Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jisung was so cooked. They had been invited to a special stage performance now that members of BTS had returned from their military service. When the concert started, Jisung had just been happy to be there and see his industry Sunbaenims live— something that so many wanted but not many were able to. BTS had practically paved the way to international fame for Stray Kids and honestly Kpop as a whole and though Jisung was a firm believer that he had worked hard for everything he’d gotten in life, he also couldn’t help but feel a bit in awe of the ones who came before him and were so successful. And also their rap and performance was just fire and Jisung never turned down the chance to see a fellow artist succeed. 

But this performance was different— these weren’t the soft boys, Korea’s darlings that he remembered. They were fresh out of the military, sporting muscles that Jisung didn’t even know existed and tattoos. When he saw Jungkook step on stage with his arms completely inked Jisung’s jaw nearly hit the floor— sue him, Jungkook was very very attractive and Jisung was very very gay. What was a man to do?

Still he couldn’t really tell if he wanted to fuck Jungkook or Be him because those tattoos were sick as hell. 

“Hyung, I want a tattoo,” he said, almost dreamily, leaning into Minho’s arm so he could be heard over the loud music. And also maybe just because he wanted to be closer to Minho. He could be a little self indulgent if he wanted to, okay? The older boy was solid and warm as always and Jisung felt secure standing next to him even with the large crowds around. Minho snorted. 

“You’d cry like a baby. You can’t even handle when I pinch you,” he teased with a fond roll of his eyes. Jisung pouted and smacked Minho on the arm who infuriatingly continued to smirk. 

“I don’t care, I just…” 

“What?” Minho turned to assess and followed Jisung’s line of sight to the stage where Jungkook had taken the center to do his part. An entire sleeve of ink covered his arms and shiny jewelry accented his ears and lip. They weren’t stage accessories either. Jisung was practically drooling at this point. Embarrassing. “Oh my god,” Minho said, slowly looking between Jisung and the stage. 

“What?” Jisung whined. He knew Minho could see right through him. 

“You like him,” Minho said, poking at Jisung’s sides as the younger boy pouted some more and swatted at Minhos hands. 

“Hyung stop, I just think his tattoos are hot,” he defended. 

“I don’t blame you. I mean… well, I knew him back when I was with his company and of course he looked good without tattoos, but they really suit him now.” 

“Do you think they’d suit me?” He asked, inherently craving the validation, especially when it came from Minho. The older boy’s gaze was piercing when he turned his attention to Jisung again.

“I think everything suits you, Hannie.” Jisung grinned.

It was settled; he was getting a tattoo.

~

Weeks were spent researching the perfect design to put on his skin because it had to be perfect. He was risking his career on this and plus it would be permanently etched on his skin. Stray Kids had been growing steadily ever since their God’s Menu Era, but they still had rules to follow and as long as they were under JYP, Jisung didn’t realistically see himself being allowed to get a tattoo if it was something stupid— so obviously it had to be really cool and he’d have to get it approved through all the right channels, have the tattoo artist sign an NDA, blah blah blah, pain in his ass. 

Honestly even Jisung was surprised he was willing to put in this much effort for something, but his mind was stuck on it like a needle on a scratched record. And plus, their contract was being renewed soon which meant more money for JYP and more freedom for Jisung and the rest of the Kids. Aka why he was getting his tattoo now.

Sure he had always subconsciously wanted one, especially back in his rebellious teen days, determined to lean into his bad boy persona that he was so desperate to encompass. But now it was more than that-- it was kind of like proving to himself that he made it. The tattoo would have to have meaning, of course. Jisung admired people who could just enter a shop and make a spur of the moment decision, but Jisung was not that person. 

“Whatcha thinking about Sungie?” Felix asked, sprawling out on the floor below him.

“My tattoo,” he replied easily. 

“You’re still gonna get it?” Felix said excitedly.

“You should get one with me!” Felix laughed.

“No way I’m not going anywhere near a needle if I don’t have to. Minho-Hyung’s not going to be able to keep his hands off of you though,” Felix said, nudging Jisung’s leg with his shoulder. Jisung laughed.

“What are you talking about? Why would he care?” Felix gave him a funny look. 

“Sungie, you know he’s, like, obsessed with you, right?” He said it slowly, like Jisung was a toddler who needed something explained to him. He scoffed.

“Hyung’s not even gay.” Felix blinked at him. 

“Sung. You’re joking right?” Jisung shrugged defensively. He didn’t want to think about this. He’d been harboring a crush on his best friend for the past five years and talking about how it was never going to work out between them was kind of a bummer. He didn’t want to think about that— he wanted to think about his tattoo and how cool it was gonna look. 

“I don’t wanna talk about Hyung anymore,” he whined, already knowing he’d get his way. Thinking about Minho made his head hurt. 

“Woah, Jisung doesn’t wanna talk about Hyung? Is he okay?” Seungmin asked, barging into his room as well. Jisung glared half heartedly and slapped Seungmin’s hand away when he tried to press it against Jisung’s forehead. 

“Fuck off,” he said. Seungmin shrugged, not looking sorry at all, and went to sit at Jisung’s desk and spin in the chair. 

“Why are you here?” Jisung groaned, sitting up and crossing his arms as Seungmin spun in lazy circles.

“Because I heard you say you were still planning to get a tattoo,” Seungmin replied, deadpan. “And I wanted to witness the disaster firsthand.”

“It’s not going to be a disaster,” Jisung muttered, narrowing his eyes. “I’ve actually been planning this.”

“Planning, huh?” Seungmin smirked. “Like how you planned to make a whole pot of instant ramen and forgot to add the water?”

Felix burst out laughing, nearly falling off the bed, while Jisung buried his face in his hands with a dramatic groan. “That was one time! At least I didn’t almost burn the studio down trying to cook Taikyaki,” he protested.

“Hey!” Felix pouted. Jisung reached out to pet his hair soothingly. 

“For your information, the taiyaki was undercooked. If anything we would have gotten salmonella, not burned down the practice room,” Seungmin said, spinning around in the chair. Jisung rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m just saying, if you’re going to be permanently marking your skin, maybe bring someone responsible with you. Like Minho-hyung.”

“Why does everyone keep bringing him up?” Jisung snapped, his voice muffled by his hands.

“Because he’s obsessed with you,” Felix chimed in, earning a glare from Jisung.

“I swear, if one more person says that—”

“Hey, guys,” Hyunjin called out as he poked his head into the room. “Are we talking about Jisung’s tattoo? Oh, and Minho-hyung said he’s making kimchi jjigae in the other dorm if anyone wants dinner.”

