Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Life these days simply happened to Jisung. He waited around for the next order that the Universe and Fate decided that they wanted to give him. And like any man wanting to avoid any sort of trouble, he hung his head and diligently headed in whatever direction they nudged him. Most of the time, Jisung felt like his limbs were being moved by external forces as if he was some inanimate doll. Days dragged over each other; a piece of pastry being folded yet never cooked. The sun rose and set, and Jisung was stuck in the same place. An old, black-and-white movie on a loop. He was stuck in a dark room but could see fireworks outside his window, but there was no way to cross into the outside world. He watched colour happen all around him, watched people he knew fluctuate between happy and sad, energetic and tired, in love and resentful, but he just remained – forever a spectator.

              Jisung wasn’t always a spectator. There was once a time where his life was a spectrum of ever-changing colour; he noticed the different shades of blue in the sky instead of flipping between light and dark, he bathed in the lush greens of the grass, leaves and stalks instead of traipsing past them without even a flick of the eye. But that time had passed. Now Jisung was staring at the monochrome clock at the back of the office while the light from the computer screen in front of him gradually killed his eyes.

              He was performing one of those arduous tasks of imputing data that took forever and zero brainpower – which meant you could feel the organ inside your skull slowly turn to mush – but was simultaneously the thing that would get you fired if you did it wrong. At this point, Jisung felt like he’d lost his gift of giving a damn. He shook his head and figured that he could speed through these last sections, stifling a yawn.

              The clock had told him that it was past the time he was legally allowed to leave, but the sensible part of him set a reminder that he needed to get this done today otherwise he was going to be miles behind where he should be. And despite his apathy, he knew he needed to remain employed. He adjusted the glasses on his face and put his head down to focus on the numbers.

              Right when Jisung had returned to some semblance of a flow, he heard wheels rolling over the rough carpet before he felt an identical black office chair to his crash into the desk just next to him. A grinning face greeted him, teeth as white as brand-new china, dark eyes sparkling, freckles scattered like dust over round cheeks. Felix’s desk was just behind his in their little section and he was part of the little quintet of allies that Jisung had acquired in his time here. His bright, strawberry blond hair was messy on top of his head, but Felix always found a way to make it look professional. It was probably because every other aspect of work attire that Felix turned up in was flawless that peoples’ brains just naturally fitted the unkept mess on his head into the model employee get-up.

              “’Ello,” the other man begun with. “Guess what?”

              Despite himself, Jisung sighed contently at the distraction. Felix had this gravitational pull around him that sprinkled some magic and made worries dissolve for everyone caught up in it. “What?” He played along.

              “The list of performers has arrived!”

              It was then that Jisung noticed the booklet that Felix was clutching in his hands. It was stapled together, so he figured that Felix had recently returned from the printer with it. He was flicking his thumb over the corner and making the top half flap back and forth. The performer list was for the cast of back-up dancers for a musical duo’s show that their company was going to sponsor this year. The duo, called Runner’s High, were currently in the stage of moving around and performing their set in different venues around the city, and then the country after that. The special nights were when they would get to perform in massive venues usually only reserved for classic theatre productions like Les Misérables or something of the like. It was getting big. Which meant that Jisung’s boss was only going to place more emphasis on it and leave less rooms for cockups with anything involving their shows.

              The performer list was a common topic of conversation in the office kitchen. It usually morphed over to speculation over anyone famous that was going to appear in it, leading to anticipation of getting to meet these people when the company eventually sends them over to interact with them. Most were excited over the prospect of being able to gloat to family members and friends. Jisung didn’t have the heart to tell them that the chances of any of them so low down in the office chain would be sent round to meet with them was slight. Jisung was of the minority of people that were apathetic to the whole ordeal; the only ones who wouldn’t be bothered when the office is eventually bulldozed with the truth.

              Still, Jisung turned to Felix in expectation when he told him he had the performer list. He was curious, sue him. He managed a small smirk at his friend. “So, is there anyone famous on there?” He asked. He wanted to know how disappointed his office members were going to be.

              “Have a look for yourself.”

              Felix passed him the thin booklet. As he flicked through, catching each of the headshots of the attractive dancers, recognition eluded him. Each shot ranged from the individual attempting to look alluring or beaming so hard at the camera that Jisung almost felt their eagerness rubbing off on him. They were all rookies, which wasn’t a surprising feat at all. Jisung enjoyed himself as he was sucked into the trap of reading the little biographies of each performer that he forgot as soon as he’d read it. He didn’t know how long he was doing this for, soon losing the pressure of Felix’s eyes watching him. He was about halfway through the list before he stopped dead.

              Practically blinking back at him was a face he could remember with every sense he owned. His fingers tingled the way they used to when they ran over his cheeks – smooth skin which always managed to get rougher around his ears no matter what he did. The office stank of freshly mown grass and just-picked mint as soon as he saw the headshot. His tongue recalled the Vaseline he used to lather on his lips three times a day, the way his own used to suck it off. His voice like the powerful hoot of an owl at dusk, offering promises of comfort and warmth no matter the season. His dark eyes stared back into Jisung’s own, thin with inky lashes framing them like a work of art. His dark hair was shorter than it used to be, craftily styled so one half run lower on his forehead and the other half was raised above his head like someone had electrocuted it. The photo’s colours were dulled, but he could still make out the thin, pink lips which had their characteristic right-side-slightly-raised in an expression that made you feel inferior and stupid in his presence but so cherished at the same time. His face was made up, but Jisung’s heart immediately did a little flip when he could still make out the mole on his nose.

              Just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, Jisung ran over the name over the top of the photo. Lee Minho. So, his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him then. He quickly studied the information on Minho’s page: he had been a back-up dancer for several groups before this, meaning that he had been doing the dancing thing for a while. Ever since he quit his waiter job by the looks of the dates. The hobby section wasn’t surprising – all except hiking. That was a new one.

              He must have been staring at the same page for a while, because he suddenly felt Felix fidget beside him in the way he does before he’s about to say something – a little bounce on his seat followed by an upper-body wiggle. He swiftly shut the booklet before he began to look suspicious and smiled at his friend, choosing to ignore the way his stomach was doing flips. “Not many known people on there,” Felix rambled. “Wonder who’s going to let the guys know? I don’t know what they were expecting really. Keira Knightly to make an impromptu decision to star in this small, up-and-coming duo’s show over whatever next American blockbuster?”

              Jisung hoped his laugh was easy and thoughtless and didn’t let Felix in onto the whirlwind that sprang to life in his head, currently shaking any existing structure loose. “Pirates of the Caribbean was pretty good, I must admit.”

              The two of them spend some time deliberating over whether the scene where Elizabeth meets the skeleton pirates for the first time or the sword fight between Will and Jack was the best scene for some time before they realised that they really needed to return to work.

              Jisung let his mind drift as he sits there, copying out the data the way he’d done over a thousand times before. The past had always been like a faint whisper, always there in the background but something you could choose to ignore, something that is sometimes hard to make out and you can put out of your mind. But right now, there was a fanfare in Jisung’s mind: trumpets blaring like a foghorn demanding to be heard. In was in this moment that Jisung’s utter isolation caught up with him as he remembered how it felt to have another being to share every part of him with. The two of them wrapped around each other like the stripes on the cylindrical rock sweets, supporting each other but never taking each other over. They each had their own space, but they couldn’t exist without the other next to them.

              Jisung could never think about Minho without remembering how special it felt to be held and protected, to have someone to shield him from the terrors of the world. They existed in their own space, evicting anything that might want to study them in the same way that the body’s antibodies fend off diseases. Their world was a fantasy, made of everything soft against the skin – mostly each other’s skin. Jisung could never think of Minho without thinking of the most vibrant wildflowers, the tree’s annual journey of having leaves to shedding them, or the purest of feathers.

              Jisung and Minho’s story began and ended in his last two years of high school, a candle burning bright before the intrusion of a gust of wind. Their fortress was eventually invaded, and the foundations crumbled before them, left with nothing to salvage.

              Jisung didn’t really know how long he’d been working, but the slap of hands on his shoulders made his heart leap and body surge forward out of his streak of concentration. He turned around only to be faced with another one of his friends, Hyunjin, who was giving him a toothy grin. He let the ache of Hyunjin’s slap on his shoulders fade, which took a much shorter time than his heart to stop racing. He spun around in his chair to face the three newcomers who made up the quintet that Felix and he had been a part of ever since the five of them had begun their internship together. Hyunjin and their final two members, Seungmin and Jeongin, were standing with their coats and rucksacks on, ready to go. However, the expectant glint in their eyes told Jisung that it was by no means a regular departure.

              He looked over to Felix’s desk to find that the other boy had also turned around to stare at their friends. “You guys will never guess what?” Hyunjin began in the same way that Felix had done earlier in the day. “You’ll never guess what the boss has just asked us to do?”

              “Clean the bathrooms?”

              “No!” Hyunjin scowled.

              “They do really need a little scrub. Are you sure that’s not what he asked?”

              “I’m sure! The boss just asked us to go round to where Runner’s High and their dancers are rehearsing for the show and give some documents to the director!”

              Jisung freezes, his lips stuck in a permanent ‘o’ shape. Luckily Felix’s gasp is much more theatrical, and no one pays him much mind. “So, you get to go and meet the dancers and stuff? Wait! I have the performers list here!”

              “No way! Let me have a look!”

              Hyunjin snatches the performers list out of Felix’s hands, which the other complains at him for. It goes onto deaf ears, however, as Hyunjin is immediately absorbed in flicking through the booklet. Seungmin and Jeongin simply roll their eyes at their antics. “There’s no one here I know.”

              “Neither, but I guess you’ll soon get to know them if you’re going to become best buds when you go over there.”

              “What do you mean? You two are coming too!”

              “What?” Jisung almost echoes Felix’s surprised exclamation.

              “You think I wouldn’t ask if it was alright for you two to come along as well? What kind of friend do you think I am?”

              It takes a few seconds for the information to compute in Felix’s brain, but when it does, the man leaps out of his seat and crashes into Hyunjin, a little eeek escaping his mouth. He jumps around with him for a while before charging back to his desk to start shutting everything down and collecting his stuff. Jisung is busy watching him when he feels the inquisitive eyes of his three other friends on him. He turns and smiles at them sheepishly.

              “I think I might skip out on it today, guys. Really sorry, but I need to get the rest of this done.” It wasn’t a complete lie on Jisung’s part. He really had a lot more of this arduous task to do and it would be beneficial for him to get it done before tomorrow. It was only that the majority of his mind was screaming at him to get out of it because he just really did not want to suffer through meeting Minho. He didn’t know if his heart could handle it, didn’t know if he could stomach the resentment. His refusal of social situations was by no means a new phenomenon. His friends were very much aware of the problems he had around new faces. God knows, it took him long enough to warm up and open up to them. Jisung would always be forever grateful that his friends put up with it, as not a lot of other guys would have done. It was just that this was one of those rare instances where the face of a person he knows was more daunting than the prospect of meeting a room full of new people.

              “Are you sure, mate?” Jeongin pipes up. Jisung smiles back at the youngest of their little squad.

              “I am, really.”

              The four others seemed unconvinced and apprehensive, so Jisung tried to assure them with an encouraging nod. Felix winced but shrugged back anyway. It was one of those instances where he could tell that there was just no winning against his friend. “Okay, then. If you are really sure.”

              They took some time getting their final bits together, but soon Jisung was waving them off. They each had a spring to their step as they bounded off to meet the group of upcoming stars. If that one specific person wasn’t among them, Jisung was sure he would have squashed down his reservations and forced himself not to miss out on this chance. Even after making this decision, however, he couldn’t quench the feeling of utter nervousness and dread that had consumed his stomach since he saw those eyes which he was sure not even a cliché drama car-accident-amnesia plot would let him forget.

              His and Minho’s world shattered in Jisung’s last year of high school when a family friend of Jisung’s had caught them out together. She was the closest thing Jisung had ever had to a mother since his own died when he was younger. Their world had shattered when Jisung had talked to her about it. Their world shattered when she had reminded Jisung how his father would react if he found out and told him it was best to break it off. He was young, and he still needed them. Their world had shattered when Jisung made the decision that he wasn’t ready to lose his family yet.

              He just never thought that the world he shared with Minho had at some point become his only one.

Jisung shot awake, sucking a gulp of air in during a startled gasp. His back hit the back of the chair and the ricochet managed to shake his desk up. He sat and waited for his mind to brush off the shock of where he was and the sudden wake-up-call his body decided to subject him to. He righted his glasses, which had become crooked on his face as he laid it against his arms while he slept at his desk. His throat was incredibly dry and itchy, his muscles ached. Taking a deep breath, he stretched his arms above his head. He stayed, lost in his thoughts, doing work, until late last night, until after everyone else had gone home. He lost track of the time and fell asleep at his desk. Brilliant.

              He wiggled the mouse of his computer and brought the screen back to life, having never completely shut it down. He logged in again and went to check how much he had left to go. Jisung was well-aware of the fact that he could have done with a wash, some water, some food, but at this point, those things felt so far away and inconsequential that they may as well have been specks of dust on the pair of glasses Jisung doesn’t use anymore.

              He didn’t know how long he continued to work for, didn’t bother to check the large black-and-white clock at the back of the room again. However, when the door to the office opened and the sound of hurried steps resounded about the room, Jisung’s head did shoot up, well-aware of the fact that he probably looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards.

              Felix charged into the office, hair askew more than usual and coat buttons done up in the wrong order, rucksack stap only strung over one of his shoulders. He walked with his upper body further ahead of the bottom half, deep breaths spilling out of his mouth in giant puffs. Jisung’s lips parted in surprise. It was only when Felix got to his desk by Jisung’s that the man could see the dark circles under the other’s eyes. He was pretty sure that the disapproving glare that Felix was giving him was mirrored in his own expression as he looked back at his friend. “Did you pull an all-nighter here again?” Felix, however, found his voice first, an exasperated hand on his hip.

              “What about you? You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday; did you even go home at all?”

              Felix smiled back at Jisung sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he realised that he was caught. “It’s nothing really. It’s just that the guys and I hit it off with one of the dancers as he was coming out of rehearsals. We talked for a bit and then the group decided to go out for some drinks – the group which included the musicians themselves as well, by the way, since he is really close to them. And I don’t really know what happened after that. None of us kept up with the time. The next thing I knew was that there was light streaming in through the doors and windows and the bar was kicking everyone out. We crashed at the dancer’s place because it was pretty close to the bar, hence why I haven’t changed. The others have gone back to their own places to freshen up, but because mine’s so far, I figured fuck it and just came in.”

              Jisung needed a second to get his head around all the information that Felix spewed out in no time at all. Once he had, the nervous feeling began to claw at his insides again.

              The first thing that his brain wondered was just which dancer it was that Felix, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin had met. He began to pick at his nails. He debated with himself in his head for a moment, the question of which dancer on the tip of his tongue, very willing to jump off like an expert diver. Just as he opened his mouth, the door burst open for the second time in the span of a few minutes and his question was answered.

              Minho tumbled into the room, a good-natured laugh bubbling from his mouth. “Hey, Felix! You left this booklet in my car!”

              The two men at the desks instantly turn to the loud intruder. Jisung is certain that he doesn’t breathe. Minho is unmistakable. His shoulders have widened, filling out his form more. He’s probably grown too – although Jisung would have done as well – and muscles have filled out more prominently in places like his legs and arms. His hair is the same exact shade of dark brown as he remembered, wisps of it falling around his temples like he was a prince. Even in a loose shirt, an unzipped jacket and jeans, he carried himself regally, moving exactly like a dancer trained their whole life despite the hurried way he ran into the room.

              Felix runs up to meet him at the mouth of his and Jisung’s little cove, practically bouncing. “Thank you! My boss would have killed me if I’d left that somewhere. If that got out, things could have gone very wrong. Did you know that one time one of our workmates left some document in a café and he got fired for it? Turned out it had a bunch of private company details on it, and if the wrong person got their hands on it, they could have wiped out the whole company’s finances. This whole internet thing is amazing and all, but I’m sure I’m not the first to notice how absolutely terrifying it can be.”

              Minho watched and listened to Felix talk with a carefree smile on his face, engaged and patient. His eyes shone as he watched Jisung’s friend babble on in the way he does, nodding along. However, when his eyes flickered over to the other person in the room, Jisung clocked the instant Minho recognised him. The expression on his face stilled and then began to gradually harden in the way things do when they’re freezing over. His previously glassy eyes remained in contact with Jisung’s. His lips tightened into more of a line, tensing at the sides, like he was fighting a frown or a scowl. Jisung’s heart began to beat erratically, like he was a deer being hunted for sport, never quite knowing which moment was going to be its last. It took everything in him to prevent his hands from visibly shaking.

