Archive of Our Own ^beta

The One with the Adult Table

It’s late into the year, and Minho is officially deemed an adult; with grandeur he’s moved to the adult table where only adults are allowed. And he’s blowing raspberries at Jeongin, Jeongin's older brother, and some of their other cousins—finally, his turn. It probably wouldn’t be so much of a betrayal if it weren’t for the fact that Minho's friend also gets the honor of sitting at the adult table with everyone else, despite only being seventeen. Everyone else in this family has like never been allowed to do it before the year they turn nineteen. It’s unfair, which Jeongin makes known, to which Minho tells him he’s just jealous, to which Jeongin answers with a prompt nuh-uh, and Minho blows him raspberries again.

Adult, Jeongin tuts, as if. Minho is the most childish out of them—trust him, Jeongin is ten—so he knows how children behave. Uncle Minho is mean and annoying, too. (Actually, Jeongin likes him the most out of all his cousins, which is why he’s so upset to know that it will be nine years before Jeongin ages out of the kids' table). He throws nasty glares at Minho all night, and Minho sticks his tongue out or laughs quietly to himself. 

The chaos of their families, consisting of aunts and uncles, cousins, babies, and whatnot, is gathered to celebrate the birthday of Minho’s dad, Jeongin’s real uncle, despite the fact that he sometimes thinks of Minho as his uncle too. They’ve always been big on the holidays and celebrations of all sorts, and for as far as Jeongin can remember, it’s always been like this. Houses sprawling with relatives, kids playing, fighting—adults red and happy. Whose house they end up at differs, of course, sometimes it's their grandparents and sometimes Jeongin's house, and this time Minho's. It’s really nice, and Jeongin is sure that he will appreciate this in ten years, how important family is, and how amazing it actually is that they all get along. That the kids are sitting around a table playing with food and geeking about games and toys, and whose grades are the best, and how laughter rings amongst the adults, not that Jeongin cares particularly much about what they are talking about. It’s just always been like this. 

Honestly, by the time dinner is over, Jeongin has forgotten that he’s mad at Minho. Well, almost. 

“Hyung,” Jeongin jumps onto the couch. Then he blows raspberries at him, right in his face. Spits flying. Minho yucks, and puts his hand on Jeongin’s face, pushing him away. 

“What are you, eight?” 

This sets Jeongin into childish rage. How could he—how could he say that? 

“What are you, thirty?” Jeongin mutters. “Ahjussi, how old are you, actually?” 

It looks like Minho is about to say something that will have every real adult in the house turn their heads to him, give him a scolding for such nasty language around children. Jeongin laughs, pleased that he won a single battle in this war. 

Then he looks at Minho’s friend, whose name sort of disappeared in the chaos when Jeongin, his brothers, and his parents came over. Jeongin does remember that he smiled and that he bowed politely, that Minho said something to his parents, and that everyone shared greetings. Jeongin is seriously racking his brain to remember his name. But he does remember that Minho laughed evilly about how he was invited to the adult table, too. 

“Yen-ah,” Minho mumbles, then he laughs awkwardly. ”Stop staring, Jisung is a guest.” 

Jisung. Right! 

Jeongin doesn’t even get why he is there, and with childlike honesty, he asks. 

“Why are you here?” 

Minho’s jaw drops just a little, and he throws his head back in embarrassment. What? Jeongin is curious, he’s never even seen him before, and he doesn’t even think he’s heard Minho mention him. Not that he keeps track of Minho’s friends. Still. 

“ Yen-ah!” 

“Have you not met Uncle before?” Jeongin asks, and he points at Minho’s dad from across the room.  

“No,” Jisung shakes his head, and he tries laughing too. Minho still looks incredibly mortified. “Um, hyung just invited me to celebrate. He’s always talked so much about your family celebrations and gatherings. It’s nice to be here, nice to meet his family,” he smiles at Minho, and Minho smiles back. There’s something about it, Jeongin just can’t put his finger on it. Another thing he’ll get in ten-something years. 

Jeongin nods. Looks at Jisung again. He’s wearing tight black jeans and a plaid shirt buttoned halfway up and with a graphic tee underneath—his hair is straightened and light brown, swept to the side. He dresses like Minho, almost. He also likes plaid shirts and big t-shirts, the only other thing that would have made them look more like twins, was if he wore a varsity jacket like Minho. God, that hideous turquoise varsity jacket that Minho used to wear every single day. Maybe still wears, it's possible he ditched it for the celebration.

He’s about to ask about it, but his mom comes to interrupt them. She starts asking Jisung all kinds of questions, and once again—Minho looks embarrassed. This is so weird, Jeongin knows Minho to be the coolest guy ever, but half the evening, he looks nervous and awkward every time someone comes over to ask about Jisung, or Minho about Jisung, Jisung is no better. It’s like they’re trying to impress everyone. Jeongin really doesn’t get that. Minho is basically everyone’s favorite child. He’s pretty sure his own mom likes Minho better than him. 

Jisung is almost done with high school, he’s doing music, and wants to pursue that, or something like it, in university. Jeongin stops listening, he goes to bother his own siblings in the meantime, maybe butter up to his grandparents. 

The celebration continues, and by the time night falls, half the family has started leaving, and the rest is being set up in every bed and couch that’s available. Jeongin, and sometimes his older brother too, are used to being set up in Minho's room—but this time around, Minho's mother suggests that Minho and Jisung get it to themselves. 

Once again! Jeongin feels the sting of betrayal. Minho has thrown him to the wolves, he hates him, and he will get him back for this. 