Jisung let out a strangled noise. “Why does everyone have to bring him up?”

“Minho-Hyung?” Hyunjin asked, tilting his head. “Well, he’s making dinner so—”

“No, no, no!” Jisung threw himself back on the bed, pulling a pillow over his face. “I don’t want to hear about him right now!”

“Sheesh, more stew for me I guess.” Hyunjin said, blinking from the doorway as Jisung threw himself onto the bed and flailed around a little. Maybe he was being dramatic— sue him. 

“Wow, Sungie’s really going through it,” Hyunjin said after Jisung’s mini tantrum, plopping down on the bed next to him. “You know, a tattoo could be a good distraction.”

“It’s not a distraction!” Jisung groaned. “It’s meaningful. It’s about my journey and proving something to myself. It’s serious.”

Felix and Hyunjin exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.

“Okay, okay, serious Sungie,” Felix said, patting his leg. “But Minho-hyung is going to be impressed. You know how he gets about artistic stuff.”

“Yeah, tattoos specifically,” Hyunjin chimed in with a knowing look to Felix. 

“Please stop talking about him,” Jisung whined again, his voice muffled under the pillow.

“But he’s your biggest fan,” Seungmin added with a smirk. “You should let him design it.”

Jisung shot upright, scandalized. “You think I’d let him design my tattoo? He’d make me get, like, a chicken or something!”

The room erupted into laughter, and Jisung tried his best to stay grumpy, but the corners of his mouth twitched despite himself.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, shoving Hyunjin off the bed. He toppled gracefully onto Felix which somehow turned into a wrestling match with Hyunjin essentially smothering the blond boy as Seungmin kicked at them from the chair. But the thought lingered: Minho would think it was cool, wouldn’t he? Jisung shook his head.

It didn’t matter. This tattoo was for him. Not Minho. He didn’t need anymore reminders about his stupid crush that he’d had forever that was obviously going nowhere. They were idols: they couldn’t date, much less be gay. And that was the thing. Minho wasn’t gay. If he was, Jisung would know. They were best friends— they told each other everything (except for Jisung’s big stupid crush on the older boy but that was neither here nor there). The point was Minho wasn’t gay and there wasn’t going to be a happily ever after for them so Jisung was getting a tattoo. 

And after that? He was going to get over it.

That was the plan, anyway. The tattoo wasn’t about Minho. It wasn’t about proving anything to anyone except himself. But if it gave him a reason to stop fixating on what could never be, then all the better. He’d distract himself with the pain, the thrill of doing something so bold and permanent. And maybe then he’d be able to stop looking at Minho like he hung the stars. Unlikely, but Jisung would try anything at this point. 

That’s how Jisung found himself standing outside the tattoo shop, his heart pounding in his chest as he clutched a folder of designs. He’d been told to  pick a small, intricate idea for his first tattoo, but Jisung had never really been one to follow the rules. He picked a bold design— one that spoke to him about resilience and growth. It was delicate but strong, just like he hoped to be.

He stared at the door for a moment too long, his nerves creeping up on him. This was it. No turning back. He reached for the handle and stepped into the tattoo shop, gripping the folder with his design ideas like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. He’d hyped himself up for weeks, but now that he was here, panic was creeping in. The sleek decor, the buzz of needles, and the framed tattoo designs on the walls all felt overwhelming.

The artist at the front desk greeted him with a friendly smile. “You’re Han Jisung, right? Just have a seat in the waiting area, and we’ll call you when we’re ready.”

“Thanks,” Jisung murmured, his voice quieter than he intended. He shuffled over to the waiting chairs, sinking into one and placing the folder on his lap.

He tried to focus on his breathing, but doubts swirled in his mind. What if he backed out? Would that be worse than going through with it and regretting it? His friends would definitely tease him for chickening out. Felix would never let him live it down.

His foot tapped nervously against the floor as he hunched forward, hands pressed to his face. You can do this. You can do this.

The sound of the shop door opening startled him. He glanced up and froze when he saw Minho walk in.

“Hyung?” Jisung asked, his voice cracking.

Minho’s gaze landed on him, and he gave a small, sheepish smile. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” Jisung demanded, his tone sharp with confusion and a hint of irritation. 

Minho hesitated, scratching the back of his neck as he stepped closer. “Chan told me you’d be here and thought you might want some company.”

Jisung blinked at him, narrowing his eyes. “Company? For what?”

Minho raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you looked like you were about to bolt the second you sat down?”

Jisung bristled. “I wasn’t about to bolt!”

“Sure you weren’t,” Minho drawled, crossing his arms. “Your leg was bouncing so hard I thought you were going to drill a hole in the floor.”

Jisung’s face burned as he immediately stilled his leg, shooting Minho a glare. “I’m not that nervous.”

Minho tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Right. Totally calm. I mean, the death grip you’ve got on that folder is definitely not a sign of nerves.”

Jisung scowled, his chest tightening. “I don’t need you here if you’re just going to make fun of me.”

Minho tilted his head, his smile softening. “I’m not making fun of you,” he said. “I just can’t help wanting to look out for you. You know how you get.”

Jisung bristled, even though something about the way Minho said it made his chest ache. “How I get?”

“You get in your own head sometimes,” Minho said gently. “It’s one of the things I admire about you—you care so much about everything. But I can’t help wanting to make it a little easier for you.” He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over Jisung’s hair before stepping back with a small shrug. “Taking care of you just feels… natural.”

Jisung felt his face flush, and he crossed his arms tighter over his chest. “You’re annoying.”

“Maybe,” Minho said easily. “But I’m still here. Unless you want me to leave?”

Jisung hesitated, his irritation ebbing slightly. He’d asked Chan and the others to come with him earlier, but everyone had been busy. He hadn’t even considered asking Minho—it was too embarrassing, considering the reason he was getting a tattoo was to get over Minho—but here he was anyway. And truthfully, Jisung was glad. His nerves didn’t feel quite so overwhelming with Minho standing there.

“You can stay,” Jisung mumbled, glancing away. “If you want.”

Minho gave a small smile, pulling out the chair next to Jisung and sitting down. After a beat, he tilted his head again. “Did you eat anything before coming here?”

Jisung blinked, caught off guard. “What? Yeah. I mean—of course I did.”

Minho gave him a knowing look. “Jisung.”

Jisung hesitated, but the guilt was written all over his face. “I… might’ve forgotten,” he admitted reluctantly.

Minho sighed like he was dealing with a particularly stubborn kitten, reaching into his bag and pulling out a snack. “Here. You’ll feel even worse if you pass out in the chair.”

