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Minho is lounging in one of the gym’s luxury massage chairs when Changbin leaves the men’s locker room. Him being there is a familiar sight for Changbin. While Minho always showers and changes with admirable efficiency, Changin takes his time. He likes letting his tired muscles loosen up in the shower’s hot steam, and drying off his hair so it doesn’t curl up all funny and lopsided. Minho usually makes a beeline for the massage chairs and waits for Changbin so they can walk home together. It’s only natural they do; they live in the same apartment building, after all.
It’s through the whole being-neighbours thing that Changbin first met Minho. He’d not been in Tokyo long, and he hadn’t met too many people yet, and they’d gotten off on the wrong foot, actually, Changbin confronting Minho when one of his sadistic, little cats beat up Changbin’s poodle, Yang. Changbin hasn’t trusted the cats ever since but he and Minho became fast friends—best friends, really, in time—and they hang out pretty much all the time. They train together (because as dedicated as Changbin is—and he really is dedicated—he still needs a hype man on leg day; who doesn’t?), accompany one another to the convenience store (usually at midnight, when they’re craving a specific snack combo), and Minho even cooks dinner for Changbin, like, five times a week.
It’s nice.
Yeah. It’s nice to have a friend who’ll wait for you, vibrating away in a 200-yen-a-minute massage chair.
Changbin runs a hand through his curls and heads towards Minho, who is looking down, transfixed by his phone. As Changbin gets closer, he watches as Minho breaks into a smile while reading something on the rectangular, glowing screen, his eyes crinkling as his mouth widens and parts, revealing his bunny-like front teeth.
Changbin slows to a stop.
In all the time he’s known Minho, he’s never seen him smile like that. Sure, he’s seen him smile, obviously, but has it ever been so warm? Changbin doesn’t think so. Getting to witness it feels like stumbling upon a secret.
Minho laughs then, his eyes scrunching shut. It’s a small, melodic burst of a thing, and once more, Changbin feels like he’s seeing this side of Minho that has never been revealed to him before, and he stares at his friend feeling slightly awe-struck.
As if sensing he’s being observed, Minho lifts his head and then looks towards Changbin. His expression neutralises, though his cheeks remain warm, pink and glowy, and he raises a hand in greeting.
“Hey,” he calls out. “Finally finished grooming yourself?”
Changbin pouts. “Wasn’t grooming,” he argues weakly.
“Yeah, yeah,” Minho says. His voice is shaking slightly from how much the chair is jostling him about. “You know, next time you book Yang in at the groomer’s, you should ask if they’ll do your hair, too. Maybe they’ll give you a two-for-one deal.”
Changbin only started wearing his hair curly recently, after spending many years hiding his curls away by straightening them out, and now Minho won’t stop teasing him about them even though he was the one who encouraged Changbin to start wearing his hair naturally in the first place.
Minho’s massage chair rumbles to a stop and he hops to his feet. “I’m joking, obviously,” he says, linking his arm through Changbin’s. “The curls look cute as fuck and you know it.”
Changbin looks at himself in one of the mirrors they pass. The curls do look cute. “I know,” he mumbles, his hand drifting up to tuck a rogue strand back into place.
“Great. Now, say thank you, hyung, for giving me the best beauty tips and allowing me to live my best life,” Minho snarks as they swipe their membership cards and head out into the cold.
Changbin ignores him. “It’s freezing,” he complains, zipping his padded jacket all the way up to his chin.
“Wanna come over for galbitang?” Minho asks. “That’ll warm you up.”
“I can’t tonight,” Changbin says. “I have plans.”
Jisung, his childhood best friend, who lives back home, in Seoul, had texted Changbin earlier basically begging him to video call that evening. Nobody is dying, he’d written, but it was, nevertheless, super duper urgent, apparently.
“No biggie,” Minho replies breezily.
As they wander towards home, arm-in-arm, Changbin thinks about asking Minho who he was messaging earlier, because it was clearly someone significant. It had also felt like a private moment, though—something Changbin shouldn’t have seen—so he leaves it be. The right thing to do is to wait until Minho is ready to tell him about it, not to pry.
Their conversation dissolves into a companionable silence as they continue their journey home. It only breaks when they get inside and say their goodbyes before heading off down different directions of the second floor corridor.
