Work Text:
The light in the kitchen buzzes and flickers. Jisung thinks it’s time to replace it soon. Maybe he’ll replace it with a whiter bulb, to match the rest of the other ones. Or he could keep it yellow. Keep things familiar. He likes familiarity. He always has, he noticed in high school. The difference between then and now, though, is that he doesn’t feel bad for it. Or maybe the word is shame. People always used to talk about change as if it were this inevitable, floating ball of light that would enter their bodies and find a place there. He thinks of it as a light because people assume that change leaves a sort of glowing sheen to the person’s soul once it enters. Now, he knows. Change isn’t a ball of light, and it doesn’t leave him glowing. But it is inevitable in the way it enters and stays. Unleaving. Jisung likes familiarity and knows that it takes time for change to become familiar. Maybe that’s the part that’s like a light to him. When things become familiar again. Inevitable, really.
His phone buzzes on the countertop, and he almost doesn’t notice it. Too busy stirring his bowl of noodles, still hot from the stove. He swipes the phone off the marble and sits down at the table in the same swift motion. He glances at the screen and his fingers swipe on autopilot.
Hello? he greets, always sounding like a question.
What are you eating? Minho asks, always in greeting.
In high school, Minho was as familiar to Jisung as his older brother. Not that Jisung ever thought of him like his brother. Minho was far handsomer than Jihoon, and probably smarter too even if he was a year younger. Jisung remembers distinctly that Minho’s handsomeness compelled him to walk up to Minho in the hallway and ask, speaking to him for the first time: Do you look like your parents? Minho had drawn his brows inward and asked Jisung to repeat himself. When he did, Minho laughed. His laugh was high-pitched, higher than Jisung’s, which made Jisung feel strange. He didn’t think Minho would give him an answer, let alone share in laughter with him. When he finished laughing, he took out his phone and showed Jisung a family picture. It was taken at Christmas time. Jisung could tell with the sweaters and the lights. He hummed. You do. I do? Yes – it’s your dad’s nose and your mom’s eyes. Minho nodded and started to walk away. Wait, Jisung said. Suddenly again. Do you think I can look like that too if my parents looked like that? Minho laughed again before shaking his head. He wasn’t shaking it to say no, but because he was confused. Look like what? Like you. Do you want to look like me? Yes. Minho stopped smiling then and a very confused look passed his face. Why? he asked. Your face is fine right now. And then, before Jisung could ask another question, Minho checked his watch: Sorry, my class is in the other building. I have to go. Jisung felt very strange that day. He kept thinking of Minho, Minho’s face, and Minho’s words about his own face. He felt very pleased that Minho was confused about Jisung wanting to look different. He didn’t believe himself to be the kind of handsomeness Minho possessed, but he felt that he didn’t need to. The face he lived with for sixteen years was fine. It didn’t need to change. It was familiar. Inevitable.
He sought Minho out after that day. In the lunchrooms, in the hallways, at the end of those soccer games Minho competed in. Jisung remembers high school as pre-Minho and post-Minho. Post-Minho, when Minho’s laughter and smart words were as familiar as the color of the walls Jisung saw everyday at school.
Jjajangmyeon, Jisung says. How did you know I was eating?
Your mouth is stuffed. I can hear you, like, pushing out your words through your food.
Gross.
Not gross. It’s just you.
Jisung hums. How was work today?
Fine.
A lot of coding?
Debugging. They keep writing the wrong things, so I can’t even make anything new because I’m too busy fixing everything.
They should pay you more.
Well, debugging is easier than creating.
Still. You deserve more money.
Thanks. That’s weirdly kind of you.
Weirdly?
Yeah, you never say I deserve anything.
Minho teases like that. He acts like he knows Jisung better than Jisung himself and uses it to make fun of him. But Jisung never feels made fun of because he knows Minho really does know him better than he does himself. Maybe. It’s a new thing he’s discovered. A change that’s slowly becoming familiar.
When they moved off to different colleges, the change of not being around Minho hit Jisung slowly. Delayed. He had Felix and Hyunjin, his friends since elementary school, but he had gotten used to life post-Minho. He attended all his freshman classes, went to all the parties, tried all the different hangover drinks at the store to test which ones were most effective. He even got a girlfriend. If he thinks about it, Jisung changed a lot then too. He didn’t realize how much he had changed until his girlfriend pointed at his lock screen and asked who his handsome friend was. He didn’t get offended, because there’s no point in getting offended over the truth. He told her Minho, and then he realized that was the first time he had said his name in four months. Minho. A name he once said multiple times in a day, everyday. He didn’t even remember his last text to Minho. Probably three months ago. They didn’t have a fight or even a spoken agreement about not talking. They just stopped. A change that became familiar. Inevitable. All the terrible and blackhole-like things that Jisung associated with change.
