Archive of Our Own ^beta

quiet sobs and sniffling keep sounding evenly over the otherwise silent racha-hyune dorm. minho forces his eyes shut, finding himself incapable to look jisung in the eye with the latter gently holding a hand under his jaw to ground him, and the other hand latching onto one of the minho’s—firm, yet soft.

“breathe lino, breathe,” he rubs at minho’s knuckles and thinks back to all the countless times he had eased the younger out of anxiety attacks and panic attacks—most before their onset—and thinks to himself that he’ll be able to handle this, because he’s always been very good at handling his hyung.

but then there’s wetness on his own cheeks, and well, fuck.

he’s facing the ground now, attempting to swallow his own breakdown, and starts lightly grazing under minho’s jaw to distract the both of them from the pain. the sniffles are softer now, the sobs come slower but they still do; jisung can feel his gaze on him. he knows that if he looks up, he’d see big, brown, perfectly cat-like eyes piercing right through his own.

so he does.

and god, they’re so beautiful he could drown in them.

he drags his fingers up from where they rested underneath minho’s jaw and curls them up against the nape of his neck, fingers slowly working their way into his hair. minho meets his eyes tiredly—eyes lidded with sleep, struggling to stay open—knowingly, contentedly, silently. then jisung is giving his hand a reassuring squeeze and using the sleeve of his sweater to wipe his own tears dry in one swift motion before finally, finally letting his fingers drag across minho’s face—it’s wet and it’s cold and jisung is regretting not doing so earlier. there’s only small, hot tears rolling languidly down the sharp bridge of minho’s nose now, starting at the tear ducts and ending abruptly, disappearing just right by his cheekbones. jisung starts moving his other hand in tandem, fingers threading up and scratching against the other’s hair.

a small, breathless jisung escapes his lips one more, before he relaxes—shoulders falling forward, head drooped—jisung’s hands having worked away at the tension ebbing in his body for the last couple of hours. he pulls minho closer then, and they are chest to chest. where minho’s hands hung loosely at his sides before, they are now clinging to jisung—hands in loose fists—right where his neck meets his shoulders. he’s fully relaxed himself on the younger now, no longer holding up his own weight, body gone completely slack; jisung is worried, much more so now.

“hannie,” he murmurs softly once more, but jisung knows better than to pester him with questions—he’ll talk when he wants to, of his own will at his own time—knows him well like that.

“hm? let’s go to bed hyung,” jisung mumbles, pressing minho closer into where he’s snuggled against the crook of his neck and doesn’t wait for a response before walking their tightly wound bodies backward, slowly—not daring to untangle them—until he feels the back of his knees hit the bed. he tugs minho back by the nape to take a quick look, to check up on him. minho’s eyes are almost completely closed now. neither of the two wants to let go. jisung sits himself down, minho in his lap. neither attempts to move.

in the many years of being his best friend, jisung has never seen minho like this, ever.

and all of a sudden it’s too much, he can’t take it anymore. can’t take not knowing what’s hurting his hyung so much, can’t take not being able to fix what’s wrong, so he asks, so, so quietly—so, so scared of accidentally pushing him away.

“i’ve never seen you like this,” questioning, jisung worries his lower lip between his teeth.

he runs a hand through minho’s hair—trying to relax the both of them—brushes the damp hair out of his eyes, while the older rests the side of his head against jisung’s body, curled up like a baby.

minho looks up at him with his big, big eyes as if in deep thought, though unresponsive except for a just a hum. then he’s looking down, pressing his nose into jisung’s sweater, nuzzling into his chest where his scent is most potent. his thighs rest over jisung’s—sideways, and the latter pulls minho’s legs over the bed, resting his feet by the foot of the bed. he runs his hands up and down minho’s calves lightly, fingers reassuringly pressing onto his skin through the thin material of his pajamas.

jisung sighs.

