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original inspo from this
Jisung and Minho first breathed the same air when they were nine and eleven. Bare feet caressing the overgrown grass of the newly purchased home next door that now housed Jisung, his brother, and his two parents. It was June, and the new summer heat caused the children to sweat and complain as they waited for both sets of parents to finish unpacking and helping each other, which prompted Minho's mother to quickly stick two pink and green swirled ice pops into their tiny hands which housed the dirt underneath their fingernails from their previous game of ‘Chef’, where they gave each other two minutes to make the most delicious tasting and looking dish. The only issue was that their only available ingredients were the dirt that sat underneath them, and the leaves off of the large overgrown tree from Minho's backyard. (Spoiler: Neither of their parents let them taste test their final masterpieces, so Minho let Jisung claim first place since he was new in town. And honestly, his result did look way more presentable than Minho's own mud pie.)
Since that day, they were inseparable. Even at school, they sat next to each other any chance they would get, although it was a bit hard since they were in different grades. Sometimes, Minho would ask his teacher to use the restroom, when instead he was just going to go stand near Jisungs open class door and make stupid faces at him in an attempt to make him laugh. Yeah, that did get Minho in detention about three times, and the teacher slammed the door shut in his face twice, but it was worth it. Jisung would even sit outside the detention room for the two hours Minho had to spend after school, and they would return to Jisungs house to play Mario kart on his GameCube afterwards. Jisung always picked Peach, and Minho Yoshi.
When Minho eventually started middle school and Jisung was still stuck in elementary, they opted to have sleepovers every chance they could get. Since they were neighbors, and their parents now knew one another quite well since the move in, they were allowed to share weekends as well as school nights together, under the premise that they’d do their homework and be asleep by nine thirty. Of course, that didn’t really happen. But they were able to fool their parents into believing it did.
Into highschool, when Jisung was 14 and Minho was 16, it went about the same as their adventures in elementary, although now they had a few more friends than just each other. Jisung met Felix and Seungmin who transferred the year Jisung started highschool, and Minho met Chan, who was a year older but in many of the same classes. All five of them sat together during lunch, and occasionally hung out after school. But even then, Jisung and Minho were still the closest with each other. When the three of them would leave Minhos after finally deciding to call it a night, Jisung always stayed behind and fell asleep in Minho's slightly deflated bean bag after they watched two episodes of some new anime together. If Minho ever kissed his forehead and placed a blanket lightly over top of him after he was fully asleep, no one was to know.
Into college, Minho moved a few hours away, only accepting the college's offer if Jisung made a promise to join him when it was his time to graduate. That happened, with Jisung being eighteen and Minho twenty, eventually living together in their own apartment near campus, as best friends. Shortly after, Minho started becoming a little more aware of what his own feelings towards Jisung actually were, although this wasn’t entirely news to him either. Minho had first noticed his ‘more than friends’ thinking a while back, but ultimately chose to leave it be, as he never wanted to frighten Jisung or scare him off. He wouldn’t be able to live without Jisung.
One year in the middle of January, when Jisung was twenty one and Minho twenty three, the universe, stars, and galaxy decided they would finally stop breathing the same air. This was the first time since Minho moved off to college that they hadn’t done so, and prior to that only being the few ages in their lives spent as strangers before Jisung pulled up to his new home in a large white moving van eleven years ago. They’ve spent over half of their lives together.
Outside was a gloomy winter evening, with light snowfalls and gray slush covering the roads. Just the day before it was warm, which caused most of the snow to melt, leaving only the ugly and dirty to be seen. Now when Minho looks back on it, he likes to think that the sky was mourning with him. Maybe the sky too knew Jisung, and how amazing a person he was. Scratch that, of course the sky knew Jisung. No one would be able to ignore Jisung, even if they tried their hardest to. Minho bets that there are aliens from far away planets who are fans of Jisung as well, and have spent their lives wishing that one day they could meet him. Do you think they know where Jisung went? Minho likes to imagine that Jisung found out how popular he was over there on the alien planet, and instead was just making a quick stop to visit them. Maybe he did forget to text Minho about his plans. He always had a passion for caring for those that loved him, and even the ones who didn’t. It was one of the million things Minho could count off the top of his head that made him so beautiful. Jisung was so beautiful. Jisung was so beautiful. Minho doesn’t blame anybody, not even himself or Jisung. It wasn’t Jisungs fault. He could have been so beautiful.