Changbin unlocks his door, toes off his sneakers, and says hello to Yang, who rushes to greet him with her tail wagging and her collar bell jangling. The two of them make their way inside his bedroom. Changbin flips open his laptop and pulls up the video-calling app he and Jisung always use. Changbin can see a green dot hovering next to Jisung’s username when he scans his contacts, which means Jisung’s already online, and half a minute has barely passed before Changbin's laptop starts sounding with the incoming-call jingle.
“Were you just sitting around waiting for me to come online?” Changbin asks in lieu of a hello, rolling onto his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows. He hasn’t even turned on his bedroom light yet so the screen is the only thing illuminating his face in the dark. Yang has curled up next to him, a perfect circle of black fluff, and Changbin pets her absent-mindedly.
“Of course I fucking was,” Jisung says, sounding frantic. He’s gnawing on the nail of his thumb and even after all the years they’ve been apart, Changbin still raises his arm as if to pull Jisung’s hand away. Those sorts of impulses can’t be dulled by distance, Changbin knows that. They stay with you.
“What happened?” Changbin asks calmly.
Jisung sucks in a breath and then releases it in one, quick rush. “I met someone,” he announces grandly, punctuating the sentence with surprised laughter and shaking his head like he can’t quite believe it.
“You met someone,” Changbin repeats.
Jisung nods. “I met someone,” he says again, more definitely this time, his expression softening.
“And are you official with this person?” Changbin checks, choosing his words carefully. “Or, is this another crush?”
Jisung rolls his eyes at that, and for some reason, it’s this that makes a wave of fondness crash through Changbin’s chest.
“Yes, hyung, we’re official,” Jisung says. “We made it official today, in fact.”
Changbin grins and he whoops and then Jisung whoops and then they’re both making a lot of noise as they shake their computers around and move their faces very close to their webcams, as is their tradition. “Well, holy shit, Jisung,” Changbin says, flopping back down on the bed feeling breathless. “Tell me about them.”
“Oh, well, he’s called Minho,” Jisung tells him, and oh. That’s funny. Changbin’s immediate thought, naturally, is of his Minho, and this, in turn, makes him think about how he’d love to introduce Minho and Jisung, actually, as he’d always thought they’d get along well, and also: wouldn’t it be hilarious if Jisung was, somehow, talking about Changbin’s Minho? It would certainly be serendipitous. Impossible, too, given their paths can’t have crossed, Minho being just down the hall, and Jisung being in Seoul, the place he’s always been and the place he’ll probably never leave, what with being so nervous about travelling and all.
“I’m crazy about him, hyung,” Jisung goes on, squishing his cheeks between his hands. “He’s weird and funny and has the best ideas ever. He blows my mind daily, I swear. And he’s really pretty, hyung. Like, really pretty.”
Jisung has had crushes before but they’ve always been fleeting, fizzling out to nothing as quickly as they began. When it comes down to it, Jisung has always insisted that he’s a loner, that being alone suits him best, and that he enjoys it, even, because it’s easiest.
Changbin’s never really seen him like this, or heard him gush like this, not about anyone. This is a big deal, Changbin realises. A very big deal. Changbin’s happy for him.
“You’re all those things, too, Jisung,” Changbin tells him dutifully. “So, will I get to meet him? Maybe you could invite him round the next time we video call?”
Jisung’s mouth pops open and he lets out a long hum. “Oh, yeah, maybe,” he says, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Okay,” Changbin says, narrowing his eyebrows. Jisung’s response was a bit . . . off, but maybe his new boyfriend is painfully shy or something, and Jisung’s trying not to embarrass him by saying so. Changbin’s sure he’ll meet him when the time is right. “Another time is fine, too,” he adds. “It would just be nice to meet the guy who’s got you all smiley and happy like this, you know?”
“For sure,” Jisung agrees, and Changbin’s never seen him nod so much. It’s freaky. “I’m sure we’ll work something out at some point.”
Changbin doesn’t push it. “Cool,” he says, before changing the subject. “So, how are Music Comp classes going?”
“Ugh, they’re so-so,” Jisung replies, shrugging. “We’re working in pairs for this project just now and I’ve been paired with this guy, Chan, and while I’d rather be working alone, he's got gold stars coming out of his ass, so at least I’m guaranteed to rank highly, I guess.”
“You should send me some more of your stuff,” Changbin says. “I’d love to hear it.”
