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Minho had forgotten what it was like walking into the apartment to find Jisung curled up somewhere odd, asleep in a tiny ball.
Cute.
Strange, though, to see him asleep at the dining table, bowl empty beside his head, and not see Jeongin taking pictures Jisung would later complain about. Strange that Hyunjin wasn’t sat opposite, sketching or writing with his earphones in. Minho had either lived with Jisung and every other member of the group, or they hadn’t lived together. He’d never experienced this before.
Jisung, asleep in a tiny ball, in a space that was theirs alone. Asleep in a ball, nothing to accompany him but silence.
His cheek was squashed against the veneer, red and soft looking. His hair was a mess; his sweater was not his own. His sweatpants were not his own. The dark circles under his eyes were not his own – they were too big, he had to be carrying Chan and Changbin’s sleepless nights too.
He’d been attending the gym again.
Despite Minho’s wants, he knew that if he tried to carry Jisung to bed they’d both end up sprawled on the floor midway there. It was embarrassing to think about, so he didn’t attempt it at all.
Instead, Minho toed off his sneakers. He padded through to his own room and changed into shorts that were his own and an oversized shirt that could have belonged to any member. He brushed his teeth and erased the lingering taste of the jjigae he’d cooked for Seungmin and Felix, then returned to the kitchen.
Jisung hadn’t moved. His breathing was slow and even, his lips parted slightly. He was happier recently, more energetic, but that brought its own issues. Like a puppy or a kitten, Jisung sometimes struggled to recognise his own exhaustion until it hit him. Minho stared down at Jisung and wondered what he’d been doing before he came home to eat lunch. The recording studio was the most likely answer, but he could have been at the gym. He could have been gaming with Jeongin or filming dance challenges with Hyunjin. He could have been on the phone with his mom, tired enough to slur his words but just homesick enough to force himself to stay awake.
Minho studied Jisung for a moment. He decided that even if he couldn’t make it to Jisung’s bedroom, he could make it to the couch.
Jisung didn’t stir as Minho slid a hand under his knees and behind his back. He didn’t stir as he was manoeuvred out of the chair and into Minho’s arms, all stilted movements and bitten back grunts. He was heavy. Comforting, solid weight. So alive. His head lolled against Minho’s shoulder, and even in his sleep he cuddled up, rubbing his nose against Minho’s neck as they made their way to the couch.
Jisung melted into the cushions as soon as he was put down. Minho found a blanket to tuck him in, and then he returned to the kitchen to wash the bowl Jisung had left out, the pan with pieces of rehydrated green onion stuck to the side, belying a cheap and easy meal of Shin Ramyun. Simple enough to clean up, and done without any annoyance, any resentment. Jisung had washed plenty of Minho’s dishes.
Unwilling to disturb Jisung, as soon as Minho had cleaned the kitchen he returned to his room and closed the door before calling Chan.
“Channie-hyung,” he murmured. “Channie Channie Channie-hyung.”
“You all good?” Chan asked, matching Minho’s low voice. “Minho Minho Lino-yah?”
“Jisungie is asleep.”
Chan hummed. “He didn’t go home last night. We stayed in the studio until… maybe ten this morning?”
Minho had assumed so. He’d fallen asleep early, unable to wait up for Jisung’s return, which seemed like a good thing now. Minho didn’t function as well on no sleep. “Was he alright?”
“Yeah, it was a really good session. Really, um, rewarding? We had a lot of fun. A lot of laughs too.”
“Good.”
“You didn’t answer me,” Chan said. “You all good?”
“Yeah. He worried me a little, asleep at the dining table.”
Chan laughed. “You’ll have to get used to it again, yeah? The amount of times I found him asleep on the floor is a little concerning. If you nudge him enough he’ll stumble back to his room.”
“I just put him on the couch.”
“Softie.”
“Don’t lie, Channie-hyung. It’s not a good look on you.”
“Softie. The biggest softie. You were worried something had happened?”
“Not really,” Minho admitted, looking at his door. “I don’t know. It just feels strange, still.”
“You’ve seen him asleep before. Hell, you’ve seen him asleep at the dining table before.”
“We haven’t lived together for a long time.”
Chan snorted. “I see. You’re worried you’re being overbearing, right?”
Worried wasn’t the word Minho would use, but it was close enough. He didn’t want to examine his feelings enough to figure out an alternative descriptor. “Maybe.”
“How do you think I feel? I can’t leave poor Jeonginnie alone. I try to peel his bananas for him.”
Minho laughed a little. “Oh dear.”
“At least Jisungie likes to be pampered. He won’t begrudge you hovering, Minho-yah. He wouldn’t begrudge you anything.”
True enough. Around the people he loved, Jisung was a docile lamb. Minho sighed, rubbing at the side of his nose.
“If you’re looking for advice on how to cohabit with someone you’re in love with, maybe Changbinnie would be a better call,” Chan said gently.
Minho couldn’t face that, but he also couldn’t face the chiding from Chan for ignoring it. “Okay, hyung. I’ll call him tonight.”