A few weeks after, he broke up with his girlfriend and texted Minho. Hey. And then, a skull emoji. Minho texted back three hours later. Hey? Jisung doesn’t remember if Minho ever used question marks in his texts, but maybe that part of him changed too. Are you okay? Minho followed up with. Jisung sent back: Fine. Hbu. Minho said he couldn’t talk at the moment because he was running late for some meeting, but that he would call Jisung later. They called, talked a bit about their classes and their friends. It’s hard to make friends here, Minho said. Really? But you’re so. I’m so? You. What does that mean? You just, never seemed to have a difficult time with that stuff, so I guess I’m surprised. That’s all. Minho sighed. Well, I’m not perfect. I know. Ouch. Don’t take that personally. Even if you’re not perfect, at least your face is very close to it. Minho laughed loudly then. Why are you so obsessed with my face? You have your own. Jisung laughed a bit too. I don’t think you realize that you can use your face to make friends. You’re making life harder on yourself by not realizing that.
That’s absurd. I think you deserve everything.
Is it something in the noodles that’s making you so nice to me today?
Sorry, should I have said you deserve nothing and you’re terrible at your job?
There he is.
Jisung scoffs, too busy chewing to respond.
Jisung thinks they talk a lot more now that they’ve graduated college. Even for summer breaks, their schedules never aligned. Minho studied abroad, Jisung had an internship in another state. The summer before their senior year, they both had their respective internships allowing them to work at the jobs they have now. Jisung remembers texting Minho three words that summer. I miss you. Minho replied when school started: You too. They would call every few months over the school year. A two-hour conversation attempting to cover the bases they had missed in each other’s lives. Not everything, of course. Just enough to endure all the change.
They live in the same city now, a twenty-minute walk away. Jisung remembers calling Minho in August, a month after they had started working full-time. He doesn’t remember why, just that he hadn’t heard from Minho in a while. He listened to him talk about software engineering and trying to resist the chains of capitalism. Jisung laughed at that and echoed, Chains? Minho sighed and said Jisung didn’t get it. You’re in graphic design. You get to be creative. Yeah, but I can’t design anything I want. I’m chained too, kinda. More bickering for the sake of talking. Each learning more about the other. Two months go by of random phone calls after a long day of work or a day spent inside folding laundry.
It’s the kind of talking that involves asking about someone at work by name, as a result of all the past talking they have done which has revealed these names easily. And that’s the thing that strikes Jisung. Conversation has become so easy between them. How is Chan? Minho’s coworker whom he knows by name. Is Seungmin still giving you a hard time? He remembers asking this and Minho laughing into the receiver, quietly and still colored enough to be distinctive. It seems everything has changed around Jisung except for Minho’s laughter. No, Seungmin just likes to tease. Ah, so when he asked if you were single, he was just teasing? Well, isn’t he? Maybe he desired you. Minho laughed again, mumbled something about who even used the word desire these days anyway.
If someone else was listening to us, they would think I’ve never said a nice thing to you in my life.
I had a friend in high school who was like that. Last name Han. Would you know him?
Jisung groans, a smile playing on his lips. Wouldn’t you say that I’ve changed since then? I’m quite nice to you, I think. Who reached out first when we went to college? And even now, when we’re working? I’m practically an angel for all the times I’ve let you back into my life.
In college, Jisung would whisk himself away to the passenger seat of his car. Not the driver’s, because he has an irrational fear of starting the car accidentally and driving himself into a tree. Irrational. Minho used that word when Jisung told him about the car thing. It didn’t make him feel as bad as when his mother would use it to describe his outbursts at his brother. Irrational. Unlike Jihoon, Minho never teased him to the point of yelling. Even now, Jisung cringes at the thought of ever yelling at Minho.
He hears Minho laugh and then a shuffling noise on the other side.
Are you getting in bed?
It’s 8 pm, how old do you think I am?
I don’t know. You’re always groaning about your back, or whatever. Actually, maybe an earlier bedtime would be quite good for you.
And he says he’s an angel.
Jisung laughs. What are you doing then?
I’m folding blankets. I just finished doing laundry.
You’re the first person I’ve met who does laundry on a Thursday.
You should try it sometime. It’s a therapeutic break in the week, and I know how much good it could do for your busy mind.