“Yeah, I’ll send you some tracks tomorrow,” Jisung replies, stifling a yawn. He seems distracted, and there’s a brief lull in their conversation in which Changbin watches him read something on his screen and snort. Jisung starts typing, his keyboard clacking away loudly, and then there’s the swooshing sound of a message being sent. He must be chatting with Minho, Changbin realises, and that’s to be expected, isn’t it? Jisung’s part of a couple now. His time isn’t for Changbin alone.
It’s good his time isn’t for Changbin alone.
“Sorry, hyung.” Jisung winces. “I was just replying to something.”
“It’s all good,” Changbin says. “I should go grab some dinner, anyway.”
“Ah, yes. Protein,” Jisung says, nodding sagely. “For the gains, right?”
Changbin makes a show of flexing for him and Jisung responds with oohs and aahs and whistles that make Yang start barking. “Enjoy the rest of your night,” Changbin tells Jisung, after he’s shushed her. “You should invite Minho over or something.”
“Yeah, maybe I will,” Jisung chirps. “Night, hyung.”
“Night,” Changbin returns before ending the call and closing his laptop, wondering if his Minho has any galbitang left.
-
Minho and Changbin are having coffee and cake in a manga café a few days later when Minho looks Changbin in the eye and says, “I have some news.”
Changbin puts down the volume of One Piece he was reading and meets Minho’s gaze. “Oh?”
“Now, don’t laugh at me for being so serious,” Minho starts, playing with the straw of his iced americano, “but I figured I should tell you that I kind of started seeing someone.”
Changbin blinks as the déjà vu hits him. He shimmies his head from side to side as if this could shake the feeling away.
Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.
Minho’s eyes narrow. “What?” he asks, immediately suspicious. “Why do you look so surprised?”
“It’s not- it’s just-” Changbin huffs a tiny laugh out of his nose. “Both of my best friends have coupled up recently and I was just thinking that I’m about to become the spare wheel to two very different vehicles. That’s all.”
Minho snorts. His expression shifts slightly as he seems to deliberate something but then it shifts back in an instant. “Yeah, well. Sucks to be you,” he taunts before taking a noisy sip of his drink.
Changbin bows his head in agreement. “Well?” he prompts. “What’s the story?”
Minho tilts his head, peering at Changbin confusedly. “What story?” he asks.
Changin clicks his tongue. “With this someone you’ve ‘kind of started seeing’,” he says, impatient. “What are they like?”
Minho pretends to consider this. “Jisungie? He’s-”
“Wait,” Changbin says, interrupting. “Jisungie?”
Minho startles with real confusion this time. “Yeah, why?”
Changbin leans back in his seat, feeling KO’d, because what are the chances? Seriously. What are the chances Minho started dating someone called Jisung, and Jisung started dating someone called Minho, all in the very same week? They’re common enough names, Changbin supposes, but still. This has got to be the biggest coincidence he has ever encountered in his life, though it’s not like anybody but him has a reason to care about it.
“No reason,” Changbin replies. “Carry on.”
“Well, he’s . . . um.” Minho pauses, and Changbin watches as the tips of his ears turn a luminous red. “He’s talented and he’s interesting and he’s cute. Super cute, in fact. And, well, he gets me, and I get him. So. Yeah.”
Minho frowns as he trails off, and he’s blushing a red so bright he’s practically lighting up the entire café now. “That’s it. I’m not saying any more,” he grouses before shoving the remaining piece of his mini matcha sponge cake in his mouth as if to shut himself up.
Changbin smiles, his chest warming from how damn cute Minho is. “Okay, okay,” he says as he mimes zipping his mouth shut. “I won't pry.”
“Good,” Minho says, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Busybody.”
Changbin scoffs, flicking cake crumbs at Minho in retaliation, and after the brief, energetic squabble that ensues, they go back to reading their manga, the subject dropped for the time being.
-
The deep-winter weeks shiver on. Changbin hears all about the other Minho from his Jisung, and the other Jisung from his Minho, but he never meets these increasingly-mysterious figures. Whenever either one is mentioned, Changbin imagines them as this vague, featureless silhouette of a person, standing next to his smiling, love-drunk friend. It’s either that or alternate-reality versions of the Minho and Jisung he already knows, and that’s too confusing a concept. It makes him start thinking of parallel worlds, of Seoul and Tokyo existing in different planes of time and space, with himself as the pin that’s holding everything together, and that, in turn, sparks a unique existential crisis.