the room is silent now, the dorm is silent, the sun is just beginning to rise; it isn’t as dark anymore. jisung can almost make out the colour of minho’s clothes now—they’re navy blue, not black. his nails are painted black too, and… since when does minho hyung paint his nails? he grabs one of minho’s hands resting on one side of his neck and silently observes. it is as if minho can read his mind when he reaches for jisung’s nose with that very hand and pinches it lightly. jisung gasps in shock, mouth wide open for a second, minho having extracted a sweet, sweet giggle from his mouth. satisfied, the older goes to wrap both arms around jisung, pulling him in even closer, inhaling a deep breath at jisung’s chest.

and jisung is endeared, so endeared that before he knows it, he’s pressing a soft kiss to the top of minho’s head. his hands are still dancing across minho’s legs and the older refits his face against jisung’s warm chest. they stay in the position for a few long, lingering seconds when jisung feels his sweater start to dampen down the middle. and his heart aches.

he feels so, so helpless, “minho,” his eyebrows furrow in concern. he wants to touch, to comfort, to do anything, so he pulls minho’s face up with both hands, forcing eye contact. the morning sun catches on his face and jisung can see his red nose and swollen, bloodshot eyes.

he’s so, so pretty.

he presses a thumb to minho’s face, lightly caressing just underneath his eye, waiting to catch the tears that’d fall. and they do, so he does; his thumb lingering over his long, dark lashes.

the next time minho opens his eyes jisung is staring intensely at him with a desperate talk to me, please. as if on cue minho whimpers and pleads.

“don’t leave me, please,” a heavy sob, loud enough to awaken everyone at the dorm, so he brings one hand off of where it clutched around jisung’s waist tightly and buries his face into his hand. jisung is horrified with grief, so he starts rubbing comforting circles across the small of minho’s back.

only a second later, jisung lowers them onto the bed, lies them both down on the sheets, minho snuggled on top of him, wet nose brushing against the younger’s jaw. he gingerly flips them over then, so that he’s straddling minho. he brings his hands to rest on top of minho’s, who then threads their fingers together almost immediately, a sense of urgency clawing at him.

jisung bends down and presses his lips into minho’s right temple, he can taste the saltiness of the stray tears on his own lips.

“i would never, i could never leave you jagi,” he presses the words into his other temple, lingers there to let them absorb, to let the older know how much he means them, to make him believe it. needing him to believe it.

minho only sobs harder at the gesture, silently, his entire body wracking with it; jisung shakes on top of him. minho’s eyes are squeezed closed, he can’t bring himself to meet jisung’s gaze; he’s so exhausted from the vulnerability and the tears still flow unendingly.

jisung circles his wrists gently, pressing fingertips to fingertips, holding him down—grounding him. he gently kisses each of his tired eyelids, then uses one hand to parts his bangs from the middle before going to massage at his temples, one after the other. minho parts his lips as if to say something—he knows it’ll help, jisung knows it would help—but his voice gives out on him. so jisung entertains the thought of going down to the kitchen to grab him a glass of water, but in his vulnerable state, the younger couldn’t imagine untangling himself from his hyung and leaving him alone even if just for a minute.

minho tries again, his mouth circling around a word but it comes out silently; jisung stares at him attentively, eyebrows raised in concern, but then minho's body visibly flails and he’s so, so tired. he closes his mouth with an exhale and, he’s so, so tired. his eyes shut close in the morning light and jisung carefully removes himself from on top of him, balancing himself on the older’s shoulders as he goes to lay down beside him.

“it’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispers quietly, turning his head toward minho, massaging his scalp, hoping it’ll help put the older to sleep.

minho grabs jisung’s arm and rolls over with it, drapes it across his own body, and clasps his hand with jisung’s like a lifeline. he’s effectively spooned himself against jisung; the latter’s right hand continues to scratch against minho’s head. he’s slowly drifting off to sleep, with jisung’s uneven breath hovering over the back of his neck. it tickles just a little. he loves it more than anything in this world. he needs jisung to know, turns around to say it, or at least tries to.

“i love you hannie,” jisung makes out, just by the shape of minho’s mouth, and they are so close, can each feel the other’s breath—warm.

jisung catches the very last of the older’s tears; the feathery light touch of his thumb pads has minho eagerly leaning into the touch, so jisung cups his face and inches closer, and closer. he presses yet another kiss, onto minho’s nose—a peck on the freckle on the side of his nose. minho sighs, in relief, then he’s reeling with something he can’t quite recognize, thrumming through his body.

it was the start of a headache, and then something more.

