Chapter Text
Moving on from Minho is the hardest thing that Jisung has ever had to do.
Learning to live without somebody who had basically been his other half, that’s a whole new type of pain. It’s one Jisung never could have prepared himself for. A cloud is hanging over his head at every turn, threatening to pour.
The first year, he tries to find something that helps. Something that empties his mind. Like any other college student, he drinks.
It helps, he thinks. If nothing else it makes it so he can’t think at all. When Chan and Changbin realize what’s happening, Chan puts off his move across the country for another year.
Jisung uses parties and clubs as a way to fill the Minho-shaped hole in his heart. Any space too large to fill with strangers is filled with alcohol, helping him float along as if nothing could ever touch him.
A new appreciation for being the center of attention grows in Jisung, too. He finds something thrilling about feeling every eye in the room on him, so he starts to make an effort. His outfits become more extravagant. He no longer shrinks under the lustful gaze of strangers.
Every time he graces Chan and Changbin with his presence, a rare occurrence these days, he’s covered in new bruises and the bags under his eyes darken and deepen with every second. His friends find it hard to watch.
It’s only after a particularly long and cold week where Jisung doesn’t ever make it home, where his phone is perpetually dead or off as he finds himself in a new bed every night, that Chan and Changbin finally sit him down.
“We’re so worried about you, Ji,” Chan says softly, holding his hand out, dropping it only when he realizes the younger boy won’t even look at him.
“You haven’t been the same since Minho left. We just don’t want you to lose control.”
Jisung’s eyes stay trained on the floor in front of him, tears pricking at his eyes.
“Just tell us what’s going on in your mind, Jisung. We’ll figure it out from there.”
The younger boy is quiet for a long while, the room silent aside from his soft sniffles. “He took so much of me with him when he left,” Jisung croaks, his eyes slipping shut. Tears collect in the corners of his eyes before spilling over, leaving hot sticky streaks down his cheeks.
“I don’t know how to get it back.”
The sound that leaves his lips is close to a whimper, something raw and unintentional. His friends look on in shock, unsure of how to even reach Jisung when he’s been keeping himself so far from them. Jisung crumbles under the weight of Chan’s comforting hand on his arm, a small sob ripping through his chest.
Even though his friends vow to help him through it all, he feels so incredibly alone.
The first year of missing Minho is the hardest one.
In the second year, Chan and Changbin both fly out to California, promising Jisung can join them when he graduates.
To close the distance between the three of them, they start a weekly podcast called The Rachacast . They play their songs in between catching up, crazy stories from their past, and heated discussions about things that don’t matter.
The way the podcast catches the attention of the public takes all three of them by surprise. It was just a silly thing for them to do to pass the time until they can be reunited, but before they know it their podcast is number one on Spotify. Clips are being shared all across the internet, spreading the word. The world starts to fall in love with 3Racha.
Jisung dubs himself their social media manager, posting updates as often as he can. By the time he’s nearing the end of his last year in college, their group has hundreds of thousands of followers and dozens of offers on the table at any label they could ever have dreamed of.
The love he receives does nothing to help him forget about Minho; he doesn’t think he ever could forget him. The older boy dances through his dreams at night, promising a future Jisung knows doesn’t exist. It just means that now he’s able to nibble at chocolate chip cookies again. He can look at the stars and not wonder if Minho is out there somewhere, looking at the same sky Jisung is.
One thing he can’t do, though, is look at the list of potential record labels without thinking of the job Minho accepted in California. He makes sure to remove that company from the running. He couldn’t bear running into Minho, let alone working with him.
Jisung becomes a bit of a celebrity on campus. His professors all see his future ahead of him bright and clear, so they don’t feel the need to push him very far at all. Jisung even considers dropping out and moving to California with his friends before he can finish his degree. Chan shuts him down and Jisung knows he’s probably right. He’s almost done, anyway. What’s a few more months?
By the time exams pass him by, the feelings he harbours for Minho are nothing but a dull ache.
The second year he spends missing Minho is so much easier.
The move to California is the easiest thing Jisung has ever done.
He and the others move into a spacious three-bedroom apartment, the money from their podcast lining their pockets.
Wanting to take advantage of their last free days before they’re thrown into the deep end at their company, the boys find themselves out on the town every night. They explore karaoke bars and restaurants by their place at night and diners and coffee shops in the morning. Jisung feels like he’s gotten his life together.
He puts up his favourite memories on his walls, photos from birthdays and graduations on any surface he could stick them to. He wishes, though, that he could’ve held himself back from sticking glow-in-the-dark stars to his ceiling.
Jisung builds a new daily routine, too. He wakes up early and buys himself the best coffee he’s found in the area and a small pastry, sitting by the window of the coffee shop and watching the people hustle by. Even when they start heading into the studios in the mornings, he gets up just that little bit earlier so he can enjoy his morning the way he likes.
Being in the studio here is more stressful for sure, but Chan and Changbin make sure to stay by Jisung’s side and guide him through it. They still have fun, too, but their professionalism increases tenfold.
Jisung notices that Changbin and Chan have been acting strange for the week leading up to their first day working on choreography. The two have hushed conversations that cease in Jisung’s presence. They tiptoe around the mentions of dance practice, changing the subject as quickly as they can when it comes up.
It’s not until they actually get there that Jisung realizes why.
When he first steps into the practice room his eyes land on the head choreographer. He’s a younger boy with bright blue hair and a smile that reminds Jisung of the sun.
Then he spots him, his stomach sinking.
Standing in the corner is him. Jisung can recognize his sharp edges and soft expression anywhere. It’s Minho.