When it happened, Minho was returning from his dance class he teaches every Thursday at the studio. He was already a bit annoyed since he tripped and ripped a hole in his new practice shorts, along with gaining a newly scraped knee, all happening only five minutes prior to walking in the building. When he received the call shortly after from Felix saying that something may be wrong, the annoyance was quickly replaced with anxiousness. Instead of feeling a throbbing pain in his knee, he heard his heartbeat loud in his ears, and felt his skin prickle with anxiety and fear.
Felix immediately sounded worried, stating that Jisung was meant to arrive three hours prior, yet never showed up. They were going to go out and get drinks together, but they always meet at Felix’s first to discuss their outfits and plans for the night. Jisung always answers, even if he’s in the studio working on a new track or busy sleeping. But even if he somehow doesn’t, he always makes sure that he returns the call or sends them a text within the following hour. Three hours with no reply and no show up is extremely unlike him, and has never happened a single time that either of them can remember.
Minho remembers the knock at his door only a few seconds after hanging up the phone with Felix, telling him that he was on his way to his apartment and would be retracing Jisungs steps along the way just in case. Just in case he might find Jisung.
Of course, his first instinct was that it was Jisung. His mind was working so fast and was so desperate for a good ending that it ignored the fact that Jisung wouldn’t knock, since he has a key. He quickly decided Jisung must have lost it, couldn’t find it, and was spending that time locating it. He didn’t care that three hours was way too long to search for a missing key when you've only been walking a few minutes, and that Jisung would’ve just told Felix he’d be a bit late. But as his spiraling reassuring thoughts were interrupted by another set of knocks, he felt nauseous and as if the blood drained out of his body. Hearing the words on the other side, “This is the police, we just have a few things we need to discuss with you.” Doesn’t seem like it’s going to help your reassuring thoughts. Because it didn’t. And it doesn’t. It never will. It’s not supposed to.
As Minho opened the door slowly, taking his time to breathe and transition his line of sight from the couch pillow Jisung always sleeps on to the police’s face, he already knows what he’s going to be told when he realizes that the Police’s expressions appear as if they just returned from a funeral of someone they didn’t know. Sorrow and Sadness for the people who were closest to the person, along with the furrowed eyebrows and downturned lips. In a way, they did return from a stranger's funeral. One that they chose to attend as protocol, and now they have to offer their condolences to the ones who knew them deeply, and cared for them deeply, whilst they’re crying over the casket as the police pat them on the back, unaware of how to help.
Jisung died from a hit and run. It wasn’t his fault. He looked both ways before crossing, and kept one headphone out of his ear in order to hear any noises or complaints from a driver he might need to be aware of. Oddly enough, the streets were fairly empty at the time. Jisung had seen almost no cars, aside from the ones that already passed through and were halfway to being far out of his sight. So for some unbeknownst reason, a driver appeared out of thin air. The driver was reckless, speeding in order to reach a destination that eventually wouldn’t matter all that much in the end when they finally got caught three days later. Thankfully, the worker of a restaurant directly next to the incident was able to get to Jisung quickly, but not quick enough. Dying in the hospital after succumbing to your injuries is a bittersweet way to go. The restaurant worker and all the staff included in aiding him hoped that they were able to arrive at just the right time, only to find out his fate hours or days later.
—
Minho rotted away for the first two months, avoiding his work and friends. From mid January to mid March, he ate less, slept more, and ignored the many attempts from others to reach out to him, until eventually they decided to barge in when the silence from Minho became concerning. First was Felix, choosing to open the door himself with the spare key he was given for emergencies. He cried with Minho, holding him against his own chest as he lightly thread his fingers through his hair, rocking both of them back and forth. After two minutes, Minho made him stop because it felt too similar to when he and Jisung would lay in each other's arms on their couch, watching a boring documentary and eating buttered kettle corn. Even the way Felix offered sympathy reminded him of Jisung. Maybe they really were twins, now that he thinks about it. Born under the same moon, which gave them an unspoken sort of closeness and bond. Minho felt for Felix too. His once always brightened eyes suddenly left dull as the heavy cloud of what happened hung over the bed they laid on.
