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“stranger.”
the air blows cold across minho’s wet cheeks as he whips his head around to watch a man he recognizes slightly from inside step through the door and close it behind him. “hey,” minho croaks, wincing at the sound of his voice. he faces back front immediately, eager for the other to not question it. the younger man fiddles with the vape in his hands as he hovers by the porch railing. “you sound happy,” he huffs out sarcastically in response. minho merely hums and reaches forward, picking a piece of tan grass from the patchy ground and crumbling it between his fingers before reaching for another like he’s been doing for the majority of the night.
a puff of greyed-out smoke flutters past minho, smelling distinctly of some kind of fruit- whichever one the mystery guy is inhaling. he flops down onto the step next too minho, sighing and tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear. the silence feels like too much exposure and dries up minho’s tears despite how they’ve been steadily falling for half the night. he’s never been thrilled by the way he shuts his emotions off by any means…but he thinks it would be nice to not have to for once.
“what’re you hiding from?” minho asks, picking off little pieces from the grass blade.
“who said i was hiding?”
minho finally turns to get a real look at the other man. he’s noticed him inside, sure, but here he seems different. from his longer hair that curls around the backs of his ears, mullet falling down his neck, to the wire-framed glasses perched on his nose- he’s prettier up close.
“i live here. if i wanted quiet, i’d kick them out,” he scoffs, not unkindly but- something gentler. minho wraps a piece of greener grass around his finger like a ring, a clear mockery of the rings sitting heavy in his hoodie pocket at the moment. “nah- i saw you leave actually.”
“so you followed me out because i look pathetic?” minho can’t help but grumble.
“no,” he mutters. “because i’d be a shitty host if i let you cry alone.”
minho feels himself shrivel up, desperate to not be perceived. “i’m not crying,” he scoffs in an obvious lie. it’s like a reflex anymore these days.
“right,” the man says slowly before sticking the vape back between his lips. minho feels set alight all over. his mind feels the emptiest it’s ever felt and still so filled to the brim of every little thing just for something to keep him from caving in on himself. it’s always ‘just one party’, ‘just a drink or two, then i’ll loosen up’, ‘it just takes one conversation’. one drink he struggled to keep down and maybe half a conversation later and he bolts- that’s just how useless he is. he finds his hands jittering more often than not and he can’t seem to get a real breath into his chest before it hurts, it feels too small, not enough- “you like mango?”
minho sucks in a breath of air, finding the fruit smell hinted in it. the man holds his vape out towards him, a stupid looking little box with a blue and orange ombré. maybe not stupid. kind of cute. he pulls at the grass between his fingers, eyes locked on the offered vape. he wouldn’t…normally. he kind of already can’t breathe on the daily. he almost reaches for it when the other speaks again, softer.
“you don’t have to,” he hums, pulling the vape back to tuck in his pocket away from the cold nipping at his hand. “i saw you sampling drinks earlier and thought maybe you’d wanna try something lighter- no pressure, though.”
“trying to sample,” minho mutters defiantly. “i didn’t really- i couldn’t-“
“no harm,” the man grunts, pushing to sit up straighter. “honestly, i’m not a big drinker myself and- well, some of them are really disgusting. like- dog piss disgusting,” he whispers with a grimace as if it were a secret. for the first time the whole night, minho grins. “what? don’t tell me you thought i had a piss kink,” the other man continues, encouraged by minho’s laugh.
the smile falls after a moment as minho settles back into himself. he doesn’t know this man at all. that’s sad, right? he’s at his house . does minho really just let his friends drag him into any place that has an open invite? come to think of it, minho’s not sure he even really knows his own friends sometimes. he knows them on surface level but everything else feels out of reach. all their fears and hopes and everything that makes them human feels- inhuman, foreign. it all feels like something minho will never be allowed to touch or even look at. every person he’s ever come to know has felt so far out of reach from himself. he’s always been kept at arm's length…but arm’s length is beginning to feel like a sickness. like something rotten is furrowed deep inside him and he needs to dig it out, smother it-
“minho.”
his gasp is dry in his throat, scratching, yet he takes another and another. he’s spiraling and he can’t breathe.
“in through your nose, out through your mouth.”
“jesus…fuck,” minho croaks, turning his head away from him not in malice, but in defensiveness. arm’s length, that’s where he belongs. it’s the only place for him. his tears collect at the tip of his nose, falling to the porch steps between his legs as he plucks at strands of his hair, yanking them from his scalp with a wince. suddenly, fingers curl between his palm and his head. they’re soft, gentle in pulling minho’s hand away and squeezing. guiding him to a different sensation.