Jisung has a very sudden and loud thought then. He zones in on Minho’s voice, his words saying these things to and for Jisung. Therapeutic. I know how much good. Angel. It is under the flickering yellow kitchen light that Jisung realizes how much he wants Minho to keep talking to him like this, to keep listening to him talk. Minho, who knows Jisung better than anyone. Who knows that all the teasing is done out of a place of fondness, of something safe and warm. Focusing on Jisung’s own quirks, like his busy mind. The way he sounds when he talks while eating. He even knows the best time to call Jisung. Jisung concentrates on this feeling. The way Minho continues talking about the detergent he just bought and the smell it makes on his clothes. Minho and his lovely smelling clothes. His lovely words.
Minho, Jisung says.
Yes? Minho says. Wait, actually, can I ask you something?
Of course.
Sorry, this is actually why I called in the first place. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it but, well.
Go on.
What should I get Chan for our anniversary?
Jisung’s mind goes blank for a moment. Chan. Chan, as in Minho’s boyfriend for the past three weeks when Minho had announced that Chan asked to go steady with him. Go steady? Does he think he’s in a 1950s romcom or something? Minho had teased when telling Jisung over the phone. Jisung told him it was cute, that Chan was cute. They are quite a cute couple, in Jisung’s eyes. Chan with his defined build and dimpled smile, ever so affectionate with Minho who pretends like he doesn’t love back hugs from his buff boyfriend. But Jisung is suddenly a bit scared of what has just happened. For a moment there, he didn’t think Chan was that cute. Worse, he didn’t even think Chan existed at all. Jisung’s mind was only filled with Minho and the sound of his voice. Dangerous. Different. Unfamiliar – a change of sorts. Minho and Chan’s one month anniversary is next week.
What – what does Chan like?
He likes, like tech-y things. He wears his apple watch all the time and plays all these online games. Which, now that I’m saying it, sounds very expensive.
Careful there. You might become his sugar daddy.
Minho bursts out laughing. I am nowhere near such levels of financial excess. I’m the one who needs a sugar daddy.
Jisung cringes. Careful there. He doesn’t know why he said that. Why he is trying to act like he’s warning Minho. Chan is safe, he’s nice. Jisung is the one that needs a warning. Of course, Minho, kind as ever, accepted the joke good-naturedly. Jisung needs to calm down. Think. He’s good at coming up with ideas on the spot.
Get him a little case for his apple watch, one that matches a character from his favorite game. Maybe throw in a gift card for the game too.
Jisungie, you genius.
Jisung smiles. Minho can’t see him, thankfully. I feel like you would’ve gotten there without my help.
No, I wouldn’t have. I need my Jisungie’s brain to think.
They move on to Jisung’s day at work, then a brief talk of Minho’s anniversary plans before hanging up. The noise of the dial tone clicking off rings loudly in the kitchen. Jisung sighs. It’s been a long day. Minho will buy a gift for Chan, and Chan will love it. They will get dinner at the restaurant where they first met, when Minho was just grabbing a bite after work and Chan got stood up by his blind date. Minho will bring flowers and wear the coat Chan likes. Chan will most likely get Minho a wonderful and perfect gift. No notes. One of them will stay over at the other’s house, and when they wake up in the morning, they will have officially been dating for one month. Jisung inhales and exhales slowly. He brings his bowl and chopsticks to the sink and washes them before setting them on the drying rack. He feels his joints creak with every motion he makes. The light above keeps flickering, and he makes a note to buy a new bulb soon. Minho and Chan. Chan and Minho. They’re a cute couple, in Jisung’s eyes. Jisung just had a long day. He’ll replace the light soon.
-
The next week goes by in a blur. Jisung goes to work, comes home, eats dinner quickly. He went out to drinks with Felix and Hyunjin Friday night. It was nice to talk to friends working in the same field as him, but there was also the terrible realization that not only were they all working in the same area – they had also been stuck in the same orbit around each other for most of their lives.
How are we all still single? Felix had groaned while Hyunjin slumped over his shoulder.
If I have to die with you guys as the only people who have slept in my bed, I will probably just off myself right now, Jisung said.
Jisung! You can’t say things like that. You really have no respect for your life, do you, Hyunjin said.
Besides, Felix said. Doesn’t Minho sleep over at your place from time to time?
That was literally years ago. Like, when we were in high school, Jisung said.
Oh, my bad.
He has a boyfriend, by the way.
We know, Jisung. You remind us, like, all the time, Hyunjin said.
I do not.
You do. How long have they been dating anyway? Felix said.
Their one-month anniversary is tomorrow, Jisung said.
