Archive of Our Own

“I’ve never been more sexually frustrated in my life,” Hyunjin announces, throwing himself face down onto the study room table. 

“You say this every week,” hums Minho, which is very rude and completely incorrect.

“Who's it about this time?” asks Seungmin, also quite rudely. "The sexy guy who lives on your apartment floor?”

“No,” Hyunjin scoffs. He lost all feelings once he caught a glimpse of his apartment and saw multiple naked hentai posters on the walls. “It’s a sexy guy in my Intro to Statistics class.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “Statistics? Since when are you into stats?”

“I’m not,” Hyunjin says gruffly, lifting his head off the table. “I needed a math credit and the professor is hot. But Han Jisung.”

Minho frowns, briefly glancing away from his laptop. “Who?” 

“Sexy stats guy, keep up.” It’s only years of experience reflexes that save him from getting nailed in the head with an eraser. 

Seungmin regards the attempted assault without so much as an eyebrow raise. “Since when are you into nerds?” Seungmin asks, in the same accusatory and slightly offensive tone. “How hot is this Han Jisung guy?”

Hyunjin recoils, automatically defensive. “You wouldn’t understand. Even if I had a picture.” 

He’s not lying. Given his track run with men, it’s usually the same type of guy: fat ass, kind of stupid, air sign, big dick. Granted, he hasn’t talked to Han Jisung enough to confirm much of this criteria, but a single glance at him will tell him he’s quote-en-quote “Not Like Other Guys.” 

Minho looks up. “You don’t have his Instagram?”

“Private,” Hyunjin sighs, defeated. After finding out his name, Hyunjin scoured the internet for photo evidence of the love of his life and was met with complete and utter disappointment when all of his avenues were blocked by various “private account” screens. While it was discouraging, it fueled his lust tenfold. Hyunjin’s been unable to take proper notes in stats for weeks now, in favor of ogling at the cute boy with the big fucking brown eyes and nerdy glasses and messy dark hair that he blinked out of his eyes every ten seconds. God , he needs him so bad. 

“Oh gross, you have fucking heart eyes for him.” Seungmin recoils as if Hyunjin was drooling on him, which isn’t actually that hard to imagine. “If you like him so much, why don’t you fuck him?”

“I’m trying!” Hyunjin collapses again, his sexual frustration coming back to him in waves. “He’s like, fucking oblivious to it though. I’ll like, smile and twirl my hair and wink at him but he just looks away. It’s so goddamn annoying.”

“Maybe he’s just not that into you,” says Minho. He smugly click-clacks his laptop keys as if the words that didn’t just leave his mouth were utterly devastating.

“Or,” Seungmin starts, sensing the mental breakdown Hyunjin was about to have, “he’s just a little shy. You probably have to be a lot more direct with someone like him.”

Hyunjin raises his head from his desk, confused. “Someone like him? You don’t know him?”

He’s proved very wrong very quickly. Seungmin spins his phone screen around and shows him the Instagram profile of Han Jisung— not private-restricted, full grid of posts on display. Hyunjin lunges, but Seungmin is too quick. “Nuh-uh, you need to ask for that yourself.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW HIM?” Hyunjin screeches, still reaching for the phone. 

“His name sounded familiar, so I did a quick Instagram search. Turns out we did a project together once, in like, freshman year. He said like a total of two full sentences to me, but he got his work done.”

Hyunjin sighs dreamily, still splayed out on the table.  “He has work ethic.”

“This is disgusting,” Minho announces abruptly, slamming his laptop shut and standing up from his chair. “I can’t focus on this essay if Hyunjin is drooling all over it.” He points threateningly at Hyunjin. “If you don’t get this Han Jisoo guy’s number and fuck him in the next week, I’ll kill you.”

“It’s Han Jisung,” Hyunjin protests, but Minho is already stomping away, a snickering Seungmin on his heels. 

Well, now he has to get his number before the end of the week. Fueled by determination and ever persistent horniness, Hyunjin hatches a game plan. 

📚

He finds Han Jisung sitting alone approximately two days later. 

He’s the dictionary definition of a cute nerd. Hunched over a laptop and a notebook, glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose as he pours over the material. He’s wearing an oversized black hoodie that envelopes his figure, and the hood’s pulled over his head, making his fringe hang over his eyes. He presses a pencil to his pouting lips, deep in thought, and Hyunjin literally almost moans. He’s never wanted someone so badly in his life. Not even Sexy Hentai Guy. 

Hyunjin does a quick check in his phone’s camera. Blonde hair perfectly mussed, lips glossed and pouty, mascara emphasizing his heavy eyelashes, cardigan falling artfully off his shoulder to reveal the perfect amount of skin. He was delectable. A dream. Jisung would be an idiot to say no to him.  

He sashays  up to his table and leans against it, tilting his head to his side. “Hey,” he murmurs, keeping his lips pouty, “I think we’re in the same Intro to Statistics class, no?” It’s a dumb opener, but he can’t come off too strong. Give him something easy, something he can respond to.

Han Jisung looks up, blinking rapidly. He has the biggest, shiniest brown eyes, like a puppy or an angel. He could commit cold-blooded murder with those eyes and Hyunjin would still testify not guilty in court. He reaches up and lifts up his headphones. “Uh, I’m sorry, are you talking to me?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin purrs, making sure he emphasizes the airiness of the “h” sound. “I was just asking if we were in the same Stats class.”

Jisung blinks, and it’s fucking adorable. Hyunjin wants to eat him whole. “Uh, I think so? Professor Kim?”

“That’s what I thought.” Hyunjin drags his finger across the table slowly—sadly, it’s acrylics-less, since tennis season is starting soon, but Han Jisung seems to be entrapped by the movement anyway. His gaze follows Hyunjin’s finger as it traces a line in the wood and then slowly trails up Hyunjin’s  thigh, stopping to play with the corner of his cardigan. Giddiness bubbles in Hyunjin’s chest. Hook, line, sinker. “Anyway,” he continues, voice still sultry, “I’ve been seeing you in class, and I was just wondering—” he moves his hand to curl around a strand of his hair. “Could I get your number?”

Han Jisung’s big brown eyes blink again. His gaze darts to his lips, then to his notebook, then up to his eyes. “To study?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin blurts without thinking. What the fuck? Study? What is happening? Why is he agreeing? “I’ve kind of been lost with the, uh, probability distribution stuff, y’know.” Why is he still talking? What the fuck is going on?

“Oh yeah,” Han Jisung says, sinking down a little. He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out his phone. “I could, um, help you? Like a study session?”

Would it end in sex? Hyunjin thinks. Outloud: “Uh, yeah, that sounds good.” He reaches for his own phone and they undergo an awkward exchange of numbers. Gone is the sexy confidence Hyunjin had two seconds ago. All the seduction in his body has been replaced with embarrassment. God, he’s such a fucking idiot. He’s pining over a nerd, of course he’s gonna want to study and not fuck. 

Hyunjin’s saved from his brief mortification when he sees that Han Jisung saved himself as “Jisung 🐿️” in his phone. “Squirrel?” he questions, lips curved in a curious smile. 

“Oh—that’s—sorry, it’s a dumb habit,” Jisung’s face is bright red, and even though Hyunjin would’ve preferred to see his face that color in a much different context, he looks cute, so he’s not too mad. “I grew up knowing a Park Jisung, and we used to always just use the emojis to tell each other apart.”

Hyunjin cocks his head. “Last names wouldn’t work?”

“It’s dumb, I know, you can change it.” Jisung’s face is even redder. He sinks down into his seat, flipping his hood over his ruffled hair. 

Hyunjin finds himself even more attracted to this fumbly, flustered version of Jisung. “I think it’s cute,” he giggles, and it’s not even him trying to be deliberately flirty—okay, it’s not only because he’s trying to be deliberately flirty. “I’ll keep it.”

Jisung smiles, this awkward, lopsided thing. Hyunjin’s in love with him. “Ah, okay. Um. You can just, ah, text me when you’re free, and we can work out a time?”

Right. Because they’re supposed to be study buddies. Not fuck buddies. “That works!” Hyunjin says weakly. He slips off the table, takes a step back. “I’ll, um. See you in class tomorrow?”

Jisung just nods, flashes that awkward smile again. Hyunjin runs off before he dies of embarrassment. 

What the fuck did he get himself into?

📚

After that clusterfuck of an encounter, Hyunjin shuts himself into his room, recovering from the sheer mortification. After a brief mental breakdown that almost leads to a spontaneous haircut, he convinces himself that while that was bad, there couldn’t possibly be anything that could make his situation worse. Or so he thought.

A week or so later, Hyunjin’s walking down to the dining hall after tennis conditioning, still squeezing the water out of his hair from his brief post-workout shower, when he spots him.

“Him” is Jisung, of course—but he’s with someone else. Someone, who, upon further inspection, is his literal ex. 

Goddammit.

He screeches to a halt and practically leaps behind an empty table, peering around the chair legs to spy on the pair. He hears a joyful, bright peal of laughter—and almost falls over when he sees that it’s Jisung. 

Jisung is laughing. His ex is making the love of his life laugh.

Hyunjin can’t even dwell on how sweet his laugh sounds, because the next thing he sees is him literally fall over into Chan, laughing so hard he’s shaking as he leans against Chan’s chest. And it’s a good, firm chest. Hyunjin would know, he used to leave hickeys there all the time. God fucking dammit.

Hyunjin stands up abruptly, running away before they can get a glimpse of him. He’s heartbroken. Not only did he embarrass himself in front of his love, but he also has to find out that he’s apparently probably having sex with his ex. Or maybe they’re fully dating. Oh, God. Jisung’s probably not even into twinkish men like him. He’s just like Hyunjin—he likes Libras with golden retriever energy and fat asses. And of course Chan also has a big dick. Hyunjin’s doomed. 

He locks himself in the nearest open private study room and slumps over, dejected. Glumly, he picks up his phone and shoots a text to his groupchat with Seungmin and Minho.

Help. jsut saw jisung with my ex

I think theyre dating

Im gonna krill msyelf

Seungmin :]

Where r u 

[Location sent]

Min-hyung

u overdramatic llama

we’re on our way

15 minutes later, Minho and Seungmin arrive, bearing an iced Americano and a shitton of tissues. Hyunjin immediately bursts into tears. 

“I’m never going to have sex again,” Hyunjin cries. Seungmin sighs and reaches down to pat his back. “That’s not true at all.”

“No,” says Hyunjin, in between tears. “It is. Because I’m never going to be able to move on.”

Minho hands him the iced Americano, which Hyunjin slurps immediately. “Damn, is he that sexy?”

“ Yes!” Hyunjin wails. “He’s so nerdy and he has big brown eyes and the cutest lips and I bet his dick is big and I want him so bad.” He loudly blows into a tissue. “But I can’t have him because he isn’t into twinks and he’s dating my ex.”

Seungmin frowns. “Says who?”