              “I’m ever-so-forgetful you see, I leave things everywhere all the time. Once, when I was a kid, I left my own shoe at school. How did I even do that? I don’t even think I had PE that day. There wouldn’t have been one instance when I would have needed to take my shoe off. And yet, alas, it remained under my desk for an entire night all on its own. I don’t know how I got home now that I think about it. Yikes, is my memory really that bad?”

              Jisung was sure that Minho and he had missed a lot of Felix’s rant, too busy taking each other in after so long. Minho’s glare was filled with so much icy resentment, hard and cold. Jisung felt like his heart was being crushed by a ton of bricks, then fished out from the rubble and wrang like a wet flannel. Pain spread all over his chest, cutting off his air supply, only making it burn even more. The worst part was that Jisung couldn’t even say that he blamed Minho. The other had every right to feel the way he did, every right to look at Jisung like he’d just lit the whole building on fire. Because he had. He’d burnt them and then threw their ashes to the wind so that there was not a single possibility of collecting all of their pieces.

              After Jisung broke it off, Minho had pleaded with him. Asked him to work it out together. Asked him to stay, to choose him and what they could have together. But Jisung was a coward. He didn’t want to take the risk, wasn’t prepared to lose everything else in his life just yet. Minho would have leapt in front of a moving train for him. Jisung ran away. They parted after a screaming match, words cutting into each other like chainsaws. Five years since then, and this was the first time they had laid eyes on each other in person. And it didn’t look like Minho had forgotten what he’d felt about Jisung since their last day.

              “Oh, how silly of me!” Something about the surprise in Felix’s tone brought both of them back to the office they were in and their attention over to Jisung’s workmate. “Minho, this is one of my good friends, Jisung. Jisung, this is the dancer from the show that the guys and I met last night, Minho.”

              Sweet Felix had failed to pick up on the coldness omitting from Minho’s glare. Jisung, however, could see it like steam rising after one opens the freezer. He must not have detected the sheer panic on Jisung’s face, either – or just mistaken it for him being nervous around what he believes is a new face. It is then that Jisung wonders if Minho will tell him everything, reveal what an awful person Jisung really is. Jisung, in that moment, felt everything he held dear to him left in his life dangling precariously in Minho’s hands, completely at the other’s mercy. Jisung might have cried when Minho decided not to let Felix onto their history, instead nodding his head at him. “Hello, nice to meet you,” he said.

              Jisung was speechless for a moment, but quickly pulled himself out of it. Minho had been generous and chosen not to disclose anything; he was not going to ruin it for himself. “Hello. Likewise.” It was all his voice was able to manage without completely breaking down.

              Felix either didn’t notice the tension or filled the silence that ensued with some more ramblings of his own in order to conquer the awkwardness that had risen from Minho and Jisung’s rigid greetings. He didn’t have to worry, however, because soon the office door opened again and some of their elder, chattering workmates waltzed into the room, holding up a hand in greeting to them all. This was a wake-up call for Minho, who used this as an excuse to take his leave, only saying goodbye to Felix, who decided to walk him out.

              Jisung turned back to tuck himself under his desk again, hand placed over his chest in a pathetic attempt to quell his heart’s rapid hammering. He let a long breath out to try and calm himself. It did very little when his mind instantly flew over to remembering how he looked: just woken up after sleeping all night at his desk, he would have looked awful, a complete mess. He almost groaned out loud, knowing how much more of a fool Minho now thought he was. Worse still, as of last night, it looked like he was good friends with Felix. That unsettling feeling was now gnawing on his spine, keeping him tongue-tied and afraid. Jisung suddenly felt miles away from his friends, a feeling he hasn’t had to deal with since he first met them. They had been sucked into a world of colour and light and music while he was stuck, left behind in monochrome and silence, waiting in vain for someone to pluck him out.

Jisung managed to avoid getting roped into the outings that his work mates arranged with Minho and his friends over the following weeks. By the end, his excuses ran pretty thin, and he was sure that his friends weren’t very convinced. It came to a point when even Jisung had to admit to himself that “I need to go home and change my bedsheets” was never going to be believable to anybody. His friends, bless them, always cut him some slack no matter how ridiculous his excuse was. They knew he got stressed, knew he wasn’t the biggest fan of dressing up and going out.

              However, once these few weeks had passed and they had been seeing their new friends outside of work more than Jisung, his friends had finally had enough of him getting out of it. When Hyunjin suggested that they all “just meet up at my flat,” Jisung struggled to think of a way out of it. It was away from large crowds of people; it only had the tight-knit group. He even ventured to add that Jisung “didn’t even need to speak to Minho, Chan and Changbin if he didn’t want to.” It was pretty clear that they were not accepting no for an answer. After assuring Jisung that Minho and his friends were very kind and fun for the millionth time, he finally gave them a verbal confirmation in the office kitchen during their lunch hour.

              Jisung is well aware that he didn’t need to talk to Minho. He was sure that the other man would not make the task difficult for him in the slightest. If the previous run-in told him anything, it was that Minho was just as reluctant to interact with him. To his chagrin, Friday rolled around much quicker than he was prepared for, nevertheless.

              Jisung stood in front of Hyunin’s door that night, willing his hands to stop shaking. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his hammering heart, before ringing the doorbell. As he heard the chime resound inside the flat, the organ in his chest beat against his skin even harder. Light seeped into his vision as the obstacle in front of him swung open, Hyunjin’s beaming face meeting him instead. “You made it!” He chorused like he was surprised.

              Jisung pushed past his nerves enough to roll his eyes as he stepped past the threshold, the warmth of Hyunjin’s flat settling the goosebumps that had formed on his arms. He was dressed much the same as he had been earlier: shirt, although no tie, and tightly fitted black jeans. He let his brown hair hang over his forehead, too lazy to do anything with it. Hyunjin had gone with a far more casual approach, his loose tee and jeans, a flannel shirt over the top. As Jisung scanned the room, he noticed that the others had all gone for a more relaxed, comfortable look like Hyunjin. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks as he handed his coat to Hyunjin, which he quickly tried to supress.

              Hyunjin scampered off to put his coat with the others’, and Jisung was left to gravitate towards the main sitting room himself. The first thing he noticed is the explosion of laughter coming from the sitting area, his friends and Minho and his friends were throwing words off each other so effortlessly that it brings Jisung’s nerves back tenfold. He shuffled over until Felix spotted him at long last and launched himself off the sofa where he was perched between Jeongin and one of Minho’s friends. He gripped Jisung’s wrists upon reaching him, blinding grin plastered across his face. “You’re finally here!” He exclaimed. “Guys, Jisung’s here!”

              Jisung could smell the alcohol rolling off Felix’s breath, but he didn’t mind. He welcomed the bounciness of his friend, as it was about to relieve him of the daunting task of introducing himself. He let Felix pull him over to the sofa he was sitting at before, luckily placing him next to Jeongin and not Minho’s friend. “It looks like some introductions are in order! You already met Minho, didn’t you?” Jisung nodded at Felix, who was chattering away, eyes flicking over everyone in the room without staying long enough to properly gauge their reactions. If he had, if any of them had, they would have seen the sour look that passed fleetingly over Minho’s face as Felix introduced them yet again, and Jisung’s crestfallen eyes that followed. The two quickly schooled their expressions into cordiality afterwards, but Jisung couldn’t get the look that Minho gave him out of his mind, stomach clenching.

              “Jisung, this is Chan, he composes all the music for Runner’s High! How cool is that?” Jisung looked over to the man on Felix’s other side, who had a red flush that spread over his neck and cheeks at Felix’s compliment that was impossible not to notice. His hair was dark and curly, his smile was massive and bashful across his face. Wondrously, Chan’s warm smile softened the prickly apprehension over Jisung’s skin, as if he were running a hot, wet flannel over it. He waited for the man to remember who he was, for the look of disgust to cross his features the same way they had done over Minho’s. Jisung wasn’t delusional: he was Minho’s friend; Chan must hate him already. Jisung struggled to believe that Minho’s friends didn’t know who he was, that Minho had kept silent about meeting his cowardly ex. When Jisung is convinced that Chan’s smile is a fixed feature on his face, the two exchange greetings, Chan not letting any hint of resentment cross his face during it.

              “And lastly, over there next to Minho is Changbin. He works on the music scoring and lyrics for their songs, as well as being a rapper.” Jisung peered over at Changbin with the same hesitation as he had with Chan, waiting for the glare that was bound to be thrown his way. But none came. Like the other man, albeit not with as bright a smile, Changbin greeted him coolly and politely, and Jisung was left with nothing to do expect stammer a reply as best as he could.

              It took Jisung a while to process that Minho’s friends knew nothing, just like his own. But it wasn’t surprising that his didn’t know. He didn’t know many people willing to admit to what a horrible person they were. But Minho didn’t have to worry about that. He should have collected allies when he ran into Jisung, prepared his friends for what kind of person that they were likely to meet, considering they were close with Jisung’s friends. But he didn’t, and Jisung did not know how to feel. A large, selfish part of him was relieved: the precious bubble his friends had created with them was going to remain intact, he didn’t have to deal with more than one person openly resenting him, he can make an impression for himself. Another part of him felt like this was a kindness that he nowhere near deserved. He felt like a thief.

              In the end, he decided not to dwell on it. He was going to take this small piece of freedom that Minho had given him. He let Felix mix him up a drink, which he didn’t know how grateful he was for until its effects dulled his insides slightly. He felt his body sink into the sofa’s cushions, its edges losing their sharpness gradually. The alcohol he was getting into his system was helping him cope massively with the weight of Minho’s glares whenever the other had the misfortune to remember Jisung was in the room. It still hurt, but his hazier brain tried to deflect it much more successfully than his sober one.

              The noise ramped up as soon as Hyunjin got back into the room, the man an expert at starting heated debates and then clocking out halfway through to simply watch the chaos. This was the first time that Jisung was there to witness just how easily the two groups’ voices slid over each other, like a silk ribbon wrapping itself into a neat little bow. Jisung felt equal parts full and empty watching how easily they interacted and shared jokes. Even Minho joined in easily, dismissing Jisung’s presence entirely. Never had Jisung felt as much of a spectator. Like they were characters on a sitcom he knew way too well for a simple fan of the show.

              He quickly picked up just how much Chan smiled: it was like the other man could not wipe it from his face, like something bad would happen if he did so. He also stuck close to Felix’s side, the corners of the crescent-moon on his face stretching even more when the other man was talking if that was even possible. Changbin shocked him a little more once Jisung observed him in conversation. When he was sat still, his open body made his expression simultaneously carefree and calculating; like he expected no judgement of himself but doing just that to everyone else. However, when it was his turn to speak, he threw his whole body into it. Arms, legs, torso, head, shoulders all leaning forward to convey his point, limbs spelling out his words, begging to be believed and taken seriously.

              Jisung couldn’t help but like Minho’s friends over the course of the evening, it was inescapable. He didn’t fail to notice how the two of them laughed effortlessly with Minho, how the three of them teased each other with as much love as possible, not unlike the way Jisung and his friends acted. The warmth this provided him almost made up for the contempt-filled gaze that stormed at him from Minho’s direction every so often.

              Jisung knew he couldn’t stay silent the entire evening, no matter how tempting it was. He joined in when his friends were leading the conversation, when he could input his parts of wild stories they’ve collected over the years. He took a large role in retelling the episode where Hyunjin accidently called the man in front of them in the line at the coffee shop cute out loud, and then tried to make up an elaborate tale that he was actually talking about the plate of cookies on the counter when he panicked. Jisung had been there to witness the whole thing and was the first one to relay the information to Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin when the two of them got back to the office. His rendition of the tale earned him hearty laughs from Chan and Changbin, although he suspected that their amusement was directed more so at Hyunjin than him.

              Dinner was a Chinese take-away that was spread in front of them on the coffee table, each dish left open and waiting to take. Hyunjin handed out plates from his cupboards and told everyone there to help themselves. The more eager members of their newfound squad – Felix, Changbin and Hyunjin – were the first to dive forward to make sure they got first dibs on all their favourites. Jisung, along with the remaining four, waited patiently for them to finish before taking up whatever they could salvage from what was left.

              The group was just as, if not more, noisy while they ate. Jisung probably wouldn’t be able to recall even half of the random things they talked about that evening – the alcohol hardly helping – but it sent the room into fits of giggles, so he could remember that they all had a good time, at least.

              “Wait – there were egg rolls? Who ate them all?” Changbin exclaimed from the sofa opposite Jisung.

              “It was all Hyunjin, he took them all,” Felix piped up.

              “That’s a complete lie! You had two!” Hyunjin flapped his arms to defend himself.

              “But you took literally every other one.”

              “You should have been faster, then.”

              “This is a very bad look for the host,” Seungmin grumbled loud enough for the entire room to hear.

              “I doubt I’m the worst host you’ve ever stayed with, honestly.”

              “Ain’t that the truth.” Changbin’s expression morphed into one of utter exasperation, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

              “Ohh,” Felix’s face lit up. “I suspect that there’s a story with this one.”

              “Oh, absolutely,” Jisung prevented a flinch as Minho’s voice spoke up joyfully. “I think it’s about time we bring up Changbin’s nightmare of an ex-boyfriend.”

              Hyunjin and Felix were suddenly bound together, ready to pick apart every aspect of Changbin’s character as they waited for this story. Changbin waves his hands, sitting on the edge of his seat, ready to bounce up and defend his honour at any point. “He really wasn’t that bad, certainly not what you’re thinking. He was just a bad host – and guest for that matter.”

              “That’s a complete understatement and you know it,” Minho continued. “Whenever he had us round, he would change the dinner menu about six times that evening, forget when we’d told him about sixteen times that Chan isn’t a fan of pineapple, because he always settled on Hawaiian pizza every time. He’d be out of the room for most of the evening and expect us to entertain ourselves. Which is hard to do when you’ve been told explicitly not to touch the music because it was his roommate’s and most of his friends were the most boring people that could not carry a conversation for shit.”

              Felix and Hyunjin were clutching their stomachs at this point, gazes flickering between Minho’s triumphant and Changbin’s defeated expressions. Words looked like they were on the tip of Changbin’s tongue, but refused to materialise because even they believed their own lies were pointless.

              “And he was an even worse guest, if you can believe it,” Chan supplied.

              “That he was. Whenever we’d have him round one of ours, he made a long list of requirements – which fine, that’s fine on its own, but we would have taken them so much more seriously if he’d listened to at least one of ours, but he never did. And then when he was round, all he’d ever do was complain about whatever food we gave him, that the film we put on was one he didn’t like even though we were making the decisions right in front of him and he could have chimed in – I swear. I almost threw a party the day he and Changbin broke it off.”

              Felix and Hyunjin didn’t even bother to hide their hysterics at this point, having fallen on the floor about halfway through Minho’s second speech and were grabbing onto each other. The alcohol certainly wasn’t helping. Changbin had flopped backwards in his seat, knowing he had lost this one, and was burying his face in his hands, releasing exasperated whimpers. Even Jisung, Seungmin, Jeongin and Chan did not try to hide the giggles that escaped their mouths. Jisung leant back into Jeongin, the younger boy supporting his weight without complaint. Minho looked smug at his friend’s embarrassment, a twinkle in his eye that Jisung couldn’t help but notice. It dulled the elation he received from the story slightly, trying as best as he could to push it to the back of his mind. He knew that getting attached to it again was only going to end in more heartbreak.

              “Wait,” Hyunjin got enough of a break between his bouts of laughter to wheeze out. “So who broke it off in the end?”

              “Mutual! It was a mutual break-up!” Changbin jumped in quickly to insist.

              “That means it was him,” Jeongin remarked snidely, grin playing on his face.

              “It does not!”

              “It does, it really does. Changbin was always too afraid to break up with him.” Minho leant back after that, getting a better vantage point to observe the chaos.

              “That is untrue!”

              “No, I completely see that being true,” Felix quipped, finally sat back on the sofa in between Jisung and Chan.

              “That’s because it is,” Chan laughed along.

              “It’s not!” Changbin was back on the edge of the sofa, limbs flailing as he tried to defend some of his remaining dignity.

              “Thankfully I’ve actually liked all of my exes,” Jeongin teased.

              “I did like him! He had some redeeming qualities, he wasn’t all bad.”

              “Literally where were his redeeming qualities?” Chan grinned.

              Changbin paused, and the whole room filled with an immediate sense of understanding and mirth, seven pairs of eyes boring into Changbin in mockery. “I hate you all. Wait – how old are you even, Jeongin? How many exes have you had by now?” Changbin tried to divert the conversation.

              Quite successfully, it seemed, as Jeongin’s expression turned into one of contemplation. “Three official ones. There’s four if you count the one that never really named herself the title. I liked her, but the timing was just wrong for the whole thing. And I’m twenty-two, it’s not that odd for someone my age.”