Before Felix, when Jisung had just died, Minho's parents and Jisungs called. His parents cried, Jisungs parents cried, and they all discussed the preparations for the funeral which was decided to happen in the week around valentines day. Ironically, that day was bright and sunny, melting all the snow and slush that covered the concrete sidewalks they walked along to reach their temporary and Jisungs final destination. Minho again liked to think the sky was sending a tribute to Jisung by using the first of the three suns. Maybe the aliens were mourning too on their planet. Maybe Jisung was actually safe, waiting for the right moment to announce his wicked joke. Maybe, Maybe.
—
The next three months after mid March, when the new summer heat of June emerged again, Minho felt nostalgic. Although he always felt nostalgic lately, the memories and words they shared constantly washing over him, this was a little different. He seemed to remember his first meeting with Jisung even clearer. Maybe today the clouds and sun were so perfectly placed, that they mirrored the exact same weather of that day. Hot and humid, only allowing enough comfortability to sit and enjoy a nice pink and green swirled popsicle.
He was sweaty. Aside from the fact that it was mainly due to Jisung normally always being the one in control of the apartment's temperature, as he was more sensitive to the changes, it was also because Minho wanted to feel that first day again as close to perfection as he could. He laid sprawled on their living room floor, eyes closed and imagining that the roughness of the cheap maroon carpet that spread across their living room floor was actually softly overgrown green grass. He pretended he was waiting for Jisung to go and grab his supplies for their chef contest, and that he could hear the faint sounds of Jisungs parents sharing life stories with his own, while Jisungs older brother helped with unpacking the dining room. If he concentrated enough, he thinks he could nearly hear Jisung yelling about how he ‘can't find any bowls his mom will let him use’. Thankfully Minho's dad allowed them to use their own spare tupperware from under the sink.
After ten minutes, when Minho slowly opened his eyes and adjusted to the warm yellow light emitting from the fairy lights Jisung assisted him in hanging above the fireplace, he became depressed again. He was back to reality, where Jisung was no longer about to be right back. Jisung wasn’t busy grabbing the bowl from Minho's cupboards anymore. He wasn’t writing songs anymore, leaving sheets of unfinished lyrics strewn about the kitchen table after passing out from exhaustion and being carried to his bed by Minho. He wasn’t calling out to Minho from the front door that he would be right back as he left to go hang out at the studio with Chan and his friend Changbin, or to meet up with Seungmin and Felix to drink boxed wine on their kitchen floor. He no longer told Minho things. Minho wonders why. Aren’t they best friends? Don’t best friends tell each other everything? Minho knows that sometimes people have personal things they’d like to keep to themselves, and he’s fine with that, but why can't he let Minho know he’s okay? He needs to know if Jisung is okay. Jisung hasn’t returned his call in five months. Minho is starting to get worried.
—
Nine months later, during the middle of November, Minho dreamt of Jisung for the first time. He was starting to get worried before that. He wondered if Jisung was mad at him. He didn’t know why, but if it was so serious that he was avoiding returning his calls and not showing up in his dreams to at least say hi, then he was concerned. So seeing Jisung that following night was one of the happiest days of his life so far since Jisung abandoned him so rudely.
The dream was quite odd, though. Since in the dream, Jisung was walking up to Minho's doorstep, holding a leash attached to Minho’s dog that died before Jisung even moved in. Jisung never knew Minho’s dog. The dog was a large golden retriever named Bo. He was so sweet, and although Minho did not favor dogs as much as cats, he loved Bo. He normally played fetch with him in the backyard, was the one to feed him, and would occasionally take him on walks when his Mother wasn't available to. They got Bo when Minho was three, and he died unexpectedly when Minho had just recently turned Nine. Six years, and Minho still fondly recalls the way Bo would scratch at his door every night to sleep next to him on the tiny bed. Minho realizes that was his first meeting with death. He never wanted to have to meet it again.
Jisung smiled as Minho opened the door, confused at the sight in front of him, and also wondering why he was now living alone in his childhood home.
“Jagi! Bo was pacing by the door, so I decided we should take him on a walk. The weather is great today, isn’t it? Will you join us?” Jisung exclaimed happily while patting Bo on his soft golden colored head.
Minho stared for a while in silence, and Jisung simply waited until he was ready to respond.
“How do you know Bo, Sungie?” he questioned.
That made Jisung smile, although it seemed kind of forced.
“What a silly thing to ask. Why wouldn’t I know him now? Come on, let’s go before it gets too windy.”
Minho woke up when they were two minutes into their silent walk. He was too afraid to touch Jisung or Bo, or ask any other questions, but now that he was awake, laying in his silent dark room, he started to regret his decision.
