Archive of Our Own

June 1st, 2030 (present day)

Jisung shut the door to the studio behind him before dropping his bag on the ground, taking off his mask, and sinking into his chair. He tossed the journal onto the desk in front of him.

Today was one of those rare days when his tendency to hold onto every item he had ever used was actually being validated. Maybe that wasn’t a good thing considering it would only increase his propensity to hoard useless knick knacks, but in this case the item in his possession was far from useless.

After a trip back to his parents’ house over the weekend, he had found himself occupied with the contents of his old bedroom. It had been preserved fairly well despite the fact that he hadn’t lived in it for over a decade. Among his old homework assignments and school projects, he had stumbled across something he had almost entirely forgotten about. How, he didn’t know. It had been his only outlet for nearly two years, after all.

The journal was a bit creased and worn around the edges, but everything inside was still perfectly intact as a time capsule of his two-year tenure in New York City, something that felt like a lifetime away now but had affected nearly every facet of his life back then. 

After realizing he would spend the rest of his visit cooped up in his room if he decided to start reading it right then, he had packed it safely into his bag, brought it back to Seoul, and hauled it to the studio where it sat on his desk now, still unread and beckoning him with its long-forgotten contents. He hadn’t even shown it to Minho yet, wanting to keep it to himself for just long enough to read through it first.

He felt nervous almost, suddenly wondering if he might find vivid reminders of a hard time or, god forbid, a retelling of an embarrassing moment he had hoped to forget.

He scooted his chair forward and grabbed the journal. Opening it up to the first page, he began to read.

[March 3rd, 2023]

Hello, me. This is the start of my new journal! I’m not really sure how to journal (is there even a right way to do it?), but if all I have to do is write, then it shouldn’t be too hard. I already do that for a living.

Jisung chuckled at the innocent (and awkward) tone of his past self. Even in writing, his mannerisms showed through.

I’ve decided to start this journal as a way to “process my feelings” and stuff, but I have a feeling I’ll get bored of that pretty soon. Who knows, I’ll probably forget to even use this thing after a week.

Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten. Nearly every page of the journal was full. He read on.

But I guess I didn’t just decide to start this randomly. Something happened to me today. Something very insane and crazy and unexpected. The day started off normally. I was at the company with Chan and Changbin when I got pulled aside by our manager. He told me he had someone on the phone for me, and it turned out to be someone from fucking Republic Records??? As in the label that manages The Weeknd, Ariana Grande, Taylor Swift, and a million other artists. I guess they heard some of the work I had done with some of the groups under JYP and really liked my stuff, and now they want to bring me on as a producer at their office in New York. Talk about fucking crazy. I knew JYP had formed a partnership with them earlier this year, but I literally never thought it would end up affecting me in any way, especially not like this. But I guess it’s part of some long-term plan or something like that. I don’t know. I kind of blacked out when they were explaining the details. I have absolutely no idea how I managed to sound normal on that phone call.

Jisung would never forget the feeling of hearing the representative tell him about the job offer. At twenty-two, he had absolutely no idea how to react to the news that he was being considered for a position to work at the same label as some of the world’s biggest artists; even now, he honestly still didn’t know if there even was a correct reaction to news so life-changing. 

He remembered walking back into the studio, his face stuck in a permanent look of bewilderment as Chan and Changbin asked what the hell had just happened. They got absolutely no work done the rest of the session, instead choosing to spend their time going over the details of the offer and freaking out over the possibility of Jisung featuring on a Post Malone song.

Of course, the longer their chit-chat went on, the clearer it became that Jisung moving to New York City for this job was a very real possibility, not just one that existed as a mere pipe dream. The rep had told him they were working with JYP and the rest of his management team to figure out the feasibility of the situation, but as long as Jisung was on board, the job was all but secured. 

A week later, it was decided: Jisung would accept the position and move to New York in a month.

The first few entries after that one were quite long which was rather unsurprising considering the absolute chaos he had been going through at the time. Between packing up his apartment, sorting out his visa, finishing up current projects with Chan and Changbin, and crying his eyes out at night from stress and anxiety, he had a pretty full plate. 

He decided to flip through the next few pages, skimming the entries to see if anything caught his eye. He would honestly rather not read about how horrible his mental health had been during that period of his life.

[April 9th, 2023]

I’m moving to America in five days. I’m moving to America in five days. I’M MOVING TO AMERICA IN FIVE DAYS.

I… have no fucking clue how time passed this quickly. Just over a month ago I found out about this job and now I’m moving to America in five days for said job. Life is crazy I guess.

Honestly, I’m not as sad as I thought I would be. I’m obviously sad about leaving my friends and family, but I feel more nervous and excited than anything. Maybe the homesickness will kick in once I actually leave. Probably. 

Jisung once again found himself laughing at the thoughts of his twenty-two-year-old self. Even though this journal was supposedly for him to process his feelings, someone reading it for the first time would have never known about the sheer amount of anxiety that had been coursing through his body at that point. 

He let his eyes drag down the page until they got caught on a name he had yet to read so far.

Well, there is one thing I’m kind of sad about… I don’t know if sad is the right word, actually. Maybe guilty is a better fit. 

I only told Minho I was leaving a few days ago. I don’t know why I waited so long. 

He took it really well, which was a relief. He didn’t seem sad at all. I think I wanted him to be sad, though. I don’t know what we are, exactly. We've only known each other for a month, and I guess we’ve gone on a few dates? We’ve mostly just hung out at each other’s places. It’s been really nice, but I don’t know if he expects us to keep in touch, or if he was expecting this to just be a casual thing. I don’t think it’s just casual, but… maybe that’s just me. But what do I do? Are we exclusive? Are we not? Why is this so confusing???

God, if only he could go back in time and smack his past self across the face for being so stupid. 

That was an easy thing to say in retrospect, but he couldn’t help but feel for Jisung from seven years ago. At that point, he had only been in one proper relationship and far too many situations where he became somewhat of a “long term, long distance, low commitment, casual boyfriend”. Those experiences were… less than ideal, to say the least. But even after one date, it was clear that Minho did not intend for them to end up like that. He seemed to treat every message, every date, and every minute spent together with the same amount of attentive consideration. It was clear his apparent cold and reserved demeanor was merely decoration; if he were a book, his text would’ve been written with a sparkly glitter gel pen. 

Jisung’s first impression of the world-renowned choreographer was that he was a quiet, thoughtful, and extremely handsome guy, the kind who preferred to observe rather than speak. After getting to know him one-on-one, Jisung could say ninety-nine percent of that was true. Minho was very thoughtful and handsome, and he was quite observant. What he was not was quiet.

He was a weird guy. Jisung had met plenty of strange people before, but he knew there was a difference between someone who was just a bit awkward or maybe sarcastic on purpose versus someone who was genuinely weird. Minho fell into the latter category. He always seemed to be saying things that Jisung would’ve never expected to come out of his mouth, blinking innocently as if he hadn’t just made a comment about what it would be like to eat hand sanitizer and whether or not it would clean your insides. 

Jisung would’ve never guessed that a face so handsome belonged to a person so bizarre, but Minho proved appearance truly meant nothing when it came to personality.

Perhaps twenty-two-year-old Jisung had simply been too embarrassed to put his feelings into writing so soon, but he would be kidding himself if he tried to pretend like he wasn’t infatuated with Minho from the start. He was into Minho. He was really into him.

So, all things considered, Jisung kind of felt as though he had won the lottery. Here was a hot, talented, and funny guy who only seemed to be interested in him and no one else, one who didn’t treat him like a placeholder until someone more interesting came along, one who was fucking weird in the best way possible. But the problem with that, if there even was a problem with having someone like Minho as a potential partner, was it made it that much more difficult for Jisung to tell him about his new job.

If it had been anyone else, Jisung was sure he would’ve been content to simply let things fizzle out. He could blame bad timing or wanting to focus on his career or plenty of other excuses that were still acceptable for a month-long relationship that hadn’t even progressed past the talking stage. But something about Minho made it so hard to just “move on”. Jisung didn’t even really want to move on. He wanted to see where things could go. He wanted more time together. He wanted lots of things, things he wasn’t sure would be possible anymore. 

He knew before anything else were to happen, he would have to tell Minho about his move. There was no other way around it. The longer he put it off, the worse it would get. 

Even to this day, he remembered the night he told Minho very vividly. 

It was maybe the fourth or fifth time they had seen each other since they had met. Sitting across from each other at a company dinner after completing a project for JYP’s latest girl group, Jisung had sat in awe as he ogled Minho the entire night only to become even more baffled the next day when he got a text from an unknown number saying “Hey it’s Minho”. They had started seeing each other after that, and it had been nice.

The night Jisung told Minho the news, Minho had invited him over to his apartment to bake a cake, as silly as it sounded. He had told Jisung one of his friend’s birthdays was coming up, and when Jisung asked who it was, Minho replied that it was his friend from Japan.

“Oh, cool! Is he visiting Korea or something?”

Minho shook his head. “No. He’s still in Osaka.”

Jisung tilted his head. “Uh… is he– is he coming here soon then?”

“Nope,” Minho said, not looking up from his phone.

“Oh. If he’s not here, then… Why are you making him a cake?”

Minho glanced up from his phone and shrugged. “I’m just gonna send him a picture of it. Then we can eat it.”

He set his phone down as he began to grab ingredients from his cupboards while Jisung watched on in confusion. “Oh. That’s… nice. I think.”

“I know. He’s gonna love it. And if he doesn’t then he’s ungrateful.”

“...Right.”

So they baked the cake, Minho sent a picture of it to his friend, and then they ate it while watching Slam Dunk .

It was great. Just another simple evening spent between two people still getting to know each other, nervous with the butterflies of early infatuation and happy to spend time together.

But every millisecond pause between conversations left Jisung with enough time to remember the Very Important Thing he was supposed to tell Minho, the thing he had been putting off for far too long already. If he had seemed on edge during their time together, Minho hadn’t pointed it out, but he seemed to be aware that Jisung had been getting quieter throughout the evening. 

At some point through another episode, Jisung let his head drop onto Minho’s shoulder, feeling Minho’s finger poke his cheek a second later.

“Tired?” he asked.

Jisung hummed sleepily.

Minho chuckled. “We can stop after this episode if you want.”

Jisung shook his head as much as he could without dislodging it from Minho’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I want to keep watching.”

“Okay.”

Jisung stared at the TV, but he couldn’t get his eyes to focus. There was something weighing heavy on his mind, something that was imperative for him to say before he left, but he couldn’t seem to find the right words. 

Sitting in Minho’s apartment like this, their bodies pressed together under the blanket and Jisung’s head on Minho’s shoulder, he was starting to realize none of this was going to happen anymore. At least, not the way it was now. 

“There’s this new cafe in Hongdae I wanted to try,” Minho said quietly, his eyes still trained on the TV. “I was thinking we could go next week if you want.”

Jisung hummed again. 

“Is that a yes?” Minho asked.

Jisung was silent for a moment longer before he removed his head from Minho’s shoulder and straightened up.

Minho looked over at him, his brows drawn together in concern. “Are you okay?”

Jisung nodded. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “That sounds really fun, I just… There’s something I need to tell you, actually.”

The crease in Minho’s forehead softened as his eyes widened ever so slightly. “Oh. Alright.” He grabbed the remote and paused the TV, his attention immediately back on Jisung as soon as he set it down. He sounded calm, but Jisung realized Minho probably thought he was about to end things between them. He wanted to reassure him that wasn’t the case until he realized it basically was.

“So, I guess– well, I got a new job,” Jisung started. He was already mixing up his words, forgetting what exactly he wanted to say. 

“Really?” Minho said. Jisung felt a pang of guilt upon seeing a sense of relief wash over his face. “That’s cool!”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Is it with another company?”

“Yeah. Well, sort of,” Jisung said. “It’s actually with Republic Records. JYP has a partnership with them and they offered me a position over there, so…”

Minho looked impressed. “That sounds like a big deal,” he said. “Are they bringing you on as a producer?”

Jisung nodded. He wished he could just leave it at that, but the worst part was yet to come. But he couldn’t say it. He just couldn’t. 

“Wow,” Minho said. He smiled widely, and Jisung wanted to throw up. “When do you start?”

“Uh, next month actually.” 

Minho let out a low whistle. “Wow. Are you excited?”

Jisung nodded again, but before he could say anything he felt tears spring to his eyes, the tightness in his throat sudden and unexpected.

“Woah,” Minho said as he reached out a hand and placed it on Jisung’s shoulder as the tears began to fall. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just–” Jisung choked out. He couldn’t get the tears to stop. “It’s fine.”

Minho clearly didn’t believe him, but he let his hand drop back down into his lap before moving the blanket aside and standing up.

Jisung heard him moving around in the kitchen for a few moments before the sound of the tap running filled the air. He wiped his eyes hastily and took a few deep breaths.

Minho returned a second later with a glass of water. “Here,” he said softly as he offered it to Jisung.

Jisung gave him the best smile he could muster and took a few small sips, trying to calm his breathing as best he could. 

It was a minute or two before either of them spoke again. 

“Do you need to talk about anything?” Minho asked him quietly. His hand had come to rest on Jisung’s thigh and the gentleness of the gesture made him want to burst into tears all over again.

Jisung set the glass on the table. He couldn’t put it off for much longer. He should just say it. Like ripping off a Bandaid. 

“I guess I just have a lot to think about,” he said instead.

“Oh, I can imagine,” Minho said. He had started to rub a soft circle on Jisung’s leg with his thumb. “New jobs can be scary, even if it’s the same thing you’ve been doing.”

Jisung nodded. Sniffled. Wiped his eyes again. Took a deep breath. He hadn’t expected to be acting like this in front of Minho, but he was taking it like a champ, not shying away in confusion or hesitation but offering reassurance and comfort. Despite his love for sarcasm, Minho seemed to be fiercely empathetic. 

Jisung felt another sudden wave of tears wash over him and he dropped his head down, too afraid to look at Minho’s face any longer.

“Oh, baby,” Minho said with a soft chuckle. “It’s gonna be okay. Even if your job is changing, not everything has to. Your friends will still be there for you. You’ll be doing what you love. And we can still watch Slam Dunk , you know?”

Jisung looked up and was face to face with Minho, still handsome as ever and wearing a sympathetic smile that suited him so well. He reached up and wiped a tear off of Jisung’s cheek, soft and gentle.

“But I have to leave,” Jisung said weakly. “I’m not– It’s not gonna be the same.”

“Do you mean leave your current team?” Minho asked, seemingly confused as to why Jisung was so worried. 

“I mean leave the country,” Jisung said. “I’m moving. To New York.”

And there it was. He had ripped the Bandaid clean off in one foul swoop, leaving nothing in its wake but a burning in his throat and a pit in his stomach. Maybe he should’ve tried to word it more eloquently, but there didn’t seem to be any other way to put it, surely not one that would have hurt any less.

Minho’s thumb stopped its movement from where his hand had come to rest on Jisung’s neck. Jisung watched as his face fell in a way that hurt so bad, as if he could see every single drop of relief leave Minho’s face only to be replaced with shock. 

“Oh,” he said. He blinked quickly a few times. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re moving.”

“Yeah.”

“To New York?”

A few more tears fell as Jisung nodded. “Yeah.”

Minho looked down at his lap, then back up at Jisung. “When?”

Jisung swallowed thickly. “Next Wednesday.”

“I’m really sorry it took me so long to tell you,” he added quickly, hoping to somehow make the situation sound better than it was. “Everything happened so fast and– and I didn’t even know it was happening for sure until the past few weeks, and I’ve been so busy packing and figuring out where I’m gonna live and–”

Minho stopped him with a gentle hand on his leg. Jisung reveled in its newly familiar weight and warmth, hoping it never had to leave again.

“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay, Jisung. I understand. I can’t even imagine how hectic things must have been for you.” He let out a deep breath. “New York, huh? That’s… that’s incredible.”

Jisung nodded, but he could practically feel how unconvincing it probably looked. “That’s what everyone tells me,” he said quietly. “And it is. I know it is. But I can’t help but feel like I’m going to die every time I think about it.”

More tears rolled down his cheeks, and without thinking he turned and hid his face in Minho’s shoulder, who pulled him into his chest, stroking his hair as he sobbed quietly. 

“You know, when I was working in Japan, I felt the same way,” he said softly after a pause. “Even though I wasn’t gone for that long, it was still strange to be away from home and working on my own. I felt so grown up and so immature at the same time. But I learned a lot about myself, and I met so many incredible people. Some of my closest friends are people I worked with during that time.”

He smoothed his hand over Jisung’s hair again before letting it fall onto his back. “So it’s okay if you feel scared, or worried, or like you’re gonna die. There’s nothing wrong with that. But I have no doubt you’ll do amazing things in New York. It will probably take some getting used to and it’ll be hard at times, but I don’t think you’ll regret it. And if you do, I’ll still be here. I am one hundred percent willing to be yelled at over the phone anytime you need to relieve your stress.”

Jisung huffed out a laugh. “Thanks,” he mumbled. Somehow, the truth sounded far less daunting when it came from Minho’s mouth. “That means a lot. Seriously.”

“I try my best,” Minho said as he wiped another stray tear from Jisung’s face.

“I want us to keep in touch,” Jisung said suddenly. “I–I don’t want to just pretend like none of this ever happened. I really like you.”

Minho smiled softly, the left corner of his lips lifting just enough to reassure Jisung that Minho didn’t hate him. “I would love that,” he said. “I need everyone to know we were friends before you got super famous.”

Jisung let out a teary laugh, glad Minho was still in the mood to joke around with him. “I don’t know if that will happen, but I’ll keep you posted.”

They spent the rest of the evening talking about Jisung’s move and everything involved, and when that got too stressful and Jisung didn’t want to think about it anymore, they let their conversation take them elsewhere. Minho didn’t pry or push too much, but Jisung could tell he too was wondering where things might go between them with this new roadblock on the horizon. But Jisung left his apartment that night feeling more confident than ever that maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t have to change that much.