Jisung frowned, pushing it away. “I’m fine.”

His stomach immediately betrayed him with a loud growl.

Minho raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, before rolling his eyes and shoving the snack into Jisung’s hand. “Just eat it. You’ll thank me later.”

Jisung let out an annoyed huff, ripping the wrapper open and taking an exaggeratedly aggressive bite. “Happy?” he muttered through a mouthful of food.

Minho smirked. “Very.”

Jisung chewed angrily, his irritation directed more at himself than Minho. It wasn’t like he was mad, really. It was just… weird having someone care about him this much.

Minho leaned back in his chair, his expression softening as he watched Jisung eat. After a moment, he smirked. “You’re cute when you’re all worked up like this, you know.”

Jisung nearly choked, turning to glare at him with his cheeks puffed full of food. “What the hell, hyung?!”

Minho shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “What? Just saying.”

Before Jisung could retort, the artist reappeared to call him back for his appointment.

Jisung stood, still glaring at Minho, but a small part of him felt lighter. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered as he headed toward the back room.

Minho chuckled. “Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Jisung glanced over his shoulder, his irritation melting ever so slightly as he saw Minho’s calm, reassuring expression.

“Stupid hyung,” he muttered under his breath, but there was the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

~

Jisung trailed nervously behind the tattoo artist as she led him into the room, clutching the strap of his bag so tightly his knuckles turned white. His heart was pounding, and every step made him feel more certain that he was about to humiliate himself.

“Right here,” the artist said brightly, motioning to the padded chair in the center of the room. “You can set your stuff down and get comfortable.”

Comfortable. Sure. Like that was possible.

Jisung hovered awkwardly by the chair, unsure what to do with himself. He stole a glance toward the waiting area and immediately regretted it. Minho was sitting there, leaned back in one of the chairs with his arms folded, smirking at him.

Jisung glared, trying to suppress the heat rising to his face. He didn’t even know why Minho was here. Okay, maybe he did. Chan sent him. But did he have to look so amused by Jisung’s obvious nerves?

Still, that smug expression grounded him somehow, and he found himself exhaling shakily as he dropped his bag to the floor and sat in the chair.

“This your first one?” the artist asked, snapping on a pair of gloves and arranging her tools.

Jisung nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice coming out softer than he intended. “First time.”

She smiled warmly, tapping her foot to a rhythm only she could hear. “No worries. I’ll walk you through everything as we go. But you’ve got nothing to stress about—it’ll be over before you know it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jisung muttered, leaning back stiffly, eyeing the colorful sleeve that adorned her arms and hands. 

She chuckled, grabbing a small mirror to angle toward him. “You picked a great spot, though. Chest tattoos are classic. And meaningful, too, judging by what you sent me.”

Jisung hummed noncommittally, not trusting himself to speak without giving away how anxious he was.

As she prepped the stencil, her eyes flicked toward the door. “Your boyfriend sticking around for moral support?”

Jisung choked on air, whipping his head around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “What? He’s not—he’s just—”

“Hyung,” Minho said lazily from the doorway, cutting him off. Jisung didn’t even realize that he had followed them back here. His smirk was still there, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes. “She wasn’t asking for your life story.”

Jisung shot him a withering look. “Don’t you have something better to do than sit there and laugh at me?”

Minho raised a brow, crossed his arms over his chest and continued to lean casually against the doorframe in a way that was both incredibly infuriating and incredibly sexy at the same time. “Nope,” he said, his mouth popping on the ‘p.’ Jisung totally wasn’t staring at his mouth or anything, what?

“Cute,” the artist mused, tilting her head as she placed the stencil on Jisung’s chest.

“We’re not—”

“I’m just—”

Both of them spoke at once, stopping when their words overlapped. Jisung glared at Minho, who, unsurprisingly, looked entirely unbothered.

The artist laughed softly, shaking her head. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you two alone. But seriously, it’s sweet. He’s got that ‘protective boyfriend’ vibe down.”

Jisung groaned, covering his face with one hand as his ears burned. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Minho just hummed again, leaning back slightly as his gaze softened. “Let me know if you want me to leave.”

Jisung peeked at him from behind his fingers, his irritation faltering. The last thing he wanted was to be alone right now, even if Minho’s presence made his heart feel like it was doing backflips.

“You can stay,” he mumbled, slumping back into the chair. “But don’t hover.”

“Noted,” Minho said, the corner of his mouth twitching as he pulled up a chair nearby.

Jisung jumped a little as the artist snapped on her gloves, humming a tune as she prepped the stencil. “Alright, you can go ahead and take your shirt off now,” she said casually, not even looking up from her supplies.

“Here?” Jisung squeaked, his voice jumping an octave. He glanced around the room like someone might jump out and tell him this was all a prank.

The artist chuckled. “Yeah, here. Unless you want me to draw through it?”

“Oh. Right. Duh.” Jisung’s face burned as he fumbled with the hem of his shirt, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—his racing heart, his shaking hands, and the weight of Minho’s eyes on him.

He risked a glance toward where Minho was settled in his chair in the corner, looking comfortable as ever. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was heavy, locked on Jisung in a way that made something in his chest flutter and tighten all at once.

Taking a deep breath, Jisung tugged his shirt over his head and dropped it onto the chair beside him, determined to ignore the way his skin prickled under Minho’s scrutiny.

“Great,” the artist said brightly, stepping closer with the stencil. “Now just sit back and relax. I’ll position this, and we’ll go from there.”

Jisung tried to follow her instructions, but relaxing was easier said than done when Minho’s dark eyes were still on him. It wasn’t like Minho hadn’t seen him shirtless before—shared dorms meant privacy was a myth—but this felt… different.

He stole another glance at Minho, catching the way his lips parted slightly, his jaw tightening like he was trying to school his expression. Jisung quickly looked away, his stomach doing a weird little flip that he didn’t want to think too hard about.

“Stay still for me,” the artist instructed as she pressed the stencil against his chest, smoothing it down. “You’re lucky your friend is here. It’s nice to have someone around for moral support, especially for a first tattoo.”

Jisung snorted, trying to focus on her words instead of the confusing warmth spreading through him. Or the anxiety buzzing under his skin. “Minho? Moral support? Please.”

Minho’s low chuckle came from his chair, sending a shiver down Jisung’s spine.

“You’re doing fine,” Minho said softly, his voice carrying an edge of warmth that Jisung didn’t know what to do with.