“Says me.” Hyunjin sniffs. “Why else would he deflect me clearly asking to fuck into a study date? And everybody I know falls for Chan, there’s no way they haven’t at least kissed yet.”

“Hyunjin you’re a fucking idiot,” says Minho. Seungmin sighs. “Hyung, c’mon .”

Hyunjin sniffles sadly. “He’s right. I’m an idiot for assuming I could get with him.”

“No, dumbass,” Minho scowls. “You’re only an idiot because you keep making assumptions. You don’t know that you’re not his type or that he’s dating Chan, you’re just assuming the worst.”

“Maybe Jisung isn't the best with social cues,” Seungmin adds, “and maybe he and Chan are good friends. Hell, you and Chan had a pretty clean break, so maybe he’s even putting in a good word for you.” 

Hyunjin sips his coffee, blinking. “You think so?”

Minho and Seungmin nod. Minho kicks him lightly in the thigh. “Just go for him already, damn. You have his number.”

“That’s for studying though?” 

Seungmin shrugs. “Okay, so study. Spend time together and get closer. You guys could probably hit it off that way, or something. Just keep being direct.” 

“Huh.” Hyunjin sits there, sipping and thinking. That would be hot. Sex in the library? Jisung in his prime nerd—focused, studious, with his glasses and all. Would he take them off when kissing? Maybe he’d keep them on while they’re fucking, and they’d jostle around his face when—

“Aaaaaand he’s horny now,” says Minho, clapping loudly. “That’s my cue.” He throws the rest of the shitload of tissues at him—it’s really an obnoxious amount, he doesn’t cry that much—and drags Seungmin out of the room with him, throwing out a You’re welcome, dumbass! behind his shoulder before slamming the door shut. 

And once again, Hyunjin’s left with his horniness and determination. But this time, it’s actually going to work. 

📚

That Wednesday, Hyunjin spends approximately an hour and 45 minutes getting ready for he and Jisung’s “study session”—in quotes because Hyunjin’s mentally called it a hookup-slash-date so many times there’s no chance it will just end up being a study session, due to pure manifestation and determination alone. He spends 30 minutes figuring out what to do with his hair, settling on a casual half-up-half-down style that’s meticulously crafted to look sexy yet casual. The rest of the time is spent crafting his outfit and doing makeup—which doesn’t take too long because he spent hours doing skincare and such in the shower the night before. Figuring out what he’s going to wear does take long though, and his room is a mess by the time he lands on a loose button-up and dark jeans, topped with some layered silver jewelry. 

Hyunjin stares at his reflection as he buttons up his shirt. He’s classy, but slutty, with his glossy pink lips and the perfect amount of eyeshadow to look fucking delectable. He smiles, slowly, imagining Jisung watching him stride in the room. Would he get flustered, cheeks flushed red, words tumbling over each other? Blinking rapidly underneath those glasses, eyes glittering in the warm library light? Who would move for the kiss first—Hyunjin, asserting his intentions, or would it be Jisung, finally giving in to the tension surrounding them? Would it be messy and rushed as they eagerly give into their desires, or something more, slow, curious, as they explore each other?

Only one way to find out, Hyunjin thinks. He grabs his tote bag, pre-packed with the required books and materials to match the “study environment”—plus some extra materials, for when their study session goes the route Hyunjin intends it to—and heads out the door. 

His off-campus apartment is only a couple blocks away from the campus library, but it’s a long enough walk to have Hyunjin shivering when he walks into the library. February in Korea is not for the weak of heart. He should’ve just gone with a sweater outfit. It’ll all be worth it soon, he reminds himself, walking into the corner with the study tables. Sitting at the furthermost table is Jisung in his telltale hoodie and glasses, typing something out on his phone. 

Hyunjin pauses. Takes a deep breath. Reapplies some lip gloss. Let’s do this.

He saunters up to the table, a foxy smile on his lips. “Hi.”

Jisung’s head darts up with so much speed his hood almost falls off his head. “O-Oh, hi.” With glee, Hyunjin watches his eyes roam over his outfit, lingering on the slim expanse of chest revealed by the unbuttoned portion of his shirt. This is it. This is it. 

Hyunjin smirks lightly. “Sorry, did I startle you?” 

“Uh, yes? I mean, no, uh—fuck. You can sit down.” He gestures to the open seat and sinks down into his chair, eyes glued to the table. 

No, that’s not good, he needs to look at him. “Thank you,” Hyunjin purrs, airy and sensual. He settles down into his chair slowly, and—yes!— Jisung’s looking up again. He lets his tote bag roll off his shoulder and pretends to fix his collar, really just exposing more of his skin. Jisung’s eyes immediately dart to the newly exposed stretch of collarbone. Hyunjin has to bite back a grin.

“You’re really sweet for doing this for me, y’know,” Hyunjin continues, in the same sensual tone. Jisung shakes his head profusely, dropping his gaze again. Fuck. “It’s no big deal,” he says.

“No, really,” Hyunjin presses. He leans forward, locking his gaze onto Jisung. “I really appreciate it.” Jisung glances up—a quick movement, but Hyunjin’s even faster, pouting his lips and dropping his tone more. “You’re the best.” He twists his hair in his finger, for extra measure.

And then, the unthinkable happens. The gods smile down on his sad, little, sexually frustrated existence, blessing him with the greatest gift:

Jisung cheeks turn bright, fiery red. His hand flies up to play with his hoodie string. A flustered smile turns up the corners of his lips. “Ah, um. It’s really no problem.” He hurriedly grabs his Statistics textbook and flips it open. “Uh, should we start… studying then?”

Satisfied, Hyunjin leans back, unable to fight the smirk on his face. “Of course.” He’s the image of alluring coolness, posture sexy but casual, but in reality he’s bursting with glee. He got Jisung flustered! His cheeks are all red and he’s doing that adorable fumbly, shy thing—because of him. They’re basically already in bed right now. Hyunjin’s got his metaphorical lips around Jisung’s cock—and if this keeps up, he’ll have his physical lips around them much sooner. He’s prayed for times like this.

“Uh, so,” Jisung says, snapping him out of his sexual reverie, “you said you needed help with probability distributions, right?”

“Um, yeah.” Hyunjin reaches into his tote bag, pulling out his notebook and fancy bedazzled calculator. “Binomial and geometric distributions and such.” He was actually relatively solid on this concept—but he needed Jisung to focus on tutoring him in an area that he understood, because he’d hate to waste his time by trying to explain something harder to him when the only hard thing on Hyunjin’s mind was in his pants.  

“Oh, okay. I can show you my notes on that, if you’d like?”

“Mhm.” Hyunjin leans forward so he’s in Jisung’s space, tilting his head so his lips are angled toward Jisung. “You’re the expert.”

Jisung’s cheeks warm again, much to Hyunjin’s glee, and he shifts in his seat. “O-Oh, um, okay. So, with probability distributions…”

Hyunjin furrows his eyebrows in frustration. This “study session” is only going to be just a study session if they keep going in circles like this. Hyunjin flirts, Jisung gets flustered, but then draws back. Hyunjin flirts again, and so on. It’s nice that his efforts are getting the appropriate reaction, but that doesn’t mean jackshit if Jisung’s just going to draw away. 

Jisung’s halfway through describing geometric distributions when it finally hits Hyunjin. A fact he had acknowledged, but only in part. In other words—Han Jisung is shy. He keeps to himself in classes, keeps to himself outside of classes, and according to Seungmin, he doesn’t talk much even in group projects, either. Hyunjin’s had flings with a couple of shy men before, and it usually was because either A) it started out as a drunken affair, or B) the shy boy was confident enough to assert what he wanted. And unless he was going to try and inebriate Jisung, the only way to get into his pants was to make him comfortable . Hyunjin was coming on too strong, and while it clearly was attractive, it wasn’t enough to make Jisung drop his defenses and go for it. Hyunjin would have to take things slow, play the long game.

“Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin blinks rapidly, realizes that Jisung has stopped talking and is now looking at him expectantly. “You got it?” 

“Oh, um, yeah,” Hyunjin brushes a stray strand from his face, smiling a bit. “I got it.”

📚

“Sorry I’m late,” Hyunjin says breathlessly as he slides into his chair across from Jisung’s, exactly one week later. “Lost track of time.” It wasn’t an exact lie—he did lose track of time when he spent an hour stressing over an outfit to wear that was a lot more casual than his last one but still somewhat attractive. He only settled on the one he was wearing now because his roommate, Felix, stuck his head in and told him that the longer he worried about his outfit, the less casual it would be. 

Now, observing Jisung, who also happens to be wearing a grey crewneck and jeans—except Jisung’s jeans are cargo pants style and Hyunjin’s are slimmer—Hyunjin feels very, very silly. He should’ve opted for the sweater. Curse you, Lee Felix. 

“You’re fine,” says Jisung, setting down his phone. “I was just, uh, sitting here, anyway.” He opens his textbook and Hyunjin reaches into his bag to follow suit, completely unprepared for the “nice outfit,” Jisung belatedly adds, entirely unprovoked.

Hyunjin startles, equal parts embarrassed and flattered. “Thanks?” He glances down at his outfit, ears hot. “I was worried I overdressed last week, so I went for something more casual—I didn’t realize you’d wear something similar.”

Jisung shrugs. “Not your fault. It, uh,” he looks away, cheeks pink. “Looked nice.”

Hyunjin furrows his brow. “My outfit last week? That was—” 

“Nice. It was—nice. Your outfits are always nice.”

Hyunjin stares in open shock, watching Jisung curl up into a tiny flustered ball of embarrassment. “You notice?”

“Um…” Jisung blinks rapidly. Hyunjin can literally see the wheels turning in his brain, see him make the mental decision to keep talking. “Yeah. It’s, uh… easy to notice, since, um… You’re so….” 

“So what?” Hyunjin presses, equal parts eager and confused.

Still pink-cheeked, Jisung ducks his head down into shoulder. “Good-looking,” he mumbles, barely audible.

What the fuck. What the fuck!

Jisung just complimented him. Completely unprovoked. No deliberate flirting was done at all. This slow approach is working, and it’s working surprisingly quickly. Maybe they’ll actually have sex today after all. 

“Wow, thank you,” Hyunjin purrs, tucking a strand of hair behind his ears. “You really think so?”

“Um, yeah,” Jisung says, eyes glued to his hands. “Doesn’t everyone?” 

Hyunjin preens at the additional compliment, ready to say something even flirtier, when he notices Jisung fiddling with his hands. Upon closer look, Hyunjin notes that he’s actually twisting something on his finger—a ring. Multiple rings, actually. Since when did he wear rings? Paired with his black nail polish, they make his hands look even prettier—and he has pretty hands. Hyunjin spent a good part of last week’s session staring at them, and then imagining how he pretty he’d feel with those hands around his neck. He would’ve definitely noticed if he had been wearing any rings last week.