No, fuzzy silhouettes will have to do, at least until he finally meets one of them.
He supposes it makes sense that he hasn’t met the other Minho yet. Changbin only gets to see Jisung when they have a video call, so that all checks out. He had thought Minho might have introduced him to the other Jisung by now, but Minho’s always been a very private person, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. Changbin will just have to trust that Minho will introduce them when he's good and ready.
Jisung does send Changbin the songs he’s been working on. There are songs about satellites lost in orbit, and songs about asteroids on collision courses, hurtling towards impact. There are songs about the weaver and the herder, meeting in the middle of a bridge that’s made of magpies and suspended over the milky way.
Each song is a story of distance and longing and anticipation.
Changbin likes them but he has to wonder what dramas Jisung’s been watching to inspire such songs.
-
The next time Jisung calls Changbin, he skips the small talk and jumps straight to the point. “I need your help,” he tells Changbin, his eyes already wide and pleading. “I need to come stay with you for a little bit.”
“Jesus, fuck,” Changbin says. “Are you going on the run or something?”
Jisung lets out a yelp of incredulous laughter. “ No ,” he says emphatically. “No. It’s just . . . well. You know Minho? He actually lives in Tokyo, too.”
“Wait. What?” Changbin’s lost. “You guys are long distance?”
“Yeah.”
“Since when?”
Jisung ignores Changbin’s question. “Listen. I wanna come over and visit him and that means I need to stay with you—mostly because I’m broke, but also, like, for moral support and stuff. Dude is the love of my life.”
“But, Jisung-” Changbin begins. “You have met him before, right?”
Even through a screen, Changbin can tell when Jisung's getting annoyed, his back straightening as he lifts his chin. “I have spoken to him in person many times, hyung.”
“Face-to-face?” Changbin checks.
Jisung hums thoughtfully. “Do you call what we’re doing right now face-to-face?”
Changbin shrugs. “I guess.”
“Well, then, yes,” Jisung answers. “We have met face-to-face.”
“You guys have only ever video-chatted,” Changbin says, understanding. Jisung doesn’t argue. “Where did you meet? On a dating app?”
“We met online,” Jisung replies as he inspects his nail beds.
“Where online, though?”
Jisung sighs heavily as he looks up at his ceiling. “Okay,” he whines, obstinately dragging the word out before glancing down at his screen again. “We met on an anime messaging board, alright? Are you happy?”
“Oh my god,” Changbin says.
“Hey,” Jisung snaps. “It’s fine. It’s perfectly valid.”
Changbin doesn’t even need to ask what anime it is. Jisung’s been obsessed with Apocalypse! Valentine! since he was, like, thirteen years old. It’s about an idol girl group who survive the end of the world and slowly become a murderous band of marauders, trawling a desolate landscape all while wearing their torn-up stage outfits.
The main character is literally on a poster behind Jisung’s head right now, flipping Changbin off.
“How do you know?” Changbin asks Jisung, still looking at the poster. “How do you know he’s the one for you?”
He watches as Jisung exhales, his shoulders deflating as all his fighting spirit leaves him.
“Because.” Jisung hesitates. Starts again. “Because being with him is as easy as being alone.”
Changbin nods. “Right,” he replies.
“Right,” Jisung echoes, nodding. “So . . . can I come?”
“Yes, Jisung,” Changbin tells him. “You can come.”
-
Changbin picks Jisung up from the airport. Jisung hugs him for around three minutes straight and doesn’t stop clinging to him even as they leave, hanging off Changbin’s shoulder and complaining about his extremely improbable jet lag. Changbin treats him to sashimi en route to his apartment, and even though Jisung won’t take off his neck pillow in public, it’s nice. Changbin hasn’t seen him in person in such a long time and his energy is as revitalising as it always is. Jisung’s friendship has always been such a source of goodness in his life that way. It’s the easiest, warmest thing Changbin’s ever known. It’s his favourite sweater, freshly-laundered. A true comfort.
“I’m meeting Minho later this evening,” Jisung tells him once they’re back at Changbin’s apartment. He’s unpacking his things, a task that mostly involves tossing items of clothing inside Changbin’s drawers alongside all of Changbin’s stuff.
“I’m so nervous,” he continues, holding up random shirts to his chest and looking at himself in Changbin’s mirror. “What if he thinks I’m hideous?”
“You guys have already seen each other, though,” Changbin points out from where he’s leaning against the bedroom door.