☆☆☆

[May 29th, 2023]

Something very… unexpected, happened to me today. I ran into somebody I wasn’t sure I would ever see again. I don’t really know how to feel about it. I’m excited, I’m nervous, I’m happy, I’m everything at the same time and it’s driving me crazy >:(

Jisung had been cooped up in the studio for most of the day, having been scheduled to work alongside a senior producer with one of their long-standing clients. It was a big name artist, probably the biggest name Jisung had ever worked with, and he had spent the entire session absorbing information like a sponge, trying not to let the awe show on his face while he worked. 

It was moments like these, still unfamiliar and exciting, that justified his decision to move. It had been less than two months, but opportunities like this had been arriving steadily. He wondered what his future held if this was what was in store for him now.

It was dark by the time he left. The hot city air clung to his skin and he fanned himself with his shirt as he walked. He decided to stop at the closest bodega on his way back from the studio, hoping to grab a few energy drinks for the next morning; after the day he just had, he knew he would be needing them.

He milled about the store, scanning his eyes over the multitude of brightly-colored bottles and flashy packaging. For all their differences, convenience stores in America and the ones back home surely had one thing in common: convenience.

He stood in front of the beverage case as he mulled over his options. Someone came up next to him to do the same, but he paid them no mind, trying to figure out what flavor the “Yellow Edition” of Red Bull was and whether or not it would be disgusting.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly to the person next to him as he reached for the sliding door of the case.

“Sorry,” they replied in a bit of an accent. Jisung paused for a split second before grabbing his drink and closing the door. God, that voice sounded familiar. And that accent, although slight…

He shook his head. He was just missing home, that was all. Hearing things that weren’t there, finding familiarity in everything.

But the person next to him even smelled familiar. Like the perfect mix of vanilla and bergamot. 

He chanced a look at the stranger. They were wearing a mask, but there was no mistaking those razor-sharp eyes as they raised to meet his own.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed in English. “Minho?”

☆

After standing there like a statue for far too long, Jisung finally regained enough composure to straighten up and greet Minho properly. The other had removed his mask and was now grinning widely at him, confirming what Jisung hadn’t believed was true: It really was him, and he was standing in front of Jisung in a random bodega in New York City.

“How are you?” he asked, quickly slipping back into his native tongue. “What are you doing here?”

Minho ran a hand through his hair, which was much shorter than Jisung remembered it had been. “You know, I’m actually here for a week doing a couple of workshops at some dance studios around the city,” he explained. “It was kind of last minute, but I have some connections here and they happened to have some guest spots available, so I just decided to come.”

They had barely spoken in the last week, but even then Minho hadn’t said anything about his visit to New York, and Jisung had to wonder. Did he want it to be a surprise? Did he have some sort of underlying reason for being here, one that was about more than just work?

“Wow, that’s great!” he said, choosing not to voice his more personal questions too soon. “Which studios?”

Minho listed off a few, some of which Jisung was familiar with and others he had never heard of before. 

“One of them is actually just down the street,” Minho said as he gestured vaguely behind him. “I just got done taking a class with one of my friends.”

“The studio where I work is a couple blocks the other way,” Jisung replied. He shook his head and let out a laugh. “Man. I seriously cannot believe we just ran into each other like this. I mean, what are the chances?”

Minho shook his head. He wore a knowing smile as he said, “Crazy coincidence.”

“So how long have you been here?”

“I just got in yesterday morning, actually. I’m pretty exhausted, not gonna lie,” Minho said as he too grabbed a drink from the case. “I was actually going to text you when I got back to my hotel.”

“Oh,” Jisung said. He couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. “I appreciate it.”

They looked at each other for a moment, both taking in the situation. They were only broken from their staring contest when a man slid himself in between them to grab something from the beverage case. They muttered quick apologies as they scooted out of the way.

“We should probably…” Jisung trailed off as he pointed towards the exit.

Minho stood for a moment longer before nodding in agreement. “Oh. For sure.” He reached out a hand. “Here. I’ll pay.”

“You don’t have to–” Jisung started, but Minho had already grabbed the drink from his hand and was heading to the front.

They left the store and decided to grab a slice at a nearby pizza place after Minho admitted he still hadn’t had one. 

“It’s New York,” Jisung said. “You have to, just to say you did.”

Walking in tandem down the street, Jisung found himself wanting to shake his head every five seconds at the absurdity of the whole situation. Here was the guy he had thought he might never see again in the foreign city he was now living in a mere month and a half after he moved. Jisung thought he had played it relatively cool at the convenience store, but he was actually freaking out. Like, really freaking out. 

They had kept up their deal to stay in touch. They texted as much as they could, but Jisung’s first few weeks in the city had been nothing short of insane. Aside from adjusting to jet lag, moving into his new apartment, and getting acquainted with his new office and team, he had just moved to a foreign country. There were new neighborhoods to explore, new transit systems to master, grammar and vocabulary to brush up on; he had barely had time to breathe, which left even less time to dedicate to Minho. 

It wasn’t ideal, but between the time difference and their respective hectic schedules, having a conversation that lasted longer than thirty minutes was nothing short of a miracle. It had left him in a strange limbo, feeling as if they were creeping closer to something like a relationship while also wondering if things were going to end sooner than he had hoped. They hadn’t made plans to see each other by the time he had left. He couldn’t tell if Minho even wanted things to remain that serious. It had seemed so clear before, but with all this distance between them, it felt like the most confusing thing in the world. 

But with Minho standing in front of him now, it was clear Jisung’s feelings for him hadn’t dissipated on the plane ride over. He still found himself laughing like a child at all of Minho’s jokes and mannerisms that hadn’t changed one bit and feeling his stomach stir with butterflies at the familiar way with which Minho called his name. 

They found a spot to eat, Jisung burned the shit out of his mouth on a piece of pepperoni, and Minho laughed at him before doing the same. Minho paid for dinner (after another weak attempt from Jisung to stop him), and they headed back into the humid night air, their stomachs full and hurting from too much laughter.

“Where are you living now?” Minho asked as they hovered outside the restaurant, avoiding hurried pedestrians.

“I actually live out in Bushwick,” he said. “It’s not the closest to my office, but I feel like nothing around here is actually that far away with the number of train routes.”

Minho nodded. “Even though there’s a subway back home, the one here kinda freaks me out. It feels a lot more complicated.” He leaned in closer to Jisung as if he were about to utter classified information. “But I did see two rats fighting on the platform this morning. That was pretty cool.”

Jisung chuckled. It was nice to see the quirks of Minho’s personality were still intact. 

And there they were, standing in silence again as they regarded each other with hesitant smiles. Jisung checked his phone, then looked around, then crossed his arms in front of his chest before uncrossing them right after. Should he invite Minho to his place? Would Minho want to come to his place? Based on the schedule he had described earlier, he probably had a busy day tomorrow and would rather not stay out late.

Before he could decide what to say, Minho checked his watch and sighed. “I should probably get back to my place. I have to host a class early tomorrow and I’m still pretty jet lagged,” he said, confirming Jisung’s suspicions. 

“Oh yeah. Of course. Where are you staying?”

“The hotel is called Park Lane Hotel, I think. It’s in… I don’t know. It’s in Manhattan,” he laughed. “It’s right across from Central Park. The southern end, I’m pretty sure.” He shrugged. “It’s nice. Not too expensive, and it has cool views. If you wanna come check it out sometime.”

Jisung must’ve flushed red or widened his eyes a bit too much because Minho cleared his throat and let out a weak laugh. “I mean, not– not like that. Or… That sounded kind of crude, didn’t it.” He cleared his throat again before offering Jisung a contrite smile.

Well. Jisung surely wouldn’t be opposed to getting a private tour of Minho’s hotel room, that was for sure. Being in front of him now was starting to remind Jisung of all the things they hadn’t done together yet.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I mean, I know you’re probably busy with work stuff but we should definitely make time to hang out while you’re here. I am by no means a native New Yorker, but if you have time for sightseeing I’d love to show you around.”

“That sounds great,” Minho said. “I made sure to leave some days open for leisure, so I’ll let you know, for sure.”

Another pause. Another moment of silent stares. 

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” Jisung said. “I hope you make it back to your place in one piece!”

Minho chuckled. “I appreciate it,” he said. “Hopefully I’ll see more rats. They’re so big here, it’s kind of insane.” Then, ending on a more serious note, he placed a familiar hand on Jisung’s arm in a gesture of thanks. “I’ll text you later, yeah?”

Jisung nodded quickly and watched as Minho offered him one last smile before turning and heading down the street. 

As Jisung walked in the opposite direction, he let out a deep breath. 

What a crazy coincidence indeed. 

☆☆☆

[May 31st, 2023]

How am I supposed to work in these conditions? There is a man wandering the streets of New York City who probably knows I am thinking about him, and I don’t like that.

“Jisung.”

“...”

“Jisung!”

“Huh?” Jisung said as he looked up at Seungmin, who was watching him with a stiffly-raised eyebrow and a dead look in his eyes.

“You seem more distracted than usual,” he said. “Which is saying a lot considering you never seem to want to do what you’re actually supposed to be doing.”

Seungmin had quickly become the closest thing Jisung had to a friend in New York. A first-generation Korean-American from Los Angeles, he had moved across the country for an internship with UMG in hopes of one day starting his own music career. After seeing first-hand the terrible ways in which labels could treat their artists, he decided to stick to the management side of things and had worked his way up from intern in hopes of leaving the industry better than he had found it. Jisung found it very respectable that he was able to make that decision for himself despite the aspirations that brought him here; not everyone could say the same thing. He was an extremely hard worker and consumed music as if it were air, but you would never be able to see all of that passion hidden beneath his usual apathetic demeanor. Humor as dry as the desert and a voice dialed to ‘permanently sarcastic’, he was a tough nut to crack. But Jisung liked to think Seungmin appreciated his boyish charm and equal love for all things music, so they seemed to get along just fine. 

Seungmin had been paired with Jisung as somewhat of a manager slash A&R rep slash consultant. He worked directly with Jisung to help manage his projects and communicated with the branch’s larger team to coordinate his schedule. He was a mere 8 days younger than Jisung, so they dropped the formalities rather quickly and spoke casually to each other in some sort of Konglish they used to test each other’s language skills.

“I’m not distracted. I’m just… thinking,” Jisung said.

“I didn’t know you were capable of that.” Yep. Very casually indeed.

Jisung sighed and pushed his laptop away from him. “It’s fine. Just something personal I’ve been dealing with.”

“Oh,” Seungmin said before turning back to his own computer. “That sucks.”

When he didn’t add anything else, Jisung stared hard at the side of his face until he let out a deep sigh and shut his computer. “Fine. Please, do tell me about this personal matter of yours. I’m not hard at work or anything.”

Jisung rolled his eyes before leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling. “What would you do if there was somebody you really liked, but you knew your time with them was short?”

Seungmin gave him a weary look. “Like… in what way. Are they dying, or…”

“What– no. I mean like, you know they’re leaving, so you don’t have that long to spend with them.”

“Why would I date someone if I knew they were going to be leaving…”

When Seungmin asked questions, it was like he forgot to put the question mark at the end. His voice dropped off the same way it would in any other sentence and it made every query sound like a statement.

“Okay, well, what if you liked them before you knew one of you would be leaving?”

“Can you stop with the hypotheticals and just tell me who you’re talking about,” Seungmin asked (or, said). “This is clearly about a real person.”

Jisung groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. “Fine. Basically, I met this guy back home when we worked on the same project at JYP. He’s a choreographer and runs his own studio in Korea. You’ve probably seen some of his work, actually. Anyways, we went out a few times, but then I found out about this job and had to move after only a month of knowing him, and even though we’ve stayed in touch, I wasn’t sure if things were going to keep going. But then the other night, I literally run into him at the store and he’s all like ‘I’m here for a week’ and I’m like ‘oh, that’s great’, but it’s actually not great because I kind of thought I would never see him again but now I am seeing him again and it’s great and he’s great but he’s leaving soon and I don’t want him to leave.”

Seungmin blinked a few times, clearly trying to process the wall of text that just left Jisung’s mouth in practically one breath. “Okay. So, just to get things straight, he just… showed up in New York out of nowhere, two months after you left Korea.”

“Yeah.”

“Because…”

“He’s hosting some dance workshops around the city.”

“And that’s what he told you.”

“... yeah.”

“And you believe that?”

Jisung would’ve cheered upon hearing that Seungmin seemed to have rediscovered the question mark, but he was merely puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying it’s a bit of a crazy coincidence that this guy you were going out with suddenly shows up in the same city you moved to not that long after you left home,” he said with a shrug that did nothing to hide his strong thoughts about the matter. “But what do I know.”

A crazy coincidence. “So you’re saying he’s just here to see me?”

Seungmin shrugged again. Jisung wanted to grab his shoulders and hold them down. “I didn’t say that. Implied it, yes. But I didn’t say it.”

“You know, this isn’t really helping my situation.”

Seungmin had opened up his laptop and was already working his way through his inbox, but he responded nonetheless. “What advice do you want?”

“What do I do?” Jisung cried as he threw his head back. “I really like him, but… I don’t know. Maybe it’s not worth it.”

He heard the sound of Seungmin’s fingers on the keyboard followed by his voice. “Look. I can’t say for sure how things will turn out. You have a career here, and it sounds like he has one back home. But if you’re this torn up about it, clearly you really do like him. It might just be a case of right person wrong time. If things really are meant to be, then you can make a more serious decision about him when you’re in a place to do so. But if he’s only here for a little bit, I say make the most of it. Pick up where you left off. Spend time together, figure each other out some more, see if you actually still like him now that you’ve been apart. You might as well do that much.”

Jisung raised his head to look at his friend. “You know, that actually sounds like a good idea.”

“Of course it is,” Seungmin replied, dry as ever. “Now get back to work. I’m your manager, not your therapist.”

Jisung clicked his tongue before turning his attention back to his laptop. “What would I do without you?”

“Get fired, probably."

“Right.”

☆

Jisung decided to take Seungmin’s advice from earlier that day and focus on the present. If Minho was going to be in the city, he might as well take advantage of it.

But what to do? There was a lot to do, obviously. New York City wasn’t exactly known for being a boring place to visit. Minho had mentioned a list of things he wanted to do, so Jisung started to plan a loose itinerary. But even after he had planned the whole thing out, he didn’t send it to Minho. He didn’t want to come across as overbearing. Minho was busy and didn’t have much free time, and Jisung didn’t know if he would appreciate being dragged across the city for hours. 

He decided to start out by inviting him to a simple dinner the next evening. Nothing too crazy, but still nice enough that it might feel like a real date. He sent the idea to Minho, who responded quickly and enthusiastically, saying he trusted Jisung to choose a good place and would clear his schedule for the evening. 

Jisung was over the moon with joy. But then he started to get really, really nervous.

If this was shaping up to be a date (which it seemed like it was), that was good, right? They weren’t officially dating before Jisung left, so maybe now would be a good time to start. Except it wasn’t, because Minho was leaving in less than a week. Then what?

But Seungmin’s words banged around in his head like pinballs and he figured worse than Minho leaving was him leaving before Jisung could see him at least one more time. So, he told Minho it’s a date, then.

But the day before, he got cold feet and suggested they make it a group event. Jisung would bring a friend and Minho could do the same. 

So much for a date.

The only problem was that Jisung didn’t exactly know anyone well enough to invite them along. Well, anyone else besides Seungmin. Now that was going to be a challenge.

But somehow, perhaps by the divine power of the universe (or the Mets vs. Dodgers tickets Jisung had snagged for him), Seungmin begrudgingly agreed to tag along.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! When’s the last time you went out on a Friday night?”

Seungmin huffed out a breath as they walked from the station. “I don’t like to go out.”

“Well, neither do I. But we’re young. We should at least go out sometimes .”

“The only reason I’m here is because you’re apparently too nervous to spend time alone with a guy you’ve already gone out with,” Seungmin said. “And because you promised to buy me a drink. That’s all.”

Jisung shoved him in the side. “Whatever. Minho’s bringing a friend too. Maybe you guys will get along!”

“I doubt it.”

“Wow, I can really feel the good vibes radiating off of you right now,” Jisung remarked as they crossed the street. He really hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

☆

They agreed to meet at a bar in the East Village, and Jisung spotted Minho waiting outside with someone as they came up on the entrance.

“Hey,” he greeted as they arrived. “Wow. I can’t believe I got here before you.”

“Well, we would’ve been on time if it weren’t for Seungmin,” Jisung said as he jerked a thumb in his direction. “He left his wallet at the studio so we had to make a very long detour to go get it.”

Seungmin just shrugged, clearly unbothered by their (lack of) punctuality. 

Minho chuckled before gesturing to the man next to him, who had been standing quietly with a small smile on his face. “This is Hyunjin. He works at the studio of someone I used to work with back home. And he’s Korean, too. Well, I guess that’s pretty obvious, but…” 

Hyunjin snorted and offered them a wave, and Jisung had to wonder if he modeled in his spare time. He surely had the face for it, along with a lean, wiry frame to complement his good looks and rather intimidating aura.

“It’s really nice to meet you Jisung,” he said. “Minho talks about you a lot.”

Jisung glanced at Minho, who looked like he was pretending not to listen, although it was clear he was a bit put off by Hyunjin revealing that piece of information. “Well, shall we go inside?” he quickly said as he held the door open for everyone.

Hyunjin gestured for Seungmin to head inside before following suit. Jisung gave Minho an appreciative smile as he passed through the door, which was returned with equal enthusiasm from Minho.