“Oh, I like your rings,” he says, uncaring of how he completely flipped the subject, leaning forward to see them better. “Do you always wear them?”

Jisung startles, taken completely off guard. He shifts in his seat a little. “Uh, not always? Sometimes I forget, or I, um…” he looks away, shy, “…take them off, ‘cause I play with them too much when I’m, uh, nervous.”

So there’s a chance that he wasn’t wearing them last week because he was nervous? He’s so cute. Hyunjin squints at the rings, observing their assorted designs. “These are so cool. I wish I wore rings more.” When Jisung just blinks at him, he continues. “I used to wear rings back in high school, but I stopped after I lost my favorite one.” He sighs, wistful. “It was silver, and had a daffodil—my birth flower—carved into it. My mom got it for me for my 16th birthday after I came out to her. It always went so nicely with my other rings. But then I had a tennis match once and I forgot to take it off beforehand. I thought I shoved it into my tennis bag but I couldn’t find it after that. I tried to look for a replacement but the place my mom originally got them from doesn’t sell them anymore, and I could never find anything like it.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, frowning a bit, “what did it look like?” 

“Oh—um,” Hyunjin fumbles for his phone, excited to have Jisung’s interest. He scrolls through his camera roll till he finds the picture he took of it when he first got it. “It was this.”

Jisung pushes his glasses up his nose—so cute!—and lends forward, humming in appreciation after he’s looked at the screen. “It’s a nice ring.”

“I know, right?” Hyunjin whines, letting his phone fall. “My most tragic loss. Wearing rings was never the same after I lost it.” He glances back at Jisung’s hands. “Where do you get your rings from?”

“Er, my cousin welds and stuff, so she makes most of them,” Jisung says, cheeks dusted pink. He fiddles with a silver ring around his left pointer finger, one that has a twisting middle. “I think this is the only one I actually bought from a jewelry vendor?”

Hyunjin leans forward again, marveling at his rings (and his hands). “They’re so cool! You have such good taste.”

Jisung flushes, a small smile playing at his lips. “Thank you,” he mumbles. He shyly rubs the back of his neck and God, Hyunjin’s thinking about those hands around his neck again. He wonders if he’d be the type to choke him immediately, or would Hyunjin have to beg, panting, eyes wet with tears? 

“Anytime,” Hyunjin says sweetly, the perfect image of innocence. He gestures to his notebook. “So. Probabilities?”

Yes, playing the long game is terrible for his sexual frustration, but honestly, Hyunjin relishes every little opportunity he gets to see Jisung a little flustered. Watching Jisung nerd-out on calculator functions and standard deviations is also an added plus, he supposes. 

📚

“So?” Minho asks during tennis practice a few weeks later. “How’s it going?”

“Hm?” Hyunjin hums, cycling through his warmup stretches. 

“With Jisung,” Seungmin presses, also warming up. 

“Oh.” Hyunjin smiles lightly. It’s been almost a month since they started their study sessions, and Hyunjin’s found that he’s looking forward to them more and more. Jisung’s slowly started to grow out of his shell, hiding under his hood less and chatting with him more. He’s began to see more of his personality—peeking out in his occasional quips and comments woven through their study sessions—and it makes him giddy. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Minho says abruptly. Hyunjin glances over to see him squinting at him mid-leg swing, eyebrow raised. “So you guys have fucked?”

“What?” Hyunjin blinks rapidly. “No, we haven’t—”

Seungmin looks him up and down curiously. “So why are you so happy? What’s going on?” 

“Oh, I’m uh, I’m trying to get him out of his shell first, y’know. Play the long game, or whatever.” His plan sounds much stupider spoken out loud. Hyunjin squirms underneath their heavy scrutinization, wobbling in the lunge he was doing. 

“And how’s that going?” Seungmin asks, tilting his head.

Hyunjin smiles shyly. “I made him laugh yesterday.” His smile steadily grows as he thinks back to their session. It was completely at Hyunjin’s expense—he accidentally said in full confidence that -2 was greater than 1, stupidly deciding to smirk and make eye contact with Jisung when he said it. It was ridiculous enough to make Jisung literally double over and burst into laughter, and while it was mortifying to experience, it was also incredibly lovely. When Jisung laughs, it’s with his entire body. His eyes scrunch up and he slumps over, his lips spread into an devastating, heart-shaped smile that drove Hyunjin insane when he first saw it. How is someone born with a smile that’s heart-shaped? Hyunjin remembers just sitting there, a billowing sort of fondness growing in his chest as he watched Jisung laugh himself to the point of tears. The portion of his heart that was pining after Jisung turned into this bigger, warmer sort of thing. He still doesn’t understand it completely, he just knows: he wants Jisung so bad it hurts.  

“You made him laugh.”

Hyunjin turns to see Minho and Seungmin standing with their arms crossed, forgoing warmups to look at him incredulously. He’s not too entirely sure who said the sentence—could’ve very well been both of them at the same time, knowing them. 

Hyunjin blushes, suddenly embarrassed. “Look, it’s a lot more important than it sounds, okay? It’s proof I’m making him more comfortable! Getting him out of his shell, and all that.”

“All that,” Minho says, strangely quiet, “because you want to have sex with him?”

“Um.” Hyunjin swallows. “Yeah, I guess.”

He watches in horror as Seungmin and Minho exchange a long, quiet glance. He’s known Seungmin and Minho for too long to not be wary when they start having their telltale doubles-partners-slash-exes-slash-fuckbuddies-slash-whatever-the-fuck-they-were-now telpathy and give each other weird looks. 

Unfortunately, he can’t press the issue any longer because their coach blows the whistle signifying the end of warmups and Hyunjin is pulled into a practice match against Yang Jeongin, a frighteningly talented freshman who gets incredibly smug and mouthy when he wins. Hyunjin’s pride and dignity are incredibly fragile, so he sets aside his friends’ odd behaviors and pours all his mental energy into his racket. 

By the time practice is over, he’s all but forgotten about Seungmin and Minho, too busy burning with shame-fueled rage after losing thrice to an underclassmen to even care. He stomps back to the locker room, stripping off his tennis outfit and ready to jump in the shower, when he spots his phone light up with a notification:

Jisung 🐿️: [Image attachment] 

Hyunjin stops immediately in his tracks. Dick pic? is what his horny (hopeful) mind provides, but he shuts that thought down immediately. They are closer now, yes, but not that close. It must be something related to stats, he reasons. 

He jumps when a presence looms over his shoulder. “10 bucks it’s a dick pic.”

“There’s no way,” Hyunjin says, rolling his eyes at Minho’s shiteating grin. Seungmin looks over his shoulder to peer at the phone and snorts. “What’s with the squirrel emoji?”

Hyunjin’s cheeks burn. “Inside joke,” he mumbles, even though it’s more Jisung’s inside joke than his.

“Open the message already,” says Minho, leaning over to peer at his screen. “I’m nosey.”

They all jump when another notification from Jisung vibrates Hyunjin’s phone: “this is me in stats” 

“Booo, it’s just a meme,” Minho huffs. “Bor-ing.”

Seungmin smirks. “You owe me 10 bucks.” Hyunjin doesn’t recall Seungmin ever agreeing to Minho’s bet, but whatever. 

“Why would I have 10 bucks, I’m in Korea?”

“You’re the dumbass who said it in the first place.”

Ignoring their banter, Hyunjin opens the message. Jisung’s never casually texted him before, it’s usually just confirmations for their study sessions or the occasional link to stats websites to help him out. This—whatever it is—is new, but certainly not unwelcome. 

He smiles when he sees the picture Jisung sent. Minho was right, it was a meme—a low-quality picture of a frazzled, stressed-out looking squirrel. So it actually is their collective inside joke. He hearts the message, then types out a reply:

lololol

That's more me than you if anything

Im the one struggling in this class

A half lie, but whatever. 

I don’t think im a squirrel though lol

Typing bubbles appear as Jisung formulates a response. It takes him a second to type—probably figuring out the right thing to say. Hyunjin can imagine him: lying down in his bed, flustered as he fumbles to find a response. He wonders what he’d look like if they were sexting, how Jisung would pause, cheeks gradually getting more and more flushed with each new message Hyunjin would send. God, he wishes.  

Jisung 🐿️

ur more of a ferret to me

Hyunjin raises a brow. 

Ferret? why am I a ferret lol 

Jisung 🐿️

idk how to explain ㅠㅠ it makes sense to me

He texts so cutely, Hyunjin thinks, smiling to himself. 

idk Im not convinced

i need picture evidence 

Jisung 🐿️

ack i'll try to find some ><

Jisunggg I'm just joking dw about it 

you get flustered so easily lolol

Jisung 🐿️: 

…

Guve me a second 

*GIVE

lololol

“Why are you smiling like that?” Seungmin’s voice rips his attention away from the phone screen. He looks up to see him look him up and down, a disgusted expression on his face.

“None of your business,” Hyunjin sniffs, slipping his phone in his bag. “Where’s Minho-hyung?”

“Showering. You didn’t notice?”

“I was preoccupied,” Hyunjin says, cheeks flushed. He really didn’t see him leave at all.

“Well, you stink, so you should shower too.” Seungmin raises his eyebrows. “I'm sure Jisung can wait.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and grabs a change of clothes and a towel. He’s about to head off to the showers when he sees his phone light up with another notification. 

Jisung 🐿️:

found one!

[Image attached]

that was you in that scarf that one day ㅋㅋㅋ

Judging by the message, Hyunjin already has a good idea what the image is, but he laughs when he sees it anyway. It had been a chillier day, and learning from his original mistake, Hyunjin decided to wear a scarf so the walk to the library wouldn’t be so miserable. Jisung’s only acknowledgment of the scarf was a mumbled “I like your scarf” in that shy way of his, so Hyunjin’s frankly shocked he even remembers. He texts this sentiment to Jisung.

Jisung 🐿️

i haven’t seen anyone younger than 60 wear a scarf, of course i remembered 

Hyunjin gapes at his phone screen. The audacity! Jisung had only teased him a few times, usually after he made a mistake in stats. Seeing him do it now, over his scarf… it’s proof they’ve gotten closer. It’s enough to make him smile, but it quickly turns into a pout once he realizes the true implications behind his words.

Omg! so you were lying when you said it was nice??

Jisung 🐿️:

well i never said it was ugly, just a little bizarre :P

wow..

so rude

Jisung 🐿️

sorry… did i overstep?

No dw!! I’m just joking lolol

If i ever do actually get upset, youll definitely be able to tell 

You can loosen up around me, its okay ❤️❤️

He gnaws his lower lip as Jisung takes a little longer to type his next response. Were the hearts a little too much? Maybe he’s being overbearing. 

Jisung 🐿️

ahh sorry, i just get worried sometimes ><

but do you see the resemblance between you and the ferret? 