Jeongin retreats to the guest bedroom. He watches as his parents get into bed with Jeongin’s little brother, Jeongin straightens out on the mattress on the floor, fighting for the duvet with his older brother. 

Betrayal. 

It must be an hour later when Jeongin has had enough. He gets out of bed furious, grabs his Nintendo from his small overnight bag. He stomps into the hall, zeroes in on Minho's room. He flings the door open, and sees the mound of bodies in Minho's bed jostle at the noise. Minho turns on the light on his bedside table, looks at Jeongin in confusion. Jisung straightens his back, adjusts the neck of his shirt. 

“What are you doing?” he asks Jeongin. 

“Ugh, hyung, dad is snoring so loud I feel like my head is vibrating,” Jeongin explains. He crawls up in Minho's bed. They’ve shared a bed surely a hundred times. Minho always says Jeongin is his favorite cousin. “I thought Jisung-hyung would sleep on a mattress.” 

“We gave away all the spare mattresses to you guys,” Minho pokes him in the forehead. He doesn’t have the heart to object when Jeongin lies between him and Jisung. “I don’t have a problem sharing a bed with Jisungie.” 

Thinking, Jeongin shakes his head. He turns his game on. 

“Neither do I,” damn it if Minho dares betray him again. He’ll sleep here now. He’s decided. 

Laughing, exasperated, Minho just lays down again. Jisung peeks at what game Jeongin has. 

“I’ve played that too.”

“What level did you get to?”

“I don’t know, 15?” Jisung hums. 

Smiling, Jeongin puffs up his chest. “I'm on level 20.” 

Laughing, Jisung tells Jeongin he is much better than he ever was. They stay awake for nearly an hour, Jeongin thinks, Minho and Jisung watch him play—amused. 

In the morning, Jeongin wakes up to his mom taking pictures of them sleeping—he’ll never live this down—she’s going to print it out and put it on the mantle back home or put it into a photo album. Jisung thinks it’s a cute photo, he remarks how similar Jeongin and Minho are when they’re asleep. Matching bowlcuts and all, he giggles. 

The One with the Promise Ring

Minho has been warned. Jeongin is fourteen, he’s miserable, and he hasn’t smiled in probably two weeks. He’s a delinquent, he needs fun, he needs to be with someone other than his parents, and his siblings, clearly—so Minho is taking him out for a few hours in the city—so that maybe Jeongin can return home a little happier. Minho talks with Jeongin's mom on the phone, and she tells him when Jeongin's train will arrive at the station, what time she wants him home again, and that Minho needs to keep him out of trouble. Minho doesn’t know what she expects him to do, he’s easily the most responsible out of all the cousins. 

It’s not the first time Jeongin comes to visit over the day, but he’s usually accompanied by at least one parent, or at least his older brother; more responsible than Jeongin, but not enough to let them into Seoul all on their own. What if—

“Thank God Uncle is here to pick me up so I don’t get kidnapped,” Jeongin sighs when he gets off the train. Satchel slung over his shoulders and hands stuck in the pockets of his big, dramatic hoodie. 

“Stop it,” Minho slaps him on the shoulder. Steers him towards the exit. “What do you wanna do today?” 

Jeongin shrugs. He adjusts his glasses, digs into his bag for gum. God, Minho refuses to believe he was like this when he was fourteen. 

“How’s life?” 

“Boring,” Jeongin mutters. So disinterested Minho is surprised he even agreed to come here today. Or even knows where he is.

“The train ride?” 

“Boring.” 

Minho knocks him on the temple. 

“Hello, is this robot programmed correctly? It only says one thing.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jeongin hurries up when he notices Minho's black car parked outside the station. He pulls on the handle and tries for a second to look utterly pitiful so that Minho will unlock the door. 

“We’re picking Jisung up by the apartment, then we can decide if we’re hungry or if we wanna do anything else? Unless I mean, you come up with something.” 

“You and hyung still live with each other?” 

Minho looks at him, eyebrows raised. They saw each other two months ago, nothing has changed since then. 

“Anyone tell you something different?” 

“No,” Jeongin shrugs again. Then he looks outside the window, and the conversation is over. Jesus Christ. If Minho were like this, then he’s calling his parents immediately after today, and he will apologize for those terrible years.

Minho feels just the slightest responsibility for Jeongin, beyond being a polite relative who shows him around aimlessly for a few hours. Minho feels a certain responsibility toward all his younger cousins; he doesn’t have any siblings himself, so he can’t help it. He’s older, he should be someone Jeongin can look up to, someone that’s fun and an escape when you’re fourteen and so miserable you need to get away from everything else. 

Clearly, based on the fact that Jeongin has turned into a grumpy, helpless teenager in a couple of months, something has happened. He knows that prying will push Jeongin away, he knows that if he doesn’t ask, Jeongin will feel unseen, he isn’t sure if Jisung will be a helpful person in this either, no matter how much Jeongin likes him.

“Do you want Jisung to come with us? He’ll get it if you don’t.” 

“It’s not like I can say no, he’ll get sad if I say that,” Jeongin says, almost like he’s never heard Minho say something so stupid.

Minho scoffs. “He won’t. Don’t worry, he’s got work and stuff anyway.” 

“I want him to come with us,” he says. Sternly. “I’d rather be with him than you, uncle.” 

There it is, just a hint of humor. Jeongin isn’t lost for good! 

“Excuse me?” 

“At least he’s still young,” Jeongin says. Then he adds, “and cool.” 

At a red light, Minho clutches his chest and groans. Oh how it hurts. He cannot believe Jeongin, calling Minho uncool? Jeongin used to look up to Minho so much that literally no one else existed. 