              “Fuck.”

              “Yep, Jeongin’s our resident Casanova,” Hyunjin teased.

              “Bollocks. Not true Mr-One-Night-Stand-Every-Two-Days.” Jeongin shot Hyunjin a glare.

              “That’s an exaggeration and you know it.”

              “Isn’t this the guy that panicked because he called a guy cute in the coffee shop?” Chan questioned, perplexed.

              “It’s a paradox, isn’t it?” Jisung spoke up for the first time in a while, enjoying the betrayed, forlorn look Hyunjin shot his way.

              “I just need to be prepared! I panic if I get caught off-guard! Besides, I have had serious relationships, too!”

              As Hyunjin goes on to ramble about his past lovers, the kind of conversation they were having finally dawned on Jisung. He almost instantly feels prickles crawl up and down his arms again, stiffening his body and making him feel like he was dangling off the edge of a cliff. Past lovers. Nervousness ate at his organs, vibrating off other nerves and ricocheting off bones and muscle. Someone might as well have tipped an ice bucket over him. His gaze flicked over to Minho momentarily, and to his horror the other boy looked utterly relaxed and composed. Jisung began to pick at his fingernails. Was this the time he’d get exposed? After he’d been lulled into security all night? The toilet bowl was looking much more inviting at this point.

              “Call it cliché, whatever, I don’t care, I just prefer muscles, OK?” Hyunjin ended his rant, doing a poor job of glaring at everyone, daring them to disagree. He looked about as threatening as a guinea-pig holding a pair of children’s scissors.

              Changbin huffs. “I just prefer anyone who’s not my ex.”

              This earned him a loud chorus of cheers from the occupants of the sitting area. Jisung had finally landed back to earth after his private episode, still half-feeling like he’d dragged a cloud down with him, detaching him from a lot of what was going on.

              “No, but seriously, what is it? What can capture the expensive attention of Seo Changbin?” Felix asked in a faux-respectful manner.

              “Anyone fussy, he attracts them like a magnet,” Minho revealed.

              “No!” Changbin groaned before sitting straight and looking out over the room, pretending to be decisive. “I like dark hair, I guess? Someone sporty and into fitness, who doesn’t mind going out, that sort of thing.”

              “I suppose I’m similar. I meet most of my partners at clubs and bars and stuff anyway,” Hyunjin shrugged. “You can kind of gather that they like going out if you meet them there. Even if they don’t, it’s pretty easy to spot people that are unfamiliar to club culture when you’re there.”

              “Personally, I like to meet people through friends – less likely they’ll end up being crazy that way,” Jeongin explained.

              “What do you like, then, Cassanova?”

Jeongin glared at Changbin before the same contemplative look as earlier descended upon his face again. Jisung knew that when Jeongin wanted to say something, he said it with his whole being. Every word past his lips was usually meant sincerely and had been chosen because he wanted to share it. Jeongin never did anything unwillingly, like Felix in that regard; the both of them knew what they wanted.

              “Looks-wise can really change depending on the person? As long as their face works on them, I don’t have a specific type. But they’ve got to be kind, I hate people that have no regard for others’ feelings. Also, I would like them to be shorter than me – it’s not the most important thing, but it does help.”

              The room erupts into giggles again.

              They turned to Seungmin next, who rattled on about how his ideal type was anyone who didn’t hate baseball. He was short and brisk, another person who knows exactly what he wants.  

              “What about you, Minho?” Felix’s voice cut the laughter short, curious gaze facing the other sofa. “What kind of thing do you look for?”

              Jisung’s heart dropped.

              Before Minho can think of his own response, the quiet air was pierced with Chan and Changbin’s subdued laughter. It was the kind of fond, exasperated kind that you could only possibly direct towards someone you really cared about. Jisung watched the exchange with keen eyes, heart hammering rapidly in his chest. His lips were suddenly dry, so much so that not even downing about a quarter of his glass was able to help.

              “This guy?” Changbin gestures to Minho with his thumb. “He has got to be about the pickiest person I have ever met. I don’t think anyone has ever met whatever standards he has for a partner.”

              Minho’s silent laugh is unburdened to the untrained ear, but Jisung easily caught the edge to it. It had an underlayer of pain and bitterness, a silent suffering that only Jisung knew the full extent of. Guilt crawled through his veins, lapping at him to make sure he felt every bit of pain. “I’m not picky, I swear,” Minho attempted to clarify.

              “Don’t believe it. In all the years we’ve known him, we’ve not seen him date a single person.” Chan’s eyes dart over to Felix, who is blinking over at Minho, wide-eyed.

              Finishing his second laugh, Minho waves a hand in through the air, like he was swatting their claims away. “I’m really not that picky guys. I’ve just never really had an interest in dating before. I always had so much going on with my career and stuff, there was never really the time.” He paused. “But, with this one gig going so well, I think I could be with it for a while. I guess that means I’m actually finally ready to try the whole dating market seriously, now there is secure income.”

              Underneath Minho’s chuckles, there were a bunch of curious chirps from the occupants of the room. All except Jisung, who felt his heart breaking for the tenth time that evening, like someone was twisting the organ to give it a wake-up call. He didn’t know what he expected at all. For Minho to never want to date again? It should have been a given that he would. Jisung was even surprised that he hadn’t dated more in the time since they last saw each other. It was crushing that as soon as Minho had walked back into his life, he was looking to find someone else seriously. Jisung knew long ago that he had ruined everything, that he was never getting his safe place back, so why did it hurt so much to have something he already knew shoved in his face?

              “Wow, so now that you are looking for someone, what kind of things attracts the allusive Lee Minho?” Hyunjin echoes Felix’s tone from when he was asking Changbin the same thing.

              “Not much, guys, really. I’m honestly not that picky. The only thing I ask is that they be confident, that they’re the kind of person who knows what they want. They’ve got to be willing to fight for the things in their life. The only kind of person I can’t stand are the pushovers, the ones who let other people influence the big decisions in their life, the ones that let others persuade them to do things they don’t really want to do.”

              While the rest of the sitting room hoots in agreement, Jisung goes cold like he’d just been slapped in the face. It was like he could feel the remnants of the sting from the handprint left behind, like he was left there completely alone afterwards in complete and utter silence.

              The venom in Minho’s words must have been apparent to everyone, because after the cheering died down, Seungmin turned to Minho and asked, “Who the hell hurt you so much? That was very specific.”

              “Now that’s a story,” Changbin crossed his arms over his chest like a frustrated parent.

              Jisung’s breath catches, barely able to hear the rest of the room anymore over the sound of his own stuttering heart. So they did know something.

              “Pray tell,” Hyunjin crosses his legs, rests his elbows on his knees, and then his chin in the open palms of his hands as he looked over at Changbin, expectant for the story.

              After getting a nonchalant nod from Minho which makes Jisung’s heart shatter even more, Changbin turned to address the rest of the room. Jisung held his breath. “Well, not much of a story, actually. I’m sorry to disappoint you all. Just what Minho has told us about his nightmare ex – who I’m sure was a thousand times worse than mine, thank you very much. All Chan and I really know about them is that they broke our poor friend’s heart and he’s never been the same since.”

              Minho rolled his eyes at Changbin’s dramatics, shrugging at the room as if to let them know he was past it, that it was just something that happened now. Jisung, on the other hand, struggled to grasp for breath. He knew he hurt Minho, knew that what he did wouldn’t have had no impact on him. But he never could have imagined that it would be to this extent. Minho hadn’t dated anyone seriously since him, it seemed. Jisung wanted to fold into himself when he thought about everything he’d put Minho through over the years.

              He keeps his face schooled, however. The perfect statue. For Minho’s sake, he wouldn’t let anyone know it was him. If anyone should have the power to decide when the rest of their friends knew their secret, it was Minho. Despite this, Jisung hummed with the burning desire to leap up onto the top of the sofa and scream that he was the culprit, he was the criminal.

              “That sucks, dude,” Hyunjin commiserates. “I’m sure whoever they were, they were a giant entitled brat, anyway.”

              The snickers that resound about the room are nothing compared to Minho’s confirmation that, “Yes, that’s exactly what they were.”

              Stung, Jisung fakes a smile as smiles are exchanged around the room, coming out in support of Minho’s future dating endeavours and assurance that his ex was the biggest idiot in the world. Jisung didn’t know if it was a good thing or not that Minho hadn’t even looked in his direction the entire time he was explaining, just expecting him to know that it was about him. However, it did make it easier to smile back convincingly at the others without the pressure of Minho’s accusatory, vengeful, heartbroken glare.

              The conversation moved on, as conversations do, filtering out the remnants of what came before. Well, in everything except Jisung’s mind as he sat back and listened to everyone else take off. He only chipped in when necessary, not unlike what he’d been doing for the majority of the night.

              As the night bore on, the young men began to get restless, each getting up and moving between sofas, making sure to chat an equal amount with everyone there. Everyone except Jisung, that was. He made sure to stick exclusively to his own four friends, barely even glancing over at the three new faces that adorned the room. He figured that they must think he was so rude, but he knew for a fact that he couldn’t handle interacting with them, especially over the clashing, resounding noise in his head.

              Jisung mostly clung to Jeongin, a soothing, calming presence. They joked a lot about one of the middle-aged men in the office who thought it was alright to make sexist jokes in the office kitchen during his breaks. They knew he would never be fired because he’d been with the company for so long, but the two of them still held out the hope that he’d quit in some dramatic fashion, come crawling back when nowhere else would accept him and have his face stuck in a permeant state of disappointment when the company refused to take him back. Jisung and Jeongin dedicated a lot of time to laughing over that particular fantasy.

              The next person Jisung was with the most out of everyone was Felix, his comrade during the workday. Which admittedly wasn’t a lot of time because Felix seemed quite busy getting to know Minho some more. Whenever Felix wasn’t with him, Jisung couldn’t help his eyes flickering over the two of them sitting close together, having a pretty private-looking conversation. He tore his eyes away faster than they found themselves there.

              Hyunjin was being a social butterfly, joking with Changbin and Seungmin a lot, teasing Jeongin and letting Jeongin utterly decimate him back, even quipping with Minho and Chan. When he came over to Jisung, their conversations mostly consisted of Hyunjin offering to get him another drink and Jisung trying his best to refuse. He didn’t trust himself to get much drunker than he already was.

              However, over the course of the night, as the hours trickled into early morning, Jisung could slowly feel himself sobering up, his head clearer and limbs moving slightly faster. When he looked at the others, though, he could tell that they were nowhere near his level. Hyunjin, Felix and Changbin all had about ten empty beer bottles surrounding them as they laughed about something together, Jeongin was practically slumped over the armrest of the sofa, Seungmin was staring blankly into space, and Chan and Minho were holding each other up as they conversed. It was at this point that Jisung started to question when it was socially acceptable to ask to go home.

              It had been about three-quarters of an hour since he last spoke when Jisung heard someone call his name. He pulled himself out of the pit in his mind and brought himself back down to Hyunjin’s living room, where the man in question was giving him pleading eyes from across the room. “Hey, Earth to Jisung, would you mind playing us something? I have my old guitar in my room.”

              Jisung startled a little bit, very much aware of the seven pairs of eyes currently trained on him. He avoided one set in particular, choosing to settle on Hyunjin and focus on his question. Playing for his friends wasn’t a new phenomenon. When they found out he loved to make up songs on guitar, piano, violin, anything he could get his hands on, they jumped at the chance to have him play something for them whenever they got together. But playing in front of two new faces and Minho was a different story. Especially since Chan and Changbin were part of an actual group who made music officially. He didn’t know how much they had told them about his skill, so instantly he worried if they’d bragged about him too much. The worst thing he would have to face from it is their disappointment over him not being as good as they were promised. Minho knew what he played like, of course, but it had been five years since he’d heard him. He might be expecting Jisung to have gotten a lot better by this point. Or maybe he didn’t expect much of him at all, his skill reflecting who he was to him.

              Music was precious to him, more precious than anything else in his life. His lyrics and poetry and melodies were his escape, and he knew they were safe in the protective circle of his friends. But opening them up to Minho, Chan and Changbin would expose them too much, risk them too much. Jisung wrung his hands together, foot unconsciously tapping against the sofa leg. “You guys don’t want to listen to that,” he mumbled bashfully, hoping that Hyunjin would get the hint.

              Unfortunately for him, his friend was still intoxicated, and the efforts he usually went to that made him notice all his friend’s little signs were barely breached that night. “Come on, please. We all really want to hear it.”

              “Yeah, come on, Jisung! I’m sure you’re great!” Changbin pleads.

              “Exactly, you are! Pretty please, Jisung. Wait, that rhymed. Wait. No, it didn’t. It was alliteration.” Felix smiled at the room sheepishly.

              A chorus of “please” echoes around the room, followed by a cacophony of cheers. After the last “whoop” had died down, Jisung looked round at expectant faces. He had been squirming in his seat for the entire time, backed so far into the corner and surrounded that he could barely see the light of day anymore. At this point, he had accepted his fate.

              “Please, Jisung,” Felix tried one final time. And because he could never refuse Felix in the end, Jisung stood up from his seat.

              “Where’s your guitar?”

              Hyunjin punched his fist in the air in a pitiful imitation of that guy from The Breakfast Club and flashed Jisung a toothy grin. “The case should be on top of my wardrobe in my room.”

              Jisung nodded once and went to retrieve it. He didn’t even know why Hyunjin had a guitar when he’d admitted to Jisung a while ago that he doesn’t even know how to play it. It was just one of those objects in his house that he has. Jisung found the instrument exactly where Hyunjin told him it would be; although he had to use the assistance of a chair to get it down. He wasn’t Changbin short, but he wasn’t exactly triumphing in the height department.

              Jisung carefully extracted it from its case and transported it back to the living room. He perched on the same spot he vacated, in perfect view of the waiting eyes. Setting the guitar over his lap, he strummed it a few times to check that everything was tuned. It certainly wasn’t. “Geez, Hyunjin, when was the last time this thing saw the light of day?”

              A laugh erupted from Hyunjin’s mouth. “No idea. Just hurry up and tune it so you can play already.”

              At his friend’s push, Jisung worked diligently with getting the instrument tuned. Holding the little pick in between his fingers, the familiar experience of notes ringing out through the air acted as a calming agent almost instantly. Once it was finally tuned, Jisung turned his attention to his fingers as they shuffled across the neck of the guitar, creating chords as he strummed on the strings with more purpose.

              His song, Alien, rung out into the room, notes caressing every piece of furniture and human body. Jisung worked on lulling himself, barely paying attention to what he was playing, letting his muscle memory of the song move his limbs. Like ironing a creased shirt, the song flattened all of his worries for its duration. There might as well not been anything around him, playing to an empty room. The music was the only thing that mattered. At some point, Jisung had closed his eyes, but he had barely noticed. He was only clued into the darkness when the late note rang out, and he knew he had to brave the light again.

              Once he opened his eyes, the first thing he heard was the loud, enthusiastic applause before he saw the two main contributors. Jisung almost had to do a double-take when he saw that it was Chan and Changbin who were clapping the most out of everyone. Jisung felt his cheeks heat, so he swiftly put the guitar to one side so he wouldn’t be tempted to pick it up again and start playing.

              “You did not disappoint! You’re really good at that,” Changbin opted.

              Jisung shook his head and tried to protest, but Seungmin whacked the back of his head in exasperation before the words could tumble out.

              “What was that song, I don’t think I’m familiar with it?” Chan tilted his head in contemplation.

              “I – er – I wrote it.” Jisung was met with two pairs of widened eyes and heat burning in his chest and stomach.

              “Wow, mad respect dude.” The knowledge and understanding in Changbin’s tone reminded Jisung of what he and Chan did for a living. The heat returned but dialled up and considerate of absolutely nothing. Jisung just played in front of two actual musicians. How could a novice like him even compare to what they must have been able to do? If they didn’t have an audience, Jisung would have leapt up and strangled Hyunjin. How could he let Jisung’s amateur playing invade the ears of these two experts? He wrung his hands in attempt to hide the nervous jitters that were making their way around his body.

              Chan and Changbin were being awfully liberal. They were praising him like he was their equal, like he could ever do anything to impress them significantly. Maybe he played better than they initially expected at the start, but Jisung couldn’t accept that it was anything more than that. But like the greedy little gremlin that he is, Jisung sat there and took all the praise. He let his cheeks warm and gave soft, squeaky replies that they beamed at him for. Jisung was an imposter, caught between succumbing to the desire for everything placed in front of him and aborting his mission, running as far away from these unsuspecting victims as possible.

              When Hyunjin piped up again and brought the conversation elsewhere, Jisung found comfort in fading into obscurity again. Like leaning back and letting the black curtain envelop him. It held him up as he was back observing the rest of the group.