For all the smack Seungmin had talked earlier, he seemed to get along with Hyunjin rather quickly. Sitting across from each other at the table, they began talking in rapid-fire English about their California roots after finding out they grew up in neighboring cities and went to nearby colleges. Jisung tried to listen before giving up and turning his attention to Minho, who was already looking at him curiously.

“So, how have your first few days here been?” Jisung asked him, trying to distract himself with his menu. He could feel Minho’s leg under the table every time it brushed against his own and it made the words on the page blur into one giant blob.

“Good! I’m mostly over the jetlag now, but I’ve been too exhausted after work to do much. This is the first time I’ve really gotten out.”

“Well, I’m glad it worked out then!”

“Me too,” Minho said. Jisung had to strain to hear him when he lowered his voice and added, “I’ve been wanting to see you again.”

Jisung let out a shy laugh and glanced over to see if anyone else had heard, but Seungmin and Hyunjin paid them no mind, clearly very deeply involved in their own conversation.

He knew Minho was flirting. He wasn’t just saying that because he wanted to. He was saying it because he wanted Jisung to know. Looks like his blunt confidence hadn’t changed one bit either.

“I can’t believe you have to leave in a few days,” Jisung said dejectedly. He nudged Minho’s foot with his own. “Not to be a downer already, but…”

“Actually,” Minho started, and Jisung perked up at his positive tone. “I was able to get some more time off of work back home, so I can stay for another few weeks. I was able to book a few more spots at some studios around here, too.” 

“Really? That’s great!” Jisung replied. “Hopefully we’ll have more time to hang out then.” He heard Seungmin’s voice in the back of his mind. Might as well go all in. “Alone,” he added quietly. When I’m not too much of a wimp to follow through, that is.

He was so focused on Minho’s face that even in the low lighting he could catch every minute change to his expression. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, maybe in surprise at Jisung’s change in tone. He grinned. Jisung swallowed hard.

“Don’t make me wait too long for it,” he said just before their waiter showed up at the table.

Jisung managed to order without tripping over his words or mispronouncing any of the menu items (he would’ve forgotten Seungmin’s drink had it not been for the incessant tapping on his shoulder), but after that he couldn’t control his thoughts. There wasn’t really much else going on inside his head other than Minho, who wasted no time in pulling Jisung into a conversation flooded with flirtatious remarks and touches that left him with nothing to say in response except the occasional giggle. Yeah, giggle. Minho made him giggle like a fucking lovestruck teenager.

It kind of ended up feeling like a double date, strangely enough. He had mostly invited Seungmin along as a buffer, but he seemed to be enjoying Hyunjin’s company very much and spared Jisung no more than a few glances over the course of the hour. And if Hyunjin’s never-ending laughter was any indication, he felt the same way.

They ended the night with some more drinks, but no one was really in the mood to nurse a hangover the next day, so they kept it light. Jisung liked the way the pleasant buzz in his veins distracted from the way his body felt every time Minho so much as looked in his direction.

They left the restaurant and meandered around for a bit to check out some of the shops and the nightlife scene. Jisung and Minho hung a few paces behind Hyunjin and Seungmin, who continued to talk and laugh as they pointed out different things to each other.

“Seems like they’re getting along well,” Minho said, leaning closer to Jisung’s side as he spoke. 

“I know. I’ve never seen Seungmin this talkative before. He’s usually pretty quiet.”

Minho laughed softly, then glanced at Jisung out of the corner of his eye. “You know, you seemed a bit quiet tonight.”

“You think so?” Jisung said as he turned to look at Minho. 

Minho shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just… Was I being too forward? I know it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, so…” 

He looked uncharacteristically insecure for a brief moment, but Jisung was quick to correct him. “No! It’s not you, I swear. I just–” he took a deep breath. “I get… nervous, around you. Not in a bad way, but– I don’t know. I’m just really happy to see you,” he finished with a weak laugh. He was starting to wish he had drank more. Maybe then he wouldn’t be saying things he would rather keep to himself.

He looked over at Minho. His eyes reflected the string lights that seemed to hang outside of every restaurant as they cut into the angles of his face with their warm glow.

“Good to know,” Minho said quietly. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Jisung covered his mouth as he looked away, trying desperately to suppress another giggle. He was acting like this was his first time being flirted with. It wasn’t, but boy did it feel like it.

The group wandered around for a bit longer before Seungmin announced he had reached his limit for the day and told Jisung they needed to leave before he “had a freak out”. (Hyunjin looked disappointed, but either Seungmin didn’t notice or he was trying to act like he didn’t care. The second option seemed more likely to Jisung.)

“What, are your fun reserves depleted?” Jisung joked. 

“I’m tired,” Seungmin replied. “You’ve been stressing me out this week.”

“Whatever.”

“Which direction are you guys headed?” Hyunjin chimed in.

“We both have to go east,” Jisung said. “I live in Bushwick and Seungmin is in Bed Stuy.”

“You live in Bed Stuy too?” Hyunjin asked as he pointed at Seungmin, who nodded. “We should all ride back together then. Jisung, do you wanna come?”

They all turned to Jisung, who stuttered out a response along the lines of “yeah, sure”.

He watched Seungmin and Hyunjin turn to head towards the nearest station before facing Minho. “Are you gonna be okay getting back to your hotel?” he asked quietly. 

“Don’t worry. I’m a big boy now. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he said before patting Jisung on the shoulder. He let his hand slide all the way down Jisung’s arm before dropping it back to his side. “Text me when you get back home, okay?”

“Same to you,” Jisung replied before offering him a smile and turning to catch up with Hyunjin and Seungmin, who were already off talking about lord knows what.

☆

[June 1st, 2023, 11:16 PM]

Dear universe. I promise to never do anything bad again in my entire life if it means I never have to third wheel Hyunjin and Seungmin again. The L train has never seen anything worse. Thank you and goodnight.

☆☆☆

[June 4th, 2023]

Just as the frozen ground misses the kiss of sunlight during a long winter, my ass misses the feeling of sitting down without hurting real bad. Never sleep with a dancer. It WILL fuck you up.

The funniest thing to Jisung about his relationship with Minho was that they weren’t even technically in one. It wasn’t as if he and Minho had been torn apart in the midst of a passionate love affair or like they were seeing each other for the first time in years after being in a committed long-distance relationship. Nope. They met, went on a few dates, and then Jisung moved away. They hadn’t even kissed yet. 

And to be honest, Jisung could probably fit both the number of people he had actually been attracted to and slept with on the same hand. The number truly was quite low, but he really couldn’t care less.

However, both hands would not be sufficient to count the number of times he had dreamed about the things he would do with Minho if he ever saw him again. 

Jisung had never been the type for casual hookups. He preferred more of a slow burn, that pleasant feeling of getting to know someone on a personal level before reaching the physical one. It could take months before he was comfortable enough to let himself be vulnerable like that with a partner. He thought the same would hold true for Minho, but the burn for him was never slow. It was more like a stick of dynamite being lit with a torch, the flame searing down the fuse and causing an explosion of feelings that moved much quicker than Jisung was used to. He was sure if he had stayed in Korea for even a second longer, something would have happened between him and Minho.

That “something” happened the third time they met up in New York.

Their second day together was supposed to be more of an all-day sightseeing adventure, but then Jisung got tied up at work and Minho got booked for another workshop, so they were only able to meet up for a quick coffee. It was absolute torture. Jisung wanted nothing more than to be alone with Minho, but he was confined to a busy cafe near his office instead. It was nice, but it wasn’t enough. He felt like he hadn’t even had a proper conversation with Minho since they ran into each other that first night.

That fateful third day together started out relatively uneventfully. Minho texted him asking if Jisung would like to accompany him to the Museum of Modern Art, and he agreed even though the last thing he wanted to do was make the trek… well, anywhere near Midtown when he had a day off, proving once again that his desire to spend time with Minho rose above all else, even his penchant for not leaving the house unless absolutely necessary. 

They explored the museum for a while before taking the train south all the way to Greenwich Village because Minho wanted a picture of him standing on Gay Street. Apparently, a boy group he choreographed for had filmed a music video there not too long before. (Jisung rolled his eyes at Minho’s enthusiasm but snapped a photo nonetheless, because acting like he hadn’t done the exact same thing when he first moved to the city would’ve been pointless. He sent it to Chan, pointing out the name of the intersecting street with a cheekily-drawn arrow.) Then they headed back up to Central Park and strolled around, soaking up the sun and chatting quietly to each other. 

They ate a late lunch, went to a nearby cafe and hung out until it got dark, and then Minho took Jisung back to his hotel room and fucked him so good he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to walk into work the next day and pretend like he hadn’t just had the best sex of his life the night before. Frankly, he wasn’t even sure he was going to be able to walk at all.

He hadn’t imagined their first kiss and first night together would happen all in the same evening, but again, he was working with dynamite and the spark had clearly reached the end of the fuse.

He wondered how long it would have taken them to get to this point had he not left Korea when he did. Maybe the distance had made them both dizzy with curious desire, essentially speeding up what would have otherwise been a drawn-out process of innocent dates and chaste moments. Or maybe it would still have only taken him a few more days to see that he was being drawn towards Minho like a magnet and weakly digging his heels into the ground in a pathetic attempt to stop the inevitable from happening. 

When Jisung showed up late to work the next day smelling like vanilla and bergamot and wearing clothes clearly a size too big on him, Seungmin spared him the embarrassment and merely chose to shake his head in exasperation before focusing on his work. Jisung thanked the universe profusely for it.

☆☆☆

June 1st, 2030 (present day)

Jisung flipped to the next entry and was surprised to find it was only one sentence.

I need to start going to the gym again.

He took another sip of coffee as he puzzled over the words. What had prompted him to write such a thing? No moments were jumping to the front of his mind as a possible explanation for his sudden urge to start working out again.

Let’s see. The date was marked as June 17th, which would have put it somewhere within the month Minho had visited.

He chewed on his straw. 

Wait. No, that can’t be it.

He covered his mouth with his hand as he stifled a laugh. Oh, this was rich. 

There was this thing Chan had said to him once that had stuck with him over the years, something he was reminded of every time he did find himself back at the gym. He said that Jisung had what he liked to call “vanity muscles”. They looked good and he was quick to put them on (partially due to occasional stints of solid discipline but mostly thanks to good genetics), but other than aesthetics, they seemed to serve no functional purpose. He could look the most buff he ever had and still feel no stronger than he did a month ago.

He could finally recall a very specific instance as he reread the short entry. He must’ve written it after the one (and only) time Minho had managed to drag him to the gym while he was visiting.

Jisung liked to work out in theory, but in practice it was a whole other story. His trips to the gym were usually just an excuse to get out of the house and blow off some steam on the stair stepper while he listened to music, or perhaps on the floor where he spent more time laying around than stretching.

But he should’ve known Minho wasn’t like that. 

If Jisung had vanity muscles, then Minho had whatever the opposite of that was. Functional, practical, utilitarian; whatever you wanted to call them, they served their purpose well. A dancer surely needed a strong body to carry them through hours of practice and performance and part of being strong meant having strong muscles. So, it should’ve come as no surprise to Jisung that the hour he spent at the gym with Minho that day was like absolute torture.

He essentially cosplayed as Jisung’s personal trainer, instructing him on all sorts of moves and telling him to work muscles he didn’t even know he had. Bulgarian split squats, weighted back extensions, banded push ups; just when he thought it was over, Minho would add another set or another few kilos, laughing all the while at Jisung’s groans of pain. He would just give him an encouraging pat on the butt before saying some shit like “we’re almost done” right before throwing in one more exercise. No wonder the guy looked the way he did. He was clearly insane when it came to the gym.

But muscles need not be used for only one purpose. No, they could be used for a multitude of activities. Dancing, weight lifting, and running, yes. Minho loved those things. But he also seemed to have an affinity for tossing Jisung around like a rag doll. He loved to do it at twenty-four and he still loved to do it now at thirty.

He would pick him up and throw him over his shoulder whenever he started to tease a bit too much, or grab him by the wrists and wrestle him onto the couch with not nearly enough difficulty for Jisung’s liking, or pin him down on the bed like he was tacking a piece of paper to the wall.

Near the one hour mark of their gym session, Jisung had started to tease a bit too much, poking fun at Minho’s deadlift form or something trivial like that. So, Minho threw him over his shoulder, wrestled him onto an exercise mat, and pinned him down like a piece of paper. One thing led to another, and…

Well. They decided to cut their session short before they got reprimanded for public indecency. They finished things off with a cardio session that conveniently took place in Jisung’s bed.

Even now, seven years after that torturous day, Jisung and Minho still didn’t go to the gym together all that much. That could mostly be attributed to the fact that they worked out at drastically different times of day and preferred different activities, but back then… Man, Jisung could’ve sworn he was going through second puberty the way his hormones acted up around Minho. The exercise itself was one thing. Trying to stay focused around Minho when he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and putting his hands all over Jisung’s body as he corrected his form was an entirely different battle. He felt like Sisyphus. But at least Sisyphus didn’t have to deal with a hot guy behind him putting his hands on his ass as he pushed that boulder up the hill, so who really had it harder?

Jisung shook his head and laughed as he flipped to the next entry, nearly doubling over as he read the few lines of text. 

[June 18th, 2023]

(Addendum to previous entry:) OH GOD IT HURTS SO BAD I AM NEVER GOING TO THE GYM AGAIN FOR AS LONG AS I LIVE. I DON’T KNOW WHAT KIND OF SHIT MINHO IS ON BUT DON’T LET HIM NEAR ME WITH A DUMBELL EVER AGAIN. 

(Also, Minho keeps going on about how every time he touches my butt, I show such “grand reactions” and it makes him proud… I’m not sure if that’s some kind of weird kink but it makes him happy so I guess it’s fine.)

Well. Looks like that habit of Minho’s hadn’t changed either.

☆☆☆

[June 22nd, 2023]

The internet is a strange and mystical place. Is it true you’ve reached peak fame when you have people shipping you with other celebrities? Or am I just being too obvious?

Jisung was back at his apartment after yet another long day at the studio and he lay on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on social media as he let Naruto play in the background.

He had finally found the willpower to turn off his phone and get up to make dinner, but something caught his eye at the last second. He stopped for a brief moment before scrolling back a few photos. And just as he had suspected, it was a picture of him and Minho from the day they went to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. It looked like it had been taken by someone not too far off in the distance, if the image quality was any indication. 

He wasn’t necessarily a stranger to having his picture taken in public. Although it did surprise him just a bit considering he didn’t see himself as the type of celebrity people would notice out in the wild (he didn’t even really see himself as a celebrity to begin with, after all), he had come across candid photos of himself online enough times to not be completely caught off guard by their existence.

@heynana707 posted :

(Picture taken a few days ago*) I saw Han Jisung in NYC the other day! I didn’t want to bother him so I tried to keep my distance, but I was kind of freaking out…

To be honest, he kind of hated being perceived in this way. He knew there was nothing he could really do to stop it and he appreciated that this fan had at least waited a few days to post the photos and hadn’t come up to him out of nowhere, but it was still such a strange feeling to see what looked like a photo taken by a stalker paired with such a cute caption. 

He opened the replies.

@127stickers commented:  

Omg so lucky!! I’ve been a fan ever since 3racha’s Soundcloud days so I can’t even imagine what I would do if I saw him :0

@bluesung commented:  

wait doesn’t he work for republic records now or smth? i feel like I’ve seen his name on a lot of their artists’ song credits these days,,,

@Boddari98 commented:  

Am I crazy or does that other guy look like Lee Minho??? I follow him on Instagram and he’s been posting about dance workshops in New York. I wonder if they’re friends?

It seemed that fans, or at least this fan in particular, had picked up on who the other person in the photo was. 

The photo looked normal enough. Just two pals hanging out on their day off. But even with the microwave-quality, there was something to be said about the way Minho was looking at him. The affectionate gleam in his eyes was obvious enough even with all of the extra graininess. 

The original poster had included one or two other photos and it seemed in every single one they were leaning into each other’s personal space or looking at the other with eyes that crinkled into crescents, exposing the wide smiles hidden beneath the masks they had donned before going out in public as an extra precaution. Clearly, that had been in vain. 

He hesitated for a moment before opening up the search bar and typing his and Minho’s names in. He didn’t like to go looking for things about himself online; that was a lesson he had learned very early on in his career. You never really saw the things you wanted to. But he considered this time to be an exception.

Most of what popped up was posts crediting him and Minho as members of the production team behind the debut of JYP’s latest girl group, but other than that there was nothing else containing their names together in a way that actually meant something other than one time, they had worked on the same creative team.

He was about to close out of the app before he accidentally stumbled across something he didn’t want to see, but just before he did, his eyes scanned past a video with the hashtag Minsung. 

Was that… their names? Together?

He tapped on the video. 

It appeared to be some sort of fan edit of the two of them. Considering how few times they had actually made content together or hung out publicly, it was impressive just how much content the creator was able to get. Clearly enough to make a thirty-second video. His eyes drifted to the caption.

POV: the artists behind your favorite idols are just as hot as they are

It seemed harmless enough. Just a simple edit appreciating their visuals and talent. Some of the clips were of them talking to each other from the singular interview Jisung remembered them having to do during the project, but most seemed to just be from their own solo content.

He hesitated for a brief moment before opening up the replies.

There weren’t that many. It wasn’t surprising that most of them were for Minho considering he was the more public figure between the two of them (And he had to agree with them anyways. Who wouldn’t thirst over Minho?), but Jisung appreciated the few that were for him. But one comment in particular caught his eye.

@Apateulover commented:  

Anyone else think they look cute together? I lowkey ship it

There was no way that person could pinpoint any sort of chemistry just from that one video. Half of the clips weren’t even of them talking directly to each other. They were probably just saying that as a joke, something to get engagement online, maybe a few likes at best.

He watched the edit again. And again, and again, and again.

After the fifth watch, he shut off his phone and set it facedown on the table. 