The rest of the drive is rather quiet, Jeongin still seems a little tired, and he’s slumped together in the seat. But he’s nodding along to the music, and when Jisung calls to ask how far away they are—he smiles when Jisung chirps a hello! —when they finally get into the small apartment Minho and Jisung share, he actually accepts the timid hug Jisung gives him. 

It makes Minho happy that Jeongin likes Jisung so much. They practically only see each other whenever there’s a birthday or a big holiday that Jisung ends up celebrating with them—but Jisung is really anchored into their family now. So much that Jeongin—his favorite, baby, miserable cousin—is hugging Jisung but not even Minho. 

“What are we doing today?” Jisung asks. 

Jeongin shrugs. 

“Everything is boring to him,” Minho tuts. He looks at Jisung, smile wide—asking with his eyes whether Jisung has had a good day, they haven’t seen each other since this morning—a whole six hours ago, six hours too many. 

Jeongin scoffs. “I’m hungry,” he says, crossing his arms. 

“BBQ?” Jisung looks between them. “That place we went to last time, when your parents were here too?” 

“Yeah,” Jeongin nods. 

It’s the most enthusiastic Jeongin has been all day, which is impressive, considering he has only cracked two smiles since Minho met him. Alas, they set off in the direction of the restaurant. Jeongin, probably far too embarrassed to be seen with them, walks six feet in front of them—he doesn’t look over his shoulder even once to see if they’re still there—he just knows. Minho grabs Jisung by the hand, and they point at cafés and stores they haven’t checked out, despite living in the same neighbourhood for over a year now. 

Suddenly, Jeongin is pointing at the restaurant, and Minho nods as if he’s confirming that that’s the place. They walk in together, and find a nice table for just the three of them. Just the smell of food must get Jeongin in a better mood, he starts talking about school, and exams—and while he’s mostly complaining—he must feel better talking about it. He’s asking Minho about his stuff, and Jisung about his, although Minho senses that Jeongin is maybe practicing politeness more than anything. 

“Auegh, Uncle, this is so salty,” Jeongin suddenly cringes. Minho picks up a piece of meat he just grilled. Tastes it and agrees with a quiet hum that it is. 

“Jisungie?” 

“I like it,” Jisung mumbles, as he’s putting meat and grilled vegetables together. 

“Me too,” Minho nods. 

“Did you salt that?” Jisung points with his chopsticks at a few pieces that Minho just put to the side. 

Minho shakes his head. He watches as Jisung tells Jeongin to eat that instead. 

It is quite nice, Jeongin eases up, he tells Minho he’s going to get braces soon, he thinks. The dentist talked about it the last time he was there. Minho laughs and tells him he’s going to look like a baby with them. 

“Have you ever kissed someone with braces, hyung?” Jeongin looks at him. Minho starts sweating a little bit—he hopes to God that this won’t lead to a birds-and-the-bees conversation. 

“I don’t think so, can’t remember it in that case,” Minho says, calmly. 

“When did you have your first kiss hyung?”

Minho cringes again, "Fifteen maybe?” Then he watches as Jeongin turns to Jisung. 

“And you?” 

“Seventeen,” Jisung whispers, maybe a little embarrassed. But Minho just sends him a smile. 

“Jeongbin told me if I kiss someone with braces, their lips will get stuck in my teeth,” he mutters, sullen. 

Ah, now Minho gets it. 

“Why’d you even listen to him? He told you you were found under a bridge,” Minho laughs, as does Jisung. They continue to eat while Jeongin picks at his food. Then he sighs dramatically. 

“You like someone then, Yen-ah?” Minho asks, amused. 

He nods.

Now this is where Minho comes in, wise, older, he will give advice that will blow Jeongin away. 

“Well, you just have to be confident, charming, you just have to tell her-“

“I already did,” he whispers. “She rejected me, like super-totally-mega rejected me.” 

Ah.

“Well, that happens sometimes. You’ll bounce back, meet someone even better,” Minho tries again. 

“Please, hyung, it’s not like you’ve ever been rejected,” he fills his mouth with food, that’s true, Minho thinks. He hasn’t, so he stays quiet, trying to figure out what he should say. Jeongin turns to Jisung as if he could relate to his misery. 

“I’m sorry Jeongin-ah, the only guy I have ever confessed to-uh, liked me back,” Jisung offers him a gentle smile, then he and Minho share a look again. Sorry, look at them being in love while Jeongin is so heartbroken he’s going to dye his hair and write curses in a notebook. Minho will try not to rub it in Jeongin’s face; that would just be cruel. “Hyung is right though. You’ll probably meet someone even better, you just need to grow up a little.”

"As if. I'll never fall in love ever again."  

Jeongin got them there, Jisung doesn't know what to say, and neither does Minho. Love is difficult and complicated, most of the time. Even for Minho and Jisung, who would probably say they've never truly loved anyone but one another. It's not their fault they hit the jackpot so young. (They should probably not say that, to a heartbroken Jeongin). 

“Come on, we’ll eat now—“ Minho says. “Let’s go to karaoke later, and we can sing love songs together.” 

Jeongin retches, and excuses himself to the bathroom. 

Minho and Jisung theorize on what else they could do to make Jeongin feel better, but they end up agreeing that they probably just have to let him simmer in it. In a year, he’ll be happy and exuberant again. And karaoke probably won’t make it worse. 

They find a place that is open all day, the hallways are dark, but the rooms are lit up with bright neon lights. They pay for two hours, and it takes Jeongin nearly 45 minutes before he agrees to sing. Then they’re all singing. Minho and Jisung sing love songs, of course, they act out dramatic romantic leads in movies, they make Jeongin laugh in a mixture of amusement and light disgust and second-hand embarassment. 