The artist stepped back, admiring her work before holding up a mirror for Jisung. “There we go. Take a look and let me know if you’re happy with the placement.”

Jisung leaned forward, looking at the stencil. It was perfect, just like he’d imagined, but it was hard to focus when Minho’s eyes hadn’t left him.

“Looks good,” Jisung mumbled, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling exposed. He was careful not to mess up the placement of the stencil. 

The artist grinned. “Great. Let me grab my machine, and we’ll get started.”

As she turned to prepare her tools, Jisung risked another glance at Minho. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—maybe a smirk or some teasing comment—but instead, Minho just gave him a small, encouraging nod.

It shouldn’t have settled his nerves, but it did, and that only confused him more.

~

The buzzing of the tattoo machine finally stopped, and the artist stepped back with a satisfied smile. “All done!” she said, wiping away the last traces of ink and blood. “It looks great.”

Jisung let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as she adjusted the tattoo. “You can check it out in the big mirror over there,” she said, pointing toward the wall across from the chair. “I’ll go grab the protective wrap for you. Be right back.”

Jisung nodded, sliding off the chair slowly, his legs feeling a little unsteady. The cool air in the room hit his freshly inked skin, and he winced slightly as he walked toward the mirror. As he approached, he hesitated for a moment before finally looking up at his reflection.

The Stray Kids compass next to the word ‘Blessed’ and the quote beneath it were right there on his chest, just as he’d imagined. It felt surreal to finally see it, the design he’d been so nervous about. It wasn’t perfect, but it was meaningful, and that was what mattered. His eyes traced over the lines of the tattoo, feeling a strange sense of pride mixed with an overwhelming, almost vulnerable feeling.

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it was better than he’d hoped. It looked good.

“Hey, Jisung,” Minho’s voice called from behind him, drawing him out of his thoughts. Before he could turn around, he felt Minho’s presence behind him, and then—without warning—Minho’s chin hooked over his shoulder, his body coming close enough that Jisung could feel the warmth of him.

Jisung froze for a moment, eyes wide in the mirror as Minho’s face hovered just over his shoulder, his breath brushing against the back of Jisung’s neck. He hadn’t expected that, and the suddenness of it caused his heart to race.

“What…?” Jisung started, but the words caught in his throat. Minho’s touch was gentle but firm, and despite the shock of it, something about the way Minho was standing so close, so unbothered, made Jisung relax into it.

“Is that the compass?” Minho asked eventually, his eyes trailing down Jisung’s chest in the mirror.

“Uh, yeah,” Jisung said, suddenly self-conscious. “And the quote. You know, from Up? ‘Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.’”

Minho's gaze softened even more and Jisung absolutely did not know what to do with that. “Why’d you pick those?”

Jisung shrugged, clutching his shirt tighter. “I wanted it to be meaningful. The compass is for us, obviously—for the group, and everything we’ve been through. And blessed because I feel so blessed to be with you guys and come as far as we’ve had— also the art style just looked sick,” he rambled. “And the quote… it’s just always been special to me. Kind of like a reminder to keep looking forward, no matter what.”

Minho didn’t respond immediately. His lips curved into a faint smile, but his eyes… His eyes held something deeper, something that made Jisung’s chest tighten.

Minho’s voice was quiet, but there was a warmth to it. “You look good.”

Jisung swallowed, feeling the heat in his cheeks spread as he glanced at Minho in the mirror. “Do you… do you like it?” he asked, his voice almost shy despite himself. He’d been asking for his approval for a while now, even though he didn’t want to admit it.

Minho’s eyes met his in the mirror, the expression on his face unreadable for a moment before it softened, a small, sincere smile forming at the corners of his mouth. His gaze never left Jisung as he spoke again, almost as if he couldn’t help himself. “I like you.”

Jisung blinked, processing the words. It took a moment for him to realize what Minho had said, but once he did, a small, confused smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks,” he muttered. “I like you too. But I wasn’t asking that… I was asking about the tattoo. Seriously Hyung, you’re so weird sometimes,” he deflected with a roll of his eyes and a nervous laugh.

Minho’s smile faltered, then softened into something Jisung couldn’t quite name. “You like weird, though?” he murmured, his voice lower than usual.

Jisung groaned, turning back to the mirror to avoid the weird flip in his stomach. They were just friends. Just Friends. “Hyung, focus. The tattoo. What do you think?”

Minho stepped closer, if that was even possible, his reflection appearing beside Jisung’s in the mirror. For a moment, Minho didn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on the tattoo—and then on Jisung himself, his expression so unreadable that Jisung fidgeted under the weight of it.

“It’s beautiful,” Minho said eventually, his voice softer than Jisung had ever heard it. “It suits you.”

Jisung’s cheeks warmed at the compliment, but he shook his head, brushing it off. “Yeah, well… thanks.”

The silence stretched between them, and for a second, Jisung wondered if Minho was about to say something else. But then the artist returned with the protective covering and applied it before heading to the register to ring him up. He could feel Minho’s eyes on him the whole time, but he didn’t have any room in his heart to dwell on that so he turned quickly, pulling his shirt on, and went to follow the artist to the front.

As he walked toward the door, Jisung glanced back at Minho, who was still standing by the mirror, his eyes unfocused as though lost in thought. “You coming, Hyung?” Jisung asked, raising an eyebrow.

Minho blinked, snapping out of his trance. He quickly straightened up, his expression shifting to one of mild embarrassment. “Ah, yeah. Coming.” He hurried to catch up with Jisung, his footsteps light and quick.

Jisung nodded, a faint smile pulling at his lips. It was typical of Minho to get lost in his own thoughts like that, but it didn’t bother Jisung—if anything, it was kind of endearing. He brushed it off as they made their way toward the counter, still feeling the strange warmth from Minho’s gaze earlier, though he tried to ignore it.

When they reached the counter, Jisung paid for the tattoo, the heat in his chest still lingering, though he wasn’t sure what it meant. He glanced over his shoulder at Minho, who was standing behind him, watching him with a soft, unreadable expression.

~

Jisung and Minho walked into the dorm together, the faint sting of his freshly-inked tattoo still buzzing across his chest. The cool air of the living room hit him, but the warmth of the moment didn’t quite reach his chest. There was something in the air between him and Minho that he couldn’t quite place—an unspoken tension. Minho had been quieter on the way back, lost in his thoughts, his usual playful self muted. It made Jisung feel a little self-conscious, though Minho had stayed closer to him than usual. But then again, maybe he was just overthinking it.

“Oi! Jisung, you’re back!” Changbin called from the living room as soon as they entered, and the others quickly gathered around, eager to see the results of Jisung’s first tattoo.