It was just one video. It’s not like they had actual shippers. That would be crazy. They barely had any content together. There’s no way people would know what was actually going on.

But what was going on?

They weren’t dating. They weren’t in some clandestine relationship. They couldn’t be caught because there was nothing to catch.

But surely there was something to be said about the way Minho only left marks in places that would never be seen by another soul, and surely there was something to be said about the fact that Jisung wouldn’t let anyone else besides Minho get close enough to leave marks in those places. That didn’t seem like something a friend would do. Certainly not any friend Jisung had had before. 

They spent almost every day together. Neither of them were interested in seeing other people. It was exclusive in every sense of the word. It should seem so obvious that they should get together. 

But more than the anxiety he felt whenever he thought about asking Minho to be something more than what they already were, Jisung was just too scared to ask what was going to happen when Minho left.

☆☆☆

[June 27th, 2023]

Do you ever find yourself wishing that something never started because you don’t want to see it end? 

And just like that, a month had passed. Another month out of Jisung’s life, another month gone from the calendar, another month where the earth continued to spin, the sun still rose, and life still went on.

Minho was set to leave on the 27th, a mere thirty days after he had arrived in the city. And really, it had been the most fun Jisung had had in a long time. They explored the city together, visiting places Jisung had been too hesitant to go to by himself since he had moved there. The sightseeing was fun. They saw so many places Jisung had only ever dreamed of seeing, some extraordinary and some mundane. But with Minho by his side, everything felt like a once-in-a-lifetime experience. They spent as much time as they could together, going out or staying in, simply enjoying each other’s company. Being with Minho for the past month made him realize just how much they still had to learn about each other. And as much as he didn’t like to admit that Seungmin was right, he was extremely glad that he had decided to take the plunge and throw himself into the experience. Knowing what he knew now about Minho, he couldn’t imagine having missed out on the past month. 

At times, he questioned it. How could he possibly feel so close with someone he had only met a few months ago? He had dated people for even longer and at the end of their relationship felt as if he had broken up with a stranger. 

But Minho felt like home. He felt like someone Jisung had known forever, like a piece that fit neatly into the puzzle of his life. No gaps, no rough edges, no empty spaces. It was a perfect match.

So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Minho stated that he wanted to spend his last day in New York with Jisung. His tone was so assured, as if to say “what else would I be doing if not being with you?”

Minho had managed to find a friend to stay with after the initial week of his trip had passed, but he had booked another hotel for the last few days which was where Jisung found himself that afternoon. Minho’s bags were scattered about the floor and clothes were strewn over the bed as evidence of his attempt at packing, but he hadn’t made it very far before he was proclaiming boredom and convincing Jisung to watch another few episodes of Slam Dunk. Rather than move anything, they simply lay on top of all of Minho’s belongings as they stared at the TV, the quiet whir of the air conditioner as it worked away in the corner accompanying the sound of the show. The mid-afternoon sun shone brightly through the gaps in the curtains and warmed the room. 

“What time is your flight tomorrow morning?” Jisung asked as he tugged at Minho’s fingers.

Minho checked something on his phone and clicked his tongue. “My flight is at eight-thirty, so I should probably get to the airport around six-thirty, seven at the absolute latest. Ideally I’d be leaving here around six.”

Jisung nodded, the back of his head rubbing against Minho’s chest where he was settled in between his legs. “What time do you need to be back here tonight?”

“Ten would be nice,” he said, his eyes glinting with something almost blithe as he glanced down at Jisung. “But I can be flexible.”

Jisung pursed his lips and let out a deep breath through his nose. “Alright.” He turned onto his side and stared up at Minho. “What do you wanna do?”

“Whatever you want.”

“It’s your last day. We should do whatever you want.”

“I want whatever you want.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Oh my fucking god.”

Minho let out a loud, high laugh. “Sorry. Uh…” he drawled as he puffed his cheeks out. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Then let’s go eat.”

Jisung agreed, so they got ready and headed out into the early evening, feeling the humid summer air stick to their skin. Everything was coated in a layer of mugginess and the trains blew hot air against their faces every time they pulled into the station.

It seemed what Minho had really meant was that he would take Jisung out to dinner, because for all of his apparent indecision earlier, he already had a place in mind and led them there himself. It ended up being a rather nice Italian restaurant on the south end of the island, near the financial district. Jisung didn’t even bother trying to fight him for the check at the end.

They spent the rest of the evening in Koreatown before heading back east to Jisung’s apartment. They sat close to each other on the train ride, and when Jisung closed his eyes and let his head drop onto Minho’s shoulder, he felt a warm hand enveloping his own and squeezing gently.

☆

They decided to watch some random horror movie once they got back, so they settled on the couch, the last vestiges of the sunset peeking through the curtains and bathing the room in orange. 

Jisung wanted to point out that the movie was over two hours long, but Minho didn’t seem to care, so Jisung didn’t say anything. He couldn’t stop glancing at the clock every five minutes, wondering each time if that would be when Minho would stand and announce his departure. But each time, Minho made no indication that he even knew what time it was, much less that he was in a rush to leave. He stayed put on the couch. So, Jisung did too.

He let himself indulge in Minho’s company knowing that in less than twenty-four hours, they would once again be separated by several thousand miles. This thing they had going on, whatever it was, might come to an end the second Minho’s plane left the ground. 

But it didn’t have to be that way. Maybe they could make it work. They could do long-distance, time difference be damned. Minho could come to New York, or Jisung could fly back home whenever he got the chance, and when they couldn’t see each other they could text or video call. Plenty of couples did it. Hell, they even did it for the first month after Jisung left, and it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Their jobs didn’t exactly allow for regular vacations or consistent time off, but they could make it work.

But he knew that was just wishful thinking.

Before he had left, he had been so confident nothing would have to change between him and Minho. They would stay in touch. They would make it work. 

But something about Minho being here, about him being so real and so perfect all over again, made the cracks in Jisung’s idealization grow and spread until the whole fantasy had fallen apart right in front of his eyes.

He had no idea how long he would be living in the States. It could be for two years, or it could be for ten. And then what? Would he expect Minho to uproot his whole life to come live with him? It just didn't seem like it was in the cards for them. They would be forced to love each other from opposite sides of the world. And Jisung knew he would inevitably start to worry he wasn’t putting in enough effort, or convince himself he was ruining their relationship, or wonder if Minho was losing interest. He would then throw himself into work as a distraction, becoming too busy to maintain even basic conversation and leading their relationship to its demise by his own volition.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Minho’s hand on his thigh.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” he asked softly, his eyes dragging over Jisung’s face.

Jisung let his eyes do the same before answering.

“You,” he replied in all honesty.

Minho hummed, a cautious smile playing on his lips. “Yeah?”

Jisung nodded. 

He knew Minho wanted him to elaborate. But there were too many words, too many thoughts swirling inside his mind. He wasn’t sure he could say anything Minho would want to hear.

So instead, he checked the time once more and turned his attention back to the screen, feeling Minho’s eyes on him the whole time. “This movie is really bad.”

Minho’s eyes lingered for a few more moments before he looked away. “Yeah, it is.”

They continued to watch the movie in silence, but their bodies seemed to keep the harmony that had developed over the past month, moving closer and closer with every passing minute. It didn’t take much longer for the hesitant touches to become more assured, their hands reaching to find bare skin or sensitive spots and lingering there until they could no longer be ignored.

Jisung couldn’t be sure who made the first move. All he knew was that even to this day, he had no idea how that awful movie ended. Minho’s lips pulled his attention away, his hands making quick work of snapping the last remaining thread of Jisung’s sanity.

The first time they found themselves in this situation, it had been a night of intense pleasure, the bubble of tension finally bursting and leaving them with weeks of pent-up desire to deal with. Every instance that followed had been giddy, almost frivolous at times. There was a sense of urgency to it. They knew their time together was short, so every opportunity was jumped on with a sort of juvenile fervor.

But now, as they fell into Jisung’s bed for the nth time that month, it seemed they were both intent on savoring every last second of the night for as long as possible. 

Jisung had never understood how some people couldn’t go without sex. When it was good, it was just okay, and when it was bad, it was pretty much awful. But something about being with Minho like this made Jisung feel so achingly close to him in a way he didn’t think he would be able to forget, no matter how hard he tried. With Minho, it felt like another form of communication, another way to strengthen their connection. He loved when Minho pulled him close and held him there like he didn’t want to let go. He loved when Minho touched him without hesitation, showing Jisung just how much he wanted him. He loved when Minho whispered things in his ear that Jisung knew he would never say anywhere else, to anyone else. 

“What would your fans think if they saw you like this?” Minho asked from behind him. His voice sounded faraway, but Jisung could feel his warmth close as it emanated from his skin like hot coals.

What a provocative question. What would they think? 

What would they think about Han Jisung, world-class producer and self-assured performer, in such a position as the one he was in now? Letting a litany of weak, borderline pathetic sounds leave his mouth as he had his head pushed further into the pillow by a man who made him feel better than anyone else could.

Long gone was the arrogant and overconfident persona he wore on stage. Minho had fucked it right out of him. 

“You’re the only one who sees me like this,” he answered obediently, his voice muffled against his own arm as he bit down on it. 

He felt Minho’s hand slide up his back like a snake, ever so slowly, until it reached his neck. His fingers were warm and wrapped around Jisung’s throat like a vice.

“Good,” Minho said quietly. “Let’s keep it that way.”

☆

Jisung hadn’t checked the time in at least two hours, maybe more. All he knew was that it was long past ten p.m.

Minho’s arm remained securely around his waist and the last thing he wanted to do was move it, so he simply lay curled into Minho’s side like a kitten, their bodies pressed together under the sheets. He couldn’t bring himself to reach for his phone.

But more than having to sacrifice the warmth of Minho’s skin, he knew as soon as he looked at his phone he would be dragged back to reality, the one where Minho should’ve left hours ago, long before they had gotten themselves into this position. 

The sensation of Minho’s fingers running through his hair brought him back to the present, away from his frantic thoughts about a future that didn’t have him in it.

“Are you asleep?” Minho whispered into the dark.

“Not yet,” Jisung replied, his sentence punctuated with a conveniently-timed yawn.

Minho chuckled, and Jisung could hear it where he had his ear pressed to Minho’s chest. “Someone sounds tired.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m sad.”

“Why are you sad?”

Jisung blinked his eyes open. The lights from the street filtered through the curtains and into the room, illuminating it just enough to make out the sight of Minho’s bag where it sat on the chair in the corner. He rolled onto his stomach and slotted his face in between Minho’s neck and shoulder. Minho’s hand dragged over his waist and gently squeezed his hip.

“I don’t want you to go,” Jisung whispered, his voice nearly inaudible as it got lost in the skin of Minho’s shoulder.  

Minho remained silent. Jisung took a deep breath before lifting his head and glancing up at his face. His eyes looked down on Jisung like a pair of flashlights, seeming to search for something within Jisung’s words he couldn’t seem to find. 

Jisung offered him a hesitant smile. “What?” he asked. He could hear the anxiety in his own voice, slight but present nonetheless. 

“What time is it?” Minho asked suddenly.

The smile slowly began to slip off Jisung’s face. 

He pushed himself away from Minho and grabbed his phone from the night stand. 

“1:13,” he said. 

How did that saying go… Time flies when you’re having fun? Or was it that time only seems to slip through your fingers when you want nothing more than to turn the clock back to a moment when you didn’t have to worry about it passing so quickly?

Minho said nothing in response at first. He just sat with his back against the headboard, his eyes fixated on the ceiling light, dark and void like his eyes which still seemed to be searching for something Jisung couldn’t see. 

He checked his phone again. 1:15.

Minho didn’t say anything, but they both knew what he was thinking.

It’s late.

My flight is early.

I should go.

“You should go,” Jisung said quietly. “I don’t want you to miss your flight in the morning.”

Minho nodded. His head rubbed against the fabric of the headboard.

Jisung watched as he threw the covers off and stood up. He had to stop himself from reaching out for Minho’s arm as he did. 

He gathered his clothes from the floor and began to dress, reversing his actions from hours earlier. Jisung couldn’t help but follow his every movement with his eyes, trying to commit everything to memory and wondering if he would ever see a scene like this again.

After a moment, he stood too and followed suit, picking up loose pieces of clothing and throwing them on. Neither of them spoke. Not when they finished dressing, not when Minho grabbed his bag from off the chair and gingerly placed the rest of his things inside, not when they shuffled quietly out of the bedroom and down the hall; it wasn’t until Minho had put his shoes on and was standing by the door that one of them found the courage to speak again.

“Do you have everything?” Jisung asked.

Minho patted his pockets and checked very briefly inside his bag. “I think so.”

“Good.”

Neither of them moved. The refrigerator whirred in the kitchen. A car outside honked, and someone yelled. 

Minho looked down at his feet, then back up at the ceiling, then around the room as if the words he was looking for might suddenly appear in the corner somewhere. 

“Thanks for spending your last night here with me,” Jisung said quietly. It felt like the most he could offer Minho right now; a simple thank you for something that was about to come to an end right in front of him.

Minho’s eyes now roamed over Jisung’s face. Maybe that was where he finally found the right words, because instead of responding to Jisung’s show of appreciation he took a deep breath and said, “I don’t think I can leave until we talk about what’s going to happen with us.”

Jisung felt a twist of pain in his chest, as if someone were prodding it with a knife. He had a feeling this conversation was coming, but he thought maybe if he tried hard enough, he could pretend it wasn’t. He nodded silently. 

“The reason I came here in the first place was to see you,” Minho began. “And I’m not saying that because I think you owe me anything because of it, or because I think it’ll change your mind. But I want you to know I’m willing to put in the work. I’m willing to do long distance. I know we hadn’t gotten very far before you left, but… being here proved that I still want to be with you. I want to see where things could go.”

Jisung pursed his lips and looked down at his feet, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“But… you say you don’t want me to go and I don’t know if you mean it,” Minho added wistfully. “I want to know how you really feel. Because I know how I do, and I get the feeling it’s not the same.”

Jisung looked up at him. He appeared timid, almost, standing with the strap of his bag clenched in his fist and a downturned smile on his face.

Jisung shook his head. “You know I like you so much, but I…” 

Minho looked down at his feet, then back up at Jisung. He nodded slowly. “I know.” He paused. “It would just kill me if I didn’t say this before I left.”

Because I don’t know when I’ll see you again. Those were the words hidden in the spaces between his sentences.

“I don’t know what I want right now,” Jisung said before Minho could say anything else that would stretch the wound in his heart. It was such a boldfaced lie he almost couldn’t believe Minho didn’t stop him in the middle of his sentence. He knew what he wanted. He wanted Minho. He wanted things to go back to the way they were. He wanted to make it work. But, “I feel like I need space to figure things out while I’m here. So much has changed in my life and I– I don’t even know when I’ll come back or… if I’ll come back,” he said, willing away the uncertainty in his voice. “And I don’t want us to end up as some sort of on again off again situation because I’m not ready. I just– I don’t know if I can do long distance. It kills me to not know when or if there will ever be an end to it. But I don’t want to lead you on. The last thing I want is for you to end up hating me because I can’t give it my all. I know that’s not what you want, either.” He let out a shaky breath. “I really like you,” he repeated. “But I just can’t. Not right now.”

Minho nodded and smiled a sad, apologetic smile, one that looked like it hurt just to put on. “I get it. I don’t want to make you do something you’re not ready for. But for the record, I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

Jisung tried to return his smile, but it was hard to force it through the tears building in his eyes. “When I say I don’t want you to go, it’s true,” he whispered. “This month has been… I don’t even know. I don’t think I deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

Minho shook his head. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

There was a loaded pause where they both stood, each taking in the weight of the situation. Their words hung suspended in the air, trapped somewhere between the heat that had seeped through the windows and the minutes on the clock as they crept closer to sunrise. 

“If I ever came back to visit, would you want to see me?” Minho asked quietly. 

Jisung stilled. He imagined if he ever did see Minho again, it might turn out exactly as it had this time. Things would be great, Minho would be great, but Jisung would still be stuck in the same place, unsure if he was ready for what he knew Minho could offer him. 

“I don’t know,” he answered, almost in a whisper.

Minho nodded. 

“But it’s not because I don’t want to see you, I just–” Jisung started. Minho waited patiently for him to continue. “I don’t think I would be able to let you go again,” he finished with a halfhearted shrug. 

“It’s okay,” Minho said. “It sounds like it might be best if we… if we take a break.”

“Yeah,” Jisung choked out. He could feel the tears building in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Minho reassured. “It’s for the best. I know it is.”

“Then why does it have to suck so much?” Jisung said through a tear-soaked laugh.

Minho sighed. “I know, baby.”

They stared sorrowfully at each other for a moment before Minho dropped his bag and opened his arms to Jisung, who offered him the sincerest smile he could muster and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He held on tight, hoping against all odds that maybe this was all just a bad dream he had yet to wake up from. 

“I’ll be waiting for you back home, okay? If you decide to come back,” Minho said quietly. 

Jisung squeezed his eyes shut. If. He wished he could say with certainty that it would be when , but even he didn’t know yet. 

“Don’t wait for me,” he said firmly. “Please. You don’t have to do that.”

There was a pause. “Okay,” Minho responded softly, and Jisung felt more tears fall from his eyes knowing Minho would still wait, even if he knew for certain Jisung was never coming back.

They slowly separated but kept their arms around each other. If Minho was close to tears he was better at hiding it than Jisung, whose whole face surely showed just how badly he wished things could be different. 

Minho brought a hand to the side of Jisung’s face, dragging a gentle thumb over his cheek as he wiped away a stray tear. 

Jisung swallowed thickly. Against all good judgment, he leaned up and pressed his lips to Minho’s. He wondered if somehow he had crossed a line that had appeared the second they initiated this conversation, but if Minho didn’t show his emotion on his face, the way he reciprocated the kiss made it clear he wouldn’t have left before he got the chance to kiss Jisung one last time.