—
The next night, Jisung appeared at his doorstep again, but this time he was alone. It was night out, and he held a knitted blanket in his right hand. Minho vaguely remembers him saying his grandma made it as a birthday gift one year.
“Jagi, I was thinking we could go look at the stars tonight. The weather is great, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky.” Jisung explained, pointing in the direction of the hill that rested in Minho's backyard.
They would occasionally do this in middle school, during summer when they were bored with nothing better to do but didn’t want to go to sleep just yet. So this was familiar. Kind of.
Minho nodded, already deciding that since this was a dream, he was bound to have to endure random things whether they were based on his own experiences, or even entirely fabricated. But Minho wasn’t really against it, as long as he got to see Jisungs face again.
Minho spent the remaining five minutes of his dream listening to Jisung point out the different constellations, while staring at the side of Jisungs face, watching his pointer finger move left and right. He didn’t interrupt Jisung when he called something the wrong name, like when he mixed up the little dipper and the orion. As long as Minho could hear his voice again, and see his face again, he was content.
—
The next night, Minho did not dream of Jisung. He woke up sad, wondering if those were the only two chances he would get at seeing him for the last time. But thankfully, the night after, Jisung came back.
Jisung had let himself into Minhos childhood home (which Minho, for some reason, lived in by himself in his dream universe), and sat next to him on the couch as Minho switched through random channels. He noticed Jisungs clothes this time, eerily similar to the outfit he wore the day of the accident. He wasn’t wearing this in the past two dreams.
They sat in silence for a little while, Jisung not mentioning the fact Minho has been pressing the forwards and backwards button for the past five minutes with the audio on low, until Minho broke the silence.
“Why are you doing this so suddenly? What's going on?” Minho said after switching the TV to mute and turning to face Jisung.
Jisung didn’t look startled or confused. He stared at Minho for a few seconds, eyes traveling along his face. He watched Jisung stare at the mole on his nose, and travel down to his lips. He watched as Jisungs eyes flicked up to look at Minho's hair, before lightly setting it on top of his head and threading his fingers through it, the same as Felix had in March. The same as Jisung had the week before he died.
“Don't you have something to tell me, Jagi?” Jisung said, lightly caressing Minho's overgrown hair.
For some reason, Minho knew what that meant. And he knew that Jisung knew as well, especially since he was the one who just asked. Minho knew that Jisung somehow knew about his feelings now. He doesn’t know if it’s been since before or after he died, but he knows.
Before Minho can think of a response, he wakes up.
This time he cries for the first time in weeks. His body violently shakes, and he cries for so long that he ends up with a raging headache and swollen red eyes. He feels like his eardrums are about to burst.
He gets up to take a scalding hot shower in the hopes that it will hurt so bad that it forces him to forget Jisung for a moment. He used to not want to forget Jisung, scared that if his memories disappeared that it would be as if Jisung never existed, and that’s not fair to him. But now that he’s haunting his dreams, he thinks he would take any offer to stop remembering everything that happened in his life until today. Until this very second.
The shower only worked for a bit, until Minho looked down and noticed how he forgot to put Jisungs body wash and shampoo under the sink. He breaks down again at the sight of them, only to quickly open them up right after in hopes he can smell Jisung again. Jisung used honey everything. His hair smelled like honey, as did his body wash. When they would lay in bed, Minho being the big spoon for the night, he would always stick his nose into Jisungs hair. This never failed to make Jisung break into a fit of laughter.
“Why are you smelling my hair, you freak?! Are you a dog or something?” Jisung said in between giggles, although he didn’t make any move to escape Minho’s hold.
This made Minho continue sniffing his hair, except even more aggressively now in an attempt to annoy Jisung even further.
“Sorry, your hair just smells really good.” Minho said after finishing his 'work' which ended with Jisung having his hair sticking out and pointing in random directions.
Jisung sighed, giving a fake scowl and resting his hands on top of Minho's, which were snaked around his waist.
Every memory is remembered just so that he can suffer, Minho decides.
—
Jisung doesn’t visit his dreams the next night. Or the night after that. Or even the night after that night. He doesn't visit for a week. After the second day Minho thought that maybe he could finally rest, and try to not think about Jisung for once. But he eventually realized he couldn’t. He can never live without Jisung. He can’t.