“Let’s see, let’s see!” Hyunjin grinned, already moving closer, practically bouncing with excitement.

Jisung couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm, but he raised a hand to stop them. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll show you. Just… gimme a sec.” He pulled his shirt up just enough to reveal the new tattoo on his chest—the Stray Kids compass, the word ‘Blessed’ and the quote from Up. It felt surreal, seeing it in the mirror earlier, but now with everyone crowded around, he felt a little exposed, his heartbeat quickening. Still, a rush of pride filled him when he saw their reactions.

“Ooooh, it looks awesome!” Felix chimed in, his eyes wide with admiration. “It’s even better in person.”

The compliments flowed, but Jisung could feel the warmth in his cheeks from the attention. He tried to focus on the praise, not on the faint flutter of nerves at being so vulnerable with them, especially Minho.

“Wait, Hyung,” Seungmin said, squinting at Minho, who had taken a step back from the group. “Did you just get back too? What, did you go with him?” Seungmin’s teasing smirk was unmistakable, and Jisung could already guess what was coming next. “I thought you were ‘fine to go by yourself’ and ‘didn’t need any moral support.’”

“Fuck off, Mong Mong,” Jisung whined.

Chan raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a knowing smile as his gaze shifted between Minho and Jisung. “That’s where you were?” he asked, and Jisung’s brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced between the two.

Jisung tilted his head toward Chan, a little unsure. “Didn’t you tell him to come?” he asked, still trying to piece things together.

Before Chan could answer, Minho quickly stepped in, cutting him off with a sharp shift of the topic. “Well, somebody needed to make sure Jisung didn’t chicken out or pass out in the chair,” Minho said, shrugging, his teasing smile flicking to Jisung. 

Jisung immediately straightened up, his heart skipping a beat at the teasing, but also at the subtle protectiveness in Minho’s words. He crossed his arms, defensive. “I wasn’t gonna pass out or chicken out, Hyung,” he replied, his voice indignant as he shot Minho an annoyed look.

“Whatever you say, Jagiya.”

The group burst into laughter, and Jisung’s glare softened despite himself. The affectionate nickname caught him off guard—he liked the way it sounded, even if it made his heart do a funny flip in his chest. It was moments like these, in the midst of all the teasing, that reminded him how much he loved their banter, especially with Minho. There was something so easy about it, like they didn’t have to say much to understand each other.

Hyunjin, curious as always, then turned his gaze to Minho, eyes sparkling with interest. “Wait, Minho-hyung, did you get a tattoo too?” he asked, leaning forward, his voice eager.

Minho quickly shook his head. “Oh no, no tattoos for me,” he said, but his gaze lingered on Jisung’s chest, tracing the lines of the tattoo behind Jisung’s shirt. Jisung noticed, and for a brief moment, he felt his stomach flutter. He wondered what Minho was thinking. Was he impressed? Curious? Or maybe just… distracted?

“I thought you loved tattoos, Hyung,” Felix commented, his tone light, but with a little teasing edge. Minho shrugged, though his eyes quickly flicked back to Jisung’s chest as though he hadn’t quite finished his thought.

“I do,” Minho said, a small sigh escaping him. “What I don’t love is needles. I’m content to just live vicariously through Jisung.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d like to do a lot more ‘through Jisung,’” Seungmin added, his words laced with an insinuation as he raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

Jisung’s brows knit together in confusion as Minho’s face flushed bright pink. Jisung could see the blush creeping all the way to his ears, and for a second, he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or die of embarrassment.

The rest of the group immediately burst into laughter, and Jisung felt his stomach tighten. He shot a glare at Seungmin, though part of him was feeling a little more self-conscious than he liked. What would Minho think if he knew about Jisung’s little crush?

“What does that even mean?” Jisung asked, his voice a little sharper than he intended.

“Alright, alright, let’s settle down,” Chan interjected, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

Jeongin spoke up next, his tone wistful. “Man, I want a tattoo.”

The collective response was immediate and firm. “No tattoos for you,” Felix said, shaking his head firmly.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Not until you’re older.”

Hyunjin smirked. “You’re not even old enough yet.”

Jeongin frowned, still undeterred. “Jisung’s literally only one year older than me!”

“I can’t believe you used to want to be a priest,” Seungmin scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“And we’re so glad you didn’t, baby bread,” Changbin added, pulling Jeongin into a tight hug from behind and pretending to kiss his cheek, much to Jeongin’s displeasure.

“Eugh, gross, Hyung, get off,” Jeongin whined, trying to wriggle out of Changbin’s grasp.

A warm feeling spread through Jisung’s chest, enveloping him in the chaotic, familial love of the group. He’d never met a group of people he clicked with more than these guys. And in a way, he felt it with Minho most of all. He’d never met anyone else who made him feel so at ease, so free to just be himself. They teased each other, sure, but Jisung knew that beneath the jokes, there was a deep foundation of trust and understanding. Minho would always be there for him, and Jisung would do the same for him, no questions asked.

His gaze shifted instinctively to Minho, who was already looking at him. Minho raised an eyebrow, as if silently challenging him to keep up the act. But Jisung couldn’t help it—he smiled. It didn’t even matter if Minho ever liked him romantically or not. He wasn’t sure if Minho even knew what he felt, but Jisung didn’t need all the answers right now. Minho was his person, his soulmate, even if it was just as friends, and that would have to be enough.

~

Weeks passed, and while Jisung had little to focus on other than writing music for the next comeback and his healing regimen for the tattoo. But something new lingered in the air between him and Minho. It wasn’t that anything had changed dramatically, but there was something different, something subtle in the way Minho treated him. At first, Jisung chalked it up to his imagination, but the more he noticed, the more he couldn’t ignore it.

During dance practices, it became more obvious. Minho had always been a perfectionist, but lately, he seemed to pay extra attention to Jisung. Whether it was adjusting his posture during a routine or gently guiding him into the correct position, Minho’s hands would linger longer than necessary, and every touch sent an unexpected jolt through Jisung. There was always an excuse—“Here, let me adjust your arm”—but the closeness felt deliberate.

One day, during a particularly grueling session, Minho moved behind Jisung to help him with a difficult move. His hands were firm but gentle, as they settled on Jisung’s waist, guiding him into the right position. Jisung couldn’t focus on the choreography anymore. He was hyper-aware of Minho’s touch, the way Minho’s hands seemed to fit perfectly on him, the slight pressure that made his heart race in his chest.