They grabbed at each other wherever they could, kissing slowly so as to savor it for as long as possible. Jisung could no longer tell if the moisture on his cheeks was from his own tears or from Minho finally breaking. He wasn’t sure if he could bear to pull away and find out.

One last tender kiss and they stopped, both breathing shakily as they let their foreheads stay pressed together. 

And Jisung wanted nothing more than to ask Minho to stay over, to stay for however long he wanted, but he knew it would just mean a longer goodbye.

Instead, he pressed his lips to the corner of Minho’s mouth. “Thanks for visiting me. Really.” 

Minho’s eyes glistened as he smiled. “Any time.”

Jisung forced his eyes to stay locked on him as he finally let his arms drop back to his sides. He watched as he grabbed his bag off the floor, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway, turning back around to reveal a look full of the heartbreak that up until that moment he had hid so well. 

“Bye, Jisung,” he said. Jisung would never forget that look, not even when they reunited nearly two years later.

“Bye,” Jisung replied. Then Minho turned his back to him and shut the door. 

He stood gripping the handle and wondering what would happen if he were to open it again. Maybe Minho would still be there on the other side, waiting for Jisung to beckon him inside again so they could live out the rest of the night in secluded peace. Or maybe he would already be long gone. 

Jisung shuffled back to bed like a ghost, feeling as though he could pass through the walls at any second. Nothing felt real anymore.

It wasn’t until he had slipped back under the covers and shut off the lamp that he noticed something on his nightstand.

It was one of Minho’s rings.

He reached out to grab it, turning it over in his fingers as the far-off light from outside reflected off of its smooth edges.

It took him a moment to realize he was crying again, but once he did the tears fell freely, sliding down his face and onto the pillow as he curled his fist around the ring, warming the cool silver with his hand.

☆☆☆

[July 7th, 2023]

In the past week, I’ve written at least three full songs and started the guides for two of them. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t work on them. I hate it.

Jisung had never really struggled to write songs. It was quite literally what he did for a living. After all, there’s only so much time one has to procrastinate and toy around with lyrics and melodies when they’re being held accountable by a deadline that determines the continuation of their employment. 

But when he wrote for work, he was always writing for someone else. He had hoped for more of a collaborative experience, one where he worked alongside the artist to write the lyrics and build the song, but instead, he was merely tasked with producing according to a concept for an artist that half the time, he never even ended up meeting. Seungmin blamed the influencer-to-singer pipeline. Jisung wasn’t sure if that was the only reason behind it, but there did seem to be an influx of young social media stars showing up in the studio with little to no music experience, armed with only a fat check from their manager and a guideline of exactly the type of song they needed for their “brand”. It had almost become formulaic at this point. Get the concept, maybe hear a demo or two, adjust the lyrics, add a verse here and there, get the artist to record, then wipe his hands of it.

He barely had time to work on his own music anymore. He was burnt out from making things for other people all day, and it was starting to seriously drain his creative reserves.

But he wanted to write. He wanted to fill every inch of his notebook with words, to stand in the studio and sing until his voice gave out, to compose into the dead of night, only stopping when he could no longer bear to sit hunched over his desk for even a second longer. He wanted to turn his feelings into something tangible, something he had made all by himself. Something he could be proud of.

But every time he tried to sit down and put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, every single thought he ever had seemed to vanish like butterflies swallowed up by a net and released somewhere completely out of his reach.

So he ended each attempted session with his head in his hands or a blank sheet of paper in front of him as he watched the butterflies fly further and further away, taking with them any chances he had at actually making something for himself.

He had always visualized writer’s block like a giant dam inside of his mind. There was this reservoir that held all of his thoughts, all stacked on top of one another in one huge blob of indistinguishable ideas yet to be fleshed out. Ideally, there would be a nice, steady stream being let through the dam at all times, allowing him just enough ideas to deal with at once while still having some in the reserves to be used when he really needed them. But it was such a fickle thing, really. There were times when the ideas flowed like he wanted, and other times the channels got plugged up and everything stayed trapped on one side. The thoughts would build and build and build until finally, something came along and knocked a little crack in the wall to relieve the pressure.

But for the first time, it seemed as though the entire thing had come crumbling down. 

Minho’s renewed presence in his life, although lasting barely longer than a month, had seemingly been the thing to reopen the dam in his head, freeing him from the frustrating mental block he hadn’t been able to get over. But instead of a few cracks here and there, it felt as though Minho had taken a sledgehammer to the concrete and hit it until the walls had no choice but to fall. And in an instant, Jisung felt months worth of ideas and thoughts and melodies and lyrics and verses and hooks come crashing down in one giant wave, flooding every corner of his brain and leaving him with room for nothing else but the music that had finally come to him. 

Ever since Minho left, Jisung had written more than he had ever written in his entire life. 

He filled the rest of his journal, and then another one, and then one more until he switched to using pieces of scrap paper he had lying around. His laptop storage was full of demos. The voice memos on his phone started growing exponentially as he recorded snippets of random melodies or verses whenever they came to him, which was frequently. 

He wrote on napkins, on his hands and arms, in the margins of books; he recorded vocals in empty restaurant bathrooms, at work in between sessions, in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep; he became consumed with music in a way he hadn’t experienced in years.

Even his clients had started to notice. They commented on his renewed tenacity in the studio, pointing out his almost childlike enthusiasm whenever they recorded together. He stayed late almost every day, either to work on his clients’ projects or to finish his own.

But there was no rhyme or reason to the things he created. Some days, he would leave the studio with his head full of pretty little melodies and rose-colored words he had sung into the microphone with a light and carefree voice. Love was the only thing on his mind.

But other days, he would sit in the studio with his head on the desk and tears streaming down his face while he thought about everything he didn’t have. 

He was happy. He was happy he liked his job, that he got to do what he loved for a living, and that he had people who cared about him enough to come visit him. 

He was happy.

He was…

He wasn’t that happy. He might as well be honest about it.

It was such a difficult thing to comprehend. Here he was at twenty-two, with his dream job he never in a million years thought he would have. He lived in a city that had seemed to gleam at him from the television ever since he was a kid. He worked with big name clients, his rates were high, he had more money in his bank account than he even knew what to do with; he had achieved all he had ever dreamed of before his frontal lobe had even developed enough to think of anything bigger to strive for.

So now what? Was this it? And if it was, was that even a bad thing? 

To get to the point he was at now, he had to make sacrifices. It wasn’t exactly easy to up and move to the other side of the world and integrate into a foreign country, even with the relatively solid grasp he had on the language before he arrived. He had left behind his closest friends and family and at times his body seemed to ache with homesickness not even the best local comfort food could cure. The only thing that had come close to giving him a piece of that familiar feeling of home was–

Well, it was the same thing that had given him something to write about for the first time in months.

He didn’t think it was possible that someone he had known for a miniscule fraction of his life had made such a big impact on him, but here he was, considering the ramifications of breaking his contract and booking the first flight home. He missed Minho. He just didn’t know how to tell him that.

The best he could do was continue to vomit his feelings onto the pages of his notebook, throwing everything he had at his music and hoping it was enough to keep him going. 

☆☆☆

[March 17th, 2024]

Changbin keeps telling me I need to get out more. He says, “You live in New York City! I’m surprised you’re not out every night!”. But what if I don’t want to go out? What if I’m perfectly content just staying at home with my bed and my laptop and my blankets and my plushes? Is that such a bad thing?

“I’m not a homebody,” Jisung said into the phone. “I have no idea what gives you that impression.”

He was on the phone with Changbin as he waited for Seungmin to get out of a meeting with his management team. The studio was pretty much empty for the evening, seeing as it was a Friday night and most everyone had gone home already. But not him. Never him, apparently. 

“I mean, you kind of self proclaimed it,” Changbin said. “You are still at work at six p.m. on a Friday, after all.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Jisung replied drily as he shifted to lay down on the couch. 

“You know, you should go out once Seungmin gets out of this meeting. Loosen up, meet someone, hook up with a stranger. I don’t know. Get crazy!”

Jisung let out a tired laugh. “You always say that.”

“Well, how long has it been since you actually went out with someone?”

Jisung knew exactly how long it had been. 

It had been 263 days since he had been on a date. It had also been 263 days since he had slept with someone. And unless you counted one-sided flirting or awkward moments at the bar with people who were clearly much more interested than he was, then it had been 263 days since he had done anything remotely intimate with another person.

It just so happened he was really busy with work. And if he also happened to have a session or meeting at the same exact time someone wanted to go out, well, that was just a coincidence. A coincidence that seemed to happen over and over again.

But coincidences were supposed to be random. It was not a coincidence it had also been 263 days since Minho’s last day in New York.

“It’s been… a while,” he said vaguely, finally answering Changbin’s question.

It wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose. He had always hated the notion that one person could be so good that they would “ruin” everyone else. Minho hadn’t “ruined” anyone for him. They didn’t even need to be ruined. They just weren’t as good to begin with.

They weren’t as funny, or weird in the right way, or silently empathetic in the way only Minho could be. They weren’t charming when they teased him, they were just annoying. They weren’t nice when they pretended to act interested in his hobbies, they were just fake. They weren’t attractive when they tried to flirt, they were just repulsive. 

Basically, they weren’t Minho.

So maybe he had ruined everyone else for Jisung.

“Fine,” Changbin chimed in from the other end. Jisung had almost forgotten he was still on the line. “At the end of the day, it’s totally up to you whether or not you do any of that. I just want to make sure you’re having fun, okay? I know how easy it is for you to get tied up with work and forget about everything else. Including taking care of yourself.”

“I know,” Jisung responded diligently. Even thousands of miles of distance wouldn’t stop Changbin from filling his role as Jisung’s de facto older brother. “I’m doing fine. And I’m having fun.”

“Good! That’s all I want to know.”

“Can I get back to work now?”

“As long as you have fun afterwards!”

Jisung rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop a smile from tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll make sure to get out later. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Do you need anything else from me before I go?”

Jisung picked up his pen and twirled it around in his fingers. “Um… No. I don’t think so.”

“Alright then. Talk to you soon!”

“Yep. Bye.”

“Later!”

When Jisung was sure Changbin had hung up, he pulled his phone away from his ear and set it on his stomach. He dropped his head back onto the couch and sighed.

He knew there was absolutely no harm in asking what Minho was up to. As far as he could tell, Minho still frequented the JYP building for various projects with the company and ran into Changbin and Chan fairly often. They surely knew more about his day to day life than Jisung did. 

But he never asked.

He didn’t really know why. Maybe he was embarrassed by the infrequency with which he and Minho talked to each other now.

It’s not like they had made a pact to not speak to one another. They didn’t shake hands on a no-contact deal or block each other’s numbers after Minho left New York. They still followed each other on social media, they had mutual friends, and they worked in the same industry, making it essentially impossible not to hear at least a little bit about what the other was up to. But Jisung was never sure what would be appropriate, what would seem too cordial versus too friendly. He stressed himself out about it so bad that he usually ended up not saying anything at all.

Minho usually reached out first. Without fail, any time Jisung released his own music or ended up in the credits of a hit song, he could count on a simple text from Minho offering his congratulations. It usually wasn’t more than a sentence or two, but Jisung held those messages close to his heart as proof that the thread holding together what was left of their relationship was at least strong enough to stretch across continents and keep them connected, even in the form of a message appearing on his phone right as he arrived to the studio in the morning when he knew Minho was just falling asleep on the other side of the world.

Or maybe he just had extreme FOMO. It wouldn’t be that shocking. 

Once again, it was kind of hard not to stay updated on all of Minho’s escapades. His studio’s choreographies were always appearing on Jisung’s YouTube homepage, the pictures from his frequent trips to Japan with his friends were always at the top of his feed, he showed up in industry articles and at fashion shows and on TV programs; Jisung saw his face everywhere, and he kind of hated it. 

He hated that it was a reminder of all the things Minho had accomplished without him, as selfish and bitter as that sounded. Jisung wanted to be the first one to congratulate Minho on a new award or on the success of a new choreography. He wanted to be glued to Minho’s side as they wandered the streets of Japan together. He wanted to be the one holding onto Minho’s arm on the red carpet. He wanted to be the one who Minho came home to after a long day. 

He didn’t want to miss out anymore. 

☆☆☆

[April 24th, 2024]

I watched Your Name for the millionth time tonight. Mitsuha and Taki had to go through hell before they were finally able to find each other. Maybe it’s possible. Or maybe it only works in fiction.

Jisung refreshed the page, watching the views slowly climb. The thrill of it never seemed to go away.

After a long day of finalizing vocals and mixing the track on Cubase, he had uploaded another original song to YouTube. He had only released a handful here and there since he had moved to New York, his own music having taken a backseat behind the rest of his work, but the reception had been overwhelmingly positive which motivated him to keep up the releases. He did it all on his own time and it wasn't connected to the company in any way, but he almost liked it better like that. It felt like something just for him. Well, him and the thousands of other people that ended up streaming it. He didn't think he would ever get used to that.

He clicked around the page, reading comments here and there and liking as many as he could. He tried not to stay up too late reading comments or scrolling through replies for the sake of his own mental health. Even if most reviews would be positive, there were always those few negative ones that put a damper on his mood. 

@ForRacha commented: 

Wow!! I absolutely love this new sound! So sad yet so good :”(

@staywithme8 commented:  

Han Jisung how dare you I cried real tears listening to this 10/10

@BangChansLeftToe commented:  

the lyrics… who hurt you

Jisung chuckled. Leave it to his fans to know exactly what to say to make him smile.

Wish You Back had been sitting in his drafts for months before he posted it. Every time he had tried to work on it, something just felt off. He could never find the right words or the right melody to portray exactly what he was feeling. He usually left the studio exhausted with frustration and with the same amount of the song finished as he had started with.

He had ended up finding the missing piece late one night after a phone call with Minho.

They had talked on the phone only a few times since Minho had left New York all those months ago. The first two times were about trivial things, clearly just excuses to hear each other’s voices during moments of weakness. The third occurred after Jisung had suffered through a long day at work. He had found himself in the studio late one night, and although not an unlikely place for him to be, his anxiety was through the roof. He wanted nothing more than to go back to his apartment, but he couldn’t find it in himself to move. He tried calling Changbin and Chan to no avail. It was barely eight p.m. back home, but they must’ve been tied up with work. He ended up calling Minho and breaking into tears immediately after he picked up the phone. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, wasting no time in assessing the situation. “Just breathe. It’s okay.”

Jisung was glad he didn’t immediately ask what was wrong. He didn’t think he would even be able to speak through his sobs.

So Minho simply sat quietly on the other end of the line as Jisung took labored breaths and tried to calm himself down enough to actually say something.

“What’s going on?” Minho asked, his voice gentle, after Jisung’s sobs could no longer be heard through the speaker.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Jisung started. His voice was weak. “No one else was picking up and I– I’m sorry. I just needed to talk to someone or else… I don’t know.”

“Don’t apologize,” Minho said firmly. “It’s okay. Really, it’s okay.”

Jisung sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Okay.”

“Where are you right now? Are you at home?”

“I’m still at the studio. I want to leave but I– I can’t. Everytime I try to, I feel like I can’t breathe. Everything feels so bad right now and I don’t know why.”

Jisung didn’t understand his anxiety. He didn’t know how to explain to someone how an act as simple as standing up and walking out the door could feel like the end of the world. But even if Minho didn’t understand either, he somehow still always knew what to say. 

“Then stay,” he said. “I’ll talk to you for as long as it takes for things to feel okay again. And if things still feel bad, then I’ll keep talking to you for as long as you need me to. Alright?”

“Minho, I–”

“Don’t argue with me about this, Jisung.” 

He didn’t sound mean, just firm. Jisung knew there was no changing his mind.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Minho replied. “Now talk to me.”

So Jisung talked. He talked about the mistakes he had made during his session earlier and how he worried he had embarrassed himself in front of the other producers and the artist; he talked about the sleepless nights and hours of work that left him feeling depleted and doubtful; he talked about the nagging feeling of homesickness that had come back full force after missing his brother’s long-awaited discharge from the military; and all the while, Minho just hummed quietly on the other side to let Jisung know he was there. He didn’t pry or try to offer advice. He listened, and that was more than Jisung could even ask for.

“Do you want me to stay on the line while you’re on the train?” Minho asked after Jisung had calmed down enough to finally leave the studio.

“I think I’m okay,” Jisung replied. He wanted Minho to stay on the phone with him forever and then some, but he already felt as though he had crossed some kind of boundary by calling him out of the blue like this. “I think I can make it home without any problems. And the service isn't super reliable down there anyway, so...”

There was silence for a moment before Minho said, “Alright. Text me when you get back, okay?”

“Of course.”

“And try not to get attacked by any rats on the way home.”

“Okay,” Jisung said through a laugh. Leave it to Minho to be able to brighten his mood in no time at all.

He fiddled with the strap of his bag for a moment. “I…” he trailed off. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time,” he said finally as he slumped down in his chair. 

“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t doing anything else.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll let you go now.”

“Goodbye, Jisung,” Minho said. “Get home safe.”

“Bye Minho.”

Then Jisung hung up, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the dark ceiling of the studio.

There were so many more things he wished he could say to Minho. Things that didn’t just revolve around himself, things that didn’t only come to light when he was having a hard time and needed someone to pick him back up.

I wish you were here.

That’s what he wanted to say more than anything.

He let out a deep breath and stood up to leave, but then the words came over him like a tsunami. He knew he wouldn’t be able to escape them unless he wrote them down that second. So, he set his bag on the ground, sat back down in his chair, and worked on Wish You Back until the sun came up and Seungmin found him in the studio with bags under his eyes and three crushed cans of Red Bull on the desk. And if he lied to Minho that he made it home safe that night? Well, sometimes you had to make sacrifices for your art.