This extreme change of going from being able to see Jisung every night to never seeing him, led Minho to become restless and unable to sleep. So he decides to visit the nearby river.
Minho and Jisung regularly hung out around this river when Jisung was still alive. They’d picnic, or just go and sit on the benches and enjoy each other's company. If they had nothing to do, but wanted something to do, they would find themselves seated by the river, sharing a cup of fruit Jisung picked up from the convenience store on his way over. It was one of Minho’s favorite activities with Jisung. Being able to sit in silence with one another was healing. Except now, the silence Jisung emits is deafening. Minho has never wanted to avoid the silence he shares with Jisung until now.
When he arrives, it's three in the morning. There's no one around, and he sits on the bench next to the one he and Jisung always chose to sit on together. It’s cold, nearing winter again, but he has a coat on and could honestly care less if he suffered at all. No suffering he endures will ever amount to what he knows Jisung had to go through.
After an hour of sitting with his own silence, he hears someone speaking in the distance. Not loudly. It’s as if the person is talking to themselves as they approach the very river Minho is near. He continues to hear them grow closer with every second, but chooses to ignore it since it’s not his business anyways and he'd rather be left alone.
The voice eventually sounds uncomfortably close, and its right then that it hits Minho. That’s Jisung. It’s Jisung. He would be able to point out his voice in a crowd of a million. If you were to dissect Minho's brain, you’d find countless audios of Jisung speaking, singing, mumbling, humming. You name it, Minho knows it. He loves Jisungs voice. On occasion, if he was feeling a bit down, Jisung would sing to him. He loved listening to Jisung sing. If Jisung was a siren, and Minho a sailor, he knows he would have fallen into his trap long ago.
He hears Jisung asking questions, but the heart beat in his ears is so loud that he can’t understand a single word, and is unable to make himself turn around. After a few more minutes of Jisung trying to get Minho to respond, he finds the courage and ability to turn around. Until, there's nothing. There is nobody there. No one was behind Minho. He thinks he might be going crazy now. Well, he knew he was around March. But now? He’s afraid.
When he reaches home that night and climbs back into bed, still in a state of confusion and shock, he falls asleep magically by six thirty.
In this dream, Jisung is sitting outside in his front lawn, picking blades of grass out of the ground and attempting to make them whistle. He seems entirely unaware that Minho is approaching, but since Minho knows Jisung well enough, he can tell that Jisung is faking it.
“Why are you doing this? Why do you keep doing this to me?” Minho says softly, standing while looking down at Jisungs brown hair.
Jisung holds a blade of grass in between his middle finger and thumb, glancing up at Minho with an unreadable expression.
“Were you scared earlier?” Jisung questions.
Minho blinks a few times, him and Jisung staring at each other while the wind lightly threads through the curls around Jisungs face.
“I don't know. I think so. Maybe. Please, why are you doing this?” Minho asks in desperation, yet still speaking to Jisung in a soft quiet tone.
He could never yell at Jisung. He never has. He never felt the need to. Jisung to Minho is like a perfectly shaped snowflake. He holds it in his palm, making sure he doesn’t crush it, because he loves it and thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he's ever seen before. Yet before Jisung can answer, Minho wakes up. Although Minho doesn’t think Jisung was going to answer him anyways.
—
Minho decides to return to the river again the next night, at the same time, when the weather is the same as the day before. Minho has noticed that since Jisung left, the weather isn’t as great. It’s either too hot, or too cold. Too windy, or too wet. Maybe Jisung controlled the weather when he was alive. Minho wouldn’t doubt it, since of course the weather would belong to someone as beautiful as Jisung.
The exact same thing happens, with Jisung slowly approaching. Although this time, Minho decides to turn around with his eyes closed.
When Minho does this, it’s as if he can see Jisung. He feels like he's dreaming again, since that’s the only way he's been able to see Jisung lately. He can see Jisung wearing his puffy black coat that Minho gifted him for christmas, weeks before the accident. He also notices the gray sweatpants he always used to wear as he lounged around, and his slippers with fuzzy squirrel socks underneath them. If he concentrates hard enough, he thinks he might be able to smell honey.
He keeps his eyes closed for a little while, hearing Jisungs muffled inaudible speech, while vaguely watching him move his mouth to speak. He can't see the expression on Jisungs face very well, but he looks sort of distressed. Minho can't take it anymore, and opens his eyes, revealing nothing but the vast land full of trees and piles of snow.