The day is successful, most definitely, Jeongin is smiling again when they follow him to the train platform, he tells them he hopes he can come around again sometime. Minho gives him another piece of advice that probably doesn’t help when you’re fourteen and miserable and a little heartbroken. Really, Minho was fourteen too once, albeit a while ago, which Jeongin reminds him of. 

Later in the evening, Jisung looks at him and shakes his head. 

“This is gonna sound dumb,” he laughs—like he doesn’t believe it himself either. “Jeongin knows right?” 

Minho turns his head in bed, looks at Jisung strangely. “What do you mean?” 

“He knows we’re dating?” 

“I mean, yeah?” Minho scoffs, in disbelief. “We’ve been dating for four years," he says again. Deadpan, as if what Jisung is saying is ridiculous. As if Jisung is ridiculous for asking.

“Yeah, but when you left to get drinks at karaoke, he just—he said something strange,” Jisung giggles. “He saw my ring, and he was so shocked, like he couldn’t believe it.” 

“I haven’t really told anyone about that,” Minho whispers, but Jisung knows that. They told their parents, just timidly. It’s nothing to really announce to the world; they’re just promise rings, initials etched on the inside, just so that they can keep each other close during military service whenever they get around for that. Sooner than later, definitely, but they have some things to get in order before that. Even if they haven't talked that much about it, everyone knows. 

“No I know, but he asked when, and where and why and everything, and I just said—“ 

“Oh, I wore it the last time we met each other, you didn’t see it then?” Jisung laughed, Jeongin shook his head. “It’s just a promise, that it’s us, forever or whatever,” and then he explained that they picked them out together. That it was both nothing special and everything. 

“And he was like, what did Minho hyung say? What does Minho hyung think? What are you gonna do about the apartment?” 

Minho closes his eyes. “So what?” Although he agrees that it’s a little strange, he’s sure that Jeongin, in his excitement, just made himself misunderstood. 

“Ugh, hyung,” Jisung smacks him over the duvet. “I can’t explain it. He just looked a little bit confused. Like he didn’t know who it was from or even that he comprehended that you have one too, I mean, he’s seen you wearing your ring, right? He knows you gave it to me, right?” 

“Yeah, I wear it every day,” Minho nods. “I’m sure he just worded it weirdly, of course he knows. Everyone knows.” 

They laugh about it, of course, Jeongin just has to know. Minho has told his parents and his aunties, Jisung has been all around their family for years now. Of course he does. 

The One with the Watches

“We’re not the last ones coming, right?” Jisung hums, he’s sending a last message to his mom before they leave the car, and he forgets all about it. Christmas is so exhausting, he’ll be dead tomorrow morning. 

Minho shakes his head. 

“Good, I hate it when we’re late, it’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Minho turns to him, smiling wide, eyes wide. Then he purses his lips, and Jisung, who does anything Minho wants, ever, leans over the hand break to kiss him. 

He touches Minho by the nape, and feels the short hair there. It hasn’t quite grown out, for either one of them, it’s strange, and it’s the first time Minho's family, apart from his parents, see them since they both came home. They’re going to be commenting on the hair and that they’ve grown muscle and they’re going to be asking a million questions. 

Jisung sighs, drops his face to Minho's shoulder. 

“Let’s go,” Minho hums. “Unless you wanna be there last.” 

Nodding, Jisung slides out of the seat, into the cold air outside. He helps Minho haul their bags out, and Christmas gifts for everyone. 

Although it’s Minho's mom who opens the door for them when they arrive, it’s his aunts and uncles and grandparents who bombard them when they step inside, cheeks and nose already and still red from the cold. Jackets still zipped up to their chins and not a single finger free from bags of all kinds. Jisung smiles, and he looks away timidly when the older women in Minho's family coo at his new haircut and he tries not to seem shy when she says it almost looks like he’s gotten taller. Jisung knows what she means, he’s carrying himself a little differently, and while he’s not sure if he likes or dislikes it, he does agree. 

“Was the drive fine?” she ushers them into the living room, where the rest of the relatives are. 

“Yeah, icy roads though,” Minho hugs his grandparents. Starts greeting people he hasn’t seen in months. 

It’s just as they expect, or at least what Jisung expected. As soon as everyone is gathered, the tables are set up with food, the questions come flooding, about life now and what they have planned. Jisung glances at the children’s table, once, and sees a very disgruntled Jeongin—eighteen years old—probably counting down the minutes until he’s allowed with the grown-ups. It’s him and all the younger cousins. Jisung almost feels bad for him, until Jeongin catches him staring and sticks his tongue out. Jisung laughs quietly, and when Minho looks at him, curious, Jisung points at Jeongin. 

Then they’re both laughing. They haven’t seen him in so long, but not much seems to have changed. Minho whispers something, and Jisung leans in close so that only he can hear—it’s so rude of them to do this in front of everyone—but it’s a habit they’ve never been able to break. 

Suddenly, Minho's mom interrupts them. 

“And how’s the new place?” 

“Empty,” Minho says. “But less empty now.” 

“But it’s gonna look really nice,” Jisung adds. “Hyung told you we are gonna redo the kitchen?” 

Minho's mom nods, and she smiles excitedly.

“And we’re fixing it so that Jisung can have all his work stuff there, the bedrooms are really big.” 

Jisung realizes, maybe halfway through the conversation, how different his life is now than it was when he met Minho's family for the first time, so many years ago now. 