@J.one posted:  

I hope you all are enjoying the song ! I’ll probably go live later to yap about it if anyone is interested :3

He hit send on the post before locking his phone and tossing it on his bed. He knew if he went live, he would inevitably get asked what the song was about, as he always did. But what to say?

He could always justify the meaning to his fans using some sort of hollow reasoning. He could say he was inspired by a movie he watched, or a book he read, or two characters from a dating show who broke up and got back together. Those were believable enough. A lot of artists wrote songs about things that didn’t actually happen to them.

But somewhere on the other side of the world, there was someone who knew exactly what, or who , the songs were about.

Jisung hated that Minho knew they were about him. There was no way he wouldn’t. It killed Jisung to not be able to see his reactions, to know what he thought about Jisung putting their experiences into words and releasing them for the world to hear. 

Maybe he liked it. Maybe he found it endearing. Maybe it hurt him just as much as it hurt Jisung to think about what it all meant.

☆

As he waved goodbye to his camera and shut off the live later that night, he saw a notification pop up on his screen.

Lee Minho 

Listened to the song and it’s amazing as usual. Keep up the good work! The more famous you get, the more I can brag about knowing you :-D

Jisung read the message and smiled. 

If songs about Minho were what made him famous, then so be it. At least it made the boy happy.

☆☆☆

June 1st, 2030 (present day)

Jisung checked the time. He had been at the studio for nearly four hours.

He stood up and stretched, feeling a satisfying pop as his back cracked loudly. He tapped his phone awake. Minho had texted asking when he would be back. He sent him a vague message about struggling with the bridge of his song and told him not to wait up.

He settled back into his chair and grabbed the journal before kicking his legs up on the desk. He had just gotten to the part of his entries that detailed his experience of finally leaving New York and returning back home. This section was considerably shorter than the rest, seeing as he stopped journaling shortly after he came back, but he knew it was sure to be just as interesting, if not more. 

☆

[April 14th, 2025]

Today is the two year anniversary of me moving here, and I gotta say… DAMN that went quickly. I wish it passed this fast when I was in the military.

A lot of things could happen in two years. You could learn another language, have approximately 1.75 kids, get an Associate’s degree, run a marathon; the possibilities were endless. Jisung did none of those things, but he could’ve. That counted for something, right? 

After two long years of living in the States and working for Republic, he could say with confidence that he was happy. Not pretending to be happy or chasing after the feeling in an endless uphill battle, but genuinely happy.

Entering his current job as a twenty-two-year-old with only a couple of years of professional experience under his belt, he knew he had a lot to learn. He didn’t expect anything to be handed to him on a silver platter. He worked hard, sometimes too hard, at perfecting his craft and honing his skills in the hopes that one day he would feel satisfied with himself. 

Now at twenty-four, he knew he would have to die before he would ever run out of things to learn. There was always more to try, more to see, more to accomplish, and he wanted to experience it all. It was nice to finally not feel like he was drowning at every waking moment. He still had hard times, but things had worked out pretty well in the end.

Of course, there were still things to be sad about. It wasn’t exactly easy to watch his friends through a screen or only hear his parents’ voices through the phone, but he felt extremely fortunate that the people he loved had made an effort to make sure he felt included. Changbin and Chan had actually visited a few times, once when 3racha made a guest appearance at the Global Citizens Fest and the rest just for vacation. Even his parents had made the trip out, deciding to spend every Chrismas with Jisung in the city instead of back home because they loved it so much.

Jisung knew Minho had been back at least once. It wasn’t exactly easy to figure out (he only knew because Minho had posted a photo of a bagel and he recognized the logo on the packaging), but once he did, he thought about it for days. Maybe Minho knew it would make Jisung sad to know he was back in the city. Or, maybe he had moved on and didn’t even think twice about the fact that Jisung was crazy enough to find out his location from the wrapper on his bagel. 

A lot could happen in two years, and Jisung had to accept the fact that Minho had probably moved on a long time ago. But it turns out that two years could also heal wounds, even the ones so deep you thought they would never go away. 

Minho now occupied far less space in Jisung’s brain than he used to, but it wasn’t like he had completely disappeared. If Jisung were to make a nice analogy, he might compare it to walking through Times Square. It was just one huge mess of neon billboards and people running around everywhere and one guy trying to convince you to take a video using that stupid revolving camera. But now imagine that every neon billboard flashed with Minho’s face, every person walking down the street sounded like him, and even the annoying guy with the camera was wearing a jacket from a brand Minho liked. Jisung saw him everywhere. 

Now, it was less of an “in your face” kind of longing and more of a subtle buzzing in his ears. Not every billboard had his face, but every once in a while one would flash with a memory of him that Jisung had almost forgotten. Not everyone sounded like him, but sometimes there would be a voice that cut through the crowd, one that sounded just close enough that it made Jisung do a double take. Minho floated through his mind and lingered in the corners, appearing every so often as a reminder of what they used to have. Strangely, Jisung found a certain sense of comfort in it. He liked knowing he had memories with Minho that no one could take away from him, no matter how much time had passed. 

Seungmin knew not to pester him about it, but that didn’t stop him from asking every once in a while. One day, while they were at the studio and Jisung was telling him about this feeling of security he had finally found after coming up on his second anniversary in the city, Seungmin had looked at him sideways.

“What’s that look you’re giving me?” Jisung asked as he sat up in his chair. He was supposed to be working on a demo for a new artist the label had assigned to him, but he found the concept rather boring and had traded working for talking.

Seungmin shrugged, his eyes still trained on his laptop like always. “I’m surprised to hear you’re finally happy after all that moping you did.”

“I did not mope.”

“Then what would you call it?”

“I don’t know, valid sadness? I had literally just moved here from the other side of the world. Can you blame me?”

“I guess you’re right,” Seungmin conceded. “Maybe I’m just surprised you’re over Minho now.”

“I’m not–” Jisung started, but stopped as soon as he clocked the look Seungmin was giving him. He would call it smug, but “shit-eating” might be more fitting.

“Not what? Not over him?”

Jisung sighed, and instead of answering the question, he shoved his earbuds back in and tried to distract himself with the track he had been working on. The repetitive chorus grated against his ears and had him tugging his headphones out a second later. “I am over him,” he muttered. “It’s been two years. He’s probably moved on too.”

He was over Minho. In a sense. Loosely. Kind of. If you considered not thinking about him twenty-four seven to be over him, then yes. He was very much over Minho. Sure, he still wanted to cry every time he watched Slam Dunk alone, and he went to Sephora sometimes to sample Minho's cologne, and he got scared every time Minho posted on Instagram in case it was a picture announcing a new relationship, but that was very normal. Very. But he was still over him.

Seungmin hummed in acknowledgement. “What a shame,” he said. “Hyunjin was talking to him on Skype the other day and I think he mentioned you. What was it he said again…?”

Jisung tossed his headphones to the side and sat up a bit straighter. “He said something about me?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Nothing important. Just that he listened to your new song and liked it a lot or something boring like that.”

“That is important!” Jisung exclaimed. Important would be an understatement, though. 

Volcano was written during a particularly desolate night, the kind where Jisung couldn’t help but be sad just to spite himself. It was possibly the best song he had ever written, made worse only because of who it was about. To know that Minho had listened to it and enjoyed it…  Well, he kind of wanted to scrub it from the internet now.

“And you say you’re over him,” Seungmin huffed with a shake of his head. “You’re such a bad liar.”

Jisung kicked his chair before sticking one earbud in and turning back to his computer. “At least I’m not as gross as you and Hyunjin,” he said as he marked spots on the track that would definitely not be making the final cut.

“We are not gross,” Seungmin said, emphasizing the last word. “And I don’t even talk about him that much.”

“Right,” Jisung replied, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm. “And I’m not your favorite client.”

“You’re my only client.”

“Whatever.”

☆☆☆

[August 8th, 2025]

I guess I’m more easily swayed than I thought. But when presented with such an opportunity, who am I to say no?

“I’m moving back home.”

Jisung had to pull the phone away from his face to stop his eardrums from being blown out by the scream Chan let out on the other end.

“What? Don’t fuck with me. You better be telling the truth.”

Jisung stifled a laugh out of respect for Chan’ feelings and said, “I’m serious. My contract is coming to an end in a couple of months and I… decided not to renew.”

“So they offered you an extension?”

“Yep.”

“And you didn’t take it?”

“Nope.” 

“Wow,” Chan said. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It seems like you really like it over there. I thought you might want to stay, at least for another year or two. But I guess you have other plans.”

Jisung stood up and began to pace around the room. “Really? I mean– I do like it.” He did like it. It seemed like everyone else thought so, too. Maybe he should feel relieved that he was able to sell it for so long. Or maybe he should feel ashamed that he wasn’t as honest with his friends as he thought he had been.

“... But you don’t want to stay?” Chan asked.

Jisung sighed and sat back down on the couch before promptly standing back up and continuing to pace. “No,” he admitted. “Not really.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chan asked. “I’m at the studio right now, but I’m not working on anything important. Just messing around with some tracks I found in the depths of my save file.”

Jisung leaned against the kitchen counter. He usually preferred to brood over his problems for many hours before sharing them with others, but he figured he had done that enough already. “I don’t know. It feels like it should be the easy decision to stay. My rates are high and I’m getting a lot of good opportunities the longer I’m here. But…” he trailed off. “When they offered me an extension, I totally freaked out and told them I didn’t know yet. I have another week before I have to officially accept or decline, but every time I think about accepting, it just feels… wrong. I don’t know.”

Chan hummed softly. It crackled through the line.

“Am I making the wrong choice?” Jisung asked. He could hear the panic starting to slip into his voice. “What if I decline and everything falls apart? I don’t want to fuck up my career when it’s barely even started.”

“Hey. Take a deep breath,” Chan said. Jisung obeyed, trying to focus on the familiar timbre of his voice. “Don’t worry about that right now. Just worry about what you’re feeling. Sure, you want to be pragmatic about this and there are things you’ll have to consider if you decide to decline, but if your gut is telling you that it would be the right choice, you shouldn’t just ignore that.”

“You– you’re right.”

“Tell you what. Let’s start by making a list of pros and cons of staying versus leaving. Do you think that would help?”

Jisung nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

So, he spent the next hour on the phone with Chan as he weighed his options, trying to consider each and every facet of his life that would be affected should he choose to leave New York and come back home. He put Chan on speaker and listened to his voice as he scrawled notes in his journal.

Pros of staying in New York: 

• Cool job in a cool city
• More creative freedom (I am allowed to swear in my songs :0)
• High rates with good growth potential
• Ugly men
• My new friends!

Cons of staying in New York: 

• I may never know life without anxiety or imposter syndrome ever again
• I miss my family :(
• No 3racha!
• More creative freedom, but I have no time to work on my own stuff and going solo sounds more and more appealing every day
• I feel like I could’ve grown within JYP but if I stay here I might never find out
• No Minho
• I just feel like my life is on pause here, like I always knew I would go back home someday and now I’m just waiting for it to happen

I want to go back home :”)

By the time Chan hung up, Jisung felt like the choice had been laid out for him without much extra thought needed. He was going home.

☆☆☆

[October 25th, 2025]

On the plane, feeling nervous as fuck!

When Jisung stepped foot in Korea for the first time after two years, his first thought was that it felt like no time had passed at all. 

Watching the plane descend over the city didn’t stir any immediate feelings of relief or joy in him. The view of the river didn’t bring tears to his eyes. It felt like any other plane ride to any other city, not a long-awaited return home that had kept him awake at night with anticipation ever since he booked the one-way flight.

The airport looked the same as it did the day he left two years before. Construction had added a new security gate here and another bathroom there, but the crowds still bustled and time still passed just like it had before. 

He didn’t feel much different either. His hair had gone from black to blonde to blue then back to black, from straight to permed to to straight again, from long to short; he had miraculously grown about half an inch, he had gained a good amount of muscle after actually committing to the gym, and he had five new tattoos he definitely didn’t have two years ago. But being back home seemed to remind him that even underneath all of that, he was still the same Jisung he had always been, with the same navy headphones glued to his ears as he traversed through throngs of travelers.

The plan was for him to stay with his parents for a while before heading to his new apartment to move in all of his belongings. There were plenty of other things he had to consider, like when he would see his friends or how long it was going to take for the rest of his stuff to get shipped from the U.S., but he was too jet-lagged to pick anything to care about at that particular moment. So, he hailed a taxi and headed back home for the first time in two years.

☆

After sleeping off the jetlag and eating nothing but home cooked meals for a week, Jisung felt like a new man. His parents were absolutely thrilled to see him and doted on him like never before. He really couldn’t complain, though; he had certainly missed their presence during his time abroad. They had even gotten a new dog while he was away and Jisung spent a good portion of the week trying to get on his good side.

At the end of the week, he headed back into Seoul to meet up with Chan and Changbin at the company building before he had to meet with his manager. Nothing could have prepared him for the absolute force with which they used to embrace him, squeezing everything but his organs out of him. As much as he poked fun at them for getting emotional upon his return, he had never felt happier in his life than he did when they finally reunited. One of the hardest parts of leaving was knowing that the two people he had started his career with weren’t going to be there to watch it grow. They were truly like his brothers and it meant everything to him that they could be together again and make music, just like they used to.

Obviously, they had kept in touch while Jisung was away, making sure to update him on the happenings back home, but it was a thousand times better to hear it all in person. They spent the few free hours they had catching up about all sorts of things.

Chan had a new girlfriend who worked as a stylist in the industry, and Changbin had gotten a brand deal with Samsung and even appeared in one of their commercials. Jisung couldn’t even describe how shocked he had been to step off the plane and see a giant ad with his face plastered all over it right by the terminal entrance. They had definitely kept themselves busy, that much was clear. 

“So, what have you been up to since you got back?” Chan asked after they had all settled into their respective spots in their old studio, him in the desk chair while Changbin and Jisung sprawled out on the tiny couch.

“I’ve been staying with my parents until my apartment is ready,” Jisung replied as he crossed his legs underneath him. “But other than that, I’ve mostly just been catching up on rest and coordinating with my manager about job stuff.”

Changbin and Chan nodded in simultaneous acknowledgement. “Who else have you seen since you got back?” Changbin asked.

“Aside from old staff I’ve seen around the company, pretty much just my parents. And you guys, of course.”

They nodded in unison again. Clearly, they had been spending just as much time together as they used to. 

“Have you talked to M–” Changbin started, before tilting his head and throwing a glance in Chan’ direction who shook his head almost imperceptibly, but Jisung still picked up on it. “Nevermind.”

“What?” Jisung asked. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Changbin said quickly. Chan sighed, clearly disappointed in his inability to lie.

“Oh, come on. I’ve been gone for two years. You can’t keep secrets from me. It’s not fair!”

The other two shared a look again before Chan spoke up. “Well, I don’t know if he’s reached out to you yet, but Minho asked about you the other day,” he said, his tone cautious.

Jisung pursed his lips and nodded. 

“It didn’t seem like he knew you were coming back,” Chan continued. “So we were just wondering if…”

“If you wanted us to mention it to him or not,” Changbin finished. 

So, the cat was out of the bag: Jisung hadn’t told Minho he was moving back home. It was far too late to put the cat back in the bag (as much as he wanted to shove it back in and never think about it again), so he merely sighed and leaned his head against the back of the couch. “I… I don’t know. I should probably be the one to do it.”

“So, you want to?” Chan asked.

“I–” Jisung started before stopping and sighing again. He did. He knew he did. As soon as he decided to let his contract run out, he wanted to tell Minho that he knew if and when he was coming back. But it seemed as though his anxiety wouldn’t let him. There seemed to be too many things implied with his return that he didn’t know how to deal with, so he put it off until it was too late to notify Minho. Now he had been back home for a week and still hadn’t told him. 

“I don’t know,” he repeated. “I don’t know if he even wants to see me.”

Chan and Changbin shared another frustrating look, and it seemed as though Changbin was about to respond when Jisung’s phone chimed in his pocket.

“It’s my manager,” he said as he read the message letting him know she was on the first floor waiting for him. “I should probably go.”

“Of course,” Chan said as they all made to stand up. “We won’t keep you.” He pulled Jisung into another hug before he could protest, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back. “Ah, I’m so glad you’re back, you have no idea!”

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” Jisung said, his voice muffled against Chan’ shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said before letting him go and fixing his hair like an adoring parent. “You better hang out with us now that you’re back. 3racha can’t be three without you!”

“And Chan can’t be Chan without you, either,” Changbin added from the side before clapping Jisung on the shoulder. “He needs his baby.”

“Stop acting like you birthed me,” Jisung said through a laugh as he grabbed his bag off the floor and slung it over his shoulder. “But yeah. I’ll definitely be hitting you guys up as soon as I need to move into my place. My bed frame isn’t going to assemble itself!”

He heard the other two groan as he turned and headed for the door. He looked back at them and waved before adding, “And to make music! I have plenty of tracks saved for you guys!”

They offered him affectionate smiles before bidding him farewell.

☆

That night, Jisung lay on his back with his phone held up above his face. He stared at the message box, the blinking cursor taunting him as his thumbs hovered over the keyboard.

What to say, what to say? The last message either of them had sent was from months ago. It was a brief congratulation from Minho following the release of another one of Jisung’s singles (surprisingly, that one wasn’t actually about Minho). That may have been the last time either of them had spoken to each other at all.

He sighed and rolled over onto his side, his eyes still glued to his phone. He probably shouldn’t start off by letting Minho know just how long he had been in town; it might offend him to find out Jisung hadn’t reached out as soon as, or even before he got back. He should keep it casual. 

But how the fuck was he supposed to be casual? How about, “Hey, sorry for barely talking to you for the past two years! I’m back home now and have been for a week, but I didn’t tell you because I’m scared to see you after the way things ended last time. Hope things are well! :)”

Yeah, no. Definitely not. 

