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Minho was not a loser.
He just didn’t like people, that was all. He preferred being by himself. He wanted to be the weird gay kid who everyone was slightly terrified of and who the teachers referred to the school social worker once a week.
Yeah. He liked being the school loner, generically disliked and generally avoided.
Yeah.
Of course.
The locker room was empty when he opened the door; everyone who had an after school club was there already and everyone else had already left. He should be able to make this quick, in and out and home. Perfect.
He swung his way over to his locker in the corner (kicked in gray-green metal, dicksucker scrawled in permanent marker across the front) and punched in the combination mechanically. He had just dumped his books when he heard the door hinge creak open.
“Hey!” he heard someone call, and his stomach dropped. “Minnie mouse! Just the guy I wanted to see.”
He turned to face the newcomer with the exact same amount of enthusiasm one might have when meeting a man-eating rabid monster chinchilla. “Hey.”
Han Jisung, captain of the football team, holder of their highschool record for touchdowns, and all-around heart throb, stood there, all sweaty skin and dripping hair like some obscene greek god of hotness or something.
He was even wearing a tank top.
God, wasn’t there a rule against that or something? There should be a rule. For the sake of all weak-kneed gays everywhere.
And now Jisung was pulling the tank off, tossing it onto a bench, and this was so much worse. “Mmmm,” Jisung groaned as he stretched, abs rippling.
Jisung groaned. He was groani–Don’t go there, Minho. Think of bats. Grandmas! Stinky toes! Bat Grandmas with stinky toes!
Jisung probably had really pretty toes.
Not helping, not helping, not helping— He forced himself to focus on the conversation at hand.
At hand was Jisung, shirtless and sighing, “This is so much better.”
“...Yeah,” Minho muttered. Yeah, my dick’s agreeing wholeheartedly. “Nice seeing you I guess, I’m just gonna go now—”
“Wait!” Jisung stuck a hand out to stop him.
“What?”
The jock looked uncomfortable. “Do you have, like, somewhere you need to be right now? Because I wanted just ask you something real quick.”
The smart thing to say would be no.
And then turn as fast as humanly possible and get out of there before Shirtless Sweaty God Jisung could see that his dick sorta kinda nodding yes in his pants.
“Yeah,” he said aloud, because he was that kind of sucker. “I have a minute.”
“Great! Um. Thanks. Okay. I don’t know how to say this.” He looked around nervously, like he was afraid one of the lockers was going to come to life and say boo. “Can we go somewhere more…private?”
“Would a bathroom stall be good enough?”
“Yeah, I…. Yeah. That’s good. Okay. Lemme just put a shirt back on real quick. And thanks.”
He looked so nervous, so painfully uptight, that Minho wanted to laugh. And also sort of kiss that nervous expression off his face and then make slow, deep love to him for an hour against the wall, and then hold his hand and go watch a movie with him and get married and adopt seven cats together.
Good lord I’m so screwed.
The bathrooms were almost empty when they got there–it was the end of the day, and most people had already packed out of the place.
But Jisung still picked the stall farthest from the entrance and locked the door. “Okay.” He clasped is hands in front of him like he was praying. “So. You’re gay, right?”
Minho plopped down on the toilet seat and white-knuckled the toilet paper dispenser. “If this is about you wanting me to suck your dick, you can just come out and say it, you know.”
His ears turned red. “That wasn’t what I meant! I wouldn’t–I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a blow job if you offered, obviously. But that wasn’t what I came here to ask you. At all.”
“Good,” Minho lied. “Because I’m not offering. Ha.”
Jisung did this adorable little half-strangled laugh. “Right, of course, because that would be, you know. Weird.”
“This is pretty weird, already, too,” Minho pointed out. “And you haven’t even asked me what you want from me yet.”
Jisung clasped his hands and looked heavensward. “Well. This. You see. You know Seungmin?”
“The skinny hot dude?”
“Yeah. The… skinny hot dude.”
“Was I not supposed to call him hot?” simpered Minho. “Well then, I’m sorry for being gay and having eyes.”
Jisung finally managed to drag his gaze down from where it was pinned the ceiling to meet the other boy’s. “No! That wasn’t–I’m just trying to figure out how to say this without sounding incredibly weird. As mentioned.”
“You sure it’s not a blowjob?”
“Yes. Sheesh. Can you please stop talking about blowjobs so loudly?”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah. Anyways. Seungmin. My friend. We were at this party the other night with a couple other guys from the football team and I was kind of really drunk–and so was he, obviously. To be honest, everyone was pretty wasted. And we were playing truth or dare.”