“Good. Don’t let Jisung come to the studio tonight.”
“Will you be there?”
“I’ll try not to be.”
“Try really hard or I might have to collect you. My touch won’t be kind.”
Chan hung up, giggling like a naughty child.
Minho flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep, but he didn’t want to leave the apartment. The thought of Jisung asleep and vulnerable with no one around felt wrong. He deserved to wake up and know that someone that loved him was close by.
Minho’s phone buzzed beside his hand.
🐿️:
hyung moved me
Minho smiled.
🐇:
hyung moved you
🐿️:
hyung left me?
He felt vindicated for a moment. There Jisung was, checking to see if he’d awoken to someone that loved him being close by.
🐇:
hyung will never leave you
Jisung didn’t reply, and after a moment Minho dropped his phone.
The door creaked. Jisung peered down at Minho, squinting sleepily. His hair was still a mess. “Why aren’t you on the couch with me?”
“I wanted you to keep sleeping. You needed it.”
Jisung climbed atop of Minho and snuggled down. He was still heavy. Still a comforting, solid weight. Still so alive. Minho wrapped his arms around Jisung and rolled them onto their sides.
Jisung made himself comfortable against the pillow of Minho’s bicep. He looked at Minho with his tired eyes and aching beauty. He smelled of lavender detergent. “Sorry I didn’t come home.”
“I didn’t notice. I was asleep by eleven.”
Jisung pouted. “You didn’t notice my absence?”
Minho’s dreams had been sad, but he’d pinned it on the pudding he’d eaten before bed. “Maybe somewhere deep down in my subconscious I missed you.”
“That’s not good enough, Minho-hyung. Dig it out of your subconscious. I want you to consciously miss me. Right now.”
Minho scrunched his eyes shut and made a straining noise, gritting his teeth. “I think I’ve got it. Ahhh – ouch. Oh. Ooh, that hurts.”
Jisung’s smack lacked force and willpower. “Idiot.”
Minho opened his eyes again. The urge to kiss Jisung was ever present. Like the ache post-workout, it was a pain Minho had learned to enjoy. “You can’t call me an idiot for missing you. Stay miss you all the time. Are they idiots?”
“No, but they don’t live with me.”
“They could. We could rent you out for sleepovers.”
Jisung’s lip curled, baring his upper teeth. “No thank you. I like living with my hyung, even if he carries me to the couch and abandons me there.”
“He sounds terrible.”
“No, he’s just misunderstood, and he misunderstands. He thinks that I don’t want to wake up to him watching cat videos beside me. He thinks things are different now that we live together and I can’t escape.”
Minho had to force himself to blink. His heartbeat felt sluggish. “Things are different.”
“Hyung, I don’t want to escape.”
“You will when you see what hyung is going to make you eat for dinner.”
Jisung’s smile was soft and doting. “Hyung-ah.”
“Jisung-ah.”
“Hyung.”
“Jisung.”
“Hyungie.”
“Jisungie.”
Jisung leant closer and brushed their noses together. “I lived with Chan-hyung, Changbin-hyung, and Hyunjin. Whatever you cook will be better than the food we made.”
Minho forced himself to smile, to be normal. “Can we really call it food?”
“No. Sometimes it looked like food, but the taste was never quite right.”
“Texture?”
“Vaguely food-ish.”
“Your butt is vaguely food-ish.”
It was an odd thing to say, but not the oddest. Not for Minho’s standards.
Jisung barely blinked. “You’re going to cook me?”
“Hyunjinnie first.”
Jisung pouted again. “I’m not your first choice?”
“You’re always my first choice,” Minho said, too sudden, too raw to be anything other than honest.
Jisung’s face softened. He pressed impossibly closer, tucking his head against Minho’s neck and releasing a slow, warm sigh through his nose.
Their contracts were different now. Minho could say it – he could do something. He could.
He wanted to.
He was scared.
Chan was aggravatingly correct, as he often was.
Even if Jisung knew, which he did. Even if the rest of the members knew, which they did. Even some of Stay knew.
It was still scary. There was uncertainty in honesty, a wavering future that stretched out in a vulnerable, exposed way. Minho wasn’t sure he was ready. He hadn’t even begun to gauge if Jisung was either, despite the fact that they’d fallen into this so easily – living together again, but alone, only Minho to come home and clean the dishes, only Jisung to stumble back in the morning and tidy away the snacks Minho had left out. Two bedrooms, even if they more often than not ended up sharing one.
“What were you dreaming of when you were sleeping at the table?” Minho asked quietly.
“Nice things,” Jisung murmured against his neck. “Happy voices, laughter, pets. Strong arms, familiar skin. I felt weightless for a moment, hyung, like I was flying.”
“Maybe you were.”
“All the way to the couch. Aren’t I clever?”
“The smartest, Jisungie.”
Minho felt Jisung’s smile against his neck. “The dreams were nice, hyung, but this is nicer. This feels like flying too.”