Minho isn’t sure how much longer he can take any of this. He returns home, and cries again. It’s so bad that he finally allows himself into Jisungs room. He hasn’t entered since January, too afraid to accidentally mess up something that Jisung won't be able to return to fix. But now, he hopes that he does ruin something in the room just so Jisung has the excuse to come back home and fill his room with his own scent again. Fill the house with his energy and existence again.
Minho immediately falls to the floor upon seeing Jisungs unmade bed. He never made his bed in the mornings, which would prompt Minho to do it for him. He liked doing things for Jisung. And now his only wish is that he could have made the bed for Jisung one last time. He was dealing with so much that he forgot to make Jisungs bed that day, but even if he did, he knew he still wouldn’t feel okay until he knew Jisung was to come home and see the final result. Jisung always called out, ‘thanks for making my bed, hyung!’ when he returned from his daily activities. It was one of their routines that helped Minho ignore his romantic feelings that made him wish Jisung would sleep in his own bed every night, because then Jisung would never have to worry about Minho fixing his every evening. And now, Minho regrets never saying anything. He wishes he told Jisung. Even if it was to ruin their friendship, at least Jisung would know. And maybe if he told Jisung, his fate would have been altered. Maybe Jisung would have moved in with Felix, never to see Minho again and thus be forced to avoid the road he died on. Minho would be fine with that. Jisung could call Minho every insult under the sun and tell him their friendship was over, that he was a disgusting freak and found his romantic feelings repulsive. But as long as Jisung was alive and happy, Minho would be fine with it. As long as Jisung was okay.
Minho crawled to the bed at some point, wrapping himself in Jisungs blanket and trying to find any remaining smell in the fabric from Jisung once laying here. All he could do was cry and ask why Jisung was doing this to him. But as always, he never received an answer.
—
The last time Minho dreamt of Jisung was around two months after he fell to his knees on Jisungs fluffy bedroom rug. The middle of January, one year after Jisung left.
Minho was regularly falling asleep in Jisungs room now. Everytime he laid in his own bed he felt like he was straying farther from Jisung, since as the time went on, proof of Jisungs presence slowly disappeared from the apartment. There were no longer messy dishes in the sink that Minho had to remind him to wash off, there were no random anime shirts thrown in the corner of the living room for whatever odd reason. There were no indents anymore on the pillow Jisung used when he fell asleep on the couch watching a movie, and there was no black converse littered by the front door. He felt Jisung slipping away from him, in all senses. He couldn’t take it anymore.
Minho did still talk to Felix every few weeks, mainly over text. Chan has asked how he’s holding up, but he only spoke to him over the phone once, because for some reason Chan made him cry the most when they discussed serious things. Chan made him feel able to let it all out, even though he didn’t want to. He wanted to stop crying for once in his life, so he vowed to not talk to Chan verbally for the unforeseen future. He instead responded to the texts with ‘im ok. i promise’ and agreed to tell Chan if he was ever in true distress, although he has never honored it.
His parents, and Jisungs parents, weren’t able to see him as much as they moved farther away at some point after Jisung and Minho started college. They both said they wanted to live in nicer weather during their ‘childless, older years’. Although he couldn't see them much anymore, especially with his current state, he assured them he was okay. They assumed he’s been working again for the past few weeks, and that he was ‘totally fine’ and ‘misses Jisung, but is coming to terms with it’. Even saying that made the bile rise up his throat. He could never truly view and treat Jisung as a piece of nothing like that.
So when Minho fell asleep in Jisungs bed that night, he was surprised to see Jisungs face, having already forced himself to come to terms with not being able to see Jisung when he dreams lately.
This time, he immediately entered the dream sitting on a huge hill in a meadow of flowers with Jisung, very different to the small one he grew up with in his backyard. It was sunny, but not overly hot. The weather was great.
It was slightly windy again, and Jisungs hair was being blown lightly across his face. They didn’t say anything for a moment, Jisung sitting with his arm on one bent knee, staring at Minho with the same unreadable expression. Minho sat with his legs crossed, and back straight. He looked at the details of Jisungs face for the very last time, reaching out to caress his cheeks. Jisung didn’t jump or flinch away, allowing Minho to cup his cheeks in his hands. It was so quiet, all you could hear was the light wind and the slight crunch of the grass underneath Minho as he moved closer to Jisung. Minho hasn’t felt this comfortable with Jisungs silence in almost a year.