Hyunjin mumbled something dumb about how he can’t really picture Minho with someone like Chan, at which point, Jisung decided it was time to go home. Two days later, on Sunday morning, Jisung received a text from Minho thanking him for his gift idea and adding a selfie of him and Chan at a restaurant with a bouquet of flowers in between their clasped hands. You guys are adorable, Jisung texts back. And really, he feels like he means it when he hits send. They are adorable. Hyunjin doesn’t know what he’s talking about because he’s not Jisung. He doesn’t see things the way Jisung does. In Jisung’s eyes, Minho and Chan are a cute couple. Jisung knows Minho. Has for almost a decade now. Not in the way Felix and Hyunjin do with passing greetings at get-togethers, but in the deep, grounding way found within long texts and late night phone calls. He knows that Minho likes guys who are a bit overly affectionate, who are both loyal and responsible. Because Minho is the same. Loyal and responsible. Of course he and Chan work well. Jisung knows Minho more than anyone else. Has for years.
Jisung spends the rest of his Sunday cleaning up the house, calling his parents, going out to do groceries. He finds a certain rhythm in this routine. After wiping down the countertops and throwing the towels into the wash with the rest of the laundry, he sits down and dials his mother. She passes the phone to his father and the three of them fight to see who speaks the loudest. A routine. He goes to the grocery store and brings his paper list and a pen with him. The same pen he has been using since he started high school. A familiar weight of cool metal. The grocery store smells like pumpkin and cinnamon when he walks in, some part of their seasonal advertising. The lights are bright and white, almost a bit painful in their glare against the shiny glass shelving. It’s November now. Jisung pulls his coat tighter around his body when he walks by the produce section. Thin skin, Minho would say. He always made fun of Jisung for being cold. Drape a hoodie or a leather jacket over Jisung’s smaller frame whenever they walked home after school. Jisung remembers how much he liked the attention back then. It made him feel like Minho cared for him. And really, to have someone like Minho who was so smart and gorgeous and respectful, give him his jacket wordlessly felt like the best thing in the world. Of course, things are different now. Jisung doesn’t feel the same yearning for Minho’s attention as he did back then. Minho has Chan now. There isn’t enough room for Jisung’s yearning. Not that Jisung wants nor needs there to be. Chan would probably bring a spare jacket with him when they go on dates just in case Minho gets cold. He seems prepared like that. But Minho wouldn’t get cold so easily – he always dresses right. Jisung knows.
Milk is in the dairy section, next to the yogurt and before the cheese. Jisung opens the glass refrigerator door to get the 2% when his hand holding the door open knocks into someone else’s. When he pulls back to apologize, Minho is smirking at him. Eyes and lips shifted in an aesthetic way,
Fancy seeing you here, Jisung says.
I could say the same for you. I thought all you ever ate was instant ramen.
So suddenly people who can’t cook shouldn’t be allowed inside grocery stores?
Nor the kitchen.
Minho’s favorite thing to tease Jisung about is his lack of cooking ability. It usually makes Jisung laugh, but this time, Jisung’s skin prickles a bit. Jisung knows he’s a bad cook. He does have a tongue, after all. But is he really so incompetent that he can’t even go into the kitchen? Of course, maybe Chan is a better cook than him and would have worn a thicker sweater under his coat unlike Jisung, but Jisung still has his own merits. He is good at cooking the things he eats most often. Isn’t that all he needs? And maybe he feels a bit chilly right now, but the grocery store is only a five-minute walk from his place. He’ll be home soon. He can endure the chill. He isn’t that weak. He’s not incompetent.
Jisung laughs awkwardly, shoving Minho’s shoulder lightly. I liked the picture you sent me yesterday. I suppose the anniversary went well?
Minho blushes. Jisung can tell by the way Minho starts avoiding eye contact.
Yeah. We’re – it was good.
Good. And Jisung tries his best to mean it.
Jisung goes back to grab the milk. He feels Minho watching him, and he is suddenly very conscious of the way he grips the handle of the gallon and the strength he uses to lift it into his cart. Carrying a gallon of milk is no problem, but suddenly, Jisung wants to make it known. This is no problem for him. He is strong enough to carry this and return to his original position.
So, Minho says. Dinner plans?
You know I like to keep my Sundays clear, Mr. Lee.
Well, Mr. Han. May I be allowed to break tradition and invite you for dinner?
Jisung smiles, tilts his head. Sure. I haven’t seen Chan in a while, either.
Oh, he’s not going to be there. He had to go back to the studio to finish up something.
You driving? Jisung thinks he will decline if he has to make the fifteen-minute trek to Minho’s place.
Well would you rather we freeze our faces off walking in this cold?
Jisung smiles.
