise against his mouth, and that’s what it takes for Minho to decide this kiss could do with more tongue. He parts his lips, just slightly, and darts his tongue out to just touch Jisung’s lips, who opens for him so willingly it would look desperate if Minho weren’t just as bad. Because, once his tongue is actually in Jisung’s mouth, Minho outright moans.
He’s had many-a jerk off session thinking about this very thing. Every single one of them ending in shame dark enough to throw shadows over any euphoria. But now, here Jisung is, with his tongue in Minho’s mouth and a slow grind beginning to build at his hips.
The way he’d ended up on top of Minho resulted in one leg between both of Minho’s, their hips level, and Minho knows there won’t be any way to hide it when he inevitably gets hard.
“Baby,” Jisung breathes, dragging his down to Minho’s jaw. He breathes into his ear for a moment, collecting himself. “What is this?”
Minho takes a moment. He considers leaving it open to Jisung to decide, but instead settles on being brave, for once. “I want to do this as boyfriends,” he admits.
Jisung breathes a sigh of relief right against his cheek. “Thank fuck,” he murmurs, before kissing Minho again.
😴
9:15AM
Minho wakes to the sounds of Jisung shuffling next to him, and he blinks open his eyes to find Jisung looking at him.
“Morning, boyfriend,” Minho murmurs, pressing his face into the pillow, embarrassed.
Jisung giggles, and Minho feels hands reach for his chin to tilt his face towards him. The kiss tastes like morning breath and there’s a little bit of drool crusted at the corner of Jisung’s mouth and it’s the best morning Minho has ever had.
“So, it seems like your bed is just fine,” Jisung teases.
Minho groans. “Can you not make fun of me right now? I’ll break up with you.”
“No you won’t,” Jisung says with a smirk.
Minho relents. “Fine, no I won’t.” He then pulls Jisung into another kiss, this one deeper, longer, more all-encompassing.
“We should get up,” Jisung eventually murmurs, though he presses in to kiss Minho again, delaying their breakfast further.
It takes them another half an hour and mutual handjobs to get up and out of bed. They then delay joining society further by showering together and kissing slowly under the spray, Minho ending up holding Jisung up against the wall, with his legs wrapped around his waist, before coming back to his senses and remembering they have actual responsibilities to attend to.
They leave the bathroom hand-in-hand, freezing in the doorway to the main room when they find Hyunjin and Seungmin sat on the sofa.
“I could hear you last night, you know,” Seungmin gripes, causing Jisung to flush and hide his face in Minho’s shoulder. Minho knows his ears are red enough to give away his embarrassment, but he holds steady in looking proud, anyway.
“Good,” he says, smug.
Seungmin rolls his eyes at him, but his smile gives away he’s happy for them for figuring their shit out.
Just then, Felix must exit his own room, because his voice pipes up behind them.
“Oh, thank fuck, finally.”