Hyunjin opens the picture again, squinting. “Hey, Seungmin, do you think I…” he glances up, voice trailing to a stop when he realizes Seungmin is nowhere to be found. There’s only a couple other guys in their corner of the locker room, and they give him curious looks. He gives them a sheepish, embarrassed smile and turns back to his phone, cheeks red.

It’s kind of hard to tell without wearing the scarf lolol

Jisung 🐿️

hmmm

what about this? [Image attachment]

Hyunjin snorts at the picture of what looks like a shocked ferret—mouth wide, fur sticking straight up as it jumps in the air.  

Do I make that expression a lot or something?? 

Jisung 🐿️

you made it after you said that -2 > 1… 

UGHHHH will you ever let that go ㅠㅠ

I promise I meant it the other way around :((((

Jisung 🐿️

its too funny ㅋㅋㅋ

but yea, you made that exact expression

god it was too funny, im still laughing about it now

Glad to see you’re thinking about me~~

He smiles to himself when Jisung’s typing bubble appears, then disappears, then reappears. He can picture his rapid blinking, the flushed cheeks.

Jisung 🐿️

you wish >:P

Hyunjin's jaw drops. Did Jisung just… flirt back? 

Alright, maybe it wasn’t straight up flirting, but that was playful. The kind of talk that leads to flirting. For Jisung, who couldn’t look him in the eye half the time, that was sort of revolutionary.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Minho says, re-entering the locker room. He smacks him firmly on his bare back with his wet towel and Hyunjin recoils, yowling. Minho smirks. “Have you been sitting there this entire time?”

“Yes,” says Hyunjin, glumly rubbing his back. There’s definitely going to be a welt there, or maybe an outbreak of chlamydia. Can you get STDs on your back?

“Texting your little nerd?” Minho leans forward, skimming his eyes over his phone screen, which was unfortunately still on their text thread. He whistles, long and impressed. “Look at you. You’ve gotten to the middle school flirting level!”

“It’s not middle school!” Hyunjin huffs. “You and Seungmin do the same thing all the time.”

“Me and Seungmin aren’t trying to fuck, though.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it.” He smirks when he sees Minho’s superior smirk falter a little. “See, I’m right.” He yelps when the wet towel comes hurtling at his face again, ducking before it could make contact.  

“Shut it Hwang. Go shower before you get some airborne locker room disease.”

As much as he loathe to admit it, Minho does have a point, so he grabs his (dry) towel and phone, shooting a quick text before he goes.

Me: Of course I do, it's an honor to think about me

Then, because a little bitch, he finds a picture of a winking ferret and sends that as well, a playful smile on his lips.

📚

A few more weeks pass, and March rolls in, signaling the start of spring. To Hyunjin, spring has its obvious pros: flowers, warmer weather, his birthday, but it also has its cons: allergies, midterms, and of course, tennis. Hyunjin’s practically dedicated his life to the sport, but it's around this time of the year when the matches kick off and he’s juggling classes, tennis practice, and tennis matches when he starts to regret deciding to continue it in college. Especially when he’s taking a class like Intro to Statistics and he has less and less mental energy to devote to histograms and probabilities and correlation coefficients. 

Unfortunately, not only does the universe frown upon him by giving him a stats midterm the day after a tennis match, it also places his birthday on the same day as that tennis match. Congrats on another year, try not to throw yourself off a bridge! Through sheer frustrated rage at the universe’s unfairness, Hyunjin manages to win his match, but he isn’t happy about it. He makes an immediate beeline for the locker rooms, so focused on showering, changing, and then getting the fuck out of there to go study that he doesn’t notice there’s a figure stepping into his line of vision and promptly collides into them. 

Hyunjin manages to keep his balance, but the other person falls to the ground with an “oof,” landing squarely on their ass and dropping a very elaborate-looking bouquet of roses. Hyunjin’s about to shoot off an apology and dart off when he realizes the stranger is wearing glasses that look strangely Han Jisung-shaped and has big, round, Han Jisung-esque eyes and—holy shit, it’s Han Jisung.

“Jisung?” Hyunjin exclaims, mouth agape. 

“Hey,” says the man himself, still on the ground. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks?” Hyunjin blinks rapidly. He remembered? He recalls briefly mentioning it a week or so back, but it was so offhanded there’s no possible way Jisung could remember. But he did. And now he’s here? “Why are you at a tennis match?” 

Jisung finally gets to his feet, wobbling a bit. “Uh…” he scratches the back of his head. “I wanted to see you play? And also give you this, I guess.” He brandishes the aforementioned rose bouquet, still as elaborate and elegant as ever, save for a slightly crushed rose Jisung is valiantly trying to hide in the way he angles the bouquet towards him. 

Something warm rushes through Hyunjin, and he feels his cheeks heating up. “Thank you,” he says quietly, gently taking the bouquet out of his hands. The arrangement truly is beautiful, filled with blood-red roses and various clusters of white baby’s breaths. The fact that Jisung went to a store and thought of him while buying something as pretty as this bouquet sends a swirl of elation throughout his chest. “This is beautiful Jisung, what the hell?”

“I just found the first thing that I thought looked nice,” Jisung mumbles, eyes glued to the floor. He looks so adorable, in his Doraemon t-shirt and denim jacket—he hasn’t seen a man pull off a denim jacket since high school—and shyly shuffling his little feet. There’s no way someone currently doing the Cha-Cha slide in cartoon merch should have sex appeal, but Hyunjin is two seconds away from dropping to his knees.

He looks at the rose bouquet again, chest tightening. “Still, I’m flattered,” he says, genuine. “You really didn’t—“

“I also got you this,” Jisung interrupts, handing him a tiny box expertly hidden in his back pocket. What the fuck. How did he do that? Hyunjin gapes, tracing his finger over the baby blue box with a cute little white ribbon. He flicks it open and gasps. 

“I know it might not be exact,” Jisung mumbles. Hyunjin barely hears him, too busy blinking owlishly at the silver daffodil-engraved ring sitting in the velvet cushion of the box. There’s no way. He not only remembered, but he somehow was able to get it? How in the world?

“I sketched it from memory—“ Hyunjin’s jaw drops even further, “—and then sent it to my cousin. She did the best she—”

“Jisung, it’s perfect.”

Jisung squirms, flustered. “You don’t have to—”

“No seriously, Jisung, this is perfect,” Hyunjin says, and he means it genuinely. Tucking the bouquet under his arm, he takes the ring out of the box and slides it on his finger. “It even fits perfectly, what the fuck?”

“That was a lucky guess,” Jisung says, but he’s blushing. “I’m, uh, glad you like it.”

Hyunjin looks up from the ring to look at Jisung, something beautiful and warm rushing through his chest. He’s come to be incredibly fond of this awkward, sweet boy with the round eyes and big glasses; who wears fidget rings and graphic tees and constantly has to blink his hair from his eyes. This boy who graciously offered to tutor him, who laughs with his entire body and has a heart-shaped smile. 

 He’s always wanted Jisung, but it was never anything like this. So intense but soft at the same time, full of a pulsing fondness. 

Hyunjin doesn’t notice that his heartbeat is picking up until it’s thudding so loud it reverberates in his ears. It’s like one of those stupid moments in those K-dramas he and Seungmin love to watch. The tennis court and its motion and noise seem to fade to a muted blur. Jisung glances at his lips. Hyunjin’s heart burns with a desire so full and cloying it almost makes him sick. He thinks they step closer. Tension hangs between them, thick and heavy. 

Then Jisung is jolting away, blinking rapidly. “I—shit. Sorry. I should let you go.”

The tension splits and the world around them returns with such a violent intensity Hyunjin winces. The newfound space in between them feels like a chasm. “Uh.”

“You, uh, probably need to get going,” Jisung continues, a familiar embarrassed flush on his cheeks. He takes a step backwards. “I don’t want to keep you.”

It’s fine , Hyunjin thinks. I could’ve stood there forever . “Yeah.”

“Probably need to study, and all.” 

“Right.”

“I’ll, uhm, see you?” There’s a hesitant, sweet smile on his face. Hyunjin finds himself smiling back. “Yeah.” He readjusts his grip on the bouquet and feels the plastic brush against the junction between his ring and his finger. “Thank you for the gifts.”

Jisung mumbles something, cheeks blazing, then does a little awkward wave. Hyunjin blinks and he’s gone. 

His sudden absence shakes something awake in his mind. He stares down at the bouquet again and the wave of emotions washes over him—the fondness, the desire.  

Oh.

Slowly, a smile curls up the corners of Hyunjin’s lips. He sets off toward the locker room, steps floaty like his brain is full of cotton candy. When he breathes in he smells roses.  

📚

The sun is setting when Hyunjin arrives home, haloing the silhouette of his apartment in hopeful streaks of blue and orange. There’s a happy hum buzzing in the back of his throat when he unlocks his front door, but it’s dashed out by a choked scream when he’s met with a loud “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” and a tiny cake thrust in his face.

God. He had completely forgotten. Seungmin, Minho, and Felix all stand around him, sporting bright smiles—yes, even Minho, though his was a little more scowl-y. Felix is holding a small red-frosted cake sporting the words Happy Birthday Hyunjin! in a scrawling script font. He gasps in delight, hand flying up to cover his mouth. “Awwh, you guys!”  

He moves to step into his apartment, but Minho stops him, eyes glued to his hand. “Where’d you get that ring?” His gaze slides down to his arms. “And those flowers?”

Hyunjin can’t fight the gooey smile that spreads over his face. “Jisung,” he says shyly, twirling his hair like a little girl. “He came to my game and gave these to me.” He glances down at the roses again, biting his lip. “I think I’m falling for him.”

Okay, Hyunjin will admit he expected more of a reaction. Maybe a couple gasps, wide eyes, probably something dropping dramatically to the floor, knowing Felix. However, Hyunjin ends up being the shocked one, jaw dropping wide as Minho lets out an exasperated “shit,” Felix exclaims “Thank God,” in what seems like relief, and Seungmin just snorts , extending out a hand. Hyunjin’s jaw drops wider as Seungmin smirks and goes “Took you long enough,” in an oddly smug tone, Minho grumbling more swears as he begrudgingly hands Seungmin a handful of won. 

Hyunjin blinks rapidly. What the hell? “You guys knew?”

“Of course,” Felix snorts, like it’s obvious. “I don’t know about Seungmin and Minho-hyung, but I knew the second you came home super giddy just because he held a conversation with you.”

Hyunjin flushes a bright red, turning to Seungmin and Minho. “And you?”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Since when have you ever decided to ‘play the long game’ for a quick fuck?” 

Hyunjin pauses. “Well—I…” Fuck.

 “Exactly,” Minho says as Hyunjin’s blush grows even hotter. “Now get in the apartment, you’re letting the cold in.”  

Hyunjin quietly obeys, too embarrassed to say anything. He shuts the door behind him and removes his jacket, bag, and shoes, letting Seungmin take his bouquet and set it on the counter. “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure out,” Felix hums as he places the cake down on the table. “Was it just that? He showed up, gave you those gifts, and you knew?”