Minho’s house is as neat as the last time Jisung came over. The blankets on the couch are folded, the dishes in the kitchen are put away. Jisung smiles when he sees the cat-patterned dish towels he got for Minho hanging on the oven handle. They make kimchi fried rice together – Minho cutting up the ingredients and Jisung stirring them in oil on the pan. When Jisung yelps after a speck of oil splashes on his wrist, Minho decides to also take over stir duty. They eat on the couch with the TV playing one of the drama series airing right now. Jisung scoops rice into his mouth and laughs whenever Minho makes a joke about the character’s voice or the unrealistic plot devices. That tree would never just be in the middle of the sidewalk like that. Should’ve had them bump into a monument of my big toe, that would’ve been more realistic. Tears too perfect. Say you love me, Woohyun, Minho mocks. Jisung giggles each time. They get to a scene where the main lead is showering and the camera does a slow-pan of the actor’s back.
You’re awfully quiet there, Jisungie, Minho says.
Jisung hums in agreement.
Earth to Jisung?
Jisung rolls his eyes. I think I need to turn you in for a repair. Your mute button is damaged.
You were so focused on that guy.
Of course, he’s hot.
Just because he’s naked?
He can be hot and naked at the same time.
Minho hums.
Jisung turns to look at him, and Minho’s face looks pensive. As if he is deep in thought, thinking about Jisung staring at the actor’s body. He angles his body towards Minho, pulling one of his legs up under the couch. A bare brush of their knees.
Is it really that strange? he asks Minho. Can I not admire someone attractive?
I didn’t say that.
Yeah, but you said that I was focused.
You were.
Can I not be focused?
I didn’t say that either. I was just noticing something. You never seem to focus so much on how someone looks.
Well, it’s a shower scene, Minho. I think the purpose is to focus on just that.
I’m just saying. Minho grabs the remote and increases the volume a bit.
Are you sulking?
Minho doesn’t answer.
If you are, just remember that we met because I thought you were super good-looking. So you don’t have to be jealous of this random guy on screen.
I’m not jealous, Minho says. He is now clearly pouting.
Whatever.
They continue watching the drama. Jisung senses that the mood has turned sour because Minho is no longer cracking jokes, not even saying a word. It makes Jisung feel uncomfortable. Was he too harsh with his words? Should he have taken Minho’s joke lightly? But Minho didn’t seem like he was joking. Minho seemed almost interrogatory in his tone. This realization makes Jisung shift away from Minho, leaning on the armrest at the other end of the couch. Minho, who is always joking with him, always making him feel safe and comfortable. And yet, tonight he is acting like Jisung has done something offensive. It’s strange. Minho never acts like this. Jisung has heard Minho rant and complain about his coworkers and bosses or even some random guy driving too close to his lane — but this is different. Minho is not raising his voice and screaming in Jisung’s face. He is sitting quietly, pouting his lips. For the first time in all the years they have known each other, Minho almost seems mad at him. Jisung.
When the episode of the drama ends, sad, trilling music plays over a montage of the previous scenes. Jisung clears his throat which feels dry from disuse over the past thirty minutes of non-conversation.
Minho, he whispers.
Listening.
Are you, um, mad at me?
Minho finally turns and looks at Jisung directly in the eye.
Why would I be mad?
Jisung rolls his eyes. Because you literally went silent after questioning me.
What, now I can’t be quiet?
Jisung exhales out of his nose. He can feel his anger rising at Minho’s irritated tone, but he calms himself down. Maybe if he was sixteen and still thought the world was smaller than his thumb nail. But he’s not and the world is not. Minho is more than just his best friend. He, too, moves through this large world and can get scraped by the many worries that surround him. And maybe he nurses his wounds with fists instead of licks. But still. Jisung is his best friend. He can try to understand.
Look, Jisung begins. I’m sorry that some of my words were harsher than usual. I didn’t mean to annoy you or poke at you. If you want, we can talk about whatever you’re thinking right now. I can just sit here and listen. Or, if you’d rather, I can also just go home, give you some alone time.
He watches Minho’s posture sag. Facial muscles untensing. He exhales a shaky breath and lowers his head. Dragged down, his body it seems.
I just — I’m sorry. You weren’t being harsh. I’m the one who’s acting like a jerk. I'm sorry, Jisung.
Jisung nods, waiting for him to continue.
Yesterday, when we — he told me — Chan said that he wants me to move in with him.
Jisung’s eyes widen, he can feel the air on them. That’s really quick, he says.
He didn’t, like, expect me to answer him. He just mentioned it casually. Something he was thinking about because he says, um, he really likes me.
Jisung nods. This should be a good thing, he thinks. Right? A beautiful, loyal guy asks you to move in with him on your month anniversary, not even pressuring you to say yes. Just because he likes you. So much. Really likes you. So why does Minho look so worn out?
Um, can I ask something? Jisung says.
Minho nods, not looking at him.
Are you scared to move in with him?
Minho clenches his eyes, as if the question has somehow wounded him.