Minho’s tone assumed the deep static quality of a video game voiceover prophesizing doom. “Stupid move number one.”
“I know! But we were drunk, okay? Cut me some slack. Anyways. When it got to my turn, I chose dare. Because I figured it wouldn’t be as bad as like having to admit that I fucked some dude’s girl or whatever?”
“Well, did you?” Minho inquired.
Jisung looked ashamed. “...only six.”
“ Only ?”
“Yes! Only. And that’s not important to this discussion, okay? So stop looking at me like that.”Anyways. I chose dare. And Seungmin was a little pissed off at me for making him strip and dance Gangnam Style, so…”
“So?” This was better than watching reality TV. A hot ripped wet dream was describing a trainwreck of a party that involved hot dudes stripping and dancing with their junk hanging out–it felt like an early Christmas present.
“So. Seungmin dared me to ask a gay dude to prom and not tell anyone it was a dare.”
“Shit.” Minho leaned back, looking up at Jisung with newfound respect. “Wow, okay, you’ve surprised me. That was definitely not what I was expecting.”
It was only when Jisung started looking at him expectantly that Minho’s eyebrow raised. “If you have something more to ask me, say it. Don’t be a chicken.”
“Will you–do it?” Jisung forced out, looking supremely uncomfortable.
“Do what?”
“What we were just talking about.”
“You mean blow you?”
“No, fuck, what is it with you and blow jobs? I meant go to prom with me.”
“Hmmm,” trilled Minho, like his name was Cardi B and he was judging a competition. “I don’t—”
“Please,” said Jisung. “It’s either you or Gabe Bobinsky. And I can’t go with Gabe Bobinsky. You can’t make me go with Gabe Bobinsky. Please”
“...Fine. I’ll go with you. As a favor.”
And only as a favor, he told himself. Because it would fall under cruel and unusual punishment to make Jisung ask Gabe Bobinsky instead. Not that there was anything wrong with Gabe, it was just that he was, well, Gabe. The only other single, openly gay student in their high school. Also the only student in school, period, who had the dubious distinction of having set the world record for longest time period ever gone without showering. (That was the rumor, anyways. It had been years since he’d last seen a shower. Years. To think that he didn’t hold the record, and there was someone who had gone longer than him, was too scary to contemplate.)
Jisung slapped him on the back, all smiles now and good ol’ charm. “Thanks, man, I appreciate you. Prom’s in four weeks, so I’ll see you then I guess?”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t even sure how he knew when prom was. It wasn’t like he’d had any prospects for going to it.
“Great. I’ll come pick you up at 6:30. Gimme your phone.”
Silently Minho handed it over.
Jisung punched something in, then gave it back. “There, you have my number. Text me so I’ll have yours and we’ll talk closer too.”
“Okay.” He’d gotten Han Jisung’s number! But not in the way he’d wanted to. Sigh .
“Great. Thanks again!” Jisung moved, awkwardly, to unlatch the stall door. “And…I’ll see you around, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.
Now all he had to do was not accidentally send some weird dick pic to him in the throes of some late night horny pining and he’d be fine.
Easy as pie.
Minho had tried making pie once.
There was still a black mark on the kitchen ceiling from the soot.
The day of the prom came faster than Jisung, who’d circled the date in red on his calendar and then promptly forgotten about it, had expected. If not for the posters plastered all over the school walls, he would’ve missed it completely.
When he pulled up to Minho’s house, though, it was clear, however, that Minho hadn’t forgotten. Not by far.
He was wearing skinny-fit black dress pants paired with a rose pink velvet blazer, finished with black satin lapels over a collared shirt and a matching tie. Cufflink glittered at his wrists like he was sweating diamonds, and a matching stud twinkled from his left lobe. Jisung hadn’t even realize he had a piercing there.
And his hair was gelled. Carefully styled in some cool and highly complicated way that made his face look absolutely amazing and wow how had he never noticed those cheekbones before.
He looked good. Jisung wasn’t one to notice guys, but he probably would’ve glanced at Minho for a second too long if he’d passed him randomly on the street. You look good, he wanted say.
“You look gay,” was what came out of his mouth instead.
Minho’s smile abruptly faltered.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Jisung wanted to shoot himself. Man was doing him a favor, and what was he doing? Acting like a jerk. “I meant it, like, you look really good. Lots of bling, but like, tasteful. Like you have more style that a straight boy would have. Uh.”