Back then he was so nervous he could barely look them in the eye, he was so timid that he actually cannot even remember if he spoke to them. He wasn’t even sure Minho liked him that much, even though he was the one who invited Jisung in to meet everyone.

Today, he’s spending Christmas here like it’s no big deal, he calls Minho's mom his mom, too, because that’s how close they are. He’s renovating an apartment with the guy he would marry in a heartbeat, and he’s surrounded by so much love and affection he’s not sure where to begin. 

They’re holding hands underneath the table, and Minho is squeezing it in intervals. 

When dinner is over, Minho offers to help clean up, while Jisung is dragged away into the living room with Jeongin. 

“You’re jacked,” he says. 

“Thanks?” 

“You and Uncle are moving in together again?” 

Jisung laughs at the sudden change of topic. “We already did,” he clarifies. “We’ve been painting and putting furniture in all month, we have guys coming in after the holidays to help us with the kitchen.” 

Looking a bit suspicious, Jeongin hums. It’s scary sometimes how similar he is to Minho. Jisung shudders. It’s like Jisung has just said something that doesn’t make sense.  

“Do you wanna come down and visit us when we’re done?” 

He cheers up, smile wide and dimples deep, he still seems to enjoy going into the city with them. 

“Are you gonna show me your workout routine?” 

“Yeah, go to the military,” Jisung huffs. “Or talk to Minho, who do you think keeps me working out now?” he asks, suddenly whining. “He made me get up at seven the other day to go on a run, and then he was complaining about being cold and sweating at the same time.” 

Jeongin laughs. Then he tries to look as cute as he looked when he was ten. Unfortunately, it does work on Jisung, it would probably work on Minho, too. “Should I wake uncle up at seven tomorrow and ask him to take me on a run?” 

“Is that your Christmas gift to me?” 

“Maybe,” 

Minho comes up to them, cheeks dusted red like he has just been asked too many questions. He sits down next to Jisung and waits for Jeongin to ask him again about working out and building muscle. Minho is the only one who has enough sense to ask why he’s suddenly so obsessed with it. Jeongin complains that it’s not an obsession, that he just wants to bulk up a little bit before summer. 

In a family with so many people, it’s not much of a surprise that the organization of different events is so-so, Jeongin's mom tries to get them all together for opening gifts, but she fails to get some of the more moody teenagers engaged around the lounge, a trait that is definitely inherited. 

Jeongin ends up sitting in between Minho and Jisung, and when his mom notices, she’s amused enough to grab her photo album while everyone gets seated. She proudly holds up photos of the three of them throughout the years, in particular, the first picture she ever grabbed of them—eight-nine years ago now. Ten-year-old Jeongin sleeping between Minho and Jisung. 

“It was the first time Jisung came around, wasn’t it?”

Everyone coos, especially at the sight of Jeongin. But all three of them are equally embarrassed. The photo album is eventually passed over to Jisung, and he’s looking at pictures he’s never seen before. There are four entire pages, dedicated to pictures of just him and Minho, and it’s somewhat both endearing and mortifying seeing how other people perceive them. 

Gifts get thrown around, and the younger children start. It’s best to keep their attention on something. Jeongin is telling Minho about something from school, or hagwon, he starts whispering about a girl who goes there with him, and Jisung understands much better why he’s been so insistent on getting a workout routine going. 

Then Minho’s mom comes right up to them, and hands Minho and him a box each. It’s not that Jisung expects gifts from them, but he’s spent enough Christmases with them to know it’s custom. Last time he got a knitted sweater, and some time before that, a few books he had been talking about. 

Minho opens his box first, carefully placing the wrapping on the floor. Jisung follows, attentively. 

“Dad’s watches?” he mutters. Looks at Jisung too see if he’s really not imagining it. Jisung doesn’t believe it. It’s an old silver watch with a black leather band. It’s worn, obviously, but very well preserved. It’s engraved on the back. 

She nods, very happy. “Yours is the one he got when you were born, from his father,” she says, pointing at Minho’s—similar to the one in Jisung’s hand—and then she turns to Jisung. “And that’s the one he got when we got married. From my father.” 

Jisung tries to stop her, he almost falls to his knees. She’s laughing, telling Jisung that he deserves it. That’s the least he deserves. Then she sends him and Minho this look.  

He’s in a haze for the rest of the evening, staring at the watch when no one is looking. It’s really it, an official invite, the last nail in the coffin. A clear-cut sign just as much as matching rings or a full-fledged wedding. 

It’s not until the early morning that people finally retreat to their beds, or take on the wintery roads this late. Jeongin’s mom helps Minho and Jisung with the pull-out couch. She apologizes for the lack of privacy, but all the other beds and mattresses are occupied. Laughing, she says that they can go share the bed with Jeongin, if they prefer that. 

“Yeah, watch him come out and sleep here instead,” Minho mumbles. Then they bid her goodnight, watch as she disappears toward her bedroom. 

The house is so quiet, it’s such a difference from earlier, and Jisung never quite gets used to it. 

“Can you believe it?” Jisung asks, he sits down next to Minho, and makes himself as comfortable as he can get on the pullout. Minho scooches in close. 

“What?” 

“The watches.”

Grinning, Minho cranes his neck and places quiet kisses on whatever skin he can find within his reach, “Welcome to the family.”

Then he’s Jisung laughing, as quietly as he can. Minho is right. He turns around and wraps his arms around Minho; pressing his face flush to his chest. 

It’s a bit hard to sleep, the couch is a little hard and wonky, it’s always hot and sweaty underneath the covers, but Jisung doesn’t mind too much, even if some would call it suffocating. But not with Minho so close, when Minho is so close, everything is just so much better. It’s so much easier. They mumble good nights and caress their fingers through hair and over sensitive skin. They kiss, simple pecks on the lips to signal that they’re ready to really go to bed. 