“Well, yes and no?” Hyunjin’s mind floats back to the encounter, smiling a bit. “I think it after we almost kissed.”

This time, Felix does gasp, and it gives Hyunjin an embarrassing amount of satisfaction. It’s quickly snuffed out when Minho lets out a triumphant cackle as Seungmin groans, forking over a handful of won. “Another bet?” Hyunjin exclaims. He pouts. “Since when have you guys bet on my love life?”

“Oh, we only started doing it when you started going goo-goo over Jisung,” Minho hums, flipping through the crumpled bills. “Seungmin didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t think you’d realize you liked Jisung through a kiss.”

“Oh shut up, you thought Hyunjin would take months to realize he liked Jisung,” Seungmin snaps back. Hyunjin scowls. “I’m not that emotionally constipated.”

“Wanna bet?” Seungmin teases. Hyunjin scowls, ready to lunge. 

“Hyunjin, wait,” Felix interrupts, sensing the impending argument. Bless his soul. “Why didn’t you two kiss?”

Hyunjin shrugs, plopping down on one of the dining room chairs. “Jisung pulled away for some reason. I guess he was embarrassed, or something?” He frowns. Was he embarrassed, or did Hyunjin scare him off? Or was it even worse—was he disgusted with Hyunjin? It’s not a secret that he hoes around, and that has thrown off guys in the past. It never bothered him before, really, but of course, with Jisung, things are—

A firm smack to his shoulder makes him yelp. “Stop spiralling,” Minho commands. “He willingly came to your game and gave you a bouquet and a ring, he clearly likes you.”

Seungmin nods. “He’s shy, and you know that. You just need to make the first move.”

Make the first move. It’s simple in theory—he’s had to do it with almost all the guys he’s been with, but that was just for playful, careless fun. None of that really mattered, not like Jisung matters. Hell, what would he even say? I like you, go on a date with me? He knows what happens when he’s too direct: Jisung gets shy and flustered, but he inevitably draws away. He can’t risk ruining their newfound relationship. “I don’t even know what’d I’d say to him,” Hyunjin confesses with a heavy sigh. He groans when another thought suddenly comes to mind: “Fuck, we have our stats midterm tomorrow.”

“So? You’re not gonna ask him out tonight, dummy,” Felix says, though not unkindly. “You have an entire week before second semester.”

“You better ask him out next week. That way I don’t have to witness any of it.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes at Seungmin’s words. He and Minho were going on a “platonic” trip to Tokyo to see the cherry blossoms, apparently something that was planned and pre-paid for when they were still dating. Frankly, Hyunjin should be the one glad he doesn’t have to witness whatever they do there, but whatever. The thought of a romantic getaway trip gets him thinking about Jisung again, of course, but then—

“Oh shit,” Hyunjin says suddenly, straightening up. “What if Jisung’s traveling over break?”

“You should ask him,” says Minho. “But after you study for that stats midterm, I can’t have you flunking out of college, hm?” He reaches over to pinch Hyunjin cheek and he scowls, batting his hand away. “I don’t wanna study, it’s my birthday,” he grumbles. “I should be shitfaced and stuffed with cake right now—not that kind of cake Kim Seungmin, stop making that face.”

“You can still eat cake!” Felix says brightly. “It’s like, what—6 o’clock? You can blow out your candles, eat some food, and still have time to study.”

Hyunjin perks up. “Food?”

“Just some jjajangmyeon,” Minho says, standing up and crossing to the kitchen counter. He opens up a container covered with tinfoil and Hyunjin’s mouth immediately waters, the warm smell filtering through the kitchen. “Aish, it’s probably cold now.”

It’s not, not really. In the blink of an eye Hyunjin is already speeding through two helpings of the noodles, and is considering a third when Felix walks over and replaces the plate in his hands with the cake, topped with candles. Seungmin starts singing an operatic version of “Happy Birthday”—much to Minho’s chagrin—and Hyunjin bursts out laughing, his hold on the cake almost slipping. “Hyunjin-ah, be careful!” Felix warns, but he’s giggling himself, and the sound fills Hyunjin with a bubbling sort of warmth. He readjusts his grip on the cake tray and pauses when he feels the daffodil ring dig into the porcelain. It makes his heart twinge. Ah, his mind reminds him. Something’s missing.

The candles are lit and the lights are shut off, leaving the warm candlelight to illuminate his face. Even in the dim light, Hyunjin can see that Minho’s glare has been replaced by a soft smile. Hyunjin’s mouth hurts from laughing so hard. He’s happy, content, but he can’t help but wish—

“Make a wish,” Felix encourages, clapping his hands like an excited middle-aged mom.

Hyunjin closes his eyes. Takes a breath. Thinks of nerdy glasses and big eyes and round, flushed cheeks, then makes his wish. 

He releases his breath with a woosh and the candles flicker out, winking back at him. 

📚

Later that night, when the apartment feels emptier and Hyunjin’s all studied out, he settles into bed, pulling his blanket over him. He reaches for his phone on the bedside table and pauses, biting softly at his lower lip. Before he can psych himself out of it, he opens his message app and types out a series of texts:

Thank you again for the gifts Jisungie ^^

And also, good look on the midterm tomorrow!!

Are you planning on going anywhere during spring break?

Hyunjin throws his phone down and rolls over, covering his face with his hands. Everything is suddenly more scary when his feelings for Jisung are so real.  

Surprisingly, his phone buzzes almost immediately after he sends the text. Hyunjin rolls back over to pick it up, shaking his head softly. Staying up the night before an exam? It’s late, they both should already be asleep—and Hyunjin would be, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d never be able to sleep if he didn’t text Jisung. 

Jisung 🐿️

it’s no problem!! good luck to you too~ 

and yeah, im going to malaysia to see family right after the midterm actually haha

Fuck . Hyunjin frowns, mind racing. He’s gonna have to ask him out sometime later then—maybe at a study session? Would that be too awkward? He’s jolted out of his thoughts when Jisung sends another text. 

Jisung 🐿️

also, shouldn’t you be asleep?? >:/

A shy grin spreads across his face.

Could say the same to you, you texted back so fast >:P

Also that’s cool!! Malaysia seems nice, ive seen pretty pictures of their islands

Wayyy better than this boring old campus lolol

Jisung 🐿️

oh, you’re staying on campus?

Unfortunately…

Im just gonna spend the week chilling with my roommate, my best friends are gonna be in Tokyo 

Jisung 🐿️

:0 without you?

idkkk they’re weird, they used to be dating and now theyre not, but they’ve had this trip planned from when they were dating

They’re going to see the cherry blossoms which is frankly v romantic and I dont want to be the third-wheel, so I’m honestly fine with not going lolol

Jisung 🐿️

ohh okay

don’t miss me too much during break >:P   

Oh? Since when were you so bold, jisungie?

Hyunjin is grateful they’re doing this over text, because then his words can’t be betrayed by the obvious flusteredness displayed on his face. He’s known Jisung to be a bit prone to teasing, seen through some mumbled quips during their study sessions that had Hyunjin’s heart racing (he really should’ve realized sooner that he liked him, damn), but over text he’s so much bolder. Not that he’s complaining, or anything.  

Jisung 🐿️

since forever lol 

you’re not complaining though, are you?

And alright, Hyunjin’s dick does twitch, but he can’t even be blamed for that—who wouldn’t be slightly turned on after a text like that? To make matters worse, Hyunjin’s heart is racing like fucking crazy. No , he texts back with one hand, the other pressed to his chest in an attempt to calm himself. Just a little surprised, is all

Jisung 🐿️

[Image attachment]

you right now

Hyunjin smiles at the familiar picture of the shocked ferret, rolling his eyes. On a whim, he copies the ferret’s expression and snaps a selfie, sending the photo to Jisung. Do we match?

Jisung 🐿️

the resemblance is uncanny!!! you can literally see it!!

also, that’s becoming your new contact picture :P

Noooo i dont look good in that picture ㅠㅠ 

Jisung 🐿️

i think you look cute

Hyunjin turns his face into his pillow and screams. When has any other boy called his bare face cute? God, he likes Jisung so much it’s gross.  

stoppppfjjfj

Now i need payback! 

Send me a selfie of you, right now >:P

Jisung 🐿️:  

…

if you really aren’t comfortable you don’t have to do it

but being shy doesn’t count

Jisung 🐿️

ok fine

Hyunjin grins as a picture is sent, couple of seconds after Jisung’s text. The light in his photo is dim, illuminated only by what looks like blue LED lights, but it’s bright enough for Hyunjin to make out Jisung’s face. His mouth is opened in a small O, and his eyes—

Holy shit. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. His brown eyes looked even bigger and more sparkly, especially with the shocked expression he was making. His cheeks were as round as ever. He looks so fucking adorable that Hyunjin swears his heart’s about to start racing again.

You’re so cute Jisungie~ 

Jisung 🐿️

stop ㅠㅠ 

I’m serious!!! you’re even cuter without the glasses~

that’s my new contact photo for you :3

Jisung 🐿️

…. im going to bed 

Awwh did i make Jisungie shy?

Jisung 🐿️

goodnight hyunjin! 

ㅋㅋㅋ

goodnight jisung, good luck on exams tomorrow~

Hyunjin goes to sleep that night with a smile on his face.

📚

On the day of the stats midterm, Hyunjin is bubbly and determined. He makes sure to wear his daffodil ring, rubbing it once for good luck, and then snaps a quick picture of it to Jisung before their exam. “good luck charm for the midterm!” Jisung hearts the message and they exchange quick “hwaiting!” texts, and then they’re taking the midterm. Hyunjin wouldn’t go as far as to say it’s a breeze, but it’s nothing too difficult, probably thanks to Jisung. 

Unfortunately, Jisung has to run and catch his flight, so they don’t spend much time talking after the exam, but Hyunjin’s okay with that. The shy smile and “see you in April!” he gets from Jisung is enough to carry him through the following week. Or so he thought. 

Hyunjin’s okay for around 48 hours before he starts tearing his hair out. He’s never wanted an academic break to end so badly. To make matters worse, because harboring a crush on Jisung meant that he was no longer on a hunt to get laid, he was still as horny as ever—practically even hornier than before. This only adds to his frantic restlessness. Poor Felix (and Minho and Seungmin, over multiple texts and the occasional FaceTime) are subject to it, getting earfuls and earfuls of Jisung Jisung Jisung Jisung . At a point, Minho and Seungmin stop answering his calls. Felix is left to soothe his jittering anticipation with random, spontaneous outings—which are relatively successful until they take a trip downtown with Felix’s boyfriend, Changbin, and Hyunjin finds out that Jisung and Changbin are childhood friends. It goes well as one would expect after that, and it’s the last time Felix invites him out that week. 

Suffice to say, Hyunjin is excited. Which means he’s absolutely devastated when Jisung cancels their first study session after break.