Minho’s expression was getting progressively more icy. “I suggest you stop talking. Right now. Before you dig yourself completely under and nobody can save you.”
“Okay.”
Then Minho gave him a cursory look up and down. “You look good too.”
“Really? Thanks. Um, should we go in so I can see your parents or….?”
“This is fake,” Minho said. “So no, you’re not going to meet my parents, sorry.”
“Right.” He bit his lip. “Yeah. Okay. That makes sense.”
The drive to the hotel where prom was being held was silent.
And then they were there. And he was actually going through with this.
Han Jisung was taking a guy to his senior prom. Not some hot cheerleader chick like he’d always thought he’d be. Not even that really cute brainy girl he’d been eyeing during AP Math, the one with the little Aussie accent and the most adorable dimple.
God, Seungmin really was a little shit.
And like, he was taking a really, really good-looking guy, sure, but still. A guy. With a penis.
A penis! Which Jisung would not be seeing, because this was going to be a dance, nothing more. He could handle this!
Right. Okay.
“What are you thinking about?” Minho asked as they started making their way in, startling him.
He startled. “What? Oh. Song Yuqi,”
“The cheerleader?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “You know…I always thought I’d be taking her to prom. Seungmin’s taking her instead. Which may have been his plan all along.”
Minho laughed, a delightful sound. “ Now you realize.”
“What can I say? I’m a dumb jock.”
“Dumb jock? Sounds like something I’d jerk off to.” Minho froze. “Shit. Shit, I’m so sorry, that was out of line. Please ignore that.” He descended back into his original brooding silence.
There was a pause between the two of them now, as uncertain as a thread stretched to its limits.
And in that pause Jisung had a choice: he could run off, like a little homophobic baby who was scared that gay was contagious, or he could make a joke, get back the friendly vibe of earlier, and maybe even enjoy the night.
He chose the latter.
“Wow,” Jisung said. “I’ve never seen you flustered before! Like, you’re blushing. Who would have thought Edward could blush.”
They’d reached the doors to the ballroom where the prom was being held. If people had been giving them stares till now at the odd combination, Jisung hadn’t even noticed, too distracted by their conversation.
“‘Edward?’”
“It’s what we call you. Edward. Like from twilight? Because you’re…”
“Creepy?” Minho supplied, a look on his face that could easily be interpreted either as a smile, or the beginning of a massacre.
“No! I was gonna say quiet. And pale, no friends, gives weird brooding looks…and also. You know.”
“Know what?”
Jisung swallowed. “And also, you know. Beautiful.”
Minho was silent.
They handed their tickets over to the teacher monitoring the door, saving Jisung from having to look at Minho’s face. From seeing his reaction to Jisung calling him beautiful.
He was kicking himself. He had no indication that Minho was attracted to him whatsoever (thank God! Because Jisung wasn’t gay! At all!) but he also didn’t want to give the other boy a false impression. Because he might be taking a penis-bearing male to senior prom but he was straight. Textbook-edge straight. DUI-test straight.
“God,” he said aloud. “Seeing everyone’s faces when I come in is going to be absolutely fucking hilarious.”
At some point, Minho had taken his hand. He couldn’t remember when, but it seemed rude to pull away now.
The first thing he saw was Song Yuqi’s eyes. It was easy to see them. They were popping so hard out of her head they were practically hovering mid-air.
This was followed by the shit-eating grin on Seungmin’s face. It was so wide, it looked like he was trying to dislocate his jaw.
That sounded like a good idea. Maybe Jisung should dislocate his jaw for him.
Yuqi looked really nice, even with that expression on her face. She always did.
Jisung sighed. “Let’s…head over for pictures.”
“This is fake. We don’t need pictures.”
“Why not?” Jisung retorted. “It’ll be fun.”
Minho gave him an odd look. “You really want to be doing all this couply shit for a dumb bet? I mean look at them.”
Jisung followed his gaze over to where Huh Yunjin and Mark Lee were standing by the photography booth, pressed so tightly together that, if not for the clothes, it would have been legally classified as sex in at least three states.
Jake Mulaney passed by. “Hey, Han, didn’t know you were gay.”
“I’m not.”
“So….Edward isn’t your prom date? Ha. I knew Seungmin was just talking shit.”
“He isn’t. Me and Minho came to prom together.”
“Oh.” Jake scratched his head. “So…you two are here as friends?”