“Yeah, but maybe I look hotter through a webcam,” Jisung says. “That could be a thing.”
“You look hot with or without a webcam pointed at you,” Changbin tells him. “Don’t be silly.”
Jisung pulls a face at him in the mirror and Changbin responds with one of his own and then someone is knocking on the apartment door and Changbin is excusing himself, hurrying off to go see who it is as Yang follows at his heels, yapping shrilly.
“Finally,” Minho says once Changbin’s opened the door. He pushes past Changbin, kicks off his shoes and marches along the apartment hallway and into the kitchen.
“You were knocking for ten seconds,” Changbin grumbles as he follows.
“Which is nine seconds too long, if you ask me,” Minho replies.
Changbin gives Minho a sneaky once-over. He looks more harried than Changbin’s ever seen him; there are dark smudges under his eyes and his hair is sticking up at odd angles.
“The fuck is up with you?” Changbin asks him.
“I’m freaking the fuck out is what’s up,” Minho hisses, leaning in close. “I need your help.”
Changbin groans. He already has one overwhelmed best friend who’s relying on him for help and he’s not sure if he can handle another. He’s not sure that Minho’s ever asked him for help, though, now that he thinks about it. That means he must really need it.
“What’s up, hyung?” Changbin asks him, reaching out to take his hand.
Minho sucks in a breath through his gritted teeth. “So, I didn’t tell you the whole story before, but I actually met my new boyfriend online,” he says. “Until now, we’ve only ever messaged and had video calls and stuff, but we’ve finally made plans to meet in person, and . . . well, you need to come with me to meet him.”
Changbin feels like he’s having around twelve thousand different thoughts at once. “What?” he asks. “Why?”
Minho looks at him like he’s being very dense. “In case he’s catfishing or something,” he says.
“Catfishing?” Changbin repeats. “But . . . you video called him, right? So, it’d be obvious if he was?”
Minho makes a noise of frustration. “Then, in case he’s a murderer, or whatever. I don’t know, Seo Changbin. You just need to come.”
Changbin runs his hand down his face. There’s no way, he thinks. But maybe, just maybe, there is a way. His thoughts feel like the cogs making up some intricate machine; they’re all clicking into place, starting to turn.
“Where did you say you met him?” he asks Minho.
“I didn’t,” Minho says, glaring at Changbin.
“Then tell me,” Changbin counters, staring right back at him.
Minho takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before releasing it slowly. “I met him on an anime message board, alright?” he snaps, and Changbin’s heard this before. He recognises every line in this script.
“Don’t judge me,” Minho goes on. “I bet your internet history is much more sordid than mine.”
Changbin snorts. “Was the anime Apocalypse! Valentine!, by any chance?”
Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. “What the fuck,” he says. “Yes. How do you know that?”
“Lucky guess.” Changbin feels hysterical. He feels like he’s stumbling through the worst multiverse of all time.
“So, will you come with me, or what?” Minho asks, poking his arm.
“No,” Changbin replies, moving around Minho to go sit at the kitchen table. “We’ll stay right here.”
Minho looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “Why?”
Changbin looks towards his bedroom door. “You’ll see why in a minute.”
Minho swallows, rocking onto his heels and crossing his arms. Though he continues to squint at Changbin as if trying to work out if he’s being fucked with or not, he waits.
In exactly a minute, as if following a cue, Jisung walks into the kitchen. “Hyung,” he calls out. “Does this shirt make my tits look good, or-”
He looks up, and he freezes. Minho freezes, too. They stare at one another from where they’re standing on opposite sides of the kitchen. There’s this column of sunlight sandwiched between them, slicing the entire room in half. Changbin watches as the dust motes that are hovering in it drift this way and that, and Jisung and Minho still haven’t moved an inch or said a word. Changbin’s not sure if they’re even breathing anymore.
Then, Minho says, “Yes.”
Jisung laughs. It's golden and jangly, like a rain of coins. “Yes?”
“Yes, your tits look good, Jisung,” Minho says, his voice cracking slightly. “They look great, in fact.”
Changbin looks down at the floor as they finally move towards one another. Giving them some privacy is the least he can do.
He sees their silhouettes collide in that neat oblong of sunshine that’s stretching across the kitchen floor, though.
He sees their two shadows melt together to become one shadow.
Changbin smiles to himself as he covers his eyes.