“wanna be closer, sungie,” his voice is barely working, but jisung is so, so close that it doesn’t even matter; he can feel every breath minho exhales; can feel the throbbing in minho’s temple; he can hear his heartbeat. and it’s rapid, everything, so jisung decides then to run him a bath—knows the older won’t be able to fall asleep anytime soon with the tension the night has built up in his body.

“head hurts, sung-ah,” he continues, voice hoarse.

“can i run you a bath, jagi?” jisung returns quietly, and minho readjusts to rest his head on jisung’s chest. he contemplates the question, taking unusually long.

a few long seconds later he’s shaking his head, cheek brushing against jisung’s sweater, “don’t wanna be alone.”

“i’ll stay,” minho looks unconvinced.

“i promise,” jisung means it.

they can hear the ruffling and shuffling outside jisung's room, an indicator of the clock hitting nine. hyunjin’s up. so is changbin. jisung lightly ruffles minho’s hair.

they have a relatively late schedule today, jisung nods to himself.

“get you something to eat?”

“can’t,” he props his chin on jisung’s chest, answering him with wide eyes, “shower first.”

“bath?” jisung tries one last time, fingers working through the older’s hair. he’s got leftover Epsom salt he stole from hyunjin that one time; apparently it’s supposed to be relaxing.

minho shakes his head no, and jisung can’t say he’s not disappointed—he wanted to take care of his hyung, show him how much he cared, let him know how badly he wanted to stay, wanted to silence the doubts in his mind and ease his worries. he isn’t quite sure of what could have happened to trigger such a reaction in minho, but jisung’s best guess is that it has something to do with him.

minho slides down jisung’s chest and onto the bed, then props himself up on his elbows, preparing to get up—he opens his eyes before closing them almost immediately. the lack of sleep and dehydration is finally catching up to him.

“dizzy?” minho nods in response.

”let me help you,” jisung pleads, and while normally minho would have told jisung to get some sleep, and that he’ll be okay, he knows for a fact that he is not so okay, and in fact does require help.

“i’m not a doctor y’know,” the younger continues and minho quirks up an eyebrow.

“can’t have you slipping and dying in the shower,” he elaborates.

minho snickers, then, “bathe me, then, han jisung,” he announces grandly, holding his hands out of his body and, he’s smirking! jisung’s heart leaps with joy.

“hyung?”

“hmm?”

“do you know how much i love you?”

jisung reaches out, presses a hand against minho’s Adam’s apple—minho swallows—rubbing up and down with two long fingers for two long seconds before letting his hand fall away. minho’s almost completely audible now, save for the few occasional words he’s giving jisung a hard time at deciphering.

“tsk tsk, you just wanna see me get naked,” minho’s voice is raised in fake defensiveness and his head is shaking in fake disappointment. jisung pokes at his upper arm, causing him to lose balance so he helplessly falls back down on the bed.

“han jisung,” minho’s groaning in his revenge voice, still a little groggy. he turns jisung over onto his side and spoons him instead, firmly trapping jisung’s legs with one of his own. he threatens to eat him, shoveling his face into jisung’s neck, when one of his bunny teeth graze against the younger’s neck and he visibly shudders.

“dizzy?”

han jisung shrieks internally.

“oh, you’re nasty. go bathe yourself,” jisung pulls out of minho’s hold successfully and removes himself from the bed, but not before pinching minho’s nipple sharply through the thin material of his shirt.

minho giggles, forgets to voice out a loud ow!

“come back here.”

“m’gonna run the bath.”

minho picks out one of jisung’s hoodies and sweatpants in the meantime, then walks over to jisung’s bathroom, where he sees the latter busy emptying a (large) bag of (?) crystal powder into the tub.

jisung turns around to face him, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in excitement, hands gesturing proudly toward his creation, “all done!”

he sees minho standing in the doorway holding onto the frame with both hands; sees how his eyes are unfocused and dozing; knows he will probably not be able to make it to the bathtub himself without tumbling and falling over.