“your hair is pretty. you shouldn’t damage it like that.” the other man sounds…sad. worse than minho thinks anyone has ever sounded for him. he thinks this is enough reason to try for him, right? the other man brushes his fingers at minho’s shoulder, plucking pieces of stray hair off of him. minho lets his hand fall between the two of them, clutched protectively in the others, and his head ducks between his knees as he takes deeper breaths as instructed- nose, then mouth, repeat.
“how do you know my name?” he asks the second he feels like he can inhale without choking.
to his disappointment, the others hand slips away from his own. he feels his heart sink a little. this man still doesn’t know him, it’s okay that he doesn’t really care beyond this. minho wonders, briefly, if he makes himself panic again…could he maybe have his hand back?
“you’re a friend of hyunjin’s and changbin’s,” he replies. “also, you’re in my house. i know everyone who comes in and out of my place.”
“right,” minho sighs.
the vape makes a reappearance between the man’s lips. they don’t look chapped- minho is envious- and they wrap around the end so tenderly. everything this man does seems to counter his personality. his words carry a heaviness and blunt feel but the way he speaks them is softer. his hands, his clothes, the way he holds himself- it all feels heavy but his actions feel lighter than air. everything he touches is held firm and delicate and the genuine curiosity in his eyes makes minho feel seen…but appreciated.
“my name is jisung, by the way.” he blinks and the other man is speaking, leaning into him. “if you weren’t going to ask.”
jisung. jisung.
he’s heard that name, definitely, but it’s nice to put it to a face. “jisung,” he parrots, just to test it out. jisung hums, a small smile working its way onto his face. “so,” jisung drawls. “what was that? just then?” he gestures vaguely, referring to minho’s minor freak out.
minho plucks up another piece of grass, biting his lip between his teeth. he’d rather not say, really. it’s always a matter of time that it changes a person's whole perspective of him. can he not just have this for a few more minutes? jisung is warm and his person feels inviting in a way minho never gets . he just wants this for a little while longer, that’s all.
the silence seems to speak for him and jisung doesn’t ask again. he does, however, glance at minho periodically as if expecting something . minho’s heart thumps. nobody ever really expects anything of him, not in that way. he’s never had anyone look at him or pry into him like a surgeon to an open wound this way.
“what size are you?” is the question he lands on.
jisung snorts. “i help you out of a panic attack and you wanna know my penis size?”
“no! oh my god-“ minho buries into his palms, ears burning. he can head jisung laughing, though. not to make fun of him but maybe just because the situation is funny. something inside minho flutters. it leaves just as quick but…it feels nice. “your gauges, idiot. what size are they?” minho asks, finally unburying from his hands. the teasing feels- oddly right. he never teases his friends this way.
the gauges themselves are a simple black, almost obsidian looking. the way they reflect when jisung flips one of the discs between his fingers, maybe they are made of obsidian. he thinks jisung’s other piercings- dolphin bites, septum, and what look like dimple piercings- are cool, but the gauges stick out most to him. “they’re twenty millimeters,” he explains with a smile. “cool?”
“mhm,” minho hums, eyes flickering back to the semi-reflective surface. “they’re cool.”
“you’d look nice with gauges,” jisung says and, suddenly, there’s fingers prodding at his lobes. jisung pinches the heated lobe between his fingers, massaging the bareness at the bottom. he’s never had the nerve to get piercings. he thinks he could if jisung thinks they look nice. “or maybe just a cute pair of earrings?”
“maybe,” minho shrugs. his skin tingles where jisung touches, fingers running up the back of minho’s ears as he mutters something about an industrial, then briefly down the side of his neck before falling away completely. he feels the cold brush over him now that jisung’s arm isn’t leaning on his shoulder, his hand gone with it. he finds, in this moment, he’d do anything to bring the touches back. he reminds himself over and over as a constant ‘arm’s length, arm’s length, arm’s length’ but suddenly…arm’s length doesn’t feel good enough. suddenly, jisung begins to feel more tangible than anyone ever has.
“panic disorder,” minho whispers so quietly it barely sounds audible. the streetlight flickers across the street almost in a mockery of him.
jisung is silent for a moment, letting it settle in to ponder perhaps so he doesn’t say the wrong thing, maybe just to give minho a moment or to gather his own thoughts. “not anxiety? unique move. bold, even,” he jokes. minho manages a smile despite the storm brewing up again in his chest. a silent perpetrator you won’t even see until it’s too late to stop it from happening. “how often do you get those?” jisung asks, suddenly serious again.