He decided the safest route would be to explain that everything involving his return had happened so quickly that he barely had time to process what was happening before it was basically already over. (He hated how similar that excuse sounded to his reasoning for not telling Minho about his initial move, but it sounded better than the whole truth.) He said he hoped Minho would understand and that if he wanted, Jisung would love to see him soon to catch up.

He hit send, only realizing afterwards that it probably wasn’t a good look for him to be texting Minho at nearly three in the morning. Would that make him seem desperate? Or simply jetlagged? Or just unemployed? That much was true, too…

He shut off his phone and threw an arm over his face. Whatever. It didn’t matter. Minho had seen him at his lowest already. Surely he could handle a bit of desperation. 

☆

Luckily, two more good things happened during Jisung’s first week back. 

The rest of his belongings arrived from America and he was able to move into his new place (with much help from Changbin and Chan), and Minho texted him back.

He didn’t seem to think Jisung was being desperate. Far from it, actually. He had insisted it was no big deal that Jisung hadn’t reached out; he understood how stressful the situation must have been (Jisung couldn’t tell if he was lying but he really hoped he wasn’t). He agreed to meet and seemed enthusiastic about it. Even if he had been ambivalent, Jisung still would’ve been happy, simply feeling relieved Minho even wanted to see him in the first place.

They decided on the 8th, which gave Jisung another week to both unpack and freak the fuck out. Between figuring out his work situation and getting reacquainted with the city, he still had much to do. There were boxes scattered everywhere and his walls were noticeably bare, but he had a bed and a couch and that was about all that mattered to him. 

From the second he woke up on Saturday, he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest and all the way down the street. The air in his apartment seemed inexplicably thin and he found himself stopping his cleaning every five minutes to take a deep breath, resisting the urge to run away and never come back.

The closer it got to the time Minho was supposed to arrive, the more he wondered if maybe it was too soon for them to be seeing each other again. But it had been two years. Surely that was enough time.

He was in the bathroom fixing his hair when he heard the buzzer.

He flinched, dropping his brush in the sink and cursing as he did so. He checked his phone. Minho hadn’t messaged saying he was on his way. Could he be early? They had decided on four o’clock but it was only three-thirty now.

Jisung padded over to the buzzer. “Hello?” he said, willing his voice to remain steady.

“Delivery for Han,” the man on the other end barked back before buzzing the door again. 

Jisung let out a deep sigh. At least he could count on his food being on time.

He let the delivery man in and waited for the food to arrive since it was functioning as his form of payment for Minho coming over. He had graciously offered to help Jisung finish unpacking which Jisung had vehemently opposed at first because he didn’t want to burden someone else with his mess. Well, aside from Chan and Changbin. But mostly it was because the outcome of being alone with Minho for the first time in two years was far less predictable than if they were to go out in public. 

Minho finally messaged just before four saying he was on his way, leaving Jisung to sit anxiously next to the steaming containers of tangsuyuk and jajangmyeon and bite all the skin off his lips.

A few minutes later, he heard the buzzer again. He knew for sure it wasn’t another food delivery this time.

When he opened the door, the last thing he expected was to see Minho holding two large bags by his sides, but that was exactly the scene he found in front of him when he did.

“Hello,” Minho said.

“Hey,” Jisung replied.

They regarded each other in silence for a long moment before Jisung remembered his manners and stepped aside to let Minho in.

He shuffled through the door and nudged off his shoes, then paused for a second before holding up the bags. “Where should I put these?” he asked.

“You can just set them by the couch,” Jisung said as he gestured to the living room. “Sorry for the mess.”

Minho nodded, then padded away to set his things down. 

Jisung stared at his back, taking a deep breath as quietly as he could. This was so strange. This was so, so strange. 

Minho turned back around to face him, his hands now empty. He rocked back and forth on his feet a few times. He cleared his throat. “Long time no see,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “How are you?”

Jisung couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “I’m alright. A bit disorganized as you can probably tell, but I’m good. How are you?”

“Good,” Minho replied. “It’s good to see you,” he added after a beat.

“It’s good to see you too.”

Jisung clasped his hands behind his back and tugged at his fingers. This was the most awkward he had ever felt with Minho. The guy had quite literally been inside of him for crying out loud and now Jisung could barely look him in the eye. He didn’t know if they should embrace, or shake hands, or just continue to smile stiffly at each other like teens at their first school dance. What would be appropriate? He wasn’t sure the internet would have an answer for how you were supposed to greet the guy you kind-of-dated for a month before leaving the country and not seeing him for two years.

He gestured to the bags by Minho’s feet. “What did you bring?”

Minho raised his eyebrows, seemingly surprised by the question. He looked down at the bags. “Oh. They’re gifts. For you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah man, you didn’t have to. Really.”

Minho shrugged, nudging one of the bags with his foot. “You’ve been gone for a long time. I figured you might like a welcome home gift.”

Jisung observed Minho as he stood stiffly next to his things, his arms crossed over his chest as he glanced around the room. It was strange to notice all of the things that had changed, only to realize he was no different than the person Jisung had fallen for all those years ago. He had clearly bulked up even more than before; Jisung was sure he hadn’t lost any of his diligence in the gym if his physique was any indication. His raven-black hair had gotten quite long and pieces of it curled around the base of his neck like leaves on a flower stem. At almost 26, he simply looked like a more mature version of Minho from two years ago, having grown into the features Jisung still found to be absolutely beautiful.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile. “Actually, that reminds me. I’ll be right back.” He padded quickly over to his room and returned with a small box wrapped with a red ribbon. “I was on the plane for most of your birthday,” he said as he offered Minho the gift, “so this is for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” Minho said, echoing Jisung from moments before. “Should I…”

Jisung nodded and gestured for him to open it, fiddling nervously with his fingers as he watched Minho untie the ribbon and lift the lid off of the box.

As soon as he saw what was inside, he let out a laugh. It made Jisung’s stomach flutter. 

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you would like it,” he said as he watched Minho turn the gift over in his hand. It was an enamel keychain of Hanamichi Sakuragi, the main character of Slam Dunk. He had found it at a maker’s fair back in New York and bought it on a whim, the whole time only thinking about how he might one day be able to give it to Minho.

“It’s fucking adorable,” Minho said. He grabbed his bag off the floor and attached the keychain to the side. “And now it will live here forever.”

They both laughed, and Jisung felt himself relax just a bit. Hopefully the rest of the evening went smoothly.

☆

They decided to eat first because Jisung thought he at least owed Minho that much before enlisting his help to unpack the mess that was his apartment. Things remained slightly awkward for the first bit. Jisung felt almost mechanical as he skittered around Minho like a mouse, feeling like he couldn’t sit still for more than a few seconds lest he let the reality of the situation set in. 

But all it took was one reference to an inside joke from the night they first met and the stiff tension that had initially filled the room evaporated into nothing and they began to talk like there wasn’t two years of lost time between them.

Jisung opened Minho’s gifts (a few clothing items and a couple of little knick knacks he had picked up on his latest trip to Japan), and then they began to unpack in earnest, and Jisung found that sorting through endless boxes was infinitely more fun when you had someone to talk to. He managed to get some decor up on his walls and Minho helped him build an Ikea desk he had been avoiding since the day he bought it.

They were just clearing out the last of the boxes when Minho called out, “Hey, this looks familiar.”

Jisung glanced over his shoulder to see Minho holding up the ring he had left in Jisung’s apartment his last night in New York, a lively grin on his face.

“Oh my god,” Jisung said as he pushed himself up and shuffled over to him. “I– I don’t know why that’s in there.”

Minho turned the ring over in his hand. “I always wondered where this went. Looks like you had it the whole time.”

Jisung scratched the back of his neck and kicked feebly at a box by his side. “I just… wanted to be able to give it back to you. I didn’t steal it.” (He could’ve shipped it back to Minho the day after he found it, but technically “finding” and “stealing” were two different things so he considered it a keepsake rather than a stolen good.)

“Did you wear it?” Minho asked as he tugged at the bottom of Jisung’s pant leg from where he was sitting cross-legged on the ground.

“No!” Jisung said defiantly. He really hadn’t, but that was simply because he didn’t know what he would do with himself if Minho ever happened to see a picture of it on his finger. 

Minho laughed before grabbing Jisung’s hand and slipping the ring onto his middle finger. “Well, you might as well keep it now,” he said. He squeezed Jisung’s hand once, then let it drop back to his side.

Jisung scoffed and turned around, hoping Minho couldn’t see the red that had tinged his cheeks. “Whatever.” 

He glanced over his shoulder to see that Minho had already turned his attention back to the box before holding out his own hand and looking at the ring as it glinted in the light. The cool metal felt familiar on his skin.

He smiled widely before unpacking another box, listening to Minho hum softly as he did the same.

☆

After deciding they had done as much as they could, they relaxed on the couch with some wine and continued catching up. They chatted about more casual things like how Minho’s studio was doing and the state of Jisung’s talks with JYP to return with a new contract, but eventually it ended up at the topic of what Jisung had been doing for the past two years.

“I kind of thought you might stay for a while,” Minho said as he stretched his legs out onto Jisung’s new coffee table. “Things seemed to be going well.”

“Chan said the exact same thing,” Jisung replied with a grin. “And they were, don’t get me wrong. But I told him that something in me was telling me not to renew. I don’t know. I think I just knew it was time to come back home.”

“Did New York ever feel like home?”

Jisung shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I honestly never really expected it to ‘feel like home’. I think if I expected it to be exactly the same as my life here, it would’ve made it even harder to adjust. It was still hard at the beginning, for sure. You know I’m not really the type to put myself out there. But by the end… I don’t know. It felt safe, in a way. Not like home, but familiar. I think if I were to go back now, it would be like visiting a place you used to vacation at a lot as a kid, or something like that. I have a lot of friends there that I miss. The city was incredible. I mean, it’s New York. I never in a million years thought I would be living there, let alone working with such cool people.” He finished his musings wistfully before bringing his glass to rest at his lips. 

“It sounds like you had a lot of good experiences there,” Minho commented.

Jisung nodded. “I did. I would say my friends kept me the most grounded though. I don’t think I would’ve gotten out much if it weren’t for them.”

He still remembered Seungmin’s face when he had told him he wasn’t renewing his contract. He looked the same as he always did, dry and uninterested. But despite the professional congratulations he had offered in the moment, it was clear by the way he hovered around Jisung at the end of long days and offered to pay for meals when they went out that he was going to miss him. He ended up being the one to accompany Jisung to the airport on his last day. After more awkward hovering, he had hugged Jisung tightly and said if he didn’t come back to visit soon, he would release all of Jisung’s unfinished tracks as revenge. It was clearly an empty threat, but that was just Seungmin’s way of showing his love and Jisung appreciated it immensely. 

“I get what you mean,” Minho said. “When I used to tour as a backup dancer, I got pretty sick of living out of a suitcase, to be honest. But there were so many moments that reminded me I was literally living my dream. I got to wake up in a different city every day and perform on stage with a bunch of my friends. How could I complain?”

He phrased the last part seemingly as an innocent rhetorical question, but Jisung was all too familiar with the feeling of guilt that consumed him every time he felt any sort of negative emotion towards his job. There should be no reason for him to feel that way; as Minho said, he was living his dream, wasn’t he? But that didn’t mean it couldn’t be extremely taxing at times. 

“Even though I’m glad to be back, I still can’t help but wonder if I made the wrong choice,” Jisung said. He took a long sip from his glass and swallowed, letting the smooth liquid burn down his throat. “Like I let such a good opportunity go. I mean, think about how many people would kill to be in that position. And I just… gave it up.”

Minho hummed, leaning back against the couch as he thought. “If you look at it that way, it’s easy to think you made the wrong choice. Yeah, there are people who would say you let a good thing go to waste or that it was the better option to stay, but they’re not you. You’re the one who decided to leave because it was what felt right. If someone else would’ve made the other choice, then that’s up to them. But it seems like you knew what you wanted.”

“Yeah,” Jisung said as he nodded. “Yeah. You– you’re right. I came back because I wanted to. I tried something new, I had a good experience, and now I can try something else.”

“Exactly,” Minho said emphatically. He tapped on his temple a few times. “Reframing.”

Jisung laughed and nudged him with his foot. “Shut up.”

“Hey,” Minho said suddenly. “We should go back to New York sometime. Together.”

“You know, I would really like that,” Jisung said with a wide smile. “Is there anything in particular you wanna do?”

“I don’t know. I think I would just let you take me to all of the cool places we didn’t get to go to last time I was there.”

“To be honest, the places we went to were the same places I went to the whole time I lived there,” Jisung said sheepishly. “I didn’t really get out all that much, being so caught up with work and everything.”

“Oh come on. You had to have done something interesting you’d wanna show me.”

Jisung shrugged. 

“No wonder your Instagram is so empty.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jisung asked as he sat up on the couch. 

Minho laughed and took another sip of wine. “I’m just saying,” he said as he gestured lazily towards Jisung with his glass. “You barely posted. But now you’re telling me you didn’t do anything interesting, so it all makes sense now.”

Jisung huffed before grabbing his phone off of the table and opening Instagram. He hit the “new post” button and scrolled through his photos for a few moments before settling on a picture of his lunch he had taken a few days ago.

He typed out some random caption about trying to eat healthier before posting it to his account.

“There. Are you happy now?” he asked as he tossed his phone to the side. 

Just as Minho was about to respond, his own phone chimed in his pocket. He cleared his throat and let out a short, clipped laugh before nodding. “I mean, a picture of your face would be nice, but I guess that works too.”

Jisung ignored the warmth that stirred in his chest at Minho’s comment and distracted himself with his phone. “You know what, I haven’t posted to my story in a while either. I might as well now since I’m apparently back on my influencer bullshit,” he said. This time, he chose a landscape photo from his last trip to Coney Island and added a song before posting that one too.

Just a few seconds after it went up, Minho’s phone chimed again. He grabbed it out of his back pocket and silenced it before setting it on the table and bringing his glass to rest at his lips. 

Jisung eyed him for a moment before making the decision to upload one last photo to his story, just to test a theory that was now forming in his mind.

And sure enough, just a few seconds after he hit post, Minho’s phone buzzed quietly on the table.

Jisung glanced between the phone and Minho, whose ears had turned a nice shade of red that rivaled the wine in his glass.

“Do you have fucking post notifications turned on for my account?” he asked with a poorly-hidden grin.

Minho seemed to take longer than usual to answer the question, but when he did it came out in a quiet and muffled voice. “Maybe.”

“Why?” Jisung asked through a laugh.

Minho shrugged feebly as he swirled his wine around and around in the glass. “I didn’t want to miss anything. If I couldn’t talk to you, I at least wanted to see what you were up to.” He paused before draining the rest of his wine and setting the empty glass on the table. “But like I said. You barely posted, so I just assumed you were busy. You know, with work, or meeting new people. Things like that.”

Jisung wanted to respond with something along the lines of of course you could’ve talked to me , but it would have been an empty reassurance. He hadn’t reached out to Minho much either, for his own selfish reasons. 

“I’m just really bad about posting,” he said instead, adding a feeble shrug to the end of his sentence. 

“Even Seungmin posts more than you.”

Jisung scoffed before adding, “You know, you and Seungmin didn’t get to talk much, but I think you two would’ve gotten along really well,” suddenly feeling reminiscent about the friends he had left behind. “He liked you. I think. I don’t know. He doesn’t really… emote.”

Minho let out a short laugh. “God, it’s like I can’t go a single day without hearing that name, I swear.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

“You remember Hyunjin, right?” 

Jisung nodded, then smiled as he finally realized what direction Minho was heading in. “Oh my god. Don’t tell me you’ve heard all about it too?”

Minho shook his head. “Don’t even get me started.”

They both laughed at the realization that they both had been subjected to the same lovestruck speeches from both of their friends for the past two years.

“There are times when I regret ever having let those two meet,” Minho said. “But then again, I am really happy for them. Things seem to be going well, don’t you think?”

“That would be an understatement,” Jisung said with a laugh. He knew Seungmin thought he was so good at hiding just how obsessed with Hyunjin he was, but when your emotions barely deviated from “bored”, it was pretty damn obvious whenever he was actually interested in someone. Ever since that night when Jisung had unknowingly dragged Seungmin into what would become somewhat of a first date for him and Hyunjin, he had attached himself to the other boy like an octopus, never going more than a few days without mentioning him at least once. 

“Things were actually touch and go there for a while,” Jisung commented as he waved his glass around. “I think Seungmin was just worried he was going to scare Hyunjin off. But clearly, it worked out.”

“Clearly,” Minho muttered. “Every other message I get from Hyunjin has his name in it, I swear.”

They both chuckled, shaking their heads fondly. It was nice being able to laugh about things like this, Jisung thought. There was a time when the wounds of Minho leaving were too fresh to the point where thinking about that time in his life might’ve set him off. But now, with so much time gone, it was easier to look back on a hard time and see the good in the situation. Even if the timing hadn’t been right for him and Minho back then, their end had sparked the beginning of a new blossoming love.

“What was the dating scene like out there?” Minho asked, seemingly out of nowhere. His tone was casual, but the way he spoke into his empty wine glass as if it were a microphone signaled some amount of cautious curiosity hidden in his question.

Jisung contemplated his answer for a moment. “To be honest, I… I wouldn’t really know,” he said sheepishly. 

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, bringing the glass away from his lips to reveal what Jisung prayed was a hopeful expression.

“Yeah. Nobody really caught my eye, so…”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was obvious to both of them where it was going. If Minho could read between the lines, then he would surely be able to tell that Jisung had simply been too hung up on him to see anyone else.