Jisung wakes up almost every time someone passes the room to use the bathroom or grab water from the kitchen. Minho will hear all about it when he wakes up, and then when they’re in the car again, Jisung will probably sleep all the way back home. 

Around seven, there’s a pitter-patter of feet, and Jisung, who probably hasn’t fallen into deep sleep for the entire night, flutters his eyes open. He sees Jeongin walking through the living room, presumably for something quick to eat or a glass of water like everyone else. He mumbles good morning, but is quick to turn around with no intention to wake up or leave. The couch is suddenly very comfortable, the warmth now cozy instead of suffocating. 

Jeongin mumbles good morning too, but Jisung hears how he stops, that he’s looming behind them somewhere. Afraid that Jeongin really meant it when he said that he’d take Minho working out as early as this, he turns around with eyes barely open, ready to protest. 

“Yen-ah?” 

“Sorry hyung,” he shakes his head, like he’s just waking up too. “I didn’t think you and Uncle would…cuddle so close.” 

Humming, Jisung laughs. It’s raspy, he’s barely awake. “He can’t sleep if he isn’t cuddling me, I swear.” 

Letting out a dry chuckle, Jeongin decides not to say anything else. Jisung sighs, still tired, and he wishes for at least an hour more of sleep before he is inevitably woken up when everyone else, one by one, starts moving about the house. 

It still gnaws a little, the same way it has done over the years. Jeongin’s inherent confusion. Surely, Jisung must be paranoid, but sometimes it just feels like Jeongin has missed the mark, that he still doesn’t know. Even when it is realistically impossible. 

The One Where Jeongin Finally Gets It

It’s almost like home, stepping off the train in Seoul. Jeongin loves visiting, and he can imagine himself living here in the near future, even if it’s very appealing to stay close to his actual home and his parents. Nevertheless, he goes quite often now. A friend from high school just moved here, and Minho is here too. And he’s got a new apartment. A three-bedroom apartment with a newly installed kitchen with all kinds of funny things. Minho has been bragging about it since Christmas now, and honestly, Jeongin can’t stand it, but he does want to know if it will live up to his expectations. 

It’s no surprise when Minho is standing at the station as Jeongin leaves the train (because in his mind, Jeongin is still ten and he needs his hand held at all times). It’s much less of a surprise that Jisung is standing right by his side, waving much more excitedly than Minho is. They’ve both worked hard growing their hair out, although Minho clearly likes to keep his cut and styled, Jisung’s has become long, almost mane-like. Jeongin can’t recall if his hair has always been this wavy, or if he’s gotten a perm since the last time he saw him. 

The two of them are standing so close that their entire sides are touching. Matching t-shirts and identical charms hanging off of Jisung’s bag, and the tangle of keys in Minho’s hand. 

Jisung and Minho, Minho and Jisung, really, Jeongin doesn’t understand how they don’t grow sick of each other. They see each other every day, they live together and breathe the same air. Jeongin loves Minho, more than anything, but Jisung must love Minho more than that. He even cried in the military. The first day they were apart, Jeongin heard his mom say that. 

They have really reached this point where Jeongin would be more surprised and concerned if Minho suddenly started showing up without Jisung. Still, Jeongin sometimes has a hard time wrapping his head around it. He likes some privacy, but privacy for Minho and Jisung seems to include one another.

“Hyung~” Jeongin waddles closer, backpack flying back and forth, almost dropping the duffel slung over his shoulder. He tries to fake that he’s disgusted when Jisung insists on a hug, he doesn’t let Minho near him. “Ahjussi,” he laughs instead, yelps when Minho grabs at his neck and yanks them toward the exit. 

“Let’s go,” he grits. 

“I can’t believe my mom is still telling you guys to pick me up, what does she think will happen?” Jeongin whines, as if he isn’t eternally grateful he doesn’t have to lug around all his baggage into the subway or on the bus and then drag it all the way to Minho's apartment. 

“Kidnapped,” Jisung hums, like he agrees.  

“By a cult,” Minho adds. 

“How was the train?” 

“Fine,” Jeongin says. “I was listening to that new album you sent me, hyung, the one you worked on.” 

“Oh,” Jisung feigns something shy. “What’d you think?” 

“You could totally hear that you wrote Paradise and Maybe,” he nods. 

Smiling, Jisung can’t hide anymore that he's anything but shy about it. 

They talk about it on the way to the car, Jisung’s telling him all about the writing process, how many times Minho had to drag him away from the computer in the middle of the night. He tells Jeongin that he can show him some early drafts and demos, if he’d like it. 

Jisung is just as cool as when Jeongin met him, probably cooler. He’s got new clothes and new hair and a more confident, relaxed walk. He’s working for real idols, and he’s got a crazy singing voice. Jeongin listens to everything he says. He nods along, like Jisung tells him the most important things possible. 

The car beeps when Minho unlocks it from across the parking lot. Jeongin hurries, he slides into the backseat, and spreads out with all his things before the other two even reach the car. 

“Yah, are you gonna learn some manners?” Minho yells, swinging the door to the driver's seat open. He fake cries. “You won’t even ask your hyung how he is doing? You just want me to drive you around? You only care about Jisungie?” 

Slumping back, Jeongin rolls his eyes. “Ah, hyung,” he whines. “You’re going to tell me anyway.” 