“only all day, every day,” minho grumbles.
jisung sucks in through his teeth. “yikes.”
his knee bounces as best as it can from his position. he feels everything whirl around inside him, striking at his insides and begging to be let out. he can never do anything right. every relationship of his is ruined by his inability to just speak or how often he leaves a room, how often he interrupts things because his stupid heart races and his body jitters and his lungs just won’t inflate . maybe this is where he belongs: on the surface, held away, shut out. he’s too much and nobody wants to babysit. that’s why he’s here now, why he’s been outside all night by himself with none of his friends even noticing he left. that’s why he’s always like this. he thinks he knows the bathroom stalls of his favourite restaurants more than he knows the menu. he’s used to being cold and out of reach. it’s where he lives now, where he always has.
“sorry-“ he chokes. “sorry, i’m-“ his breath catches in his throat once more, thumping, thumping-
“panicked?” jisung supplies.
for once, minho lets himself nod in admission.
jisung lands a hand on his lower back, rubbing in circles as minho gasps and cups his hands around the back of his neck. he mutters out more panicked apologies that only prompt jisung to press in closer. “s’alright,” he says gently. “it’ll pass.” his body jitters against jisung’s embarrassingly, his eyes and head burning with the fresh wave of tears that fall. “i d-don’t usually- cry this much-“ he stutters. “it’s-it’s usually not this bad-“
the other man hums sadly, applying more pressure to minho’s back before faltering. in a quick movement, he slides a hand beneath minho’s coat, closer to his skin. the action makes minho’s breath catch- but for a new reason. “slow down,” jisung guides, fruit-smelling breath fluttering over minho’s ear. minho inhales, holds, then chokes on another gasping sob. “slow. slow,” jisung reminds him.
gradually, minho loosens again, forcing himself to follow jisung’s instruction until he feels the panic tamper back down. it feels like a rushing wave. the panic rises, then sinks again just as quick, then rises quickly, sinks. minho’s not sure when he really gets a break from the constant panicked feeling, when his chest isn’t airtight. jisung removes his hand from minho’s coat but doesn’t back away this time. his thigh presses warm against minho’s, a welcome pressure. “usually i- i can hide it pretty well,” minho huffs.
“but there’s just a lot happening now?” jisung adds.
minho nods. “it’s- i don’t know. there’s too much.”
jisung nods back, humming. he turns his head over his own shoulder, looking back toward the house where music plays, muffled. every once in a while, the sound of laughter picks up, then quiets again. the feeling is more lonesome than minho thinks it's ever been but maybe it’s just that now, he’s aware of it. “your friends never come check on you, do they?” jisung asks, though he sounds more like he knows and…he’s displeased by it. minho sniffles, swiping the back of his hand across his cheek.
“no. it’s too much for them usually…i think,” minho replies. jisung doesn’t seem to like this answer either. minho wonders, at what point during their conversation had jisung begun to care this much? the stern look he has on his face, deep in thought as his hand finds minho’s knee, running the pad of his finger over it subconsciously- minho would almost swear this practical stranger was fond of him. that’s not possible. nobody is fond of minho, not in that way. nobody looks past his surface long enough and nobody ever holds him close enough to feel it. he wishes though. “i wish they cared more,” he sniffs. “wish someone did.”
he feels jisung’s head turn back, full attention back on minho. he’s still shaking, hands most noticeably where he rubs the pads of his fingers along each of his other fingers, fidgeting. “why would you say…that no one does?” jisung asks, voice lower and more tentative, something minho swears sounds intimate. minho inhales, lips trembling through it and causing him to cough from the influx of cold air.
“i’m-“ he pauses. saying it all out loud sounds like admitting to something that isn't real. he’s made up so much in his head. his own brain has taken things out of proportion, dragging them out and growing them into a colossal feeling of pain and guilt. could saying it out loud make it make any sense? could telling someone his fears make them real or…would he sound insane? he finds that he fears saying anything because saying it plants the idea in their heads, makes it seem like a choice he’s giving them. but he won't see jisung again, right? it won’t matter once they leave this porch. “i think- i’m…i’m too much? and not enough.”
jisung gives him a moment of silence. he dances his fingers along the seam of minho’s pants, black-painted fingernails pulling at bits of loose string.
“i demand too much of people,” minho continues. “too much time, too much effort. people want easy friends, not baggage to carry around. people want- they want a good time, not something to hold onto.”
“people can be like that,” jisung whispers after a silent pause. “not everyone.”
“feels like everyone,” minho breathes, quiet and utterly broken down. he stares across the street at a squirrel hopping down from a tree and skittering under the streetlight. everything feels…desolate. except for jisung’s warmth next to him. “like- everyone i try to hold closer seems to slip away. every step forward i take, they take another five steps back.”
“a lot of people are temporary,” jisung shrugs. “there’s billions of people in the world, y’know? and for every couple of people that don’t value you, there’s a couple more somewhere out there who do- or who will.”