It’s not exactly that. I mean, I think I would want to move with him eventually, like, in the future. But he told me his work is moving him out to a different city and he wants me to come with him. Like, I wouldn’t have to change my job because the commute would be around forty-five minutes, but I would probably live an hour, at least, away from. He pauses. Everything.
Jisung nods slowly. Everything. The restaurant Minho likes with the over-fried egg rolls. The pet store that’s next to the cafe Jisung goes to when he gets to work from home, sometimes finding Minho in the corner table doing the same thing. The park with the wobbly bench that Jisung makes Minho sit on so it can balance itself out before he himself sits down. Even the grocery store, their grocery store, really, if you count the number of times they run into each other there. Jisung. Would Jisung be included in the everything? Maybe he is. They have spent a lot of time together exploring this city. It’s practically their city. Some mayor, some billboards and some potholes. Really, theirs. All theirs. Jisung is beginning to understand. Minho is afraid to move, maybe because he is thinking that he would lose a friend like Jisung.
And Jisung knows he is not the best of friends in this world. He forgets to call back when he misses a call, and he can go for days without responding to a text. He gets absorbed in his work or the music playing from his headphones, and he loses sight of the world outside of colors and sounds. He can’t cook and never declines when Minho offers him food. Jisung knows this. Minho knows this. All of this, and still. They can’t go a week without seeing each other either in-person at the grocery store or over a random video call. Jisung knows how kind Minho is. How his heart gives and gives and expects nothing in return. Actively rejects any advances to reciprocate. So Jisung doesn’t reciprocate, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he knows what Minho likes. What he wants. Comfort in a familiar voice asking him what he did that day. Why did you do that? If you were fifty years older, would you still have said that? I know you love wearing flip-flops, but think about the wrinkles between your toes. For all the ways Jisung’s mind hammers out ideas like a factory assembly line, Minho’s is quiet. Too busy giving out to the world.
Comfort in a familiar voice, in the thoughts behind that voice. Minho who keeps Jisung by his side because, which Jisung is now starting to suspect, he might not think too much of this world without a little voice asking him why he has thrust his hands upon it. What would happen if his hands turned green and furry and started stealing ornaments from Christmas trees. And Jisung may not seem to need Minho’s thoughtless, almost instinctive giving. Always good at keeping to himself, staying entertained with his thoughts and colors and sounds. But Minho reminds him that there is more in this world beyond the confines of his ears and the earphones plugged into them. Flowers that smell like honey, and fried rice made inside a small kitchen with cat-patterned dish towels. That hands and feet and hair don’t need to be hypothetical, but they can be warm. Real and soft against Jisung’s hair. They can give and give without waiting. Human bodies are delicate, fragile. Like that time in their sophomore year when Jisung found out Minho twisted his ankle and impulsively bought a flight to sit down on Minho’s low bed next to his cast resting on a pillow. Human bodies give without waiting. They are quite beautiful in that way.
Jisung sighs. Minho, I don’t care if it’s an hour or four hours. I will still visit you and facetime you and call you and make you so sick of me like you are right now. So if you’re worried about leaving me and having no friends, just know that you’re very, incredibly wrong.
At that, Minho cracks a smile. Relief floods Jisung like the sun peeking out from parting clouds. I didn’t take you for such a sap, Jisungie.
Well. Is that why you’re scared to move in? Because if it is, or is part of it, I want to tell you that you need to stop being stupid. Your dream man is literally begging to live with you.
Minho laughs, a small thing. You must really think the world revolves around your little head.
Jisung nods, exaggerating the movement. Minho is cracking jokes again. He’s feeling better. Sun peeking through clouds. Well, what else would you miss around here? The non-authentic Korean restaurant?
Minho laughs louder now. He looks at Jisung. Okay. I’ll think about it some more then.
Good.
They finish another episode of the drama before Minho offers to drive Jisung home. They listen to a playlist Jisung made and hum to the songs they both know. When Jisung goes to get out of the car, Minho clears his throat.
Um, I really appreciate what you said earlier. About you, you know, visiting me if I moved away. Thanks, again.
Jisung smiles, shy a bit. He tweaks Minho’s ear. Of course, you big baby.
Minho’s expression drops. But if you go a week without visiting me, I will move back here and rob you of your money. Clean.
Jisung laughs. Alright, alright.
When Jisung goes to bed that night, blanket tucked beneath his chin, he realizes that he never got to ask why Minho got so mad at him for watching the shower scene. Maybe Minho was just taking his anger out on him. Strange, but Jisung will allow it this once. Minho and Chan are a cute couple. Chan wants him to move in. Hour away. You were so focused on that guy. Earth to Jisung.