“Jagi, I have a secret I kept from you too.” Jisung finally speaks as Minho is lightly pinching Jisungs right cheek between his thumb and palm.
“Hm? And what is it?” Minho replies, barely audible. He's afraid that if he speaks too loudly, Jisung might disappear again. He might wake up again.
“I realized I was in love with you that one night you slept over for the last time before you had to leave for college the following weekend. You were laying on my bed, and we were playing mario kart again as some sort of ‘for old times sake’ thing. You had just beat me for the fifth time, and I was sulking. Do you remember?” Jisung started.
Minho’s eyes were wide and blinking as he nodded yes, but his mind was blank. It’s like somehow, Jisung was currently able to make sure all he focused on was Jisungs confession.
“I was getting tired, and as I was about to turn to tell you we should sleep, I realized you were already looking at me. You stared at me in such a way, I couldn’t even decipher what it meant. But the look in your eyes made the feelings I ignored come to the surface for some reason. When you fell asleep, I stared at your face for hours. I wanted to kiss you before that, but I felt it wasn’t really the right time to. And what if you didn’t like me back anyways, left for college, and we grew apart. So I held it in until we finally moved in together. But, I was too scared again. I don't know why.” Jisung admits, staring deeply into Minho's eyes, but with regret and sorrow evident on his face.
Minho wants to scream, ‘why didn’t you tell me, maybe you could have been saved’ but knows it would be hypocrisy on his part. And he knows Jisung knows that too.
“Eventually, I think I kind of figured out you liked me back. But this wasn't until around Christmas last year. Me and Seungmin were walking to get hot chocolate, and he turned and asked if I knew you liked me back. I was shocked. He knew I liked you, but I wasn’t aware he knew you liked me too. I mean, this was more of an assumption since you never explicitly told him, but he said he could tell in the way you looked at me. He said that was how he noticed he looked at Felix. He told me I should confront you. And.. I was planning to. I was going to, on valentines day.”
That makes Minho's heart feel as if it physically breaks. Even though he's dreaming, it's as if his lungs have been filled with water and he can't breathe. He's breathing, but it doesn’t feel like it. Jisung must know it’s just something as a result of the dream as he doesn’t ask if Minho is okay, instead reaching an arm out to rest on the hand Minho has settled in his own lap.
“I regret so much. This past year, I've regretted so much. I’ve regretted watching you suffer. I saw you sleep in my bed, I wished that I could go see you. I wish I canceled the plans I had that day. I wish I told you not to go into the dance studio, that we should stay home and watch something.” Jisung continues, his eyes slowly filling with tears, and the expression of regret still showing.
Jisung takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes for a few seconds before he starts to speak again.
“I need you to live your life, Minho.”
This makes Minho start crying, too. It’s one thing to hear it from everyone who isn't Jisung, but when Jisung himself is telling Minho he needs to heal, it hurts.
“I’ll see you again. We’re going to meet again next time. I promise.” Jisung says, struggling to smile as a few tears drop down his cheek.
Minho shakes his head, speaking for the first time in ten minutes.
“I don't want to. I can't do it. I want to see you now.” Minho cries out. It’s the first time he's spoken to Jisung so loud and angry before.
Jisung embraces him for the first time since early January, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down his back as Minho cries. They always hated seeing each other upset, that’s why Jisung would sing to Minho. He knew Minho was soothed by his voice, so he’d hold him and sing. Jisung starts humming a few random tunes they know, hoping it eases Minho's pain, but it instead causes him to cry even louder, with the new realization that this is the last time he will ever hear Jisung sing to him.
They sit like that for a while, minds running a thousand miles an hour, until Jisung finally speaks.
“Be happy, Jagiya. For me? Will you do this for me?” Jisung asks, leaning back to face Minho.
Minho nods reluctantly, staring at his own lap, afraid that if he looks up he’ll start crying again.
“When it’s time for you to meet me, you will be so happy you listened. You’ll be proud of yourself. I’m already proud of you, but even more if you do this.” Jisung says as he stares at Minho's face.
Minho slowly looks up at Jisung, staring into his eyes.
“Let’s meet again, in one hundred years.” Minho says, grabbing onto Jisungs face.
Jisung nods quickly, the apples of his cheeks scrunching as he smiles.
“In one hundred years, Jagiya.”
Minho finally wakes up in Jisungs bed. It no longer smells like honey anymore.