Minho, who had been silent until now, finally deigned to speak. “Jisung and I are not friends.”
Jake got an interesting look on his face. “Oh. Okay. I’m sorry for asking.” He fled.
That encounter pretty much set the tone for the rest of the night.
People giving them looks, occasionally coming over to make small talk and oh so subtly try to ask if there had been a change in Jisung’s sexuality, Minho making a snarky comment, and on to the next.
At some point (probably once a little alcohol, passed around in little flasks, had gotten involved) Jisung had started treating it like a game.
It was almost fun.
How close could he come to making them think he really was gay without actually ever saying he was gay. It was pretty funny to see their faces. Especially those of the girls he’d slept with. Those were the best.
Also, and he wasn’t sure when exactly this had dawned on him, Minho had really pretty eyes. And Jisung suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about them. Large, liquid, slightly angled at the corners, perfectly proportioned for his small, catlike face.
“Why are you staring at me?” Minho demanded, tugging at his sleeve.
“You’re really pretty, you know that?” There was a silly grin on Jisung’s face. “I was just noticing that.”
Minho glanced away. “I’ve been told that before.”
“By who? A boyfriend?”
Now he met Jisung’s gaze square on, a challenge in their dark depths. “Maybe.”
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Maybe I’d like to.”
“Awwww,” said Minho, a too-sweet smile on his face. “Is that what you tell all the girls?”
“No,” said Jisung. “But it’s what I’m telling you.”
“Just shut up.” He sounded pained. “Please.”
“Is it something I said?” They’d wandered off the dance floor as the conversation had progressed, gone to one of the quiet alcoves by the side. “Is that why you’re mad at me?”
“No.” His shoulders rose. “No, it’s nothing you said, and I’m not mad. Forget about it.”
“Hey,” Jisung said suddenly, and his hand snaked out to touch Minho’s cheek. “You’re sparkling. Holy hell. You’re actually a vampire.”
Minho’s hand rose to where Jisung’s was cupping his face, but instead of pulling it away, he just moved to cover it with his own. “No, you big, dumb jock, I’m not a vampire; I’m just wearing makeup. It’s called highlighter. I put it on my cheekbones. Welcome to my face.”
“Hey. Wait. That was a nickname, wasn’t it? Big dumb Jock. Edward has a nickname for me. Ha! No one will believe it.”
Minho’s mouth twitched.
He had such a bewildering mouth. Perfectly sized with a delicate cupid’s bow, pale pink and glossy. But then he opened it and then it would be all up there spitting straight acid. It was such a contradiction.
Jisung blurted. “How did you know you were gay?”
Minho’s eyebrows rose. “How did you know you were straight?”
“Because when I was twelve, I realized that boobs were a thing,” Jisung replied readily. “And then I realized that I really wanted to touch that thing.”
“I…guess I kind of always knew. I just. Liked guys. I always had a crush on Prince Eric in the little mermaid, not really Ariel. I just kind of grew up with it.”
“I think I might be gay,” Jisung said randomly. “Wait, no. Not gay. I like girls. But I think I might also like guys.” I want to kiss you , he thought. How can I ask you if it’s okay to kiss you?
“Is this all some elaborate way of asking for that blowjob I offered back when you asked me to be your prom date?”
Jisung paused. “Wait, when in the world did you ever offer to give me a blow job?”
“You don’t remember? In the bathroom stall? Holy shit, I know I called you dumb, but this is a whole new level.”
“Omigod. Wait. That was real? I thought you were making fun of me.”
Minho shrugged. “Well, like, you know. You’re quite attractive.”
This was absolutely mind blowing.
Edward had offered to blow him. And he hadn’t even realized.
“Um,” said Minho. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He broke out of his daze. “Can I kiss you? Please?”
And Minho said— “No.”
“What?”
“No.” He raised his chin. “I’m not going to be some guy you use to see if you like dick or not. I’m a human being. If you want to kiss me, you should do it because you want to, not because I apparently triggered some macho male sexuality crisis in a big buff football hero.”
“Well…” said Jisung. “What if what prompted that sexuality crisis was realizing that I want to kiss you?”
“Then kissing is permitted,” Minho decided. “But only then.”
“Okay,” said Jisung. “Good. That works.”
He reeled in Minho by the waist, dipped his head down.
Minho’s lips tasted like honey and strawberry shortcake.
They tasted like honey and strawberry shortcake, and he never wanted to come up for air again.