              His better judgement was screaming at him to go home. Social etiquette be damned. Because the longer he sat there, the harder it was to tear his eyes away from Minho and Felix for long stretches of time. They had gravitated back to each other after Jisung’s theatrics, slipping into their more subdued mood than when they were with anyone else. It was how Jisung was able to tell that they were approaching each other differently than all the other new people they’ve met recently. The worst thing was that Jisung knew he had no right to feel as bad as he did, like he was being held at knifepoint while someone else tore open his chest. He hurt Minho; he was the reason the two had no hold over each other anymore. Feeling anything akin to jealousy when Minho pursued someone else wasn’t allowed. He didn’t deserve those type of feelings.

              Sometimes Jisung wondered if he deserved any kind of feelings at all.

Stumbling back the night of the gathering at Hyunjin’s flat, Jisung was surprised to find the lights in his family home still on. It wasn’t even the early hours of the morning anymore; Jisung couldn’t fathom why anyone who lived under that roof would still be awake. Unless they all forgot to turn them off before they retired to bed. But that was equally unlikely. Jisung’s father was known for requiring the house to be sufficiently dark before he could even think about sleep.

              The house stood unremarkably along a line of identical houses. It was a brand-new build when Jisung had moved there at a staggering two-years-old. A pile of pale bricks priced exponentially. But his father had wanted to show off at the time, prove he was a new man, destined for the flashiest possessions. Gradually, more estates like the new, gentrified one he grew up on developed all over the town, making his father’s pride less and less significant. The old man never faltered, however, the sense of superiority dripping off his nose for being one of the first people there. The paint had chipped off the windows, the plants drooped much more than ever before, the garage door was still jammed. Jisung was the only one under that roof that would have done anything about them, but lately he never seemed to have the energy.

              Unlike the crumbling exterior, the inside of the house was as pristine as ever. Each cabinet, chair, curtain and vase was placed in its designated place. Polished and vacuumed, ornaments and carpets were unblemished. Nothing was allowed to be left lying around, everyone’s own things were to be confined to bedrooms. The downstairs was for show.

              Jisung, despite the oddity of the lights, expected the living room to be sombre like it usually was. He stopped dead in his tracks when he found his father and brother standing over an already-spilling suitcase on the rug. Clipped tones were exchanged, both men pacing the length of the coffee table behind them. Something about whether or not Jisung’s brother should bring his cufflinks. The tiff ended with Jisung’s father throwing the pack on top of his brother’s extensive collection of dress shirts. A stray sleeve was trying to claw its way out from the mound.

              It was only once the noise had died down that Jisung spotted his step-mother digging through her own suitcase in the corner. It was placed on the armchair, so she didn’t have to bend down to fish through it. Jisung bit down lightly on his tongue, just a warning. Heels still donned even in the house, lipstick immaculate, straight locks straightened, side-eyeing her husband and step-son’s dispute. This was the woman who’d once been a family friend. The woman that Jisung had trusted without hesitation at age eighteen. The woman who told him to choose his family over Minho. The woman who had married his father two years after that, pulling away from him forever despite being closer in proximity to him than ever.

              Her eyes briefly scanned him before turning back to her suitcase with barely a flourish. She couldn’t even manage an ounce of theatricality for him. “You’re back late,” fell from her lips like a yawn.

              “Yeah, I was with my friends,” he still felt the need to explain. A beat of silence passed; a deep, rumbling beat of a drum that echoed off the theatre walls. Jisung sighed. “What’s all this for?”

              “You don’t remember?” His father grumbled.

              Jisung is one hundred per cent sure that none of them had ever brought it up.

              “No.”

              “We’re all going away for a couple of weeks. Thought we’d try Italy like we always promised. And your brother’s been working hard at uni so we invited him along.” His step-mother span around just to smile at him, head tilted.

              “I’m not spending all my time with them, though,” his brother crouched to retrieve the loose sleeve.

              Hands behind his back, Jisung’s father wound around the mess on the floor and glided over to his son, still motionless in the doorway. His moustache was white, which was replicated in streaks on the top of his head. His face was fully oval, small mouth poised at the bottom, bushy eyebrows looking out over the rest of the face. They were always pursed; the lips distastefully, the eyebrows inward in a state of permanent assessment. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he was broad. And that hadn’t withered in age. Dressed in dulled colours, he looked across at Jisung with an expression that didn’t exceed their liveliness.

              “Don’t forget to pay the bills this month, alright?”

              “Yes, sir.”

              “If we come back and one scratch is on anything in this house, go out and find your own place.”

              As if Jisung wouldn’t have done that already if his father wasn’t bleeding anything he could have saved from his bank account to pay for his own expenses.

              It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to pay it himself; but Jisung’s father’s mind-set was that if he had a working son, he should pull his own weight after the effort he went through bringing him up.

              His brother’s university expenses were funded by everything his father had left in his bank balance.

              “Yes, sir.”

              “Don’t slack off work.”

              As if Jisung ever missed a day of school or work even when he had the flu.

              “Yes, sir.”

              His brother charged past with his suitcase dragging along the carpet, indents that Jisung would have to clear up later forming in its wake. His step-mother was much more tactful in carrying her suitcase until she got to the bare tiles in the porch. As she swept by him, toothy smile and head tilted again, she pinched his cheek. “You’re always so good for us,” on the edge of a chuckle.

              His father grunted for the umpteenth time before pushing past Jisung as well, heading towards the front door where his suitcase already awaited. Jisung blinked, unaware how he missed that walking in. Perhaps the alcohol hadn’t worn off as much as he’d thought. He sighed in dread, wondering if there was any way his father caught on to how much he had drunk. His father handed his keys to his brother, instructing him to put all the cases in the car. Before he went, his brother made sure to stick his tongue out and smirk at Jisung behind their backs.

              Jisung swallowed every desire he had to roll his eyes.

              “Don’t forget what I said,” his father passed his wife her coat from the coat peg, not once breaking eye-contact with Jisung.

              “I won’t, sir.”

              An acute nod from him, and a pleased sigh from her, and then they were out the door. Even when they were gone, Jisung bit back a scream.

Over the next week, the other boys were unable to go two days without meeting up with their new friends. Now that Jisung had met them, and he accidently let it slip to Felix that his family had gone away, he had no excuses to avoid them.

              Fortunately for him, they tended to stick to hopping from each other’s flats. Many nights were spent downing beer from small glass bottles, or vodka from the larger ones, chased down by a pint of water at the end of the night. It was very rare that they would force him to brave the wider outside world. As much as he appreciated it, Jisung had a feeling that his friends had orchestrated that on purpose, which only made him feel worse. Why should they have to adapt for him? Why do they have to sacrifice good times for him? Someone who held them back and who had hurt one of the most loved members of the little group they’d become.

              Despite knowing that Minho’s flat wasn’t too far from where Jisung, Felix, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Jeongin worked, the eight of them never found themselves congregating there. Minho probably didn’t want to contaminate it with Jisung’s scent or something. Jisung had been to both Chan and Changbin’s flats by the time the second week of their friendship rolled around. Changbin was the more enthusiastic host, egging on their drinking exploits until the sun came up. The evening spent at Chan’s was far more reserved. They each brought blankets from their own places and tucked themselves in for a film night. The only scruple that Chan could complain about what they did to his flat was the empty snack cupboards he opened in the morning. Jisung wasn’t going to lie and say that those evenings weren’t his favourite.

              From his side of the team, only Hyunjin had offered up his flat for an evening. Felix claimed that he would have done if his flat wasn’t so far out – Jisung had no doubts about that. Seungmin and Jeongin, on the other hand, promised that there wasn’t any way in hell that they would open their perfectly organised flat for “all you hooligans.” Jisung didn’t agree in such cutthroat terms, but his quick nod afterwards let the others know what stance he took on the hosting matter.

              Only Felix – and Minho – knew the severity of his father’s lordship over his house. Only Felix – and Minho – knew the consequences for the place being in any shape of disarray when Jisung’s family returned.

              Without any prior discussion, Minho and Jisung developed a routine at their meetups. They interacted as minimally as they were able, avoided being in close proximity to each other, but made sure to speak civilly when there was absolutely no avoiding it. If anyone caught Minho’s hardened looks he shot at Jisung or Jisung’s pitiful recoils, they didn’t mention it. If they exuded any tension, their friends were either oblivious to it or wanted to pretend that it didn’t exist.

              Even though he so clearly wasn’t on the smoothest terms with their friend, Jisung found himself spending a considerable amount of time with Chan and Changbin. Maybe – like he hoped – they hadn’t noticed – because talking was never stunted or awkward with them. It took Jisung by surprise, because things often were with people he hadn’t known for a while. His core shook, his nerves were sent into a frenzy, because he wasn’t used to this. Suddenly, the crushing weight of something he had to lose balanced on his shoulders. Music and writing and poetry were exchanged between them, a whirlwind that Jisung was swept up into. Like a crescendo of notes, it was the simultaneously the most animated he was throughout the evenings and the time he was the most relaxed. He was in his element. Everything had ramped up to the final hurrah; Jisung was himself.

              Chan and Changbin included him like he was one of their own all along. Like he had been a professional member of their field for years, not a novice. They treated him seriously, not like a fan or a wannabe. It wasn’t a case of the two of them talking at Jisung; there was a back and forth between the three of them.

              “Why did you never try music seriously?” Changbin asked at one of their meetings. When Jisung tensed, Chan whacked him on the arm. To diffuse any possible arguments, Jisung quickly jumped in to deflate this self-caused tension.

              “I just never really got the chance?” Quietly, he continued. “I always wanted to, though.”

              “I mean, there is no doubt that you have the talent.” Changbin grinned. “Where you are is a lot more stable, though. Chan and I were lucky to get this.”

              “Was it always a mixture of rap and vocals that you wanted to write for?”

              “It was for this guy,” Changbin poked Chan’s stomach. Chan retaliated by swatting Changbin’s hand away. “I was unsure at first. I knew that it had to be music somewhere; there wasn’t a question about that. At first, I was just looking for anything that would pay, which was when I stumbled on this guy looking for a partner to rap next to his vocals. Since I didn’t want to pass it up, I went for it. Then I met the idiot over there-” Despite himself, Jisung followed Changbin’s gaze to Minho conversing calmly with Felix. He ignored the intense twang it ignited in the pit of his stomach and tore his eyes from them as soon as possible. “And I knew that there was nowhere else I’d rather be.”

              Chan mimed throwing up. “And you call me a sap most of the time.”

              “That’s because you are most of the time. This was a one off for me, it won’t happen again for a long time so you better savour it.”

              “Anyway, Jisung-ah,” Chan smiled calmly. “You’re welcome to visit us in the studio any time.”

              Jisung knew instantly how daunting that sounded.

              Before the two could spiral into a friendly debate about it, the three of them were distracted by some kind of commotion from the rest of the guys. Most likely Hyunjin, who was the cause of a majority of their commotions. Chan and Changbin were easily swept into the action, while Jisung stepped up slowly to dip his toes in the water before he did anything else.

              When he wasn’t engaged with Chan and Changbin, Jisung was either clinging onto Jeongin or observing the troop from the edges of the room most of the time. Safe in his own bubble, the latter was when Jisung felt the most secure to study how they all got along with each other. Because while he was slowly loosening up around Chan and Changbin, he wasn’t at the stage where he felt he could completely let go like he would if it were just his friends from the office there. Those friends in question were incredibly patient with him, not holding it against him that his personality almost shifted around new people. He supposed they expected that one day, he’d become around the others what he was around them. But Jisung knew that they’d be disappointed. Because with Minho there, available to judge and watch his every move, he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to force any reminders onto the other, didn’t want to invade his space where he hung out with friends with his own pitiful personality.

              From his vantage point, Jisung had the pain of watching Minho and Felix flirt around each other. More often than not, the two would gravitate towards each other, bend their heads together and spend copious amounts of time simply existing in each other’s presence. Jisung tried to mind them, tried to leave them be and not think about them. But apparently, he was a masochist. Because no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop glancing at them from the other end of the room. More than ever, Jisung felt his loss, felt his mistake. It shouldn’t be a surprise to him, and it wasn’t, that Minho would move on. Minho even warned him himself. It didn’t make watching it happen before his eyes any easier, though. At times, it felt like his skin was being torn by countless tiny knives. Jisung soaked up the pain, knowing he deserved every minute of it.

              Unfortunately, he also knew he wasn’t the only one experiencing this suffering. Chan wasn’t exactly subtle whenever he gazed longingly at Felix from across the room. He wondered if anyone else had noticed it; but judging from the way every single other person would pipe up to tease Minho and Felix about their budding romance, he didn’t think so. No one would want to put Chan through that pain. Jisung knew more than anyone else what that tightening of the heart felt like. He was a teenager once more, being ripped apart from Minho all over again.

              Like him, Chan wasn’t vocal about the sting of seeing Minho and Felix only get closer. Once in a while, Jisung considered going up to talk to him about it, but always backed out at the last minute. Why would Chan want any kind of camaraderie from him? Jisung didn’t know when Chan fell for Felix, but the softness in his face and attentiveness he paid whenever Felix opened his mouth were the visible effects of it. And Jisung wholeheartedly understood why both Minho and Chan had fallen for his friend. Felix was a ray of light on a grey day, the warm bath after being caught in a thunderstorm.

              Felix was often the power source of their meet-ups – along with Changin, Hyunjin and Seungmin, of course. It was impossible not to be drawn to their extravagance and magnetism. When he wasn’t caught up with Minho, Felix flicked between everyone else in the room. He even took the time to check in on Jisung quietly, off to the side where they could be discreet. What did Jisung do to deserve that?

              Similar to Felix, Changbin, Hyunjin and Seungmin were notorious for going around the room or simply being front and centre performing for everyone. Jeongin, Chan and Minho were like him in the sense that they stuck to the small circles they found themselves in – but they were very rarely on their own. The only other person who liked to scour the others was Jeongin, but he didn’t find himself alone nearly as often as Jisung did. Which Jisung was glad about, very much so.

              No matter how much noticing he did of everyone else, however, Jisung was forever a spectator of the tangled love triangle. He couldn’t leave the theatre. Couldn’t press pause and decide to watch another day. He was forever a witness to Chan’s endless pining, Minho and Felix’s tentative steps towards each other, and the way the three of them could do nothing but act jovially around each other, oblivious to the storms raging in the others’ heads. Jisung could do very little but roll his eyes, glad that he wasn’t mixed up in that mess. That part of his life was behind him; it had to be. All he could do at this point in his life is shake his head at the three who were tied up in it.

The weekend was a perfect opportunity for the group to get outside again – according to their ringleaders, Felix, Changbin and Hyunjin, apparently. Jisung had taken a breath and told himself to suck it up when the others had brought up their plans at work. They’d all held so much back for him, the least he could do was go out with them. To his chagrin, the venue they had decided on was a local club in the city centre.

              Having been dragged there, Jisung could say with certainty that he didn’t entirely love what he found. With the amount of people that had piled into the club for the weekend, he wasn’t surprised when he was jostled about and bounced off people’s arms while making his way through the packed room. The group of them found some space on the dance floor and Jisung made sure to burrow deep amongst them so the was less chance he was pushed around. Bombastic in their movements, Changbin and Hyunjin were on the outside and probably knocking into people themselves. Like the people, the heat was packed in and boiled Jisung before his body had even begun to exert itself dancing. Sweat and other fluids that Jisung didn’t want to think about were everywhere around him.

              Multi-coloured lights flashed around the club, blinding him every now and again. They only added to the sweltering heat, disorientating him even more in the process. Jisung couldn’t imagine how they were affecting people more drunk than he was. His own friends were back and forth between the dance floor and the bar for shots. Movements sloppy and volume raised, they floated fluidly around the room.

              Music was almost unbearably loud in Jisung’s ear. It drowned almost everything else out that Jisung found it hard to concentrate on anything. All there was were repetitive beats hammering in his head and hot bodies pressed against his.

              While Jisung was smart about how much alcohol he consumed, he knew that his friends were seizing this occasion to let themselves go a little. His body felt lighter than usual, but theirs must have been practically weightless as they floated over the dance floor. Sloppily, they tripped over themselves and threw their hands in the air. Laughing at them, Jisung made sure to watch over them all; making sure none of them wandered off by themselves or pissed off some drunker, stronger guy somehow.

              None of them were further gone than Jeongin. Jisung had never seen his youngest friend like that. Eyelids slipping closed every so often, speech slurred and intermittently but energetically bouncing up and down and screaming at the top of his lungs. He knew that he was certainly not the only one of their group endeared by their usually controlled and quiet friend.

              Despite the club unnerving him, leering over him like a captor, Jisung managed to find small gems inside. At this moment, he loved his friends.