-
Minho tells Jisung that he and Chan have broken up on Christmas Eve. Earth to Jisung, he says when Jisung’s jaw hangs open. Minho goes into details like how the whole moving in thing has always been a point of stress ever since it was brought up, that Chan is a great guy and he felt bad for giving him hope of a future together. He keeps out details like Chan’s reaction and how long he’s been feeling this way. If this was premeditated. Jisung doesn’t get it. He says as much, but Minho just rolls his eyes over FaceTime and sniffles off screen. Jisung lets Minho finish crying and stays with him on the line to watch him cook dinner. It’s not the type of situation Jisung often finds himself in. Comforting someone else. Stopping their tears without making them feel like their crying is uncomfortable. He asks Minho if there’s anything he can do to cheer him up. Help me help you. Give me instructions. Let me do this for you. Let me do something for you. Today. For once.
Minho wipes his mouth and mumbles. Just distract me for a bit.
Jisung thinks, not paying attention to how he’s holding his phone.
Why does your screen keep blinking?
Huh? Your screen – it’s, like, flickering.
Jisung taps his screen to have it light up after it had dimmed and he notices his side of the call is, indeed, flickering.
Oh, that’s ‘cause one of my lights is dying out. I should replace it.
Okay.
Jisung goes back to thinking of ways to distract Minho, humming a bit.
There, that’s it, Minho says.
What?
That song. I like it. Keep singing it.
Jisung listens and sings. It’s a song about sunshine and rain and walking hand in hand with a woman who makes you forget about the weather. His mom used to sing it all the time when he was little. Lilting notes and simple words. He gets to the end and opens his eyes, not realizing he had closed them. Minho’s eyes are wide, staring at Jisung through his phone.
He takes a few seconds before speaking. Thank you. Um, I. Thank you. I really like your voice.
Jisung chuckles quietly. I know. You’ve said it before.
-
Felix and Hyunjin don’t get it when Jisung explains the breakup to them, and he adds that he also doesn’t get it. Hyunjin says it feels like Minho’s not telling the whole story, and Jisung agrees with him. But he thinks he cares more about making sure Minho has someone to cry with than knowing why he’s crying. Felix says he’s in love. Jisung rolls his eyes.
-
The new year comes and goes. Jisung wrote his New Year’s resolutions on a scrap napkin after spending the first minutes of the new year by himself for the first time. His parents traveled to Switzerland for their winter vacation, leaving Jihoon and him to fend for themselves. The rest of his friends went home. Jisung declined their offers to celebrate with their families because he wanted to try something different. And yet, here he was, repeating the tradition his dad taught him. His handwriting turned out neater than usual, almost as if his dad was still watching him write the words over his shoulder.
Jisung has always thought that resolutions come about from past reflection – an extension of the past, really. And so much has changed since January of last year. Jisung graduated, started his job, found Minho again. It took a while, but he likes this new life he’s settled into. Not so much new as it is different. Something to come home to in the evenings and let in with the open windows. Getting used to this life, to all the changes. Letting them come into his body and house and staying there. Like how Felix and Hyunjin have always been there. Jisung doesn’t even remember when he let them in. They’ve been in his life for longer than being out of it. It’s funny, Jisung thinks. The way people, always moving, have grounded him. Minho likes to tell Jisung that time heals everything, even the bumps and grooves that catch us off guard. And maybe that was what Jisung needed: someone to tell him these things about time. Something to return to in the evenings. A phone call ringing loudly in his kitchen while he decides what to cook.
Come over, Jisung says. I’ll even make my classic jjajangmyeon, promise.
Minho sighs through the phone. You’re just trying to get me to stop holing myself up at home.
Yes. That is exactly what I want to do. Have I not been clear on that, or?
Minho exaggerates a big sigh. Fine, I’ll grace you with my presence. But if your cooking sucks, I’m going to buy us takeout.
Absolutely not. My cooking will rock, and if it doesn’t, I will ask my mom to send me dinner money.
Aren’t you embarrassed to be bothering her for allowance? Minho laughs at his own joke.
I’m hanging up. See you in thirty.
The jjajangmyeon is a bit salty at first, but when Jisung adds in the noodles, it’s perfect. Minho laughs eating it because he didn’t expect it to be so good and why hasn’t Jisung made this for him sooner. Because you always want to cook. Because I didn’t think you could. Just say you want to cook for me, Minho. They eat and talk about how work has gotten easier because of the holidays, but now that they’re starting the new year, they’re scared of things picking up again. Chan has now become a small scar instead of the tender bruise it once was whenever his name came up in conversation, and Minho’s smile doesn’t dim either. It’s easy. Sitting here like this. Talking about everything in the world, like Jisung and Minho have a stake in every matter that comes out of their mouths. Work picking up. Capitalism. Communism in theory and in execution. Socialism. How do the Kims always rig the elections. Hey, if we were still living in Korea, we would be drafted by now. I would look sick in a buzzcut. Well, you would look good in anything.