“stay right there hyung,” he calls out warningly.

he reaches for his shower gel “baby bubble bath” and it’s embarrassing but both of them have bigger things to think about right now, so the action goes ignored. he squeezes the last remaining drops out of the bottle (he’ll have to buy a new one soon, like today soon), then he’s lathering the water, wanting it to be as bubbly as possible for minho.

minho starts walking toward him and jisung reaches out to catch him in case he falls. eventually, the older is only a few feet away from the tub when he starts pulling his shirt over his head. jisung looks the other way, leaning down to lather the water a little more; to check the temperature of the bath a second time.

satisfied with his curation he stands up straight, calls out, “c’mon you big baby,” and he hears the padding of minho's soft footsteps.

“hannie,” he’s right behind jisung and he’s whining, “move.”

jisung can imagine the pout on his face as he speaks.

“what, OH right, sorry,” he quickly shimmies out of the way and turns a hundred and eighty degrees again, letting minho climb in and settle. the older lets out a hum of appreciation almost instantly.

“good?” jisung turns to face him and gingerly seats himself onto the edge of the bathtub, adjusting so he doesn’t fall into the water—toes only almost touching the floor.

minho opens his eyes, nods, “tired hannie, m’really really tired,” he says slowly.

jisung wracks his brain to think back to the day before and everything that happened in chronological order. there really wasn’t anything unusual about minho at work. the only logical explanation could be that something happened back at the maknaes dorm. surely, a fight with the members would not have caused this. he wonders what did happen.

“i know you are,” he bites back a do you want to tell me about it, but he’s aching to say it. instead he grabs one of minho’s hands, starts smoothing his own fingers over his painted fingernails.

“let me take care of you hyung,” he says slowly and jisung can see something familiar in his eyes. it’s the heartbreaking pain and once again, the vulnerability. and jisung doesn’t know what to do with it; feels like he’s not good enough for this; he isn’t doing enough; doesn’t deserve to see minho in a state like this. maybe he should tell chan hyung.

he’s almost about to push himself away and leave when minho wraps his fingers around jisung’s hand and pulls it toward himself, proceeds to place a kiss at his knuckles. head bent down, he looks up at jisung with just his eyes and lets his mouth linger.

they’re both silent for a while before minho detaches his swollen lips from the younger’s hand, preferring to hold it close to his soapy, bubbly chest instead.

“dreamt of you,” minho says with a sigh, finally gives it up. scared, exposed, vulnerable.

jisung whips his head up in surprise and sees the older resting the back of his head against the wall—before realizing that minho was opening up, at last.

his eyes are fluttering shut when jisung responds quietly, staring at minho’s soapy, bubbly chest, “bad dream?”

“nightmare.”

jisung can make out the rest of it, his hyung’s insecurities and concerns having shown themselves late into last night already. he squeezes minho’s hand tight, fingernails barely scraping at his chest at the action. he thinks about how minho is one of the strongest people he’s gotten to know, ever, and to think a nightmare damaged him this much.

he wonders and wonders if he ever gave his hyung; his best friend; his soulmate a reason to ever doubt his love and loyalty for him, when minho interrupts his thoughts.

“i’m sorry, hannie,” head still tilted back, eyes barely open although he tries his hardest to; guilty.

“i’m sorry,” he tries again, tone desperate, squeezing jisung’s hand.

“for being human?”

“i’m the hyung, m’supposed to act like it y’know.”

“you do, all the time, jagi.”

jisung scans minho’s face to check for any signs of tears. he looks alright. jisung reaches for the bottle of “banana and water lilies” shampoo. minho lets out a tired but genuine laugh upon seeing jisung press a dollop of it into his hand.

“can i?”

“please,” and jisung is swirling the shampoo in his hand, swirling it into minho’s hair before he realizes with an exaggerated gasp that his hair is very much dry. minho laughs again, begins to shovel some of the bath water onto his scalp—it drips down into his eyes and he closes his eyes shut.

“ah, burns,” he says, nodding regretfully, truthfully.