“I will kill her,” Hyunjin seethes, reading the “I think I caught the cold my aunt had” displayed on his phone screen. He then drops his face into his pillow and screams at the top of his lungs for a good two or so minutes—it would’ve probably been more if he didn’t abruptly remember to send a cute little “get well soon!” text to Jisung. He’s about to start screaming again when he gets an idea. 

He dials Minho’s number and holds the phone to his ear, gnawing his bottom lip as he waits. Minho answers on the last ring, like a bitch. “What do you want.”

“ Hyung~ ” Hyunjin starts, voice sweet. It’s physically impossible but he thinks he hears Minho roll his eyes. “Could you do me a favor?”

“No,” Minho says immediately.

“I just need you to send me a recipe for soup,” Hyunjin says hurriedly. “Like the one you made for me when I had that cold last year?”

“I’m not sending you a recipe,” Minho huffs. His indignation is clear, even over the crackly phone speakers. “I don’t want to be responsible for any damage you might make to the kitchen. Or yourself.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Hm?”

“SorryhyungIloveyousomuch,” Hyunjin corrects through gritted teeth. He pouts, whining now. “ Please, hyung. Jisungie’s sick, and I—”

“Christ, I’ll make it myself and bring it over,” Minho sighs. There’s some rustling and then Minho’s yelling to someone in the background. “KIM SEUNGMIN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY KITCH—What the fuck? Are you wearing my apron? Are you just wearing my apr—”  

Hyunjin hangs up immediately, lip curled in disgust. Since they’ve come back from Tokyo, all they’ve done is be horny for each other and then profusely deny it when Hyunjin asks. There’s no chance Minho is going to make that soup—and even if he does, there’s no way Hyunjin’s going to feed it to Jisung, given the risk of unintentional extraneous ingredients. Hyunjin sighs and searches through his phone. He’ll just have to take matters in his own hands.

📚

Armed with a cutely decorated care package—complete with a container of samgyetang (store bought, Hyunjin really doesn’t trust his cooking abilities either), some medicine, a squirrel plushie he found the store, and some teabags—Hyunjin marches out of his apartment. His plan is to surprise Jisung with his care package, and then be there to soothe him and nurse him back to health, and maybe—just maybe—ask him out somewhere along the way. The only problem? He has no clue where Jisung lives. Asking Jisung is obviously out of the question, and there’s no way Felix is allowing him to speak to Changbin after their disastrous encounter, so Hyunjin begrudgingly turns to his next option: asking Chan. 

It’s a low move, even for him. While he’s not above using his exes (ex-flings and ex-boyfriends) for his own personal gains, Chan’s different. Chan broke up with him, not the other way around. Chan’s the only boy he cried ugly tears over, the only boy he blocked after the breakup. Their split was amicable enough, but it still makes Hyunjin’s gut twist when he thinks about it. 

He feels that same twist in his gut when he approaches the quad—one of Chan’s favorite places to frequent—and spots Chan hunched over his laptop on a sunny patch of grass, bobbing his head to the music that was playing through his headphones. Here goes nothing , he thinks, then walks up to him, blocking the sun’s rays and casting a shadow over him. 

Chan looks up with a startled blink. He slides off his headphones, his gaze sliding from Hyunjin’s face to the care package in his hands. “Oh, Hyunjin,” he looks a little tired, “I’m really sorry, but I’m not really looking to pursue anything right n—”

“No!” Hyunjin blurts, flushing bright red. “This isn’t for you. It’s for Jisung. Which is why I’m here.” Mortification rolls over him in sickening waves.

Chan frowns. “Well, the last time I saw Jisung he wasn’t really feeling well, so I don’t know if you’ll find him anywhere here.”

“No, I know he’s sick, he cancelled our study session. I wanted to give him this, sorta like a ‘get well soon’ kind of thing?” He squirms, embarrassed. “I just—I don’t know where he lives.”

Chan gives him a scrutinizing sort of once over that makes Hyunjin want to spontaneously fall into a sinkhole. His frown deepens, eyebrows furrowed, and the truth behind his actions hits Hyunjin suddenly. “You don’t trust me,” he says, voice quiet. 

Chan sighs, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t say that, I just… I’m worried about him. I don’t know what this whole tutoring thing is, but please—don’t hurt him?” He’s looking directly at Hyunjin when he speaks, his eyes boring into his soul. “Jisung’s not someone you can just fuck around with, you have to be gentle with him.”

“I—” Hyunjin swallows. “You think I’m fucking around with him?”

“Sorry, but can you blame me? That’s basically what you did to me.” 

Hyunjin flinches, almost painfully. This is different, though, he wants to say. Jisung is different. 

It doesn’t do anything to stop the guilt eating at him, though, especially when he remembers how often he has to lie about his struggles in stats, just so Jisung believes he still needs help. Hell, the fact that he used to view Jisung as just another boy to have sex with is enough to drown him in guilt. 

“Look,” Chan sighs again. “I can tell that Jisung means something to you, and I’m starting to get the feeling that you mean a lot to him. Just—be gentle with him, like I said. Promise me you won’t lead him on, or treat him like you treated me, and I’ll give you his address.”

Hyunjin tries to swallow past the growing lump building in his throat. “I promise,” he hears himself say, his voice wobbly. 

Chan looks at him for a bit, gaze heavy and scrutinizing, then relents, spelling out an address Hyunjin scrambles to enter into his phone. He awkwardly thanks Chan and then runs off, trying to chase away the guilt that’s still churning in his gut. Don’t lead him on. That’s basically what you did to me. There’s a voice growing in the back of his mind, the culmination of years of insecurity and guilt. Desperately, he tries to shake it away, focusing on the road ahead of him.

Eventually, he does reaches Jisung’s apartment. He takes a slow, steadying breath through his nose, reminding himself what he’s here for. He reaches in his bag to put on a mask, then freezes when he faces the door again. 

Ah, fuck. He forgot that Jisung has to literally buzz him in. 

He shoots a text to Jisung. I’m outside, buzz me in !!

Jisung 🐿️

what?

I’m outside your apartment dummy

Jisung 🐿️

????? why???

wait wtf how do you know where i live

I asked one of ur friends lolol

it’s cold :( let me in

Jisung 🐿️

hyunjin im literally sick

I’m wearing a mask, don’t worry

Plus I have gifts for you ;)

Hyunjin’s stomach drops when there’s a second without response—was the winky face too much?—but it quickly turns into a relieved smile when the door opens with a click. He feels his phone buzz and checks the screen.

Jisung 🐿️ : ok i’ll let you in ig… my apartment door should also be unlocked

He enters the apartment building and turns down the hall, arriving at Jisung’s front door. Tentatively, he pushes it open and walks in, melting immediately at the sight that he’s greeted with once he enters the living room: Jisung, lying prone on the couch, cocooned in blankets. He’s not wearing his glasses and his face is puffy and pale, except for the irritated flush of his nose. “Awwh, you poor thing,” he coos. “Do you have a temperature?” 

Jisung ducks his head, clearly flustered, and mumbles out a “I dunno, I didn’t check.”

“You don’t know?” Hyunjin squawks, rushing over to place a hand on his forehead, wincing when he feels the burn against his skin. “Jisung, you definitely have a temperature. Why didn’t you check?”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” Jisung says, his voice wobbly from sickness-induced exhaustion. Hyunjin sighs. Poor thing. Imagine if he didn’t come over, he’d probably spend the whole day in that blanket cocoon, suffering from a fever he didn’t even know he had. 

He places the bag down and starts looking around the apartment. “Where’s your bathroom? Please tell me there’s a thermometer in there.”

“Uh, first door on the left. You can check, but I really have no idea...”

Hyunjin walks over and opens the bathroom door, flicking on a light switch. It’s a little bit of a mess, assorted bottles—most of them nail polish—on the counter. He opens an overhead cabinet and searches around, wincing when he sees the bottle of 2-in-one shampoo. “Han Jisung, please tell me this 2-in-one shampoo is your roommate’s and not yours.” He spots a thermometer on the bottom shelf and grabs it. 

“What?” he hears Jisung croak. He closes the cabinet and exits the bathroom, flicking off the lights as he goes. “The 2-in-one shampoo,” he repeats. “Is that your roommate’s?”

Jisung shrugs, the action effortlessly adorable in his blanket burrito. “I dunno, you’d have to ask him.”

“Who even is your roommate?”

“Seo Changbin.” Hyunjin’s eyes practically blow out of his head. That fucker! If only he had been able to ask him, he wouldn’t have had to have that conversation with Chan in the first place. 

“Uh, is something wrong?” Jisung blinks in confusion. His eyes are still big and sparkly, even when he’s sick. 

“No,” Hyunjin says. He’s grateful that the mask is hiding the smitten smile on his lips. “Here, I’m gonna take your temperature. Say ‘ahh.’”

Jisung flushes, but obeys, opening his mouth. “Ahh.” Hyunjin places the stick on his tongue and Jisung closes his pouty lips around it— do not think about his lips, Hwang Hyunjin. One or two seconds of awkward silence later, and the thermometer is beeping twice. “ Aish,” Hyunjin exclaims softly, shaking his head. “38 degrees. You have a fever, Jisungie.” He carefully removes the thermometer out of Jisung’s mouth, making a mental note to wipe it down later, and reaches for the care package. “Have you eaten yet?”

Jisung shakes his head, blushing when Hyunjin’s mouth drops wide. “Jisung! It’s already past noon!”

“My bad.” 

Hyunjin tsks, bringing out the container of samgyetang and walking to his kitchen. “Good thing I’m here,” he says, sticking the bowl into the microwave. “You would’ve starved.”

“I would’ve gotten something eventually,” Jisung mumbles. There’s a rustling, and Jisung is rolling off the couch and padding toward the kitchen, still burrito’d in his blankets. “What… what are you doing?”

“Heating up some samgyetang, now go sit down.”

“I can do it myself,” Jisung says with a slight pout. He’s so cute. “You don’t have to do all of this.”

“Maybe,” Hyunjin says. “But I want to.”

Jisung stares at him a bit, doing that adorable blinking thing again. “But—”

The microwave beeps loudly and Hyunjin opens it, the warm, garlic smell filling up the kitchen. He thinks he sees Jisung’s mouth water. “Go sit down, Jisung. I’ll bring it to you.” 

“I feel bad,” Jisung mumbles, but he obeys, padding back to the couch. 

“Then don’t.”

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m wearing a mask.”

“Still—”

“I have an amazing immune system.” He places a bowl of the samgyetang on a tray he finds in a cabinet and sets it on Jisung’s lap. “Oh, you need a spoon.”

“Hyunjin,” Jisung whines. “Jisung,” Hyunjin whines back, valiantly pretending that Jisung’s whine didn’t just send electricity down his spine. 