“Hopefully you had more luck than I did over here, though,” Jisung added. Surely by now Minho was able to see what he was getting at. But even if he knew, that didn’t mean his answer would be the one Jisung wanted to hear. He drained the rest of his glass and squeezed the stem between his fingers.

Minho looked at Jisung, his eyes softening for a moment before regaining their usual sharp, playful edge. 

“Can’t say I did,” he said, and Jisung felt the knot in his stomach loosen. “There’s not too many guys here who like to steal my jewelry. That’s kind of a dealbreaker for me.”

Jisung felt his cheeks flush. Minho’s flirting still had the same effect on him now, that much was clear.

“Well, there’s not many guys in New York who are into watching five straight hours of Slam Dunk ,” he said. Whether because of the wine or from Minho’s obvious advances, he felt confident enough to flirt back.

“Then I guess we’re both out of luck,” Minho said seriously before breaking into a grin.

It was so obvious they both still wanted each other. It was painfully obvious. The flirting, the lingering touches, the looks of fascination when they thought the other wasn’t paying attention; Jisung could feel the energy between them so much he swore he could reach out and touch it. 

But is it too soon?

There was that thought again. It had been two years, two long years, and things had changed. They were the same people with the same feelings, but that much time had the power to alter even the most stubborn of desires. 

Jisung decided he would hold back, at least just for now. He wanted to indulge in that feeling of getting to know Minho again. Not the old Minho, but this one right in front of him. The one that had waited two years for Jisung to come back. Surely a little more flirting couldn’t hurt, right?

☆

Minho had to be at his studio early the next morning to take care of some administrative business, so after finishing the bottle of wine, they decided to call it for the evening.

They both stood up from the couch, taking their time clearing the table as they continued to chat. They meandered back towards the kitchen, talking and laughing as they cleaned up. They got distracted by a video on Minho’s phone, which reminded Jisung of something he knew he had packed away somewhere, leading them to search through the last few boxes only for him to realize he had left it with Seungmin in New York. They talked and laughed some more as Minho gathered his things and slowly put his shoes on. All in all, it probably took another twenty minutes for Minho to finally make it to the door with all of his things. 

They stood silently as they regarded each other for a moment, each seeming to wonder what the best course of action would be.

Minho made the first move by opening his arms ever so slightly, a familiar gesture that made Jisung smile even now. He gave Minho a grin before letting himself be wrapped up in his arms, feeling their warmth and comforting strength envelope him. 

“Thanks for inviting me over,” Minho said, his chin prodding the top of Jisung’s shoulder as he spoke. 

“Of course. I’m so happy I finally have someone to watch Slam Dunk with me again.”

Minho laughed quietly and Jisung liked how it sounded this close to his ear, like a secret just for him. “Is that all I’m good for?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, there’s 101 episodes,” Minho said. “I guess we’ll just have to hang out a lot. It’s not gonna watch itself.”

“I guess,” Jisung muttered, feigning exasperation. “Be prepared to be sick of me.”

“I like you too much for that to happen,” Minho said softly, almost as if he had meant to reply with another witty joke but had let his tongue loose for a second too long. But he didn’t take it back, so Jisung just held on a little bit tighter and hoped he understood how much it meant.

“I missed you,” Jisung whispered. It was barely audible, but he could tell by the way Minho’s arms wrapped around his shoulders even more that he had heard it, loud and clear.

“You won’t have to miss me anymore,” he responded after a moment. 

They parted then, offering each other appreciative smiles with sincere eyes. Although Minho had initiated their goodbye, he made no effort to move away from the embrace. His hands dropped down to Jisung’s waist and remained poised lightly there, the same way Jisung’s hands came up to rest softly on his shoulders. Friends remained close, but surely not as close as they were at that particular moment.

“This is a nice jacket,” Jisung said as he let his hands run over the fabric in a manner that was not quite as innocent as he knew it should be.

“Thanks,” Minho responded quietly. “It’s new.”

“Hm.”

Neither of them moved. The fabric was warm under Jisung’s hands, just like the feeling of Minho’s fingers as they pressed faintly into his hips.

He couldn’t be sure now who leaned in first, but suddenly they were kissing and it felt the same as it did two years ago but maybe even better because he knew it wouldn’t end with a tearful goodbye this time.

He let his hand move to Minho’s nape as he curled his fingers into his hair, already growing attached to the feeling of it between his fingers. He hoped Minho wouldn’t be cutting it anytime soon. 

Even if it hadn’t been years since he had kissed anyone, he knew no one else would feel as good as this, as familiar or as warm or as safe. He couldn’t help but grin into the kiss, letting a laugh fall from his lips as Minho pulled him closer, as if they weren’t already pressed together like two pages of a closed book.

“I missed you,” Minho said against his lips. “God, I missed you.”

“I can tell,” Jisung replied cheekily, feeling empowered by Minho’s evident infatuation to tease him just a bit.

Minho pulled back to look at him, his eyes running wild over his face like he too wanted to find every single detail that might have changed over the past couple of years.

“I thought about you a lot when you were gone,” he said. “Like, all the time.”

His honesty, although not unfamiliar, felt different to Jisung. Rather than a blunt joke or nonsensical comment as the subject of his candor, he was laying bare his feelings for Jisung to see. He wasn’t just saying that because he wanted to. He was saying it because he wanted Jisung to know.

“And I just wish I told you more that… that I was proud of you,” he continued. “I felt like I didn’t tell you that enough.”

Jisung tilted his head. He rubbed a thumb over the back of Minho’s neck. “What do you mean?”

Minho shrugged sheepishly. “I– I don’t know. You were off doing cool things and I was here, missing you and acting like we didn’t know each other at the same time.”

“Are you kidding?” Jisung said through a laugh. “You were the one who was always texting me and congratulating me on my songs and keeping up with my releases.” He let out a sigh and looked down. “But I never did the same for you. I’m sorry.”

A squeeze to his waist brought his eyes back up to Minho’s. “Hey. It’s okay. You had so much going on.”

Jisung nodded, taking a deep breath as he thought about all of the moments he had typed out a message to Minho only to hesitate for too long and back out at the last second, never hitting send. 

“I kept up with everything you did,” he said. “I want you to know that. I guess I just felt too far away to say anything about it. Like it would only make me feel further away from you.”

“I guess we were both feeling the same way,” Minho said with a soft chuckle. “But hey, we’re here now, aren’t we?”

Jisung nodded. Feeling as though he might as well take advantage of that fact, he leaned up and kissed Minho softly, who pulled him right back in the second he began to move away. 

“Do you… want to stay over tonight?” Jisung asked shyly after they finally parted, suddenly feeling like this was all new and unfamiliar again, the same way it was two years ago.

But Minho didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pushed a loose strand of hair off of Jisung’s forehead and said, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to stay over,” Jisung replied after a second as he let a grin take over his face.

“Good,” Minho said as he mirrored his smile. “So do I.”

Jisung deflated ever so slightly as he said, “But what about work? I know you have things to do tomorrow…”

Minho sighed, but the content grin remained on his face. “I’m sure Vata wouldn’t mind if I was a bit late. I’ll just tell him I have something else important to attend to.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to–”

Minho stopped Jisung mid-sentence with a kiss on the lips. He held Jisung’s chin between his fingers and said, “I’ve been waiting two years to see you. I’m staying here. Alright?”

“Okay,” Jisung breathed out, his eyes locked on Minho.

“Good,” Minho said as he dropped his hand back down to his side. “Plus, I need to make sure you haven’t stolen any more of my things. I’ve been missing a hoodie for the past couple of years and I feel like I know where it went.”

Jisung scoffed. “I didn’t take it.”

“Really?”

“You and I don’t exactly have the same sense of fashion.”

“Are you saying my clothes are ugly?”

“Yeah.”

Jisung laughed, and then suddenly Minho was ducking down and tossing him over his shoulder as more laughter fell from his lips.

“Since you wanna be like that,” he said as he dropped Jisung onto the couch. “I’ve decided I don’t want to stay anymore.”

He started to walk away, but Jisung leaned up and grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him down on top of him.

“You can’t get away that easily,” he said just before Minho leaned down and kissed him. As Minho pinned him down, it was very evident he had not been skipping the gym.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his forehead resting against Jisung’s. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jisung smiled up at him. His eyes, so dark yet so full of light, shined with adoration. 

“Neither am I.”

☆☆☆

June 1st, 2030 (present day)

And just like that, the journal entries seemed to cease almost completely. 

There were a few here and there in the ensuing weeks, but for the most part they were short and inconsequential. 

But Jisung didn’t need a written record to remember everything he had felt in the months, or even years after he came back home.

Upon his return, he had been worried. He was worried things might not work out the way he had envisioned between him and Minho. Despite knowing each other for almost two years, only two months out of that entire time had been spent together. They saw each other, then they missed each other, and now they were seeing each other again. Maybe all of his feelings were just elevated from months of wondering and longing and anticipation of an eventual return and after finally getting the chance to really be together, he would realize things weren’t what he had expected. Maybe it wouldn’t work out.

But then a month passed. And then another. And another and another and another until Jisung had been back in Korea for a year and they were still together. 

His first year back was a chaotic whirlwind of getting reacquainted with his home, of rebuilding his career with his best friends, of traveling and working and experiencing life as a guy in his mid-twenties who felt like he had nothing to lose and everything to learn. But Minho was the thing that kept him grounded. Whenever things got to be too much, he appeared like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, warming Jisung with his familiar touch and telling him everything was going to be okay. He held Jisung down like an anchor, making sure he never drifted too far. They had already been apart before; neither of them wanted to do it again.

As Jisung sat in his studio nearly five years after that period of time, it was easy to look back and chuckle fondly at his formative anxiety, at how nervous he had been about something that had worked out so well in the end. But he couldn’t help it back then. In the moment, it felt like life or death. There were still so many unanswered questions about where things might go. Minho was like the missing piece, the unknown variable, the thing Jisung had been holding out for until he knew he was ready to find it.

Minho was his soulmate. He had never been more sure of anything in his entire life.

☆

When Jisung finally stepped out of the studio, it was long-past dark. Rather than take the train, he decided to walk back home, enjoying the temperate breeze that swept across the street every once in a while. Thoroughly exhausted from his extensive trip down memory lane, he took his time walking home, only starting to perk up as he made it to the entrance of his apartment building.

“I’m home!” he called out as soon as he stepped inside his place.

“Hey bug,” Minho said over the back of the couch. He set his book down and made a beeline for Jisung, the same way he always did when Jisung walked through the door after a long day.

“Tired?” he asked through a laugh as Jisung fell into his open arms the second he got his shoes off.

Jisung nodded against his chest. “You could say that,” he muttered. Minho was warm and smelled like vanilla and bergamot, probably fresh from the shower after his own day had come to a close. “Where’s Tangerine?”

“In her tree,” Minho said as he pulled back to look at Jisung. “She’s been waiting for you.”

Jisung grinned as he made his way out of Minho’s arms and towards the cat tree in the corner of the room, already feeling warmth bloom in his chest at the sight of the orange tail hanging over the edge.

“Hi Rina,” he said quietly as he ran a hand over the sleeping tabby’s back. “I missed you.” 

She merely swished her tail lazily before turning her head the other direction. Jisung let himself indulge in petting her for a few moments before Minho was calling him over to the kitchen.

“I made some kimchi jjigae earlier. Hopefully that sounds good to you,” he said as Jisung took a seat at the counter. 

“That sounds perfect. Thank you, baby.”

Minho offered him a smile before sliding something across the counter. “Also, look at what came in the mail today.”

Jisung looked down to see the Vogue logo staring back at him in bright, white letters. 

“They sent us the advanced copy,” Minho said as he started to reheat the soup on the stove. “It came in this morning, but I wanted to wait until you were back to read it.”

Jisung ran a hand over the magazine’s glossy cover. Even though he had known exactly which picture was going to be on the front, that didn’t stop him from looking at it with awestruck eyes. If he could go back in time and tell his past self that one day he would be posing for the cover of Vogue , the man he thought he could never have standing right next to him and their cat bundled up in his arms as they flashed the camera their best smiles, he was sure he would get nothing but a look of disbelief and a dismissive laugh. But here it was, right in front of him. 

Minho interrupted his musings with another comment. “I was thinking we could read it tonight. Do you want to?”

“You know I do,” Jisung replied. He put his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in his palms, casting a glance towards his bag where it sat by the door. 

“I actually wasn’t at the studio to work on music,” he said suddenly.

Minho looked up from the stove. “Really? What were you up to?”

“You know, it’s the funniest thing. I found the journal I kept when I lived in New York,” he said through a quiet laugh. “I brought it back from my parents’ house and spent all of today reading through it. It’s been so long that I honestly forgot most of what I had written.” He sighed and looked back down at his own face on the magazine cover. “I almost wish I had found it earlier. It had a lot of stuff I’m sure Sowon would have loved for the article.”

“Well, looks like we’ll just have to ask her to do another one,” Minho said playfully as he stirred the contents of the pot. “But I’m sure reading it all must have been quite the experience.”

“It sure was.”

“Did you write about me at all?”

Jisung looked up at Minho, who was watching him with a spirited smile. He sighed and shook his head. “Nope. Not even once.”

“Bummer.”

Jisung let himself laugh at Minho’s false disappointment. “You showed up just about as many times as your name would fit on the page.”

“I’m so unforgettable, I know.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Minho cleaned up the kitchen while Jisung ate, chatting with him about their upcoming projects. Jisung was busy finalizing the setlist and blocking for his upcoming tour, and Minho’s new studio in Tokyo had just received all of the permits to begin construction. Tangerine padded around, slinking between their legs as she looked around for any scraps of tuna either of them might “accidentally” drop for her. Minho picked her up off the ground and held her against his chest as if she were a baby, just like he always did. 

“Somebody’s hungry, huh? You act like I don’t feed you enough.” He kissed the top of her head. “Oh, I see. Looks like someone is getting a big ego because they’ve been on the cover of Vogue. Well guess what? So have I.”

Jisung leaned against the counter and watched the scene in front of him. He would never tire of it, no matter how many times he saw it unfold.

Two years apart felt like nothing in comparison to their now almost five-year-long relationship. They had moved from place to place, traveled from country to country, and spent plenty of time away from each other for countless schedules, but it no longer felt like an endless cycle of if and when. Now, they did it all together. No matter how far he went, he knew Minho would always be waiting for him to come back.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” Minho asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

“I love you,” Jisung said without missing a beat, the words falling from his lips like rain, softly and without hesitation.

Minho gently set Tangerine back on the floor before making his way towards Jisung. He placed his hands on either side of him, bracketing him against the counter. Jisung watched as Minho’s eyes swept across his face before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” he said as he pulled away. “Now, should we go read this article or what?”

☆

So, they got ready for bed and curled up together under the sheets, Tangerine in her usual spot at the foot of the bed as they took turns reading the article and comparing what was said to the things Jisung had described in his journal all those years ago. They poked fun at each other for the sappy things they let slip about each other during the interview, but Jisung would be lying if he said he didn’t shed a tear when he found out about the quite unusual metaphor Minho had used to describe him.

“I never thought I would be crying over someone calling me a fucking vacation house,” he said as he wiped his eyes.

Minho chuckled and ran a thumb over his cheek. “It’s not as grand as you calling me your ‘air’, but I’m glad you like it.” 

Jisung sighed and leaned into his touch, feeling the calluses on his palm. “You know, we should head down to Jeju next week. Even just for a few days,” he said. “We haven’t been back since we did the interview.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Should we invite anyone along this time?”

Jisung hummed in thought. “No,” he said finally. “I want you all to myself.”

“What, do you miss me or something?”

Jisung dropped his head onto Minho’s shoulder and nodded. “Yeah. You’ve been so busy figuring out the new studio. I feel like I’ve barely seen you.”

“You act like we weren’t separated for two years.”

“But we weren’t even together back then. Now we are. And I miss you.”

Minho huffed out a quiet laugh and ran a hand through Jisung’s hair. “Alright. It can be just us. I’m sure Ms. Choi won’t mind watching Rina for a few days.”

“Good,” Jisung muttered sleepily against his chest. “You work too much. You deserve a break.”

“Look who’s talking,” Minho said. “I’m just working hard so I can spoil you more.”

Jisung let out a clipped laugh. “Huh? Now you’re just saying shit.”

“I’m serious!” Minho said. “That house in Jeju was just the first step in my master plan.”

“Oh yeah?” Jisung laughed. He sat up and leaned back against the headboard, staring at Minho with a raised eyebrow. “What’s the next step in this plan of yours?”

Minho let out a sigh and pursed his lips. “Well, for starters, another cat. Rina needs a sibling.”

Jisung snorted and glanced at Tangerine where she sat unmoving at the edge of the bed. “I think you’re just saying that because you want another cat.”

Minho ignored him and continued. “Anyways, then I’m thinking we get a place in Tokyo. I’ll be over there a lot when the new studio opens, so I think it’s only logical.”

“Oh, of course,” Jisung said with a serious nod. “Crucial. For sure.”

“And then when we go to California for Hyunjin and Seungmin’s wedding next month, we might as well get a place there too. You know, for their sake, since they love us so much.”

“You sure want a lot of houses.”

“But remember. That’s just the start.”

“What else could there possibly be?” Jisung asked through an incredulous laugh. 

Minho sighed, his smile fading into something more serene but still just as exulted. He grabbed Jisung’s left hand and laced their fingers together, squeezing gently. Then, he pulled the ring off of Jisung’s middle finger before sliding it right back onto the one next to it. He inspected it for a moment then nodded, seeming extremely satisfied by the way it looked there.

Jisung looked down at it, his eyes glossing over even more. It almost looked as if it had been there all along.

He glanced up at Minho, who grinned even wider as he said, “I’ve always thought Tangerine would make a cute flower girl.”

As Jisung tackled him into a hug, he couldn’t help but think two years apart was nothing in comparison to a lifetime with Minho. 

☆☆☆