“hey! you look just like Soonie right now, you’ve got to believe me,” jisung giggles, before starting to massage circles into minho’s scalp, trying his best to ease away the throbbing at his temples, lightly pressing into them. if he were any harsher, it’d only worsen the headache—he knows this about minho.

"show," minho requests.

“but,” jisung hesitates, “i don’t think you brought your phone with you,” he says tilting his head.

“on yours then,” minho frowns, offended.

“but you’re naked!”

“so?” minho is pouting.

“so, no,” jisung decides very matter-of-factly.

bath time’s over! is what he announces a while later, hands clapping. the clock’s hitting ten already and they need to be at the company by eleven. he gets off the edge of the bathtub to go grab a towel, sends it flying to minho before turning around to leave to give his hyung some privacy.

“wait.”

jisung turns around to see a wrapped up minho looking at him defeatedly, “you made me all sleepy with the shampoo massage.”

jisung raises a brow at this.

“carry me?” and jisung is choking (internally).

he’s debating his head for the dynamics of how that would work.

wouldn’t the towel (cough cough) slip off minho's lower body, amongst other things, possibly? so jisung responds with a frown.

“no.”

minho looks hurt, then he’s looking down at the bubbles. ashamed? embarrassed?

he feels dejected and rejected for the second time over the span of five minutes. and it so shows on his face.

“wait hyung, I didn’t me—”

“thought you wanted to take care of me,” minho spits, regretting it as soon as the words leave his mouth. he can’t believe they’re fighting over something as stupid as this—can’t believe they’re fighting at all.

are they even fighting?

“are we fighting?” quietly escapes minho’s mouth before he can stop himself. he shifts his gaze up to jisung now.

“hyung,” jisung tries, “i’ll carry you if that’s what you want, i’ll do whatever you want me to.”

silence. he bites his lip. anxiety.

“i just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable that’s all, i’m sorry hyung.”

more silence.

“it’s fine,” he finally responds, and his entire demeanor changes. jisung can almost visualize the cold walls minho has managed to mold around himself in just a matter of seconds. he can’t believe he’s shutting him out. he won’t let him—not that easy.

he walks over decisively to where minho is standing in the bathtub waiting for jisung to leave so he can escort himself back to the room. minho looks at him boredly, tiredly.

little does he know about jisung's thoughts running wild in his head.

in one fell sweep, jisung scoops minho up by the torso and is now holding him bridal style, much to his own surprise—and judging by the flabbergasted look on his face—minho’s too, perhaps even more so.

jisung turns to face the door. he’s about to walk them out and to the bed when minho speaks.

“didn’t think you had it in you,” he’s blinking up at jisung, satisfied, purring like a cat.

“you look like a cat,” minho begins to say something to this but chooses to purse his lips at last.

“i’m going to,” pause, grunt, jisung is making their way out of the bathroom, “take a picture,” grunt, two steps forward, “of your cat self,” sigh, grunt, “in my very own phone.”

and minho feels the need to call jisung out for being over-dramatic—they work out just the same (together) after all.

“oh, c’mon, i’m not even that heavy,” he smiles, and his bunny teeth show.

jisung ignores the comment, “and you know the best part?”

minho shakes his head for an answer, still lazily looking up at jisung; although this time jisung swears he can see stars in his eyes.

“i’m not even going to share,” he whispers, means it, “not even in the groupchat.”

minho stares at him, awestruck, silent for a few long seconds until jisung’s knees hit the bed.

“i love your cheekies, jisungie,” he’s staring at his pretty mole.

“i love you,” jisung responds, before all but throwing his hyung onto the bed.

“hey!”

jisung goes to fetch the clothes minho picked out for himself and flings them at him, “dress yourself.”

minho is pouting, then mischievously wiggling his eyebrows at him, asking.

jisung sighs, “are you gonna get mad if i refuse?”

“what do you think?” minho is smirking evilly, but mostly triumphantly.

“hyung,” jisung can’t help but worry at the prospect of having to put underwear. on minho. he sits himself down at the edge of the bed right beside minho, eyebrows furrowed and eyes zoned out in deep thought.

minho notices the concern in his eyes almost immediately, speaks with disappointment, sadness apparent in his eyes. maybe he went too far with everything.