“I’m serious,” Jisung says. Hyunjin ignores him in favor of searching through his drawers, a frown on his face. “Where the fuck do you keep your spoons?”

“There’s a bunch of plastic ones in a cabinet on the right. But seriously!”

Hyunjin grabs a plastic spoon—men and their weird living habits—and a pair of chopsticks for the rice, and crosses back to the living room. “Here you go. Enjoy~”

Jisung glares at him—it’s less of a glare and more of a pout, but his crossed arms get the point across. “Hyunjin, seriously. You don’t have to do all of this for me.” He’s so adamant it’s adorable. 

“Jisung, shh,” Hyunjin says. “Let me take care of you.” 

Jisung is quiet for a second, cheeks flushed pink. “You… You’re not my hyung, though.”

“I am older than you,” Hyunjin teases. 

“By a few months!” Jisung throws a hand up, his blanket sliding off his shoulder. “It’s really not that big of a deal, I can take care of myself.”

Hyunjin can’t really explain what happens next. From the second they started their back-and-forth he could feel that fondness in his chest building, and building, shrouding his heart with warmth. Maybe it was that, combined with his slight exasperation with Jisung’s adamant refusal for care, that made the dam break. 

Hyunjin pulls down his mask and leans in, locking eyes with Jisung. He think he hears him gasp. “Let me take care of you, Jisung-ah.” 

The affectionate nickname slips out, completely unbidden. Hyunjin’s called him Jisungie before, but that was light, teasing. Not anything like this: full of warmth, a clear glimpse inside his heart. 

Hyunjin withdraws, pulling the mask back up before Jisung can say anything. It seems that won’t be a problem, however, given that he is just sitting there and blinking at him, cheeks growing redder. “Eat, then I’ll give you some medicine, and then you’re gonna take a nap. Mkay?” Hyunjin smiles, satisfied when Jisung nods once. 

Then he’s escaping into the kitchen, letting out a heavy breath once he’s safely out of view. His heart pounds in his chest. What the fuck. What the fuck? He’s never done that before, not even with Chan. It just serves as more proof that with Jisung, things are different. He likes him so much. So, so much. 

For the next hour and a half, Hyunjin lazes around Jisung’s apartment. After Jisung had finished his meal he had been so sleepy he practically floated to his bedroom, conking out without another word. Hyunjin’s left to entertain himself. He scrolls through his phone, cleans up the kitchen a bit, wipes off the thermometer. He doesn’t want to mess with any of Jisung’s things, so he doesn’t touch the TV or try to clean up the bathroom (even though he’s itching to do the latter, that was pretty organization waiting to happen).  

Eventually, Jisung does wake up, shuffling out of his bedroom with an even more puffy face than usual. When he takes his temperature again Hyunjin is delighted to see that his fever went down significantly, only at 37.5°C. “See! Good rest works wonders.”

Jisung blinks at him, still fighting off sleep. “I guess,” he says, but he’s smiling a bit.

Hyunjin presents the rest of his care package to him, delighting when Jisung laughs when he sees the squirrel. “He’s amazing,” Jisung says, holding up the plushie’s limp body.

“Now you have to name him.” Hyunjin squints. “I was thinking something like Hannie?”

“Well, that’s just my name,” Jisung huffs. “What about you?”

Hyunjin cocks his head to the side. “What do you mean?” 

Jisung shrugs, playing with the fluffy tail. “You bought him, meaning you have partial ownership.”

“But I’m giving him to you, he’s yours,” Hyunjin laughs. 

“He deserves two loving parents,” Jisung says, and he sounds so serious that Hyunjin just laughs harder. “We are not co-parenting your squirrel plushie, Jisung.”

“Well let's give him a good name, at least! One that represents both of us.” He pauses for a bit, thinking. “Something stats related.”

Hyunjin wrinkles his nose. “Please don’t tell me you’re about to name him something like ‘median.’”

“No, no,” Jisung says, still in thought. Then he sits up. “Hear me out—”

“Oh no,” Hyunjin groans, though he’s smiling.

“I’m serious! What if we name him,” he pauses for dramatic effect. “Mingyu.”

“Like—Kim Mingyu? Our professor?” Hyunjin says incredulosy. When Jisung nods, a little embarrassed, he shrugs, smiling a bit. “That’s not a bad idea at all. I mean, he’s really—“

“Hot?”

Hyunjin’s head whips towards Jisung, eyes blown wide. Jisung sits there, red and flustered. “Er—”

“No, that’s exactly right,” Hyunjin says, schooling his expression into one that is less obviously reeling from shock. “He’s the only reason I took Intro to Statistics.” 

“Valid,” Jisung says solemnly. “He’s the only reason I didn’t drop it after a week.”

Hyunjin nods. “His biceps are the only thing bearable about that class.” 

Jisung is silent for a second, tilting his head. Hyunjin blinks rapidly, growing more flustered the longer Jisung looks at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jisung says finally. What the fuck? He reaches for the remote lying on a nearby table. “Do you like anime?”

And who is he to say no to that? Jisung turns on an episode of Demon Slayer when Hyunjin admits he’d started it with Minho but never got past a couple episodes. They settle on the couch to watch, Mingyu sitting in between them, and it’s… nice. Really nice. Jisung gets so excited over anime, explaining different things Hyunjin’s forgotten with bright, rambly excitement. At a point Jisung gets him a blanket, and they sit in matching blanket cocoons. Then it gets late, the orange rays of the setting sun peeking through the curtain, and they order takeout. Even though Hyunjin chooses the food, Jisung insists on paying—”the least I can do, after you did all of this,”—and then they’re slurping up noodles, watching demon blood spray across the TV screen. The energy is casual and loose. Jisung laughs, revealing his heart-shaped smile. Mingyu falls somewhere, and gradually, less and less space separates them. 

By the time the sun’s completely set, Jisung’s slumped over, head resting on his shoulder as he snores lightly. Hyunjin’s skin hasn’t stopped buzzing from the contact, despite the layers in between them. Jisung’s so sweet like this, close enough to kiss. He's still somewhat feverish, but he would. God , he really would . If only they were dating. 

It’s then Hyunjin realizes he never went through with his plan to ask him out. He doesn’t really know when he could’ve, he supposes, so he’s not exactly upset. They were just enjoying each other’s company. Maybe someday, they’d do the same thing—lazing around the apartment, almost domestic in how they spent time together—but they’d be dating. Then, Hyunjin could press as many kisses on Jisung’s face as he wanted. He’d probably have the cutest giggle when he’d do so, too. Ugh. He wishes he could just shake him awake and scream “I LIKE YOU SO MUCH PLEASE LET ME DATE YOU.” But no—

The apartment door opens with a click and a soft thud, and then Changbin is trudging into the living room, yawning. He freezes mid-yawn when he locks eyes with Hyunjin. “You.”

“You,” Hyunjin says right back, except he’s whispering. He glances at Jisung, who is still peacefully asleep despite the noise. He looks like he’d be a deep sleeper. 

“What—what are you doing here? With him?” Changbin crosses his huge, muscular arms, and Hyunjin admits he gets a little scared. Just a little. 

“I could ask the same thing,” Hyunjin sniffs, standing his ground.

“I live here, asshole.”

“Yeah, thanks for letting me know, by the way.”

“Why the fuck would I tell you that I lived with him.”

He’s no longer whispering, voice searing in the quiet of the living room. Hyunjin casts a glance at Jisung—still asleep, thank God, but his eyebrows are furrowed. Fuck. “Look,” Hyunjin whispers nervously, “I think we got off on the wrong foot. My intentions with Jisung are pure.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that after you almost tackled me upon hearing that I knew Jisung?” Hyunjin winces. He does have a point; Changbin probably sees him as a maniac who was weirdly obsessed with Jisung—which doesn’t make coming home and seeing him somehow in his apartment, snuggling with the aforementioned object of his obsessive desires look any better. 

“Plus,” Changbin continues, eyes blazing, “I’m good friends with Chan. I know what happened between you two.”

Hyunjin’s heart drops to his ass. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Chan’s not the type to talk bad about anyone, but if Changbin witnessed their entire relationship and the breakup, Hyunjin’s screwed. Guilt crawls up his throat, gnawing at his organs. Maybe someone like him didn’t deserve Jisung. Maybe all of this is him trying to convince himself he does. He feels his eyes burn, tears threatening to spill. He’s so pathetic. 

Hyunjin makes a choked noise as Jisung wakes up abruptly, blearily raising his head from his shoulder and rubbing his eyes. He looks at Changbin and his fiery expression, then looks back at Hyunjin and his probably guilty one, then frowns. “What’s going on?” His voice is slurred from sleep, which is so adorable Hyunjin can’t stop his heart from warming at the sight.

“Sungie, what’s he doing here,” Changbin demands. The warmth dissipates immediately.

Jisung blinks, confused. “He’s helping me ‘cause I had a fever.”

Changbin’s eyebrows smooth out, his expression melting from anger into concern. “Fever? I didn’t even know you were sick. How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” Jisung hums. He glances at Hyunjin, smiling lightly. “Because of Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s heart twists, a little smile of his own dotting his lips. It immediately disappears when Changbin scowls. “And he’s been here all day?”

“Yeah,” Jisung says. Hyunjin swallows, his gut churning when he remembers how he basically forced his way into his apartment and then refused to leave. Sure, he was doing it because he was worried about Jisung— 

“But I’m glad he stayed.”

Hyunjin’s heart does a cartwheel in his chest. Jisung’s looking right at him when he says it, eyes crinkling with his smile. Back in February, Jisung wouldn’t be able to say it without stammering, but now he says it evenly, genuinely. Yeah, his cheeks are still flushed, and immediately after he says it he drops his gaze, but still. There’s warmth running all the way down to Hyunjin’s fingertips. He feels like he could float. He feels like he could lean over and kiss him right now, and Jisung would kiss him back. 

“Well,” Changbin says, plunging Hyunjin out of his reverie for the like, fourth time that night. “I appreciate your help, Hyunjin, but it’s late. You should probably go home.” It’s not a suggestion. 

“Ah, you’re right.” Hyunjin stands up from the couch, immediately missing Jisung’s warmth beside him. He unwraps the blanket from his shoulders and places it neatly on the couch. He’s acutely aware of Changbin’s heavy gaze on his neck as he trudges to the kitchen, slipping on his shoes. 

“Wait!”

He turns around and is met with an armful of Jisung. Hyunjin gasps. Jisung is hugging him. His face is buried into his shoulder and he’s so warm, so incredibly warm, and Hyunjin’s heart is melting. He wraps his arms around Jisung, squeezing him back. He feels so tangible underneath his fingertips, so real and so lovely. 

It’s over almost as soon as it starts. Jisung pulls away, a familiar embarrassed expression on his face. “Sorry, I uh…” He shakes his head firmly, as if he’s trying to rid the flusteredness from his brain. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Of course,” Hyunjin says easily, but he’s blushing. “It’s nothing.”