              “It’s not so bad, is it?” Felix shouted at him one point in the evening.

              Jisung smirked back at him. “It could be worse.”

              Felix threw his head back in laughter and then proceeded to pull Jisung’s body closer to him. They danced against each other, rolling their hips and exploring with their hands. Jisung burst out in laughter harder than he had done in a while.

              Over the night, he snuck a few glances at Minho. Carefree and unreserved in his laughter, he lit a warmth in Jisung’s chest. Even if he had no right to see it, Jisung was glad that Minho was happy. After all this time, it was all he ever wanted for him. To be unabashedly himself, surrounded by love. Jisung saddled closer to Felix, letting himself go enough to enjoy his own happiness.

              Jisung danced until he couldn’t anymore. Until he felt like all his pent-up energy had been fully drained from his body. He lolled against Felix’s side, his friend lolled against his. He swept his eye over the group and discovered that everyone had wired down from excessive jumping to gentle sway. The music still blasted away, but people’s commitment to driving forward like wild animals had dwindled. Jisung imagined the shut-down sound his computer makes descending over the club. He giggled involuntarily at that.

              Felix pushed Jisung’s head into his neck, cradling the back of his head by running his soft fingers through his hair. “I’m glad you ended up enjoying tonight,” Jisung had to strain his ears to hear him. “It really means a lot to me that you did this.”

              Jisung didn’t know whether it was the alcohol, but his chest swelled up with even more warmth. He wasn’t sure it was possible.

              The next thing he remembered was Felix shuffling them towards the exit. Hyunjin was chanting something about forgetting whether he brought a coat or not. Jisung thought he might have mumbled something about none of them bringing coats into the crevice of Felix’s neck which he was still miraculously finding a home in.

              His brain lagged two minutes behind, and his legs were numb. He barely registered how it felt to walk over the threshold of the dance floor. At some point, someone must have suggested they leave and gotten enough affirmatives because it finally clicked in Jisung’s head that they were leaving the club now. He was a half-conscious spirit watching them from the outside. Wrapped in Felix’s embrace he was as content as he could ever be.

              Stepping out into the night air, Jisung didn’t feel the breeze or the chill as he normally would have. The heat from the alcohol still thrummed through his bloodstream. He did, however, feel the release of the crowd easing away from him. The space around him expanded and he felt that he had room to breathe again. He blinked rapidly and felt the haze fogging his mind clear a little.

              His insides had been falling the entire evening, and it was like the wave had finally crashed down and was receding, returning to the wide expanse of sea that was always home.

              Jisung and Felix stumble forward together, but with everything lagging so much, Jisung doesn’t register that Felix flicked back towards the club until an exclamation from behind him makes him spin around. Jeongin is bent over the side of the path, hands supporting himself on his lower thighs, as he vomits and hacks his lungs up. The others are surrounding him. Seungmin is running a soothing hand up and down his back as he gets the last of it out. Once he’s done, his prolonged groan has the others freezing and watching him as if he is a glass vase about to topple off a shelf.

              While the others assess him, Jisung pushes forward on his unstable legs and takes over rubbing a hand up and down Jeongin’s back, as Seungmin’s hand remained hovering over his spine in hesitation. Jeongin’s legs were shaking like he was violently shivering, hands trembling as if he had stage-fright.

              Jisung wasn’t unfamiliar with a situation like this. When his brother returned home drunk beyond consciousness sometimes, he was no stranger to getting him settled quietly so that their father didn’t find him like that.

              Holding Jeongin up against his front so he felt like he had some semblance of support, Jisung hushed him until the last of his saliva had been spat against the grass beside the pavement. As he got his bearings before he could stand up straight again, Jeongin hummed out another groan, much quieter and exhausted. His breathing was staggard and he seemed to wince with every inhale. Jisung imagined the taste wasn’t very pleasant.

              Finally, like all his bones were made of pins constantly sliding out of place, Jeongin stood and immediately leaned against Jisung’s side. Since there wasn’t too much of a height difference between them, Jisung felt safe to loop Jeongin’s arm around his shoulder. As he was edged closer to Jisung, Jeongin rested his head against the side of Jisung’s while his eyes slipped shut. “Just hold onto me, okay?” Jisung told Jeongin quietly, in hope his voice didn’t dislodge Jeongin from whatever private peace he had afforded himself. Lethargically, Jeongin nodded against Jisung’s cheek, causing him to smile once more.

              Detaching himself from Jeongin’s sphere where a relative calm had settled was harder than Jisung thought it would be. But the others were staring at them, waiting for confirmation of some kind, anxious hisses reverberating around the group and wide eyes scanning the two of them like they were an important work document.

              Jisung smiled out at them to assure them that Jeongin was alright, perfectly normal for the situation. Jeongin had drunk far more than Jisung had ever seen him drink, and as he wasn’t used to this, he was not surprised of the outcome. “I’ll take him back to mine for the night, guys.”

              Felix reached to rub his upper arm, the same way Seungmin and Jisung had been doing to Jeongin’s back. “Are you sure? Will you be alright?”

              Jisung nodded, wrapping his arm around Jeongin’s waist so that he could begin to direct him forward. Jeongin’s legs had turned into stalks of wheat which left their fate to the wind, so Jisung found himself hoisting him up and dragging him more than Jeongin walked himself. “Really?” Beyond his concern, Hyunjin looked fondly amused at the pair.

              “Yep!” As he popped his ‘p,’ Jisung tilted his head to bid Chan and Changbin farewell, who were buzzing slightly as they watched him drag Jeongin away. Their worry fuelled his strength and increased his relief that Minho and his friends had found some good people. The kind much better than he was, better than he could ever give them. Jisung shot straight past Minho’s scrutiny beside them. While he was carrying Jeongin, he didn’t trust his limbs to keep himself together as much as he usually did. He deserved it when he wasn’t supporting such precious cargo.

              When he was out of sight of his friends, Jisung finally took a second to recognise what the alcohol had done to him. His knees felt like they were about to buckle any second while simultaneously feeling hollow and weightless, like he could trust the air to hold him up, including Jeongin alongside him. His vision swayed, yet miraculously he managed to remain upright.

              Jisung and Jeongin were silent as Jisung navigated the streets back to his house. It wasn’t uncomfortable; far from it, actually. For the first time in a while, Jisung’s mind was clear, and he wasn’t spiralling down into the deepest pits of his despair. He was content lugging his friend back to his empty house, even if Jeongin was getting heavier by the minute. It was monotonous, but the good kind. One foot after another, and he was getting them closer to blankets and a restful night’s sleep. One foot after another, one foot after another.

              Their footsteps echoed in the hallway as Jisung struggled with keeping Jeongin steady, opening the door and stepping gracefully into the threshold. He had to forego the gracefulness in order to fulfil the first one in the end, and he had to remind himself again and again that the house was empty. His father wasn’t about to come charging down the stairs like a bull that’d seen red and start screaming and chiding him.

              He managed to swing the door closed gradually so that it didn’t wake the entire neighbourhood with its slam. Instinctively, Jisung pulled Jeongin closer so he could secure him in their dark trek up the stairs, which he took slowly and cautiously. Jeongin helped as much as he could in his dizzy state, but his blind forward kicks hindered them by bouncing off a stair instead of aiding their climb. Despite that, Jisung’s exhausted muscles got to the top and took Jeongin all the way to the end of the hallway, to his small room in the corner of the house.

              It was lucky that Jisung kept a clear path amidst all his clutter to his bed. He untangled Jeongin from his own body and sat him on the edge of his bed. Jeongin sat statuesque, glazed eyes fixed on some indiscriminate spot on the wall. Jisung knelt down so he could slip his shoes off, then tucked his socks inside. Jisung stood to peel the corner of his duvet back, just enough so Jeongin could slip under them, and Jisung could tuck it close to him afterwards. Eyelids that Jisung had seen lazily drifting open and closed for a while finally shut for good, and the movement beneath them stilled. Jisung watched the gentle way Jeongin breathed in his sleep for a second before he was finally convinced his friend was okay lying on his side. He slipped to the kitchen cupboard downstairs to collect a bucket, which he placed down the side of his bed, where Jeongin could reach it if he needed it. Satisfied, Jisung scooped up a blanket up from the end of his bed and slithered back out of his room. The floorboards creaking drowned the room, but whenever Jisung flicked back to Jeongin, he remained locked in slumber. With that, he slipped out and back down the stairs to settle on the cold leather sofa for the night. Like his heart when he registered that Jeongin was safe and fine, his body’s aches were ironed out as soon as he laid back, and his eyes closed just as quickly as Jeongin’s did.

              Both Jisung and Jeongin were zombies in the morning, grunting at each other for affirmatives and negatives. They were sure they sounded the same but in such similar states they managed to understand each other. Jisung served up some toast for breakfast, even though Jeongin ended up running to the bathroom to throw it up not long after consuming it. Somehow looking even more dead than before, Jeongin returned to the living room to find Jisung placing the blanket he used the previous night around his shoulders. Placing his friend on the sofa for a few hours to watch some mindless television as he calmed down, Jisung resolved to spend the whole day healing. Cuddling Jeongin close on the sofa and squeezing him when he was in particular amounts of pain, Jisung only excused himself to fetch some paracetamol, water and snacks for them both.

              Jeongin didn’t leave until much later that day, but Jisung wouldn’t have allowed him to make his way back unless he was certain he could physically do it. And after he was alone in the house, Jisung distracted himself by cleaning up so the place was as spotless as his family expected it.

Jisung arrived early to work that next Monday morning. He set everything up at his desk and then ventured into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

              As soon as he stepped inside, he saw Felix by the kettle, probably boiling himself a cup of tea. His friend was staring intently at the counter, chewing on his bottom lip as his thoughts appeared to run away with him. He didn’t even look up when Jisung burst in, which sent shivers of concern up and down Jisung’s arms. Felix was sunny and bright, he would always smile and greet someone when he found himself in a closed space with them, most of all one of his friends. A wistful sign left Felix’s lips instead, however, dislodging the bottom one from its space between his teeth.

              “Felix?”

              Jisung’s friend shook a little before he spun to face him, their gazes locking just as the door clicked shut behind Jisung. He hadn’t even he realised he’d let it go; he’d been so focused on Felix.

              Composing himself much faster than Jisung thought should be humanly possible, Felix’s freckled face broke into a strong grin. “Morning, Hannie. Glad I’m not the only one in this early, that would have been super boring. How did you recover this weekend? I was rough for a few hours the morning after, but after that I was pretty much fine.”

              Eyes softening as he listened to his friend ramble about his weekend, Jisung slipped over to the sink to fill his glass up. Once he was done, he set it on the counter so he could stand and listen to Felix go on. But as he listened closer, Felix’s tone seemed less and less right, less and less how it usually does. Normally, Felix is fully present whenever he’s talking. He’s the type of person to commit completely to whatever conversation he’s having, no matter how mundane and random and insignificant. He makes you feel important and seen when he converses with you, he cares about the person he’s listening or talking to. A regular Gatsby, without all the toxicity. But this time, Felix sounded reserved. He’s usually full speed all the time, but in that moment, Jisung could sense that Felix was only revving up for something else. He was preparing himself for something.

              Jisung was on edge again. Something was troubling his friend; something was weighing on his mind. And Jisung didn’t want him to suffer with it for one more minute if he could help it.

              “No one else had come in since I’ve been in here, right? I kind of fancied a quiet office for a bit this morning, and you and Jeongin are the only ones I can really trust for this. God, I’m so behind on all these files I actually want to cry.”

              Once Felix had come to a natural pause in his monologue to pour the boiled water into his mug, Jisung figured it might be the only opportunity he would have to breach whatever was on Felix’s mind. His tongue held him back for a few seconds in whatever the opposite of word vomit was, but he bit it sharply into submission and pushed past whatever force that coiled inside him permanently that prevented him from speaking on most occasions. “Did you-” he coughs to steady his trembling voice. “Was there something you wanted to talk about? Or get off your chest or something?”

              Startled for a moment, Felix looked straight at him contemplatively, blinking rapidly. But then the corners of his eyes crinkled and he chuckled, a warm, inclusive sound, which settled over Jisung like one of his hugs. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Felix’s eyes span around the kitchen and then he returned back to his mug of tea. “Let me just finish this and then we can sit down.”

              Jisung got the message and simply nodded at him. While Felix finished his drink, Jisung made his way over to the white plastic chairs and table sets that sat below the big window at the back of the room. The blinds were open, so Jisung could peer out of them and see over the rooftops of smaller buildings lined up next to their one along the street. There was a red ball that had been stuck in the gutter of one of them for months. The plastic was cold beneath Jisung’s fingertips when he pulled the chair out, but he cradled his glass of water in his hands as he sat and waited for Felix to finish.

              Soon enough, sooner than Jisung was ready to be brutally honest, Felix was sitting opposite him with a steaming mug in front of him. He saw him take a deep breath and sit up straighter, his shoulders squared like he was resolved to do this. “I’ve just-” Felix looked off to the side. “I know we don’t talk about this sort of thing really, but I just – I really need to talk to someone about it.”

              “I’m always here for whatever you need to talk about, whenever.”

              Felix’s smile was grateful. “Recently – and I never thought this would be what it led to when I first met him – well, I hoped it would, but I never imagined that it actually would – I’ve been hitting it off with Minho. Basically. And I don’t know what’s going to happen with it, whether we’ll date or something, but I hope that it’s something that happens. Y’know?”

              Jisung knew in theory that one day this would come into fruition. He’d seen the way that Felix and Minho interacted at their meetups, he’d seen the starry eyes that Felix looked at Minho with, he’d sensed the energy between them. But knowing it in his brain and having it spread before him on a plaque were totally different. No matter how long he spent preparing himself for it, Jisung was sure that whenever either Minho or Felix revealed their dalliance it’d hit him like a freight train. He felt catapulted hundreds of yards away, his body bruised and twisted different angles. It was like the contents of his stomach had suddenly disappeared, leaving him cold, empty and hollow. His heart was thumping in his chest, creating an imbalance of activity within his torso.

              But it wasn’t about him. Felix’s breaths were unsteady, and Jisung had never seen him look so unsure. His eyeballs were flicking from side to side, like he was checking the room for an exit even though he knew exactly where it was. For Felix, he needed to be strong, no matter how much he wanted to make his own escape. Felix didn’t need to feel this apprehension. Jisung had blown his chance with Minho, he had no right to feel territorial or jealous. He knew that Minho deserved someone as open as Felix, someone who’s strong in his desires and ready for him, willing to give exactly what Minho requires. And knowing that Minho wants Felix too, Jisung was sure that they would be perfect.

              Jisung springs from the seat and makes his way around the table to pull Felix’s face against his stomach. Felix instantly returns the hug, wrapping his arms around Jisung’s waist and squeezing. Felix’s embrace is enough to settle the bubbles constantly popping in his devoid middle. He wraps his own arms around Felix’s shoulders and tightens them around his friend, resting a cheek on top of his fluffy fair hair. “I love you so much, Felix. I’m so happy for you. Something will happen soon, I’m sure of it.”

              “You think so?” Felix’s voice was slightly muffled against Jisung’s shirt, but Jisung could easily detect the hope in how his voice brightened.

              “I know so. You deserve it, Lix.”

              “Thank you, thank you. I love you, too.”

              He burrows his head into Jisung again, while Jisung stares back out the window from his perch on Felix’s head. Everything was sideways; there was only sky on one side, the buildings completely blocking the other. One was breaking out in blue, the other dull greys and browns. Jisung could still see that lost red ball.

              Felix was brave. He went after what he wanted with a steadfast head and earnest heart. He could even admit it to Jisung. His trust ran deep like the strongest veins. Minho better not waste it.

The workmates all went as a group to the first of Runner’s High’s shows in their town. Minho, Chan and Changbin had reserved seats for them - good ones near the front and everything. Felix was buzzing in his seat next to Jisung for the entire performance. It was phenomenal, as expected.

              The music swelled in a way that made goosebumps rise on Jisung’s skin. It sunk deep into his bones and settled along his veins. Chan and Changbin were talented. They expressed the emotions of each song flawlessly within the music, every note hung on Jisung’s ears.

              But everything else faded into the background whenever Minho was on stage.

              Since high school, all he’d done is gotten better. Jisung tracked every quiver of his lips and broad extensions of his arms. He was absorbed. Minho embodied the bold but sensitive character he was portraying in his performance; if he didn’t still have his own face, Jisung might have been convinced he was an entirely different person. Still, he could tell he made the character his own, that he added his own touches that only Minho could. His own unique quirks that Jisung remembered from an age ago. The smirk on his lip and slight eyebrow-raise that were unmistakable to him.