Huffing, Minho sits down. He’s still complaining about Jeongin’s lack of interest in him as he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. Jeongin was entirely correct though. Minho tells him all about the last week of his life, whether he wants to hear it or not. Jisung interrupts him, five or ten minutes into the tangent, to turn around and look at Jeongin. 

“We have a surprise, by the way,” he’s smiling. So big it’s almost scary. 

“If it’s the kitchen, I’ve heard all about it,” Jeongin glances at Minho. 

Jisung shakes his head, and Jeongin can see Minho's devilish smile spread in the reflection of the car mirror, too. 

So, they spend the last fifteen minutes of the car ride talking about the surprise, so much so that it’s barely a surprise anymore. Minho and Jisung give Jeongin hints , they keep trying to make him guess. They say they haven’t even told their parents yet, not that it’s such a big deal .   

It really starts feeling like a big deal though. What could be so big that they’re waiting to tell their parents? They already live together, and they’ve been friends for a decade-something, the only other surprise that would actually surprise everyone was if they suddenly decided to stop living together—and Jeongin doesn’t think that is plausible.

They’re parking down the street, and Minho and Jisung are increasingly excited as Jeongin follows them up the stairs, and they unlock the doo,r and they swing it open like ta-dah! 

It’s big, and airy, and it still smells like new furniture and paint. Jeongin only gets a peek in when a small kitten jumps from a cat tower inside and comes teetering toward them like it’s just been asleep for hours.

“You got a cat?” Jeongin turns to them, and then to the pale-orange thing circling his legs before being picked up by a thrilled Minho. He’s pursing his lips and sending kisses to the cat, he’s letting Jisung get a few good pets in, before releasing it back on the floor. 

“Mmn,” Jisung’s nodding. “My allergies got so much better, and I-I can’t say no really when hyung is the one asking.” 

Jeongin crouches down to let it sniff his hand. 

Jisung continues, laughing. “I really think we should name it Eggnog, because of the coloring. Hyung just doesn’t agree.” 

“I think Hobakie is cuter,” he mumbles in retaliation. They’re kicking off their shoes and shuffling into slippers. Minho tells Jeongin to do the same. 

He does as Minho says, and because he loves Jisung so much, he decides to agree with him. He tells Minho, as they follow the small cat around, that the name fits him so much better and that Minho should really listen to Jisung once and for all. 

“I do everything Jisungie wants me to,” he says. “But Hobakie is cuter.” 

They’re fighting about it for a while, which reminds Jeongin a lot of when his parents are fighting. Voice never too serious, smiles small but genuine, always one of them ending up forfeiting. Minho tells Jeongin about a friend who works at a shelter not far from here. They had asked him and Jisung to foster it for just a bit, but it’s all a trap. It’s impossible to foster a small, adorable thing and then be expected to adopt him off. Of course, they offered to take it. They’ve had him for a couple of weeks now, Minho has stayed up handfeeding him, and Jisung starts showing Jeongin endless pictures and videos. It’s almost like they’ve got a child. 

“It’s very cute,” he coos. “I think Eggnog is a fun name.” 

He hears Jisung cheer behind him. Jeongin is admittedly Minho’s favorite cousin, even though you’re not supposed to have favorites, and if what Jisung says doesn’t go, what Jeongin says does. 

Then they show him around the apartment, at plants growing in windowsills, all cat-safe, of course. A spacious living room with a TV bigger than Jeongin has ever seen, organized drawers, and quirky decor Jisung has surely picked out. The kitchen is brand new, with marble countertops and a new coffee-maker and other fun gadgets. Jeongin can’t wait for dinner tonight. Minho is quite famous for his cooking skills, and any professional needs an equally as professional setting.  

They open the door to one of the bedrooms. 

“You’ll sleep here,” Minho hums. 

“Is this yours, hyung?” Jeongin looks at Jisung, then around the room. A big computer set-up, soundboards, two guitars hanging on the wall and a keyboard below a curtain-covered window. The bed looks virtually untouched, plain white sheets, and the bedside table is dusty. Does Jisung even sleep? 

“Yup,” he nods, pressing on a few keys, hand moving over the desk. “Don’t worry, I’ll try not to work while you’re here, though.”  

“Where are you sleeping?” Jeongin asks, stupidly. “If I’m sleeping here?” 

Minho and Jisung laugh, confused. Then Minho flicks his finger at the back of Jeongin’s head. 

“With me?” Then he points across the hall, at his bedroom. 

Jeongin scratches at the sore spot, sending a small glare Minho’s way. 

“Right, uncle can’t sleep without hugging Jisungie-hyung,” he mutters. Recalls what a sleep-ridden Jisung told him a fewmonths ago. It really shouldn’t be too surprising either, Jeongin knows that they’ve shared a bed on probably a million occasions before this. 

Tutting they let Jeongin settle a bit, leaving him alone in the room for an hour while Minho rushes to the store to get the last few things for dinner and Jisung takes the excuse to work just a little bit (on his laptop though, and in the living room incase Jeongin decides to be social). 

When Minho comes back, they make dinner together—discuss activities for tomorrow—karaoke has become a long-standing tradition whenever Jeongin visits, but Jeongin also wants some new clothes before summer. They could go out and get BBQ, Minho says there’s also a Vietnamese place not too far, if they want that. They let Jeongin decide, because Minho and Jisung adore him, and it’s nice when he’s this happy to be here. Just a few years ago, he was so miserable it’s laughable, now. 

Over food, they talk about school, if there are any girls or boys that have caught Jeongin’s attention this time around, but he just turns away, shy and embarrassed that they know so much about him. He doesn’t say a thing, just blurts that they should watch a movie, because he’s too tired to think, besides, Minho and Jisung literally have the biggest TV known to man. 