They put the dishes away, turn off the kitchen lights, and go to sit in the living room. Instead of sitting down on the couch, Minho gets something out of his bag and goes back into the kitchen. Jisung follows him, curious.
Mind if I replace it for you? Minho says.
Huh?
Your light. It was flickering.
Oh, but I don’t have – oh. You brought a bulb with you.
Minho starts climbing onto a chair.
Thank you, Jisung says.
He watches Minho untwist the light cap, then the old bulb. Jisung reaches out to hold them, but Minho stops him because it’s too dusty and you’ll forget to wash your hands and get the dust all over your clothes. He gets off the chair to place them on the counter and gets back up to put in the new bulb, then the light cap. The light from the living room casts shadows across his face. Jisung stares. From this angle, he can see Minho’s jaw and pointed nose. He doesn’t realize Minho is finished until after he has pushed back in the chair and washed his hands and starts speaking. I’ll recycle this on the way back, Minho says pointing at the old bulb. Jisung nods.
Minho goes to turn on the lights, and the kitchen is much brighter than it was before. Jisung has gotten used to the flickering in his kitchen. Strange to see it is now no longer there. The light casts its steady beams onto each surface, a mix of white and yellow light. Jisung realizes then that Minho brought a yellow bulb to replace the old one with. Not a white one. He knew that Jisung liked that bulb, slightly yellower than the rest of his kitchen lights. And he brought another one with him. Without even telling Jisung. Without even asking what color or shape he wanted. He brought something that fit perfectly in the kitchen, something Jisung has stopped paying attention to. Jisung is struck by the thought that Minho knows him so well. This act of kindness, another way Minho has given. And he probably doesn’t think much of it, either. He must have grabbed a bulb from his spare storage or from the store and put it in his bag, all without thinking of it as an inconvenience. Not a big deal. He didn’t even tell Jisung. He wouldn’t have come tonight if Jisung didn’t ask him to, so he must have been holding onto this bulb until he would have seen him next. Minho, who wordlessly grabs a kitchen chair to climb onto and replace Jisung’s flickering light for him. Who has brought light into this kitchen and warmth to Jisung. The way his voice sounds soft when he’s tired or when Jisung tells him about his worries. The way he calls Jisung just to talk and when he brings over food he’s cooked because he knows Jisung doesn’t want to bother with all those fancy tricks when he’s tired after work and just wants to eat.
Jisung looks at Minho standing next to him who gives him an easy smile when their eyes meet. You’re welcome, Minho says playfully. Minho really is quite beautiful. A feeling arises in Jisung. He has the urge to get closer to Minho, as close as he can get. To touch his face with his hands, his mouth. He wants to be with Minho. In a way that allows him to say all the things he is feeling. When Minho starts to turn away to go back to the living room, Jisung reaches out to tug at the hem of his short-sleeve shirt. Wait, he says. Minho makes a sound of encouragement, telling Jisung to go on. To say it. And when Jisung hears this, he realizes the feeling he has is also familiar. It is what he feels whenever Minho focuses his full attention on Jisung, like nothing else could be more important than what Jisung has to say. Like nothing else could be more important than Jisung. He knows because it is how he feels about Minho. When they were in high school and he would find Minho after class to talk to him. Then, and now. Now, when he and Minho are standing in his fully lit kitchen. Yellow and white lights. Different, but familiar.
I love you, Minho.
Minho steps closer to Jisung and sighs. I’ve been waiting for you to say that.
Jisung’s hand is still gripping his shirt. They’re now chest to chest. I’m sorry I took so long. You know I’m not the best at reading into these things.
I don’t, sorry, Minho says quietly into the space between them. My Jisungie is the smartest person I know.
Jisung smiles, wide and bright. Minho mirrors him. I love you too, he says. They mirror the lights. And when they kiss, it feels right. Their first kiss, and yet, Jisung knows he is fitting right into place in Minho’s arms.
-
Minho eventually tells Jisung that he broke up with Chan because he was realizing how much in love he was with Jisung. Started when he had to confront the idea of being an hour away from each other. Jisung laughs, saying that’s what Hyunjin and Felix had suspected. They should be the best men at our wedding seeing how they predicted it, Minho says. Jisung laughs harder, shoving at Minho. How can you already be talking about our wedding? Why not? I’m going to make you my husband, Jisung. Don’t forget it.