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sometimes he catches jisung staring, looking at him from across the room until their eyes meet for a brief moment and he looks away. sometimes these are just glances, jisung looking up just as minho turns to look at him. every now and then minho gets a quick, small smile to go with the glances, and these smiles always feel so precious and pure and they make him want to grab jisung by the cheeks and pinch and stretch and never let go. more often than not, jisung just looks pensive, as if he’s looking at minho but not quite seeing him. it’s almost as if he’s staring straight through his physical form and directly into his soul. it would be unsettling, except for the fact that this is jisung, who minho trusts and adores with his whole heart.
they’re in the waiting room for one of those music show performances, outfits donned and stage make-up slathered over their faces, unnatural in the fluorescent light but made to shine under the spotlights. jisung has glitter over his eyelids, hair styled up to show off his forehead, gloss glistening on his lips to make them even more inviting, tempting, even.
two years ago, minho would have been overwhelmed by these thoughts. he would have had to curl up alone in his room and stare at the wall and pretend that things were okay. but after two years, two years spent in close proximity with the man of his dreams, he’s no longer bowled over by the intensity of his feelings. he’s scrolled through enough posts, enough forum threads on how to deal with a crush on your best friend to know that all he can do is learn to live with, to accept his feelings. where there once was a tornado, a gentle, peaceful ocean remains, tides ebbing and flowing with the moon.
he’s looking at his phone but he can’t focus, not with jisung’s eyes fixed on him. he can see it just in his peripheral vision, and maybe he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t hyperaware of jisung’s presence at all times. jisung’s lip is caught between his teeth, gnawing on it in the way he always does when he’s focused. focused on you, his brain helpfully provides.
he does what he does best: feigns nonchalance to obscure the way his heart beats faster every time he feels jisung’s gaze.
“jisungie, is there something on my face?” he turns his head to take in jisung’s appearance in its entirety, ignoring the way his breath still catches in his throat.
“hyung,” jisung says, in an unexpectedly low timbre. if he had to rank all the voices he’s ever heard, minho would probably rank jisung’s voice among the top three. maybe even give him the top prize. but he’d never admit it. even in an industry full of talented vocalists, jisung’s range and flexibility never cease to amaze. it’s also, unrelatedly, one of the things he finds most attractive about him.
“how did you know you liked guys?” of all the questions he’d thought jisung would ever ask, this one came out of left field. as far as minho was concerned, jisung was straight. unattainable. unreachable. minho had long come to attribute any actions or characteristics that he could possibly identify as not-straight as results of fan-service, his own projection and wistful thinking. because deep down, maybe if he let himself believe that jisung did also like men, then there would only be one possibility left: jisung just didn’t like him like that.
and somehow, believing that jisung was straight as a ruler felt better than the other possibility.
the question hangs in the air, unanswered, as minho processes. his eyes are still locked on jisung’s earnest ones, genuinely searching for an answer as minho is in crisis. when is he not in crisis, though?
“i… i just knew?” he replies, still unsteady. “i guess i met a guy who made me feel like i wanted to do everything with him.”
he doesn’t say that said guy is sitting across from him, asking him impossible questions, and minho feels like he’s lying despite everything he’s said being true.
“everything?” jisung prods.
good lord, minho thinks. how do you tell the man you love all the things you want with him, without telling him you want him? it’s a cruel, cruel exercise in restraint, but minho is nothing if not an expert. he takes a deep breath.
“like, holding hands. kissing. physical stuff, you know? but i also want, wanted to get to know him better, to know his soul like my own. make him breakfast in the mornings and walk along the river with him.” once he’s started, he can’t stop. it’s like the words force themselves out of his chest and into his mouth and into the shared space for jisung to peel apart and examine.
“i started wishing, whenever i was alone, that he’d be by my side, accompanying me through life. i also started wishing to be the one he’d ask out not just on dates, but also on convenience store runs and walks through the park. i want, needed to be his everything.” his breath catches on the last words. he’s said too much, laid himself out too bare in front of jisung. his eyes are now firmly fixed on the coffee table between them, stubbornly refusing to meet jisung’s gaze where it’s still fixed on his face.
“hyung,” jisung starts, eyes flitting over minho’s form. he can’t help but fight a full-body shudder. he feels like he’s just run a marathon through a desert, panting and disoriented, but forcing his calm demeanour to remain. his hands clench and unclench in his lap, too aware of what jisung may say.
he never gets to hear it, though. chan returns to the waiting room, with the show staff in tow.
“get ready, everyone! we’ll be on in a few,” he says, eyes flicking between jisung and minho’s stiff posture. they both nod, rising to their feet to begin stretching. the moment between them has shattered, whatever jisung was about to say lost in the space between.
minho forces a tight smile on his face, eyes never quite meeting jisung’s expectant ones. they’ll talk about this, maybe, maybe after they’re piled into cars to bring them back into their dorms, maybe when jisung sneaks into minho’s bed as he often does, or maybe they never speak about it again.
minho doesn’t know, but he pushes his feelings back down into his chest and gets ready to be on stage with the one person he’s ever loved.