“You’re stiff,” Minho said, his voice low and focused, though there was something else behind his tone. It was softer than usual, like he was worried about something, but the words just slipped past Jisung, who was frozen in place.

Jisung’s mind was in turmoil. What is this? What is he doing? It felt like Minho was trying to get closer, but why? Was this just the way he was? Caring, protective, affectionate in a way that didn’t seem to have any boundaries? Jisung couldn’t get the image of Minho’s hands on him out of his head, the way they felt like they belonged there, the lingering warmth that seemed to settle into his skin.

Later that week, they went out for coffee, just the two of them. It had been a small, unassuming gesture—Minho suggesting it, and Jisung agreeing without thinking much of it. But when they reached the counter, Minho was already pulling out his wallet.

“No, I’ve got it,” Jisung protested, reaching for his own wallet, but Minho was quicker.

“I insist,” Minho said with that smile, the one that always made Jisung’s stomach do flips. “Let me treat you. You’ve been working hard, and you deserve it.”

It wasn’t the first time Minho had insisted on paying, but the weight of the gesture felt heavier today. Jisung opened his mouth to protest, but Minho gave him that quiet, reassuring smile that made him second-guess his own words.

They left the café, and Minho caught Jisung off guard when he handed him a small bouquet of flowers, wrapped delicately in paper.

“For you,” Minho said, his voice soft, almost shy. “I saw these on the way out. They reminded me of you—bright and full of energy.”

Jisung stood there, holding the flowers, utterly confused. The bouquet was beautiful, vibrant, a burst of color in the palm of his hand, but his mind was whirling. Why? Why is he doing this? Minho had never given him flowers before, not like this.

“Minho…” Jisung started, unsure of what to say. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand any of it. Minho was acting so… sweet, but in a way that wasn’t exactly like him. Was this normal? Or was it something else? Does he like me? The thought hit him like a ton of bricks, and he immediately shoved it aside. That couldn’t be it. There was no way. Minho couldn’t possibly see him that way, right?

“You don’t have to say anything,” Minho said, cutting him off gently. “I just thought you’d like them.”

Jisung nodded mutely, his chest tight, and a strange warmth spreading across his face. The flowers felt heavy in his hands, but not in a bad way. Minho had said the flowers reminded him of Jisung, but they reminded Jisung of Minho too—bright, beautiful, unexpected. And yet, that didn’t make sense either.

The next few days were filled with more moments like this. Minho was constantly close to him, making sure he was okay, offering small gestures of care that felt too intimate, too much like something out of a romance movie. Every time Jisung tried to get some distance, he couldn’t help but feel a pull toward Minho, as though there was an invisible thread drawing him in.

But in his head, Jisung couldn’t reconcile the actions with reality. Minho was just being himself, wasn’t he? He was always like this—caring, attentive, a little too protective. It was just the way he was, right?

But why did it feel like something more? And why did Jisung want to believe it? He was just going to hurt himself more in the end if he kept entertaining thoughts like this.

The confusion gnawed at him. Every time he looked at Minho, his heart would race, and his mind would fill with questions he couldn’t answer. Was he reading too much into it? Was Minho’s kindness something more? Or was Jisung just imagining things? He didn’t know how to make sense of it. He didn’t even know if he wanted to.

But no matter what, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. And no matter how much he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t stop wondering… What if Minho felt the same way?

No, that was absurd. He shouldn’t get his hopes up, really. Like Chan would say, he needed to touch grass. And maybe get an outside opinion. 

Jisung sat across from Felix at their usual spot in the corner of the café, absently stirring his iced americano. His mind was a storm of confusion, frustration, and, if he was being honest with himself, hope. The bouquet of flowers Minho had given him the other day kept replaying in his mind, and no matter how many times he tried to brush it off, the thought lingered.

“You okay?” Felix asked, breaking Jisung out of his spiral.

“Yeah, just… I don’t know. There’s been this weird shift with Minho lately, and I can’t tell if I’m reading too much into it,” Jisung muttered, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

Felix’s eyes lit up with glee and he sat up straight, giving Jisung his full attention. “Finally!”

“What?” Jisung asked, confused. 

“Never mind, what’s been going on?”

Jisung ran a hand through his hair, unsure how to articulate what was happening. “I mean, he’s been… different. More attentive, I guess? Like, paying attention to me, touching me more during practice, making sure I’m okay all the time. He paid for my coffee the other day, which, like, isn’t completely out of the norm— like I know Hyung pays for us all the time, but then gave me flowers…”

Felix blinked at him, slowly processing the information. Then, after a long pause, he raised an eyebrow at Jisung.

“So you’re telling me Minho has essentially been courting you—“

“It’s not courting—“ Jisung protested. To be honest he wasn’t really sure of the official definition of courting but he knew it was akin to dating and that wasn’t what he and Minho were doing. Right? Felix grinned but it wasn’t malicious or condescending. He was looking at Jisung, kind of the way someone might look at a clueless puppy—fond, exasperated, and just a little amused. He didn’t know if he should feel offended or not; he wasn’t clueless. Or maybe he was when it came to Minho? Why did everything have to be so confusing. 

Felix sighed and reached across the table to take both of Jisung’s hands in his own, looking deep into his eyes.

“Okay, babe, I’m holding your hands when I say this, literally all the signs are pointing to him liking you back. It’s kind of obvious, actually.”

Jisung had been expecting Felix to say that but still, his mind couldn’t process it. He stared back at Felix, wide-eyed. “No way. Felix, you’re out of your mind. Minho doesn’t like me like that. He’s just being… Minho. He’s always been like that. Right?” He asked, nearly hyperventilating. Because if Minho did actually like him back, well then what did that mean? One of them would have to confess? And what if they got together and broke up? Jisung was still stuck on the fact that apparently minho wasn’t straight?

Felix shook his head, leaning in with a knowing smile. “Jisung, trust me, I know what I’m talking about. You two are probably the only ones who don’t realize it yet. I’m telling you, the signs are glaring.”

“But… I didn’t even know he liked guys?” Jisung tried again to rationalize what he knew to be true about his best friend. Having his very long term romantic feelings suddenly requited did not fit into that image. Felix raised an eyebrow, this time clearly in judgment.

“You thought that Lee “can I touch your butt” Minho was straight?” Felix asked with a flat expression. Jisung just shrugged sheepishly. He guessed there were a lot of signs pointing to his best friend being anything but straight. Maybe it was just easier for him to think of Minho that way because if he was gay, or bi or whatever then Jisung had to confront the reality that he didn’t like Jisung because he didn’t like Jisung not just because he didn’t like guys. 