              Minho was the only one Jisung could really watch on stage. The others were good, enough to make the ensemble coherent. But Minho was talent. He was the one that stood out, he was the one that Jisung wished had gotten a bigger role, a bigger chance to shine. Whenever Minho wasn’t on stage, it was like Jisung was holding his breath while he waited for him to reappear.

              He was enraptured until he remembered Felix. He sunk down in his seat after that. It was like he was committing a crime thinking of Minho like that when his friend was next to him. Guilt and shame swelled up in his stomach. He certainly wasn’t the person allowed to think of Minho fondly like that anymore, like he was entitled to special treatment. He had to make way for Felix now; he had to try and forget the old times, cut the threads that were still holding them in place. Let MinhoandJisung go.

              That thought dulled him enough to concentrate harder on the music being played in front of him after that.

              When the show was done and Runner’s High and their dancers were let out of the building, Jisung and his friends met the others down the alleyway that ran alongside the theatre. The three of them tumbled out of a metal door that had paint chipping away from it and groggily made their way over to them.

              They had all eaten before the show: Jisung and his friends in a restaurant and the others out of packed boxes backstage. But after barely interacting with one another, they all went to Changbin’s place – which was the closest to the venue – to wind down over warm drinks. None of them, not even Felix or Hyunjin, were particularly animated that night. Compliments flew from the lips of the office buddies as soon as they saw the three exhausted figures, but that was the wildest any of them had been since the closure of the show. Everyone had loved it, but that didn’t mean that all the hard work and emotions didn’t drain them. Settling down on a settee and cuddling next to Seungmin was the calmest Jisung might have ever been with this new, rag-tag group of friends he’d formed.

              They spent an hour or so talking aimlessly - mostly about how rehearsals had gone and how everyone was before the performance. It was a normal case of nerves and jitters, luckily no one had made their lives harder or was a cause to panic. Chan asked about their day at work before the evening show, which was answered briefly as the day was uneventful. Like most of them were. Then conversation naturally made its way back around to the gossip behind the scenes and their get-ready routine. Jisung and Seungmin were fully content just to listen silently for a while.

              “Hey guys! Now that we know what your schedule is for shows, how about we all take a trip together to celebrate it?” Hyunjin suggests, bouncing up and grinning.

              Jisung’s breath hitched, and he hoped that nobody noticed.

              Minho smiles in that teasing way he does. “Where? We only have like two days off next week so it’s not like we can go far.”

              “We won’t! Just like a night away in the countryside or something? We can stay at one of those fancy hotels and get one of those nice breakfasts.”

              “With what money are we going to stay at those fancy hotels with?” Jeongin teased.

              “Okay, so maybe one of those less-fancy hotels. But one that still does a breakfast.”

              “A B&B, you mean?”

              “Yeah, one of them! But one in an old house with a garden that has a maze in and stuff.”

              “Just tell us you want us to take you to a maze, we won’t laugh at you, really,” Seungmin titled his head and jutted his bottom lip out in a coo. Hyunjin threw one of Changbin’s pillows at him.

              “I’m serious!”

              “Okay, okay,” Changbin sat up from where he had fallen back against the sofa laughing. “This actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea. The only days we have off next week are Tuesday and Wednesday, though.”

              “That’s alright! We can travel up Monday evening and then come back Wednesday during the day; in time for you three to get significant beauty sleep before rehearsals the next day.”

              Minho and Chan shrugged at each other. “You’re right, it doesn’t sound like a terrible idea. We’ve all been practising nonstop for months, so it might do us good to get away for a couple days to unwind.” Chan nodded back at Minho, agreeing.

              “Excellent!” Hyunjin clapped. “We can all get off work, right? None of us have had a day off in ages!”

              “Sounds stressful.” Although Minho was looking softly at Felix, small smile full of light-hearted concern, Jisung couldn’t help but feel attacked. Here Minho was, out doing his dream job, performing the art that he loved; while Jisung killed himself overworking, abandoning music just like he abandoned everything else.

              He shook himself out of that. Not everything Minho said was a backhand against him. Minho had Felix to think about now; he’d created a connection that meant that their painful past could be put on the backburner whenever the group hung out. His present took priority. He was sailing off into the horizon while Jisung remained marooned.

              Surprisingly, Jisung simply found himself nodding along with the others, confirming he could book time off. He rarely took holidays: his family would never allow him, he didn’t have much of a life outside work anyway and even when he was sick, he liked to use work as a distraction. But his family would still be away next week, and he had been invited for what might be the only time ever on a trip with some friends, so he figured he better not waste this opportunity. For once, he decided to treat himself. A final fanfare or something.

              In a warped way, he might have been trying to prove that he could still get a life, that it wasn’t too late for him, that he wouldn’t be stuck in a monotonous existence forever. Minho didn’t care. But it was a sort-of-victory for Jisung.

              “Great! I’ll book that and send you the details.”

              “Absolutely not, I don’t trust you one bit. I’ll book it and send everyone the details. That way we might actually stay somewhere decent because the proper research went into it.” Seungmin very maturely stuck his tongue out at Hyunjin after that. Hyunjin, double undignified, looked around for another pillow that he could throw at Seungmin.

              They settled down again after that, knowing that no more productivity would be extracted from them that night. More plans could wait, but for now they were all content just existing in proximity to one another.

              Early morning rolled around, and they all collectively knew it was time to head back to their own flats. They’d all had a long day, and Minho, Chan and Changbin were working again at the weekend. Changbin bids them goodbye at the door, waving as they all make their way around the back to the car park and bus stop behind his building. They were all clustered together, tiredness dripping from their bodies and weaving into the dark night. A glare from the streetlight ahead was the only thing brightening their path. Shadows were cast over the alleyway to the car park, creating little pockets of darkness behind larger mounds like dustbins.

              Jisung lagged behind the others, rubbing his hands together in the chilly morning air. He navigated his way down using the others’ backs for reference, marking them so they wouldn’t leave him too far behind. The fuzzy light was disorientating, and the others’ shaky, side-to-side fumbling made it hard for him to keep his head level.

              As it does, Jisung’s already-unstable gaze landed on Minho and Felix, who were walking attached at the hip. They playfully bounced off each other as they went, heads bent together as they talked among themselves, fruitful giggles echoing off the nearby walls.

              Jisung couldn’t tear his eyes away, which was probably another reason why his mind went further and further away from focusing on his feet. And for a person who usually pays apt attention to his feet as he walks because staring at anything else feels intrusive, Jisung was thrown off-kilter and all his coordination had fallen behind him. His right foot wraps around his left ankle as he drags it forward, blocking its trajectory and clogging the natural progression of walking. Dizzy and stiff, Jisung succumbs to gravity as it works its magic against his body, dropping it like a stone.

              The concreate is uneven and sharp stones angle out of the pavement; and this is also an alleyway where people dump their rubbish, so there was no shortage of glass shards at the spot Jisung fell. His vision tumbled in front of him, black spots overtaking the picture as his focus hazed. While that was out of action, he could focus on the sting that reverberated like little spikes in his hands and up his leg.

              He imagined he looked like an unceremonious paint splash, splattered against the ground. His friends’ concerned gasps and murmurs were what finally enabled Jisung to find his bearings. He had managed to land on his side – mostly – so just a tiny nudge against the ground and he could twist his body round into a sitting position.

              What he didn’t expect, however, was to find Minho crouched over him as soon as his face span the other way. He was so dazed that he didn’t even feel another presence at his side until his vision came back. Minho’s broad chest was a ceiling caved over him, blocking him from the world and keeping him safe inside the bubble they made. His face was just in front of Jisung’s, close enough that he could feel Minho’s warm breath fan over his cheeks. His eyes were squinted into slits, intense worry staring deep into Jisung’s own. Apart from that, his expression was stoic, like he was just realising where he was, like he had moved on instinct instead of actively making the choice to dive down to Jisung’s side.

              Minho’s eyes flickered; the first movement Jisung saw on his face since he’d been in front of him. Jisung followed his pupils to his trouser leg, which had been torn slightly in a few places, and Jisung could already see the frayed edges soaking up blood from the cuts below. Minho’s hand hovered over the leg, fingers dancing like he was playing the piano, before he scrunched his fist up and the hand returned to his side.

              Stoicism remains on Minho’s face as he backs away, indifference masking any sort of emotion he might have fooled Jisung into thinking he still had. Minho was just a good person still, is all. That’s all Jisung could force himself to think on the matter. Minho was absolutely avoiding the curious look that Jisung doubtlessly had on his face, so he attempted to school his expression back to a sheltered one that Minho might find more agreeable. Any way that Minho could get out of interacting with Jisung would probably be appreciated, and Jisung seems to have already caused him enough strife this evening.

              It was then that embarrassment burned Jisung’s cheeks. He must have looked like an utter, silly fool, falling down and making a scene. Like an idiot. Why couldn’t he just walk properly? He stared at his lap.

              “I’m fine, thanks.” He knew that the others were still around, bless them, and he’d do anything to distract them from him and his fall.

              Minho looked almost lifeless again as he stood carefully and returned to Felix’s side. Jisung directed a smile at his friend, knowing his soft heart – which extended even to his sorry state.

              “You guys can go on ahead as I sort this. It’s late.”

              “No, really, we should help you-”

              “Ah, this won’t take too long, Lix. I’ll just catch the next bus. I’ll say goodbye now, then.”

              None of them looked convinced or reassured, but it was dark, and they were all tired, and arguing with Jisung wasn’t how they all wanted to spend the rest of their night. Minho was the first to move, pulling on Felix’s arm as he went. “It didn’t look too bad; he probably just needs a moment to compose himself.” Minho probably thought he said it quietly so no one else could hear, but Jisung latched onto every word.

              He felt himself shiver – he didn’t know from what – maybe the quick neglect. The others were also cagey about leaving him in such a condition, but Jisung put on as much of an upbeat voice as he could to shoo them away and flick at them with his fingers. His palms stung, and he clenched his teeth together throughout it.

              Sooner than he could possibly have prepared himself for, the alleyway cleared. Distantly, he heard the sound of car doors shutting, engines revving and wheels grinding against the road. It gave him enough incentive to start composing himself.

              Deep breaths in and out, Jisung shuffles his mental anguish to the back of his brain and attempts to numb the physical ones throbbing on his hands and leg. His sharp intakes of air and gentle rocking gradually knock the tremors out of him, enough for him to even think about moving any of his limbs again. He sits there pitifully for a few more minutes, the night-time sounds of the city a far-off wonder in his ears. Scratches pitter up and down the alleyway, and Jisung then feels how small and vulnerable he is sitting on the floor waiting for the world to go by.

              Stiffly and gradually, Jisung pulls himself up and he hobbles down the rest of the alleyway. The sensation on his leg dulled a bit after some movement, which he was glad about, but he made a note to pick any bits of gravel or glass out of the wounds when he got back home. He weaved his way to the car park, ducking from one car’s shadow to the next, stalking through the car park like a monster of the night. As soon as he got tired again, Jisung pressed himself against the door of the nearest car, huffing out in relief as his muscles relax.

              Just as he was about to pull away again, he’s alerted to a couple of voices that haven’t left the car park yet. He guesses from their animated conversation that they are only a couple of cars away from him. He peers through some car windows until he can make out two solid human forms a couple of rows away. They are pressed close together again, locked in conversation that must have blocked the world out. Jisung knew they couldn’t have noticed him, as Felix would have definitely called out to say hello. Because it was certainly Minho and Felix not so far away from him, having a private moment. And despite his better judgement, Jisung stays rooted to the spot.

              They must not have heard him breathing there, because they speak on. Jisung can tell it is mostly idle stuff to pass the time. They’re enjoying each other’s company, he knows. He’s intruding in a space he shouldn’t be, but it’s like he’s a statue. Food and restaurants, their upcoming trip and the weather this evening cap off their evening, like credits rolling at the end of a film. Until Jisung hears his own name.

              “I hope Jisung’s doing alright.” He can picture the worried look on Felix’s face, the slight jut of his bottom lip and the glazed look in his eyes as he ponders over it.

              It doesn’t take Minho long to answer, like he’s already sick of Jisung. “I’m sure he’s fine. You didn’t see it as close as I did, his leg didn’t look too bad.”

              Felix breaths out like he’s whistling. “That’s good, I’m glad he’ll be okay.”

              “Of course he will.” When Minho’s voice fades contemplatively, Jisung can’t help but still even deader than he was before. He became aware of the blood rushing through his body, of the sound of his heartbeat. “What’s Jisung’s deal anyway? Does he get up to much? He wasn’t around for our first few meetings.”

              He was fishing for information. Jisung’s throat dried out. He thought that every sound he made was amplified over the entire cark park. His heart had dropped.

              “Ah, Jisung? He’s just a little shy, is all.”

              “I mean, Chan’s shy and he still goes out on dates and stuff. Does Jisung do any of that?”

              Felix hums absentmindedly; Jisung can sense his light-hearted tone even from that. Felix must think that discussing Jisung is just a part of their calm, irrelevant closing conversation, a vague wondering of Minho’s that he can clear up quickly. Nothing important. Just general curiosity.

              But both Minho and Jisung know different. This is a chance for an assassination, a chance to gather leverage, a chance to enlarge his target. He was digging into Jisung’s very flesh, so much that Jisung might as well split himself open and present all the ways he malfunctioned and fell short inside. Minho was about to see that the thing that left him was diminished, that it really wasn’t worth hanging onto it at all.

              “In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never actually seen Jisung date anyone, not a single person.” Minho must have looked incredulous, because Felix followed up with a “Really!”

              “What’s that about? Is he picky or something? Or just thinks he’s better than everyone else?”

              Felix couldn’t have recognised Minho’s seriousness under his playful, flippant tone. He was always good at burying his authenticity under a crusted barrier. It was one of the ways Minho could disarm somebody, for better or for worse. Jisung knew that more often than not, Minho was honest, presented as the opposite.

              Felix laughs, a short little giggle that proved his trust in Minho, despite his reserves about the statement. Even if he couldn’t completely see him, Jisung knew his eyes were bright, putting himself in Minho’s hands.

              They might talk more, move onto some other closing comments, but none of that mattered to Jisung. They might have gone on to subtly tear at his character, but he wouldn’t have known, even if he was standing right there. Because his ears were ringing, and static was shredding his brain. He was his own ghost holding his corpse up, dangling it there like a ventriloquist. He didn’t dare let it flop, he held it steady as he made it stare out of gormless eyes as still as his wooden cheeks.

              The world fades into existence again gradually. In flashing lights and the sound of car doors opening. Jisung gathers his bearings just in time to duck as Minho’s car drives him and Felix away. They took their roses with them while Jisung was left with the string of thorns wrapping their way around his heart.

              Choking on the blood he must have been coughing up – because he didn’t know what to do if it wasn’t that, please tell him it was that so he could bleed out here – Jisung shakily and slowly slips down the car until he’s a pile on the cold, hard floor again. Jisung sits with the shadows warping around him. His jaw muscles go slack, and he gasps for breath, fighting for a place to make sound which he was denied while Minho and Felix were nearby.

              Forcing gasps of air into his lungs soon makes way for sobs which claw their way out of his chest and through his throat. Tears spill out of his eyes in a mismatched rhythm with them so that Jisung’s choking in a whole new way, more physical but no less real.

              Jisung cries because he’s denied himself for so long. Everything he wanted to let out since he encountered Minho that morning in the office runs in rivers down his face. He cries and cries because he has no idea what else to do. He cries because of his frustration and apathy, because of how he’s pathetic and careless, because he’s exhausted and frozen in time. The moon tucks itself behind a cloud in the sky, and Jisung is hidden even more from the world.

Jisung drags his duffel bag into the room he’ll share with Jeongin for the duration of their trip. It’s a cute little room with twin beds and a bathroom tucked into the corner. Jeongin shoots him a cheeky grin before diving onto the bed closest to the window, leaving Jisung to sigh fondly. He puts his own bag down on the remaining bed and takes a deep breath. He can do this. This trip will not be ruined. He will not spiral into a bad mood.

              They ended up travelling there on Monday night after work, as they could only get Tuesday and Wednesday off. All eight of them were weary on the drive over. Jisung had ended up sharing a car with Hyunjin, Seungmin and Chan, and the others had piled themselves into Minho’s car. Jisung’s whole chest concaved in relief when he found he could opt out of sitting in Minho’s car, that he wouldn’t have to make things tense by being in such a close proximity to Minho again. However, it also meant that his anxieties nibbled at him when he thought about what was going on in the other car. Were Minho, Felix, Changbin and Jeongin talking badly about him? Now Minho had hinted Felix with Jisung’s ruinous story, how long was it before everyone else was let in on the tale? Was he about to find out that none of his closest friends ever wanted him in the first place?