Jisung smiles, looks down at his hands. “I’ll see you next week?” 

“Of course,” Hyunjin repeats, because he’s a dumbass and he’s very much harboring a crush on the boy standing in front of him. “Take care of Mingyu?”

“Of course,” Jisung teases. Hyunjin rolls his eyes, ignoring the frantic beat of his heart in his chest, and then he opens the door. 

“Bye!” Jisung calls, that fucking heart-shaped grin on his lips. 

Hyunjin smiles back, so incredibly fond. “Bye, Jisung-ah.”

The door closes with a firm click. 

📚

Things change, but they also don’t. 

They go back to their study sessions like they always did. Jisung finally fully opens up, his beautiful personality blooming like an azalea in spring. He’s much more talkative, much more hyper. He still has his occasional shy moments, but those are few and far between. 

The guilt never leaves, though. 

It makes its presence known whenever Hyunjin smiles a little too fondly at Jisung’s laugh, or stares for too long at his lips, or daydreams about being in a relationship. It eats him up inside, prevents him from ever trying to ask Jisung out. When he’s eventually cornered by his friends about it, he just shrugs. “I think it still needs some time. We’re building our friendship.” The words fall limply in the air, but they back off, shooting him perplexed looks that just make the guilt worse. 

But—friendship. He can do friendship. Sure, the pure wanting will eat him up inside, but he has to do friendship. He doesn’t deserve anything else. 

(He tells himself this, over and over, but that doesn’t stop the wild desire from taking over.)

It’s nearing finals, and Hyunjin’s life gradually starts to become more stressed and hectic. He murmurs terms under his breath during tennis practice, to the point where his coach has to tell him to take a break. He draws and labels diagrams on his foggy mirror after his showers. He pulls multiple all-nighters to study, and recites principles under his breath as he dabs concealer over his developing eye bags. Hours are spent in the library, poring over his notes and textbooks, lines of text blurring together. It’s during one of these late study nights in the library when he hears someone slide into the seat across from him. 

Hyunjin’s head snaps up, irritation building on his tongue, but his words are cut off with a choked strangle. Sitting in front of him is Han Jisung, humming as he pulls out a notebook. He smiles, good-naturally, when he sees Hyunjin gaping at him. “Hi. Thought you needed some company.”

Hyunjin swallows, wincing at the dryness of his throat. “Uh—“ he glances at his phone screen, wincing again when he sees the time. “Isn’t it late?” 

“Could say the same for you,” Jisung replies easily. He leans forward. “What are you studying?”

“Developmental psychology,” Hyunjin sighs, his head dropping forward. 

“Ooh,” Jisung winces in sympathy. “Are you majoring in Child Psych?”

“Mhm.” 

There’s a pause. “And you had to take stats?”

“Math credit. Fuck if I know.” He rubs his hands over his face, exhaustion building in his chest. 

“You… You still wear that?” Hyunjin drops his hands to see Jisung curiously peering at the daffodil ring on his finger. He flushes, sudden and warm, and moves to twist the ring. “Of course,” he mumbles. He feels that desire building in his chest and feebly tries to crush it down.

Jisung’s voice is soft. “I guess I just didn’t expect…” He blinks a bit, smiles. “I didn’t expect you to actually—like, y’know. Like it that much.”

“Of course I did,” Hyunjin whispers. Because it’s beautiful, and it reminds me of you. 

Guilt, terrible and cloying, rising up his throat. Hyunjin lets out a shaky breath and turns his head to the side, gnawing on his lower lip. When he glances back at Jisung he finds his eyes glued to his mouth. “You’re—” Jisung starts and stops, still staring, voice a little wistful. 

Fuck. “You’re what?” Hyunjin, don’t. 

“You’re… fuck, how are you so pretty, even like this?”  

Hyunjin, stop. A deep, shaky inhale. Yearning grappling with guilt, a fated battle. 

 Jisung is suddenly closer, eyes still on his lips, then flickering up to his eyes. “Hyunjin-ah.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hyunjin, stop, STOP—

The wild desire topples over the guilt, and they’re kissing. 

It starts out slow, tentative. Jisung’s lips are soft and they taste like chapstick, the beeswax kind you find in convenience stores. Jisung pushes, he gives in. All his nerves are singing. Finally, finally. He feels his hand float up, skirting down the side of Jisung’s neck. There’s a pleasure bubbling in the base of his throat, he feels a happy sound rumble somewhere in his chest, and then—

And then.

Guilt roars up, yanking the wild desire down. Hyunjin’s eyes fly open and he pushes away, his brain screaming. No, no no. Hyunjin stop. Don’t. You can’t. You don’t deserve. Jisung looks so confused and hurt, his flushed red lips in a small pout, chest heaving, and Hyunjin can’t bear it anymore, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that before Jisung’s voice fills the silence, low and broken. “Are you leading me on?”

Chan and Changbin’s faces appear angrily in his vision, so vivid it’s like they’re stamped at the back of his eyelids. You’re an asshole, they hiss. How dare you think you get what you want. 

 “I know you don’t need study help,” Jisung continues. Hyunjin’s eyes fly open. Jisung is drawn into himself, eyes glossy behind his glasses. “You never needed study help. I didn’t notice it at first, but by the time I did it was already too late. I already…”

Hyunjin exhales, terrible and slow. 

“Do you even like me?” Jisung whispers, incredibly fragile, and Hyunjin’s heart breaks. He lurches forward, frantic. “I do!” The words are too loud for the space they’re in and he winces, curling his hands into fists. “Jisung, I swear I do.”

Jisung blinks, his lashes heavy with tears. “Then why’d you pull away?” 

Ah, yes. The age-old question. Why haven’t you asked Jisung out? You haven’t spoken about him in a while, is everything okay? What happened? 

“I…” He swallows, and he can almost taste the heavy bitterness of the guilt on his tongue. “I… I can’t do this. To you. I’m not a good person.” When Jisung just frowns, he continues. “I’ve been so shitty with guys in the past—one of them is literally your friend—and I’m just…worried. You’re so sweet, and genuine, and I’m the exact opposite.” 

“Hyunjin, that’s not true.”

He blinks rapidly. “What?” Jisung is staring, his eyes filled with a swirl of emotion he can’t decode. 

“That’s not true,” he repeats, more firmly. “Just because you sleep with different guys and have unintentionally hurt Chan in a relationship doesn’t mean you’re not a genuine person.” His voice grows stronger. “You stayed with me when I was sick. You’ve helped me feel comfortable. You listen, and you care.”

Hyunjin’s chest tightens. “For a good month I was just ‘playing the long game’ and doing all of that to try and get in your pants.” He feels the shame dragging him, choking him. “That’s why I feel like I can’t do this. Sure, I like you—I like you so, so much, but it’s not fair to you, because it wasn’t always genuine. You don’t deserve to settle for someone like me. I’ll probably just end up hurting you.” The confession makes him feel weak and bare. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids as tears start to well up in his eyes. He feels awful. It’s what you deserve, his mind whispers. It’s fitting, for someone like you. 

“Hyunjin, look at me.”

This is a reminder, his mind taunts, echoing in his brain. You can’t always get what you want.

 “Hyunjin-ah.”

Hyunjin thinks he lets out a choked, broken sort of sound, and then Jisung is yanking his hand away from his face and pulling him forward by his wrist. He’s never seen him look this angry, eyes blazing, eyebrows drawn. Good, he should be angry at you.

“Who told you to believe that,” Jisung says, voice low.

Hyunjin blinks. “What?”

“Was it fucking Changbin,” he continues, and Hyunjin’s eyebrows fly up. Has he ever cursed like this? “It had to be him, right? Or Chan. Or both?” When Hyunjin doesn’t respond, his glare grows even deeper. “I’m going to strangle them.”

Hyunjin blinks, awfully confused and slightly turned on—guilt, guilt guilt— and then Jisung is placing his hands on either side of his face and pulling him into a furious kiss, fierce with a passion that leaves Hyunjin literally breathless. “That was for Changbin,” Jisung starts, and then he yanks him back into another kiss that’s just as passionate, “and that was for Chan, for making you feel like you're unredeemable because of what you’ve done in the past.” He pauses, eyes growing more gentle. “Because you’re not, not at all. I know that you’re not going to hurt me, not intentionally, because I can see how much you care for me, how much you make me feel loved. And yeah, maybe it was all originally just for the sex, but that doesn’t make your emotions any less genuine.”

Hyunjin takes a deep, shaky breath, letting his words wash over him. “It wasn’t all their fault,” he says, eventually. “Some of it was just—me. My mind.”

Another kiss—fast, bruising, but gentle in its intentions. Hyunjin feels a little dizzy. “And that’s to shut up your stupid brain,” Jisung says, mouth quirked in a smile. He brushes his thumb over Hyunjin’s cheek. “Do you get it?”

Hyunjin’s—he’s numb. He’s tired. His nerves are alight and buzzing, and his lips feel raw. But his heart? So, so warm. The guilt is ebbing away, eventually to become nothing. He smiles, a little dopey. “I think so.”

Jisung kisses him again, a quick peck. “You’re so cute.” It makes Hyunjin’s brain finally overload and he collapses forward, cheek pressed to the table. “This isn’t real. I think I’m dreaming.”

Jisung flicks his cheek lightly. “Very real, and no, you’re not. But,” he taps his head, “it’s late, and you need to sleep.”

“Nooooo,” Hyunjin whines. Quieter, he whispers: “I want to stay with you.”

“I’ll walk you to your apartment, dummy, don’t worry.”

This is a pleasing answer, Hyunjin’s insides immediately going warm and gooey at the words, so he peels himself from the table and gathers his things. Jisung swings his own backpack on and follows him out of the library and into the night. The cool air slaps a little bit of sense into him, and he blinks rapidly, realizing the weight of what just happened. Without another word, he turns and sweeps Jisung into a kiss—a serious one. Jisung makes a pleased sound against his lips that sends a shiver down his spine. They melt into one another, Hyunjin licking into Jisung’s mouth, Jisung letting him. His heart pulses with warmth, free of any guilt. It’s a natural push and pull, a give and take, and it’s all Hyunjin’s ever wanted. 

When they pull apart, eventually, Jisung’s cheeks are flushed, eyes blown wide. “Wow.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” Hyunjin chirps. He grabs Jisung’s hand and intertwines their fingers, a cheeky grin on his face. His heart feels warm, so warm.

Jisung swings their hands forward, eyebrows wiggling. “Is this you asking me out?” 

“Ye—wait, fuck, no, I had a whole thing planned,” he groans, Jisung’s cackling laughter filling the night. Hyunjin glances over, his fake pout melting the second he sees his heart-shaped smile. He’s so full of love his heart feels like it’s about to burst. “I really like you, Han Jisung.” The words slip out, completely unbidden. 

Jisung smiles, just as fond. “I really like you too, Hwang Hyunjin.”

And that is enough.