“i don’t want it to be that way,” minho says stubbornly, wet with tears. “i want- i want to be allowed to hold people close.” his own heart shatters with the words, slipping into something less familiar. he’s used to heartbreak, yet…he’s not used to having that heartbreak perceived for what it is. “i want to be allowed to like people and know them. i don’t want to be kept at a safe distance anymore. i want people to fall in completely and fuck it, if it means heartbreak later, so be it. i want it to hurt to prove to myself that it fucking mattered.”
“oof,” jisung says, sounding heartbroken himself despite the absence of words to describe it. “i’m sorry that happens to you so much.”
“i care too much,” minho mutters.
“i think you care just enough,” jisung counters. “not too much. it’s good to care. it shows that people mean something to you, even if it does cause- unwanted situations.”
minho’s heart flutters in his chest. it’s warm and unlike his usual heart palpitations. it’s not panicked…it’s nice. jisung’s knuckles caress his leg as he pulls the vape back from his pocket, making sure to lean away from minho as he exhales. he wants to lean into jisung’s side, lay his head on the others leg. he wants jisung to pet his hair, to koala hug him to sleep, to go with him to pierce his ears and hold his hand for support, to share a drink with him while they both cringe at the taste. it’s a feeling unlike any of the others he has. it’s not rushed or desperate, it feels tangible. it feels like he doesn’t need to grasp at jisung and beg him to stay.
“maybe i’m just unlovable,” minho counters.
“not unlovable,” jisung chides lightly, almost cooing. his eyes meet minho’s and he swears jisung’s eyes sparkle with every shift of the light. his cheeks are rosy in colour with the cold and yet, jisung isn’t leaving to go back in to the warmth. he’s right here . “you’ve just never had anyone try for you.”
there’s something oddly misplaced about the words, a hint toward something minho isn’t capable of seeing. he lets his eyes flicker to jisung’s lips out of instinct…then jisung copies the action. he thinks he’s insane for thinking there’s something here. when this moment is done, it’ll be like nothing happened here in this bubble. “you think so?”
“of course,” jisung chuckles. “everyone deserves that chance.”
“i guess,” minho shrugs.
“one day-“ he starts, “-you’re going to find someone who will follow you out of a room when you need to get away. you’ll find someone who rubs your back, reminds you to breathe, and just lets you exist. you’ll find that stability in someone- or even multiple people. it’ll be like-“ jisung pauses, flickering back to minho’s lips and along the length of his face. he blinks, eyebrows scrunching in thought. minho wishes he knew what jisung was thinking. “it’ll be like that breath of fresh air. it’ll feel like being allowed to breathe again.”
minho wants jisung to be his air.
it's a ridiculous thought because what do they really know about one another? that minho is a hot mess and jisung likes fruity vape juice? but minho swears he’s never felt something so real, like he was allowed to reach out and touch jisung this way. maybe he could…someday. maybe someday he’d run into him again outside of this and the spark will still be there. jisung has already seen one of the ugliest but most real parts of minho that he has to offer and hadn’t pulled away from it. maybe he’s not so crazy to think jisung could be something more than a party host.
“yeah,” minho hums like he’s finally believing in something. “maybe.”
jisung grins a little wider, then lets his eyes fall onto minho’s hair before reaching between them to tuck a few of the longer pieces behind his ear. “what if i get you a better drink than the shitty ones at the table?” he asks. “will you go inside and get warm?”
minho blushes a little at the fact that jisung cares so much and even noticed he was cold. “what drink?”
“i’ve got some energy drinks if you prefer that,” he grunts, standing up and reaching to pull minho with him. he goes up easily despite the shake in his legs. jisung backs a step away from him and minho is hit once again with the fact that this is most likely temporary. they had a moment- but a moment is only that, is it not? jisung wouldn’t feel this way when minho was gone, would he? besides, they don’t know each other and that’s just that.
minho catches his own frown and tries to smile anyway, nodding. “sure, uh- energy drinks sound good.”
“they won’t make your heart race more, right?” jisung jokes, shoving his hands in his pockets.
minho scoffs. “my heart is- in my ass right now just looking at the door so.”
the statement makes jisung snort again. “right,” he says. he steps closer to minho, holding out a hand. “i’ll take you somewhere quiet?” he offers with an anxious expression, as if minho wouldn’t drop everything for this stranger if he asked. he nods and takes jisung’s hand in his own trembling one. jisung’s hand feels equally as cold but firm, sure of what he’s doing as he adjusts the grip. minho swears he catches a shyer smile on his lips before he presses them together and turns to lead minho inside.
for a moment, minho isn’t insane. for this moment, he gets to be not too much but not too little, nothing expected of him except for who he is, and not forgotten. just for a moment, jisung wants to keep him close and, for now, that can be good enough.