              He supposed that Jeongin has been acting normally around him since they’ve been alone; he should really calm down. Jisung couldn’t help stealing glances at him, though, watching him innocently start unpacking his pyjamas and placing them under his pillows. Jeongin always told him that was the best way to keep them warm for later. Jisung takes a deep breath, and then stands up for their quick turnaround for dinner.

              There is a restaurant in the big hall of the country house. A myriad of tables covered in spotless white cloth and crystal wine glasses cover the floor, and the group weaves between them, following the waiter as he directs them to one big enough for the eight of them at the back of the room. They’re all still slightly drowsy, so dinner is passed with lethargic conversation about their days and other variations of small talk. Jisung is largely silent again but doesn’t mind when his brain has already exhausted him enough for one evening. The meals there are fairly standard, but that’s perfect for Jisung, who didn’t think he could palette anymore newness for the night.

              Soon enough, they’re all returning to their rooms. They are all down the same corridor as one another, so it culminates in them all shouting “goodnight” at each other as they pile into their rooms. In manic concern and stress, Felix ends up yelling at them all to be quiet and not wake anyone up before he goes in, at a much louder volume than the lot of them together. Jisung ended up retreating with light chuckle.

              Breakfast in the countryside hotel was a buffet spread over three islands near the kitchen doors. Hyunjin tells them to stuff their faces because he has an itinerary of what he wants to get accomplished that day. Changbin bursts into laughter and asks if he’s ever met the rest of them, that he better count himself lucky if they got one thing on his list ticked off. It divulges into an argument over whether it is better to go out with or without a plan, whether the people who did have a plan needed to loosen up or whether those who never had a plan needed to learn some responsibility more. Jisung himself usually had a plan when he went outside when he knew what he was doing, because he would combust otherwise.  If not, he decided in the moment.

              They start their day by fulfilling one of Hyunjin’s suggestions and taking a walk around the gardens in the hotel. Like any old country house, the neatly trimmed box-hedges had been well-maintained and the different flowerbeds’ borders were distinct. The grass was vibrant and the perfect height, enough to be soft but not enough to look unkept and overgrown. Jisung wasn’t an expert on horticulture, but he guessed that each section of the garden was split for specific plants to be contained together. At some point, they walk through an area where the hedges have grown above their heads which seems to be a cove solely for roses. The plants grow up shoulder-height, their stalks tangling together and the flowers sprouting from their thorny midst are colourful, their scent spilling into the air around like a floral parade.

              They cut through a small collection of giant fir trees, kicking the flaky bark and spindles. Once they are breaking out of their shadow, they come across a metal gate. It is tied with a chain into the wooden post that brackets it on one side, padlock thick and imposing. That, however, doesn’t stop Changbin from a maniacal laugh and doing a little jig as he meanders up to the gate and easily climbs over it. He holds his hands out with a grin and says, “ta da,” when he’s done.

              “Changbin! We could get in trouble!” Chan chastises, but offers no further complaint as the others, led by Felix, make their way over to the gate, too.

              One by one, they make their way over. Ambling up the new, hardened, dusty path made of dirt that takes them up and over hills in the surrounding fields, they feel a lot freer to raise their volume and bicker amongst themselves like usual. Even Jisung joins Jeongin and Seungmin when they want to do a little dance while going up a steeper incline to make the trek more bearable, no matter how exhausted they are at the top. He clings to Hyunjin’s tall shoulders to annoy him and gets lost in a conversation with Changbin about music again. This is all as they tackle the muddy road up to and around the lake, and then onwards to the old monument ruins, which was a pile of discoloured rocks stacked on top of each other at this point. But Jisung still found himself reading the little plaque they left out explaining a little bit about it.

              All throughout this trip, however, Jisung couldn’t escape Minho and Felix fluttering around each other. It was like his eyes were an opposite magnetic charge to them, they kept gravitating back to their colluded forms. Like usual, they seemed perfectly content to entertain each other, apart from the group every so often. Another person that Jisung couldn’t help but notice was Chan, also watching from the side-lines with a longing gaze. Every time Felix laughed, he managed to make an expression that was somehow a perfect mix of a kicked puppy and a lovesick fool.

              Jisung was sure that Chan hadn’t cottoned onto his attention - neither on him nor the blooming couple. If he had, would he come and talk to him about it? Or would he do what Jisung has been doing and continue to keep his heartache cradled close to his chest? Jisung hadn’t known Chan for too long, but he knew that he wanted him to be happy. He has taken good care of Minho over the years, and that was all the convincing Jisung needed that Chan and Changbin were both commendable people.

              Eventually, the group silently but unanimously decided to turn around and make their way back to the grounds of the house. Somehow, they enter through a different passage on their return, which takes them past a tennis court. With the rest of them so enthusiastic to play, it wasn’t long before they were renting rackets and a ball and taking it in turns to play doubles. Jisung was notoriously terrible. He slipped on the Astroturf more than once and must have bruised his hip. He couldn’t stop the laugh that tumbled from his lips at himself, especially when he saw the others giggling back at him in turn. Even Minho couldn’t seem to refrain. Jisung didn’t know whether it was from malice, but he’d take it. Anything that got that toothy smile on his face.

              Tennis comes to an end when none of them can remain on their feet anymore. By that time, the evening winds were rolling in and the light was fading, the lucky sun they’d had that day retreating behind a large, protective cloud. They pile back into the manor house and head to the game room for some snooker while they wait for dinner. A couple of them – Hyunjin, Seungmin and Changbin – order some beers while they have a few matches. Jisung elects to wait until he’d got some food in him before he started on that.

              They’re directed to the table in the corner this evening, right underneath a dimmed chandelier and illuminated by candles at either end of the table. They get two bottles of red wine to share out with their food, which ends up being a mix of various meats with the usual accompaniments required with a roast. The clamour of the rest of the restaurant filters into the background and becomes nothing more than a soft whisper in the middle of a blaring orchestra.

Since they were driving back home that night, the group decided that they would take one last stroll around the gardens before they had to pack. They found themselves walking in the area where the paths around the borders of the house came all the way up to the edge of a steep hill drop. The smooth, beige stone that made up the wall was barely hip-height and Jisung feared ineffective in preventing anyone from tumbling over it and falling down into the brambles and spiky bushes running down the inclined slope. If you came at it with enough speed and momentum, there really wasn’t much stopping it.

              Tiny stones made up the shingle beneath his feet, and dust plumed up in the air whenever he or his friends dragged their feet or sprung up in elation – which was what a vast majority of their party was doing that morning. Minho and Felix had been the ones to start chasing each other about up ahead as they led the group, and were soon joined by Changbin, Hyunjin and Seungmin racing forward to toss their skills into the competition. Jisung figured they must have been playing some form of it, or simply seeing who could whack each other’s body parts the hardest.

              Their laughter, especially Felix’s, trickled down to the three dawdling at the back. Chan and Jeongin were looking on at the behaviour of the other four with faux-exasperation, joking about their should-be-outgrown childishness. Changbin shouted back that they didn’t know what fun was and that they were the cause of widespread adult-dissatisfaction. Jeongin seemed to bristle at that and almost joined in, until he remembered that he was trying to engage in war with them and held himself back. Jisung removed himself from those two a little bit, standing just apart from the rest of the group to watch the whole drama unfurl. Lost in his own thoughts, he tried to content himself in his solitude, convince himself he was happy watching from the side-line and not overflowing with the desire to jump into the middle of the fray and chase them all about.

              After some time, Jisung notices Minho and Changbin pull away from the game to start talking amongst themselves, which involved a lot of elbows to the ribs and Minho shooting Changbin death glares in return from what Jisung could only assume were some teasing comments. Minho always got easily riled up and defensive whenever somebody would try and tease him. Jisung used to do it only up to his limit, where his mock-glares would only dissolve into Minho falling into laughter with him. At that time, Jisung was aware that he could get away with more than anyone else, as no one seemed to understand the fine balance that were Minho’s boundaries. Jisung almost didn’t want to know whether Minho had found someone able to delicately handle his moods and eccentricities in the way he used to. Minho was a performer, Jisung hopes with all of the soft wishes in his being that Minho was surrounded by people that would let him burst into a show and understand his jokes – things that he and Minho used to do for each other.

              Hyunjin and Seungmin had also drifted apart to peer at something in the distance, perhaps an oddly shaped cloud floating in over the meadows ahead. For all of his dramatics, Hyunjin wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity revel in the calmer, more picturesque aspects of the world. This left Felix as the leader of the group, but his social nature refusing to let an ounce of his attention stray away from including the others for more than a second. He turned around and walked backwards, steady and sure on his feet, gliding over the path as if not being able to see where he was going was second nature. He alternated between calling points of interest back to members of their crew: the landscape to Hyunjin, the prospect of dinner with Seungmin, ideas about future excursions with Minho, and the best card games with Chan.

              While Felix’s joy and enthusiasm was almost always infectious, by this point everyone had settled down into something more subdued with their partner or were simply taking in the sights so often kept from them in the city like Hyunjin and Seungmin. It wasn’t as if the others didn’t try to indulge Felix whenever his attention came round to them, answering him affectionately as Felix’s inquiries warranted. However, Jisung could tell that their attentions were only half-spared in those moments.

              Jisung found himself zoning out again, lulled by the sounds of everyone’s chatter. He was barely paying attention to what was in front of his own feet, let alone what was coming up ahead of the leader of their pack. It wasn’t until too late that he saw it: large stone steps made out of the same material as the small wall leading down to a lower section of grass around the border. Hidden on the horizons of the path, they snuck up on everyone, especially since a majority of them were too busy devoting their time to a companion. And they absolutely came out of nowhere for the man who was walking backwards and trying to call out attention from Minho, who had been entirely absorbed in Changbin’s ramblings for some time now. Jisung noticed a second too late as Felix stepped back and stumbled when a solid surface was not there to greet his foot. In the shock, his other ankle rolled and sent him plummeting backwards, gravity arriving full force to yank Felix’s body down.

              Jisung couldn’t see from the angle he was at as to what Felix hit as he fell, but his old familiarity with those kinds of steps refused to let him believe that the tumble wouldn’t have hurt a great deal. The best-case scenario was that Felix missed all the sharp edges and managed to catch himself before his back hit anything – but the way that Jisung’s heart stuttered in his chest as if it was about to stop for good let him know how tenuous he felt that hope to be.

              Felix’s body has completely disappeared before anyone could make a sound of acknowledgement, but the screams of his name afterwards were twinged with nothing but panic. With the others shocked stagnant, Jisung charged through the middle to hurry down the steps to assess the damage without delay, even if he was admittedly the furthest away from Felix. He landed just to the side of his alarmingly still body and fell into a crouch at his side. Felix’s eyes were closed, and he was lying flat on his back at the very bottom of the staircase. Jisung hadn’t even seen him bypass the whole set of stairs, and he shivered at the thought of how many times his body had been hit as he rolled to get to the bottom. Jisung was nervous about touching him, because he didn’t want to damage any delicate facets of his body while he was lying in such a vulnerable state. He instead looked over the cuts and dents in his skin which would surely bruise before long, stopping at the top of his body. Because of his pale hair, Jisung took very little time working out the matted patch of crimson at the back of his head, which the surrounding hairs were appearing to soak up. Jisung froze.

              Heart thumping in his chest, he turns around to the rest of the group, who had by then crowded around the two of them on the stairs. Colour had drained from their faces and their hands twitched at their sides. Jisung turned to the person he thought most reliable: “Chan-hyung, rush back to the hotel reception and tell them to get an ambulance and a stretcher here as soon as possible.” Chan didn’t need to be told twice. Once he had orders on how to make himself useful, he was running back along the path, the quickest way back to the giant country building. “The rest of you, don’t get too close or start fussing! The last thing that should happen is that we all jostle him and make things worse.” Terrified by his warning, a couple of the others – Changbin and Hyunjin – took a step back after Jisung’s warning. It had finally sunk in for everyone that Felix was unconscious, and they had no idea how bad his injuries were.

              Despite the turmoil going on internally, time outside of Jisung’s body was dragging like it was trying to wade through the marshes to catch up to Jisung’s frantic mind. All he could focus on was Felix’s motionless body and that he was given enough space and air to breathe. He did not spare a single look behind him at the rest of them, barely acknowledged them past preventing them from disturbing the weak equilibrium that Jisung convinced himself had settled over Felix’s body between being healthy and critical.

An age passes before Chan comes back, leading two men in high-vis vests carrying a stretcher towards their desperate group. Jisung backs away as soon as they get there in order for them to do their job. He goes to stand next to Chan, who is biting his nails and staring fixedly on the two men checking Felix’s vital signs.

The two of them get Felix loaded onto the stretcher as carefully as they can, strapping him in snuggly and lifting him without a shake or avoidable shuffle. Jisung tears his eyes away from the splattering of blood left behind currently dyeing the stone pavement where Felix’s head just was. Ever since Felix fell, events happened in snippets too brief for Jisung to dwell on. Beyond barking his orders, his conscious came in bursts like the flash from a camera going off. His brain captured only the most vital moments of the whole ordeal.

“Only one of you can ride with us, the rest will probably have to meet us at the hospital,” one of the paramedics was saying.

Jisung kept quiet and let someone else speak, and it wasn’t long before Seungmin was rushing forwards and declaring himself the one that would sit in the ambulance with Felix. No one was in the mood to fight him on it, so they let that decision sit – and soon Seungmin was scampering off after the two paramedics who were wasting no time getting Felix on route to the hospital.

The rest of them aren’t far behind. They don’t bother dividing the group in half between Minho and Chan’s cars, they all just pile into Chan’s so they can get there as fast as possible. Jisung is silent as they stampede themselves through the grounds, body exhausted from the adrenaline of worry and initiative. Even though he knows he is out of energy, even though he knows he has no exertion left in him for heartbreak, Jisung chances a glance at Minho. And he should have kept to himself. Minho’s face was stricken, lips parted in shocked anguish and eyes so crestfallen Jisung wouldn’t be surprised if they soon started leaking tears. He could only look at Minho jogging beside him for so long before he had to turn away, too painful for him to look anymore.

Getting to the hospital in Chan’s car was a blur. Passing time in the waiting room were just splotches on Jisung’s mind. No one was speaking.

Jisung sat next to Jeongin, the two of them staring down at their feet, resting their elbows on their knees. Seungmin was already sitting in the room when they got there, so they’d silently glided over to him and sat in the remaining chairs accordingly. Jisung wasn’t sure how long it took, but eventually, a nurse appeared and called for anyone there to see Felix.

With a flurry of briskness that none of them had displayed since departing for the hospital, they jumped up and hurried over to the nurse. “How is he?” Chan bombarded, fingers linking and unlinking in front of him in anxiety.

The nurse smiled, calm and placating to reassure the panicked group. “He’s fine. He’s up and awake. We just needed to clean his wound and bandage him up. He has a bit of a concussion, so we’d like to keep him here to monitor overnight, but you can all go in and see him now.”

They didn’t need any more information before they were all following her through the hallways until they reached a room with a single bed inside. Felix was sprawled over that bed, which was raised a little so he could sit up without using his spine to do so. Despite the pain his head must be in and the trauma of the fall, he beamed over at them as they all piled in. There was only one chair beside his bed which Jeongin took straight away, but the others were more than content to stand around his bed. Vaguely, Jisung registered the nurse telling them she’ll give them some privacy and shutting the door behind her, but Felix was currently taking the bulk of his concentration.

“Hey guys,” Felix chirped. “The doctors and nurses and staff said that you alerted them really quick, which probably prevented anything from getting too drastic. So thanks a lot for that!” His smile was so wide for someone with a concussion, Jisung wondered whether or not he was delirious. But it was Felix, he supposed: always ready to cheer people up with his enthusiasm.

“That was all Jisung really,” Changbin laughs. “He was the one who thought so quickly.”

At the mention of his name, Jisung flushes and tries to bat the attention off him. He only did whatever it would take to make sure Felix was alright. How could he have acted differently? Felix beams up at him, and Jisung folds into himself even more. The praise was overwhelming, almost like an onslaught. “Then I have you to thank then, Hannie! Thank you for saving my life,” Felix chirped.

Jisung scoffed, still a little suffocated. “That was the doctors and nurses, Lix. I think you’re giving me too much credit there.”

“He’s not, you acted quickly. As always.”

Minho’s voice shocks Jisung to silence. He snaps his head over the room to look at him, but Minho is pointedly glancing elsewhere once his gaze gets there. Jisung’s heart has picked up like a power-drill, burrowing itself into his chest cavity as it goes off. As well as Minho acknowledging him positively, it was the first instance that Minho let slip that they may know each other a little more personally than they’ve been letting on.