Jisung felt a knot tighten in his chest. “Okay so he’s not straight. But there’s no way he likes me back. You’re just… you’re just messing with me. He’s probably just being nice.”

Felix, undeterred, shrugged. “Think what you want, but that’s what the evidence is pointing to. I mean, look at the way he’s been acting. You’ve gotta know he’s got feelings for you.”

Jisung’s thoughts began to spiral as he replayed every interaction he’d had with Minho. His mind went back to the first time they’d met at the tattoo shop, the way Minho had looked at him that day, and the constant reassurance Minho gave him after his injury. Then there was the most recent group conversation about dorms—Minho had casually suggested they move into bigger apartments in pairs, while staring directly at Jisung, the weight of Minho’s eyes singeing him like a brand. 

Suddenly, everything clicked. Jisung’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened in realization. “Oh. Oh my god. I’m such an idiot.” He covered his face with his hands in horror. “Felix, he likes me. He likes me back—”

Felix’s grin widened. “You said it, not me.”

Jisung jumped up from his seat, suddenly bursting with adrenaline. “I gotta go. I gotta go find him.”

Felix chuckled, standing up to give him a playful push toward the door. “He’s at the boxing gym right now. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Jisung paused for a second, doubts creeping in. He slowed at the threshold of the café, biting his lip. But what if—

Felix, who had been following behind him, narrowed his eyes. “Han Jisung, if you do not go to him right now and confess your undying love for Hyung, I will throw this sandal at you,” he threatened, already lifting his leg to take off his shoe. 

Jisung’s eyes widened, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. “I don’t know about ‘undying,’” he mumbled.

Felix’s glare intensified. “Go!”

With one last look at his friend, Jisung’s resolve solidified. He couldn’t run away from this anymore. He had to confront it. So, with a deep breath, he stepped out of the café and headed straight for the gym.

The walk felt like it took an eternity, his heart pounding the entire way. Every step toward Minho felt heavier, but his mind wouldn’t stop racing. What if Minho didn’t feel the same way? What if Felix was wrong? What if this would ruin everything?

But no, he couldn’t back out now. Not after everything. Not after realizing what had been in front of him the whole time.

Jisung had practically sprinted to the gym, his thoughts a chaotic mix of excitement, nerves, and disbelief. His lungs burned by the time he arrived, but he barely noticed. Standing in front of the entrance, he took a deep breath to steady himself. The gym was quiet, save for the muffled sounds of music and rhythmic punches hitting a heavy bag.

He spotted Minho in the ring almost immediately, his focus entirely on his trainer as they traded movements. Minho’s shirt clung to his body from exertion, his movements fluid and precise. For a moment, Jisung hesitated, frozen in place by the sight of him.

“Come on, Jisung,” he muttered to himself. “You’ve already come this far. Just do it.”

Summoning every ounce of courage, Jisung walked toward the ring, his sneakers squeaking softly against the polished floor. Minho noticed him out of the corner of his eye and immediately held up a hand to his trainer.

“Take five,” Minho said, his voice calm but firm. His trainer nodded, grabbed a water bottle, and left the ring without a word. Jisung knew that Minho didn’t like to have people watching him practice and tended to rent out the whole gym when he had his training sessions so there wouldn’t be anyone else in the building. He realized that he knew a lot about Minho from the way he took his eggs in the morning to his favorite Ghibli movie and he was sure that Minho knew just as much about him. God, how could he have been so blind before? 

To be known is to be loved. 

He’d never felt more loved than he did when he was with Minho and he was determined not to let it slip between his fingers. 

Minho turned, his expression shifting from focused to surprised as he leaned against the ropes. “Jisung? What are you doing here?”

Jisung stood at the edge of the ring, gripping the ropes for support. His heart was racing, but it had nothing to do with the run. “I need to talk to you.”

Minho’s eyes softened, but he stayed quiet, waiting for Jisung to continue. Jisung took that as a cue to climb into the ring, his steps unsteady as he stood across from Minho.

“I—I’ve been thinking,” Jisung began, his words tumbling out in a rush. “About… everything. And I feel like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. You’ve been so—so kind and attentive and… different lately. And I thought I was imagining it, but… I don’t think I am anymore.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, his posture tense, though his expression remained unreadable. “Jisung, what are you trying to say?”

Jisung swallowed hard, his palms sweaty as he rubbed them against his pants. “I’m trying to say that I’ve been blind. I didn’t see it before, but I think… I think you like me. And… I like you too.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with emotion. Jisung felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for Minho’s response to either pull him to safety or send him plummeting.

Minho let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You think I like you?” he asked, his tone teasing but his eyes warm. He stepped closer, closing the space between them until Jisung could see the faint sheen of sweat on his brow. “Jisung, I’ve been crazy about you since the day you barged into my life. Since you picked a fight with other trainees who badmouthed Changbin, since you stayed up all night rewriting lyrics with Channie-Hyung because you wanted his song to shine. Since you spent your free time teaching Felix how to rap even when you were behind on your own practice, since you held my hand when PD-nim made me rap in our evaluation.” He gently picked up Jisung’s hands from where they lay limp at his sides and threaded their fingers together.

Minho’s voice softened, a wistful note threading through his words. “Every time you put the rest of us before yourself, it made it impossible not to fall for you. You’re this force of nature, Jisung. You make everything and everyone around you better, and I just…” He hesitated, his confidence flickering for a moment before he met Jisung’s eyes again. “I just wanted to be close to you. To be someone you could lean on, the way you’re always there for everyone else.”

Jisung’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Minho dropped his hands and reached out, gently cupping Jisung’s face. “I didn’t know how to say it. So I just… tried to show you. The flowers, the coffee, making sure you didn’t push yourself too hard during practice… I thought it was obvious. I didn’t want to overwhelm you if you weren’t ready but then you got that damn tattoo and I couldn’t keep myself away from you any longer.”

Jisung blinked up at him, his heart hammering in his chest. “You mean Felix was right? This whole time?”

Minho’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Felix has been trying to get me to confess for months.”

Jisung let out a breathless laugh, his nerves dissolving into relief and joy. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

Minho’s smile softened as his thumbs brushed against Jisung’s cheekbones. “Believe it, Sungie.”

The tension between them broke like a dam as Jisung surged forward, throwing his arms around Minho’s neck. Minho caught him with ease, pulling him close until their lips brushed, as the world outside the ring faded away. The first touch sent sparks through him that he’d never imagined he’d get to experience. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything made sense.