He tries to focus on him, begging his eyes to tell him that there’s no way this is his Minho, but a better look at his cat-like eyes and pouty lips only further proves that he’s less than ten feet from the man who tore his heart to shreds just over two years ago.
The silence that falls over the room is suffocating. Jisung opens and closes his mouth, trying to say anything , but his heart has found its way into his windpipe and he can’t even breathe. This was the last fucking thing he expected.
Jisung remembers crossing the label Minho had gotten his job with off of the list, so how could this be possible? How could they be standing so close after all this time? How could they have made it this far without anyone knowing they’d cross paths?
It hits him hard. They couldn’t have made it this far, that’s a fact. Chan and Changbin knew all about this. That’s why they were acting so strange. Minho’s a choreographer, so he had to have heard the songs. Everyone knew. Except for Jisung.
Minho crosses the room quickly, thrusting his hand out towards Jisung.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Minho.”
Jisung stares at his hand, eyes wide. “Don’t fucking do that,” he says, eyes trained on the older boy’s adam’s apple as he swallows thickly.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Jisung.” Minho’s words are cold and emotionless, piercing through his chest.
Jisung is silent for a moment, trying to find his footing in this stand-off. It’s no use, though.
“I need some air,” he breathes, slipping out the door. Chan tries to call for him but as he stands in the hallway, he finds himself completely alone.
Through the door, he can hear Changbin apologizing to the blue-haired dancer. Introductions continue inside as if Jisung’s world hasn’t just been torn to shreds with just one sentence.
He’s never heard Minho say his name like that, so devoid of the fondness and care it once had. His name doesn’t sound like a melody anymore. It sounds like a burden.
Despite everything, he doesn’t want Minho to hate him.
He’d spent the better portion of their time apart trying to convince himself that he hates Minho for everything that happened, but he knows better. His hurt doesn’t equate to hatred.
Jisung is also taken by surprise that after all this time his hurt still runs so deep. He had truly thought he’d gotten over it but seeing Minho so close brought it all rushing back. Suddenly he’s nineteen, crying in his car on his way home, having just lost his best friend.
The practice room door opening pulls him out of his thoughts, his eyes wide and glossy as Chan steps into the hall.
“I’m really sorry,” the older boy says softly. “We tried to get somebody else but the label wouldn’t budge. Then I just didn’t know how to bring it up, and now…”
“It’s not your fault. I just… didn’t expect it.” Jisung dabs weakly at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, taking a deep and shaky breath. It becomes much harder to keep it together when the older boy pulls him into a tight hug.
They spend the next few minutes working on calming him down, taking deep breaths together as Chan wipes away any stray tears.
When they step back in, all eyes are on them. Jisung is embarrassed by his red-rimmed eyes and the burning in his cheeks but everyone pretends they don’t notice it for his sake.
“Jisung Han,” he says as he holds a shaky hand out to the blue-haired choreographer. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
“Felix Lee,” the speckle-faced boy says, smiling warmly as they shake hands. “Likewise. Are we all ready to get into the choreography?”
Jisung isn’t, but he has no choice when their debut is looming over their heads.
With no choice but to adapt to the severely unfortunate circumstances, Jisung tries to make the best of a bad situation.
It starts small, with him buying coffee for everyone during their short breaks. He and Minho exchange pleasantries and compliments on each other's work, but from there it only seems to get harder to draw the line between work and friendship.
Seeing Minho every day does something inexplicable to Jisung’s brain. Things start to feel like they never changed at all. He starts to feel like he’d never lost Minho.
There’s still a distance, like when Jisung tries to make sure they’re at least five feet apart at all times or when he trails off before he slips up and mentions their past. This distance, though, doesn’t stop them from falling back into their old antics.
“It’s like you have two left feet. Come on, you can do this,” Minho says, hand resting on the younger boy’s lower back, steadying him as he loses his footing.
Jisung takes a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “You’re so annoying,” he mutters, launching back into the routine. Minho watches him carefully, eyes sparkling.
“Beautiful- yes, that’s it Jisungie!” The older boy cheers, nodding his head enthusiastically. Pride blooms somewhere in his chest, along with the warmth spreading through him from the familiar nickname.
During their breaks for lunch, Jisung often finds himself tucked in a corner of a cafe nearby with Minho. They catch up on the moments that feel like they’ve slipped through their fingers over the past few years.
“So Jisung,” Minho starts. He looks up at the younger boy through his lashes, looking shy. “How were your last two years of school?”
Jisung’s blood runs cold, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. How the fuck does he answer that?
“Umm, my last year was good. It was really weird. I was like a local celebrity. By the end of first semester everybody knew my name. My professors didn’t really make me work too hard. I think I only really finished the degree in case things didn’t work out with all of this.”
Minho hums thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly. “And your third year?”
Jisung doesn’t answer right away. He can’t admit to anything that happened that year. Just the thought of everything he went through is enough to send a shiver down his spine, so he takes a second to put together something vague enough to not alert Minho to how fucked up he left Jisung.
“I learned a lot about myself,” he says finally, sticking his fork through the slice of cheesecake in front of him. “What about you? How have you been?”
“Well- I got fired,” Minho laughs, eyes still sparkling with curiosity about Jisung. He pretends he doesn’t notice. “I was a bad fit for the last place I worked. Their routines were just… too strict for me. I like it here a lot better. I’ve even made a few friends, so I’m just holding on to the good stuff, you know?”
Jisung nods, pushing pieces of fruit around his plate. “I’m happy for you, Min. I always knew you were going to be something great.”
“Thank you, Jisung. I can’t wait to see you become the most famous producer in the world.”
After what seems like an eternity in silence, Minho meets his eye. They hold each other there in that moment, unspoken words passing between each other. I hope I get to be by your side as you grow.