Luckily for him, no one else seems to have picked up on it, because they’re soon descending into a conversation about something else. They’re joking about something or other, but Jisung was only half paying attention by that point. His head was too hectic, buzzing with a million thoughts out to drown him. His throat may have closed up, too. Thankfully his voice isn’t missed as the others converse. The only other person not really contributing is Minho. He has that contemplative sheen over his face, as if he was transported a hundred miles away. He was ignoring Jisung, but he also wasn’t really looking at Felix in the bed either. He was elsewhere entirely. Jisung’s heart clenched in worry. He hoped that wherever Minho was, he was being kind to himself.

The group stays with Felix as long as they can. Gradually, both Jisung and Minho weave their voices into the conversation again. They spend the rest of the day doting over Felix and making sure he was really alright. None of them could bear the thought of being so close to losing him. Although they don’t speak as much as the others, Jisung and Minho still have the breathy relief in their tones whenever they open their mouths. Felix soaks up the attention like a sponge, basking in their care. Chan especially is running around after him, even venturing all the way out to the vending machines to get a snack for him. Once they’re all sure that Felix will make a complete recovery, they’re back to their rowdy selves as the sit around on Felix’s bed and exchange quips as if it was just another hang-out. Felix is perhaps a bit slower than usual, and doesn’t move around as much, but he meets their enthusiasm with just as much gusto. What he lacks in dexterity now, he makes up for in volume. Jisung can’t help but send him fond smiles.

Jisung is so absorbed in watching them all entertain Felix that he become enraptured, he barely pays attention to what was happening around him besides the latest thread of conversation. When it starts to get quieter, Jisung just rolls with it, nodding along to the voice around him. He was pillowed amongst them, content watching Felix’s lively, animated smiles. His exhaustion must have hit an all-time high, because he didn’t notice when the noise surrounding him filtered out. The quiet seemed to ring in his ears just as much as his friends’ discussions. But when the volume in the room had dimmed so much, and it was only the serious conversation that Felix and Minho were having left in the room, Jisung was finally pulled out of his own head.

He blinked himself back to life, shaking a little as he glanced around the empty room. There were only three bodies left inside. Minho was hovering over Felix, asking him if he was really alright every other sentence. Felix had sagged against the bed by now too, the strain of the day having finally caught up to him once more. Over and over again, he was trying to reassure Minho that he was really fine. Jisung’s heart squeezed, and he felt more than a little winded as he shifted on the spot, his body aching from standing in one place for so long. Everyone else had departed the room. Jisung vaguely remembered them excusing themselves because they all had work the next day, and asking if Jisung wanted a ride back to the hotel to collect his things with them. Jisung vaguely remembers shaking his head, but he can’t be sure. He was positive he hadn’t said a word. Minho also declined, choosing to stay and check up on Felix again and again. His brows were pinched in worry, and he was wringing his hands in front of him.

Jisung was more aware of his deep breaths now than ever, as he watched the two of them go back and forth for a little longer. He supposed he should speak up soon, otherwise they might forget he was here – and Jisung needed to place how long he’d been zoning out for. In a pause in the conversation, Jisung seized his moment. “How long have the others been gone now?” He asks. Felix turns to him with a gentle smile, but Minho jolts like he’d already forgotten that Jisung was still in the room. Jisung tries to ignore it, even though it will always be agony.

“I’m not sure? I think they left around half an hour ago?” Felix yawned, unaware of the panicked look that suddenly crossed Minho’s face.

Jisung catches his eye, and Minho blinks like he’s suddenly out of his depth. His eyes cross from Jisung to Felix, shock making its way for confusion as he contemplates them. Jisung wonders if Minho became just as lost in the moment as he did, and he didn’t notice that the others had disappeared until now either. He certainly seems like he’s just taking it in for the first time. He gazes away again as soon as his eyes land on Jisung, as if it burned when they were plastered to his slouching, ungraceful form for too long – and for Minho, that may as well have been a millisecond.

“I’m assuming they’re on the road back home by now,” Minho wonders aloud.

“Yeah,” Felix snuggles under the sheets some more. “Chan says he’s going to come back and visit as soon as he gets out of his recording session tomorrow, though. And then he’ll give me a ride back home.”

Minho nods, and Jisung wished he knew what he was thinking about. Felix pouts up at him, so Jisung reaches over to squeeze his wrist. Felix’s smile brightens again at the contact. “And I’ll be over to your place as soon as you’re back to check in on you.” Felix nods rapidly, as energetically as he can through the exhaustion. Even though Minho’s mind seems to be elsewhere at the minute, Jisung could only imagine that he would make plans to visit Felix once he was home as well. He remembered how concerned Minho used to get at every minor inconvenience Jisung had while they were dating. He could only wonder how much more intense the worry was when he had someone as sweet as Felix to fret over. Jisung hoped Felix wasn’t too put out that Minho wasn’t acting as attentive anymore; he couldn’t bear the thought of the two of them arguing about it, or worse, falling out.

“Did the others head back in Chan’s car?” Minho asks the room instead.

“I imagine. You guys might need to get a taxi back to the hotel to get your things,” Felix pouted once more.

Jisung squeezed his wrist again, shaking his head at him. “We can order one at the hospital reception, we don’t need to go out prowling the streets.”

Felix giggles. “You always make me laugh, Hannie.”

“You didn’t drive up here, did you?” Minho asks Jisung so pointedly and directly that he startles, jostling Felix’s wrist a little. He forces himself to calm his tremors. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Minho addressing him of his own volition anytime soon.

“No,” he chokes out in a whisper. “Chan drove me here on Monday.”

“Then you need to make sure Jisung gets home safely, alright?” Felix’s eyes are wide and pleading as he gazes up at Minho, while his finger caresses the inside of Jisung’s own wrist, where their hands are still joined.

Minho looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that request for only a second, before he schools his expression. He directs a soft, fond smile down at Felix, and Jisung’s breath hitches.

“I will,” he practically whispers.

Jisung feels like he’s struggling for breath. Because maybe Minho would do anything for Felix, including having to share a tight, enclosed space with Jisung for a couple of hours. The thought of having to transport Jisung around clearly threw him off, but Minho would rise to the occasion for Felix. Jisung had never felt more like a burden. He was forcing Minho into a situation he absolutely wasn’t comfortable with, but he couldn’t refuse for Felix’s sake. Because for whatever reason, Felix cared about Jisung and wanted him looked after. Jisung didn’t know how long that care would last, but while he had it, he held it close to his heart.

“You two better go, too. You’ve both got work in the morning as well.”

Minho nodded lethargically, still winded from the news that he had to drive Jisung home. Jisung cleared his throat and decided that he needed to step up for him – and for Felix’s kindness. “I’ll be sure to fill you in on all the details when I swing by your place,” he squeezed Felix’s wrist one last time before letting go. “But I doubt you’ll miss much.”

“Get home safely, alright?”

“And you rest well tonight. You’ll be better in no time.”

There wasn’t really much else to say except goodbye and Jisung and Minho made their way out of the hospital room, waving at Felix as they went. They traipsed down to the reception in a tense silence, and it remained that way until Minho spoke to the woman behind the desk to order their taxi. After that, they returned to awkward silence and staring anywhere but at each other as they waited for it to arrive.

Collecting their bags from their rooms in the hotel and checking out happened without much fanfare. Jisung and Minho worked around each other flawlessly as they worked to leave, not once stepping on each other’s toes. In this one case, Jisung assumed Minho was happy that they knew each other so well. The silence is awkward, however. Jisung has to muffle the squeaks his body tried to exhale to fill the gaps in space.

Minho directs him towards where his car is parked and slips into the vehicle first. Jisung has half a mind to clamber into the back so Minho doesn’t have to sit next to him, but then he realises that it would be even weirder. Minho isn’t some sort of taxi service - he’s doing this for Felix. So Jisung shakily but stiffly slots into the front seat next to Minho. He doesn’t even have his seatbelt fully clicked in before the car is pulling out of the car park, so Jisung has to scramble to get it fastened. Minho stares stonily at the road ahead, manoeuvring the car expertly along the narrow lanes out of the estate.

Countryside passes blurrily past the window, fields upon fields encompassed in darkness wash by. Every so often, a fence interrupts their flow, or an overgrown hedge clips the side of the car. Other than that, it’s still deathly silent within the car. Jisung bounces his leg up and down, the movement seemingly the only way for him to expel some of his energy. He’s still reeling back with the knowledge that Felix was safe and out of harm’s way, and now having to sit in the car with his ex was fraying his mind. He didn’t know how to act anymore, or which way to behave that would be the most comfortable for Minho. In the end, they’d settled on this deafening silence.

The weight of the situation was pressing down on Jisung so hard that it was no wonder he snapped. And even then, he did that silently. His fear or irritating Minho was higher than even his anxiety. He’d gotten too tired of the quiet screaming in his brain, so he reached forward and turned the dial on Minho’s car’s radio round. The radio sprung to life, emitting the closing notes of one of the latest popular songs, making way for the host to come back to introduce the next one. He nervously glances at Minho, and exhales in relief when fury isn’t what crosses his features. Instead, Minho glimpses him with consideration, hums, and then turns back to the road without further thought. Some of the jitters in Jisung’s limbs manage to calm after that, and he settles back against his seat in exhaustion.

Things continue like this for a while, with the radio lulling the car into a tranquil atmosphere while the two of them drive back. The night sky around them encloses in, trapping them in their own world for a while. The peppy songs on the radio do well to distract Jisung from the situation. He can’t stop his body from swaying slightly to the beats and fails to notice when he unconsciously begins to sing along to the lyrics he knows. His arsenal of knowledge on songs is broad, courtesy of his love for music, so he knows the words to a good chunk of them. His voice is soft, subdued, barely detectable over the sound of the radio itself. But in such a tight space, impossible to miss. He sings under his breath, almost whispered and personal. Jisung is only catapulted into reality after Minho clears his throat.

After the sound, Jisung becomes excessively aware of himself and his body. The same pressure was weighing down on him again. Minho was glancing in again, unmistakably curious, with a quirked brow and a hint of a smile on his face. “You still sing all the time,” he states, without room for argument. It was a fact as clear as a fact could be.

It was only then the Jisung catches up with what had been happening. He feels his cheeks flame up and sinks down a little lower. His heart was racing, too. It was the first time that Minho has directly acknowledged that he remembers that they knew each other before verbally. Until now, he’s communicated in nothing but hostile glares and roundabout hints. And these words weren’t spiteful and hurt, either. They were almost nostalgic, coated in a layer of fondness. Jisung shakes his head. He can’t afford to think like that. He couldn’t afford to be delusional.

“You’ve been doing that at all our hangouts with the others, too. And in the club.”

Jisung blinks owlishly at him. He didn’t even notice he had been doing that. But Minho had? Had he been watching him at their meetups, too? That couldn’t be right. Why would Minho take the time to remember details about him now when he had others to focus on? Other than glaring at him, Minho shouldn’t be giving him a second thought. It was such a minor detail, perhaps Jisung shouldn’t be making as big a deal of it as he was, but he couldn’t stop the way his heart was lurching and flipping in his chest. It was becoming harder to breathe. He swallowed and tried to regulate his breaths for Minho’s sake. He shouldn’t have to deal with him when he was like this anymore, above all else.

“Have I?” He tried to utter as if it was no big deal, as if Minho’s acknowledgement hadn’t tipped his world off its axis again.

“Yeah,” Minho laughs under his breath. It’s slight, but it’s there. “You could never stop singing, even for a second.”

The air gets thinner, if that was even possible.

“You still shout when you get excited.” The observation slips from his lips without much tact or planning. Jisung snaps his lips shut afterwards, but Minho just lifts one side of his mouth in a tiny smile. Jisung thinks he might just combust. He can’t help that he’s been noticing and reflecting on all of Minho’s familiar mannerisms over the time they’ve spent together. He still comes out with the most out-of-pocket things to say, he’s still dry but giggles when he gets embarrassed, and he’s still calm and collected about most things that go on. He doesn’t let much get to him. It’s only testament to how much Jisung leaving hurt him that he still makes sure to remind him in little ways ever since they’ve reunited. As if he could ever forget.

The car reaches the edge of the countryside and starts to make its way back through the cities. Lights from outside the vehicle start to shine in, constant and vibrant, illuminating the streets around them. Minho hums. Jisung assumes it was a delayed response to his acknowledgement of his shouting. Jisung sucks on his bottom lip, because he needed something to do, and now he was conscious of his singing.

But Minho wasn’t having it. “Come on. The radio’s boring on its own.”

Jisung chortles, but complies anyway. It’s harder to sing through a grin on his face, but he makes it work. Because Minho wanted to hear him. After all this time, at least he thinks his voice is worth something. If he can bring Minho some entertainment and comfort for the rest of the drive back, it feels like the least he could do. Singing in general always gave him peace and singing for Minho had always been relaxing from him. If, for thirty small minutes, he could recapture that comfort place, he could be selfish. Especially when, for some reason, it made Minho untense his shoulders and sink into his seat, too.

When they were approaching their city however, Minho cleared his throat once more. Jisung’s note filtered out, and the rest of the verse was stolen by the muffled singer on the radio. “Can you give me your address, so I know where I’m going now?”

And then Jisung bulked and flinched in shock. He spent so much time fretting about having to sit in the car with Minho, he didn’t even think about the destination. He didn’t foresee the shame that would be crawling up his spine as he mumbled his address at Minho, dropping his eyes down to his lap after he was done, wringing his hands. He was sure a deep blush was decorating his cheeks, but thankfully the car was too dark to see it.

His revelation was met with silence. Too soon, the itching curiosity got the better of him and he had to see Minho’s reaction. When he turned his head back, Minho’s eyes were wide and staring at him. Jisung shrunk under their power, shrinking in on himself even more. There is a mixture of shock, confusion and concern combined in Minho’s expression, and all of it was too much for Jisung right then. He couldn’t cope with having his life dissected, for all of his mistakes to be laid clear in front of him. Not yet. Please, not yet.

“You still live there? With him?”

Jisung fumbles for something to say. He stutters, huffs, and has to blurt the first acceptable thing that comes to mind. “My father needs me still.”

It’s pathetic, even to his own ears. The fact that he still lived in his father’s house – now with his step-mother too – wasn’t something he spoke of often. His home life in general wasn’t something he spoke about often. He used to, to Minho, and he was still the person who probably knew the most about it. Felix knew a little, but it didn’t go beyond the fact that he didn’t have people around and wasn’t the happiest in his own home.

It was embarrassing to bring up when most of his friends had moved out and had their own places that they could run wild in. No matter how much he was suffocated there, Jisung couldn’t bring himself to leave. It felt like a betrayal of everything; and his father really did need him. He couldn’t pay the bills there on his own. Jisung’s income was vital to him keeping the place he’d lived in since Jisung was two years old. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford a place of his own, but something akin to a warped sense of duty kept him rooted where he was. And maybe people were right to judge him for it.

Minho’s brows are still furrowed when he turns back to the road, and Jisung feels the weight of his eyes on him every so often for the rest of the drive back. He wished he knew what Minho was thinking about it. He assumed he was counting his lucky stars that he was no longer mixed up in his issues and drama, and perhaps realising that Jisung was even weaker than he ever thought. He no longer felt like singing. He couldn’t bring himself to. Not even for Minho.

Luckily the rest of the drive didn’t take too long, especially with Jisung lost in his own head. Before he knew it, Minho was pulling up on the driveway in front of his house. The structure stood there, looming over them, clouded in shadow. It was caved in on itself, standoffish and reclusive. Minho licked his lips, and Jisung unclicked his seatbelt. They remained staring at each other for a moment, too many emotions swimming in the vast ocean between them. Jisung couldn’t fish one out, yet alone distinguish them all. Whatever was between him and Minho, it was overwhelming. And Jisung knew he had no right to think that. Minho wasn’t his anymore. He would soon belong to someone else. Whatever lay between them, he needed it to simmer down. The last thing he wanted was for Minho or Felix to suffer. Not because of him. Not anymore.

“Thank you for the ride back,” his whispered, because it felt wrong to speak any louder.

“Don’t mention it,” Minho waves him off.

With that, Jisung takes it as his cue to jump out of the car. He doesn’t want to detain Minho any longer than he has to. He reaches for the door handle, and all but falls out of the car in his haste. His legs especially feel unsteady as he tries to brace himself, to get over how much his head is still spinning.

“Jisung,” Minho’s voice makes the world stand still. Just hearing his name from his lips sends rippled shivers down his arms. “Look after yourself, yeah?”

Jisung mind goes blank. He nods, then nods again and again. It was too much. His concern was too much. Jisung smiles back, knowing full well how wobbly it must have looked, and then darted inside. He’s breathing heavily as he leans back against his solid door, dropping his bags at his feet. He hears the engine in Minho’s car start up again and then it tears away, getting quieter and quieter as it disappears down the street. But the ringing in Jisung’s ears doesn’t dial down. Not for a second.