And as they broke apart for air, Jisung looked up at Minho, his face breaking into a wide, radiant smile. He didn’t even care if Felix had been right all along and he’d definitely get an ear full of ‘I told you so’s later. What mattered was that this was real and he was here in this moment. With Minho. 

Jisung laughed, the sound filling the empty gym as he stood there in the middle of the ring with the one person who made his world feel whole.

“Can we go home now?”

“Yeah Jagiya, we can go home.” 

“Wait so does that mean…? Do you wanna be my…? Does that mean I’m your…?” Jisung stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment. Minho's soft smile sent another wave of warmth through him.

“I’d be honored to be your boyfriend Sungie.” 

~ 

The room buzzed with half curiosity, half annoyance as the group gathered in their dorm’s living area, snacks abandoned on the table and all eyes on Jisung, who was practically bouncing on his toes with nervous energy. Minho stood off to the side, arms crossed, his usual calm demeanor a stark contrast to Jisung’s jitteriness.

“So, uh, thanks for coming, everyone,” Jisung started, his voice slightly higher-pitched than normal. “I have something really important to tell you all.”

Felix leaned forward, practically vibrating with anticipation, while Jeongin yawned exaggeratedly. “This better be good,” Jeongin quipped.

Jisung took a deep breath, gripping Minho’s hand for courage. “Minho and I… we’re dating!” He threw his free arm up for dramatic effect, a wide grin splitting his face.

Felix immediately burst into a loud cheer, clapping his hands like a proud parent. “I knew it! Oh my god, finally! Congrats, you two!”

The rest of the room, however, remained unsettlingly quiet. Hyunjin blinked at them in genuine confusion. “Wait, you’re serious? You weren’t dating before?”

Jeongin snorted, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah, with the uncomfortable amount of times I’ve had to third wheel with you, I thought you two were already dating too. You literally released a love song together.”

Minho and Jisung exchanged a sheepish glance, Jisung’s cheeks flushing bright red. “Feelings are hard, okay? And scary!” Jisung protested, crossing his arms defensively.

Minho chuckled, wrapping his arms around Jisung and rubbing soothing hands up and down his arms. “You’re doing great, love.”

Jeongin groaned. “Ugh, gross. Keep it PG, please.”

Chan stepped forward, clapping both of them on the shoulder with a warm smile. “Honestly, I’m happy for you guys. I think you’ll be good for each other.”

Changbin, however, grumbled under his breath, pulling out a wad of cash and slapping it into Seungmin’s smugly waiting hand. “You couldn’t have waited until Chuseok?” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, you guys were betting on us?” Jisung asked incredulously. 

“Thank you, Hyung,” Seungmin said with exaggerated politeness, slipping the money into his pocket. “And congratulations, you two.”

“Thanks I guess,” Jisung mumbled, still annoyed at his friends figuring out his and Minho's feelings before they even did. Jisung could have been dating Minho ages ago. But it was hard to focus when Minho’s hands flexed around his waist and tugged him back a bit so he could rest his chin on Jisung’s shoulder. 

“Anyway,” Felix piped up, “we should celebrate! Let’s order food!”

“I think Chan-hyung should pay!” Hyunjin suggested, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Seungmin arched a brow. “No, Minho-hyung should pay for putting us all through months of emotional turmoil.”

Minho leveled Seungmin with a glare. “Keep talking, Seungminnie, and I’ll make sure your next coffee ‘accidentally’ has salt in it.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any time between ogling your boyfriend,” Seungmin shot back, unimpressed.

“Yah! Kim Seungmin you can go in the air fryer too, and for the record, I can multitask just fine—“

“Alright that’s enough, I’ll pay for it. Felix is right; this is something to celebrate. My kids are growing up so fast,” Chan said, wiping a fake tear from his eyes. 

“So wise and dramatic, he’s definitely more than half fifty,” Seungmin quipped.

“Yah!” Chan echoed Minho in indignation as the group laughed and descended into playful bickering. Meanwhile, Jisung couldn’t stop the warmth blooming in his chest. This was his family—chaotic, loving, and everything he could ever ask for. And now, with Minho’s steady presence by his side, he felt like he could handle anything.

For the first time in a long time, he was content.

~ 

Waking up beside Minho wasn’t new—they shared beds all the time. Jisung may have been an introvert, but he hated being alone, and Minho always indulged him, letting him crawl into his bed without complaint.

What was new was the way Minho’s arm was draped over his waist, his hand resting on Jisung’s hip like it belonged there. The way their legs were tangled together, Minho’s warmth radiating into Jisung’s skin. The way Minho’s steady breath tickled the back of his neck, soothing and grounding all at once.

This wasn’t just sharing a bed anymore. This was waking up beside someone who loved him. Someone who chose him.

Jisung blinked against the soft light streaming in through the curtains, his chest swelling with a mix of disbelief and joy. He carefully turned in Minho’s arms, trying not to wake him, but Minho stirred anyway, cracking one eye open and offering a lazy, lopsided smile.

“Morning,” Minho murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep.

Jisung grinned, his heart flipping at the sight of Minho’s sleep-tousled hair and bare face. “Morning, Hyung.”

Minho shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Jisung. His fingers brushed against the edge of Jisung’s tattoo, the skin still smooth and healed, but sensitive under Minho’s touch.

Jisung raised a teasing brow. “You know, I think you might love my tattoos more than you love me,” he pouted.

Minho huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.” His voice softened, his gaze growing warm. “I love you, Jisung. The tattoos…” He traced the ink gently, almost reverently. “They’re just the cherry on top.”

Jisung flushed, burying his face in Minho’s chest to hide his growing smile. “You’re so cheesy,” he mumbled, his voice muffled.

Minho laughed, wrapping his arms tighter around Jisung. “You’re the one who started it.”

Jisung tilted his head up to meet Minho’s eyes, his grin turning mischievous. “So, if I get another tattoo, will you fall even more in love with me?”

Minho groaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“You didn’t say no.”

Minho smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to Jisung’s forehead. “I don’t need another tattoo to love you more, Jisung. That part just keeps happening on its own.”

Jisung froze for a moment, his heart thudding against his ribcage as the weight of Minho’s words settled over him. This was real. They were real.

He let out a breathless laugh, wrapping his arms around Minho’s neck and pulling him close. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

Minho smirked, brushing his lips over Jisung’s temple. “I know.”

Jisung rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t waver. For the first time, he felt the truth of it down to his bones: they were in love. And nothing had ever felt more right. Like his tattoo said, he’d never felt more blessed. 

He knew that tattoo was a great idea. 

Fin.