“i was kidding, jisung, really,” he huffs out a laugh.

“hyung,” he’s nervous.

“hm?”

“can i kiss you?”

and suddenly all the air has been knocked out of minho’s lungs.

this is exactly what he had hoped for, what he was trying to accomplish, but still. he’s overthinking and overthinking leads him to think that jisung’s only asking out of pity.

he chokes out, “you don’t have to.”

“but I want to,” jisung is worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, “i want you,” he says quietly.

“you have me,” minho whispers, slowly. jisung stares. minho’s impulsive thoughts take over him.

“you know i wasn’t trying to get you to touch my dick or anything right, i really was kidding…” minho trails off.

jisung stares at him wide-eyed, taken aback, “my mind never even went there hyung,” he answers (lies) quickly.

“hannie, i really don-“

“i’m going to kiss you hyung.”

a breathless minho saying a “why didn’t you sooner,” later and jisung is pressing his hands onto minho’s bare chest, and attaching his mouth to minho’s.

minho goes stiff in shock. jisung brings one hand to grab his jaw to ease him into the kiss, which has minho kissing back just as passionately; groaning in relief, in pleasure.

jisung deepens the kiss and runs the hand resting at minho’s jaw, over his collarbones; brushes over his sternum then strays lower and lower to his right nipple. he brushes over it with light touches using just his fingertips; he licks on minho’s bottom lip and soon enough his nipples are perked up.

minho opens his mouth, heavy breaths escaping him, “jagi,” he moans brokenly.

jisung starts mouthing at his jaw, down the right side, sucking at minho’s neck when the latter grabs the back of jisung’s head, desperate for more. and it takes everything in jisung not to mark him right there and then.

“my pretty boy,” he rasps, before pressing his index finger to minho’s bottom lip, prodding at it, pushing it open and sliding the finger into his mouth. minho only stares dumbly, mouth falling open in surprise. jisung rubs at the roof of his mouth, earning a moan from the older.

his now wet finger slips out of minho’s mouth—who’s stuck in a daze—and goes to circle at his nubs, right one first, while sucking at the sweet spot on his neck.

minho’s entire body arches violently.

“ah,” he grabs onto both of jisung’s arms harshly, electricity thrumming wild through his body.

“jisung,” and jisung pauses immediately, detaching from minho’s neck, searching his eyes for an answer.

“we have,” minho is panting, “work, ah, no time,” a deep breath in, “should stop.”

and jisung nods in understanding. they won’t be able to finish whatever it is that they’ve started and jisung doesn’t want to be the reason minho is worked up and uncomfortable at work all day—knows he won’t be able to focus like that, knows him well like that. jisung has no idea how he’s going to be able to resist kissing the love of his life—now that he’s finally got a taste—for twelve whole hours.

minho reads his mind, sits up, offers, “we can still kiss, if you want.”

an oh thank god is tumbling from jisung’s lips before he’s lunging forward to catch minho’s sweet, sweet lips into an all devouring kiss. lips slotted together perfectly, minho’s pushing jisung even closer into himself with his hand grabbing onto and pulling at jisung’s roots. jisung gasps, mouth opening up, and minho presses his tongue in, exploring every inch of the younger’s mouth that he can; every inch that he’ll allow him.

jisung moans into minho’s mouth rather loudly before they force themselves apart, breathless, strings of saliva still connecting their lips. he rests his forehead against minho’s.

“hey starry eyes,” jisung meets minho’s gaze and pokes at his nose, “i love you,” and he says it so sincerely, so sweetly that minho’s eyes start leaking, again.

his wet lashes brush onto jisung’s cheeks.

“baby,” jisung straddles minho properly and sits into his towel-clad lap, grabs his face with both hands; affectionate, loving.

“it’s happy,” minho is brushing away at the tears, “happy happy tears,” and he’s smiling.

“i love you too,” he breathes, desperately, and scratches underneath jisung’s chin like he would a kitten’s, “so much my love.”

then he’s pulling away with a wide grin, hand smacking jisung’s ass loudly, and squeezing around it tightly—possessively—and jisung swears that the stars in his eyes have never glowed brighter.