He’s sending continuous updates to his mom that he’s fine, and he’s sending his friends pictures of Seoul from Minho and Jisung’s window. He takes a picture of the three of them in the couch watching some horror-flick Jisung picked out, and he captions it: uncle and his roommate of ten years, they don’t get that it’s funny. Jeongin guesses they’ve lost some of their youthful charm and humor now that they’re almost thirty (even though they blew raspberries at him as recently as Christmas, when Jeongin was still banished to the kids-table). 

They practically tuck him into bed, like good hyungs do. They tiptoe off to bed too, and Jeongin doesn’t see or hear of them until the morning. 

Around eight, he’s woken up by the sun and the quiet meows of Eggnog on the other side of his door. He hears the clinking of cups and plates, and he smells coffee and eggs. Quietly, Jeongin dresses, opens the door, and crosses the apartment to the kitchen. 

He sees Jisung sitting by the table, messy-morning hair and a plaid shirt that’s just as likely Minho’s as it is his, draping over him. Eggnog is trapped in a hug—Minho is kissing down Jisung's cheek and over his lips—they have probably forgotten that Jeongin is here. The same sort of domesticity that Jeongin would expect from his parents, honestly. Nasty morning-breath kisses and careful caresses with their hands. 

Oh no. 

“Oh no,” Jeongin mutters. He turns around. Promptly. 

Minho raises his head, asks if he’s okay. 

Jeongin grabs his head in his hands, shuts himself back in his room. Looks around. Jisung’s dedicated work-corner, his music and his equipment. This untouched bed is very clearly here just in case they ever have guests. Did Jeongin really? Did Jeongin really not think of that? 

An apartment that’s clearly not built around two friends just happily living together. Did Jeongin not think about that? Jisung’s presence within their family, much like the ones of the spouses of Jeongin’s other cousins or aunts, or uncles. Jeongin cannot believe it. 

“You okay, Yen-ah?” Minho’s knocking on his door. Jeongin can see the shadow through the little crack underneath it. 

Oh no. Oh no-no-no. 

He opens the door an inch. Looks at Minho, takes a deep breath, and nods. The latter mumbles that he made breakfast, if he wants some. Jeongin nods again. He thinks he could pull this off, pretend like he knew all along. 

“Yen-ah?” Minho repeats. Ten minutes later, in absolute silence. 

He’s pushing his food around. 

“Um-hyung?” he peeps. “When did you and Jisungie?” he waves around with his hand. He waits for them to finish his sentence for him. They don’t, though. 

A few too many seconds pass. Then Jisung is grabbing Minho’s arm, and he’s squeezing, hard. Oh no, Jeongin’s jig is up. 

“I told you,” he mutters. “Hyung, I told you, he had no idea!” Jisung scoffs. Like he never really believed it himself but is still annoyed that Minho never believed him. 

“What?” Minho laughs like he still thinks Jisung is ridiculous. But he only has to glance at Jeongin to know that he is right. He repeats himself, “What?” Then again. “What? You didn’t know?” 

“No I mean-”

“You didn’t know?” Minho guffaws. He cannot believe it. 

“You never told me!” Jeongin accuses. 

“I’m sure we’ve told you,” Jisung defends. Well, now that he thinks about it... 

But they’ve been dating for almost a decade now. Which Minho makes a point of mentioning. They’ve been dating for almost ten years, and everyone knows. Everyone. They live together, and have been for almost as long as they’ve been together, they’re practically married. They’re still wearing the rings they got before their military service and Minho's dad’s watches. Jisung calls Minho’s mom his mom because she basically is. They’ve just adopted a cat together. 

“No one told me!” Jeongin slumps further into the chair. 

It’s quiet for a bit. 

“God I can’t believe I didn’t realize,” he covers his face with his hands. Then he shoots up. God, he can’t believe he never noticed. The first time Minho ever brought Jisung around, and he got to sit at the adult table and they got Minho’s room all to themselves for privacy, and—

“I just barged in, and I slept between you guys?” he cringes. “Is that why Mom thinks that picture is so funny? Because I couldn’t read the room and I just slept in between you guys? I did that like a hundred times, every time you stayed the night or we stayed the night!” Jeongin accuses again, and he points at Jisung. 

Minho and Jisung don't get a word in. Jeongin’s reality is falling into shambles in front of him. 

“Oh my god,” he’s going to throw himself off their balcony. “ Hyung is the only guy you’ve ever confessed to,” he says to Jisung. “And he reciprocated. And you’ve been dating for ten years, and I had no idea.” 

Jisung did wear Minho’s hideous turquoise varsity jacket, and he cried when they were apart in the military. Jeongin hasn’t considered until now that the apartment they used to share long before this one actually only had one bedroom, and that makes perfect sense now. 

“Jeongin,” Minho says with a certain amount of seriousness. “Surely, you must have…” 

But he shakes his head. Never once did it occur to him. He always thought they were closer than most friends, but he thought that was some co-dependent, slightly unhealthy, best-friend thing. 

“Jeongin,” he says again. But he just starts laughing, he’s speechless. 

Jeongin looks at them, and they’re both stifling laughter. Jeongin looks at their hands, at matching silver bands, engraved initials. They’ve been wearing them for years. They’re literally married, or as close to married as you can be without being legally married. He’ll be damned if he actually missed that he attended their wedding and thought it was just a fun party. 

“All this fucking time, ” Jeongin mutters to himself. That Minho and Jisung have talked about love and each other without Jeongin ever catching on. 

It’s impossible to talk about it anymore. Jeongin tries to eat up before the food turns completely cold. Periodically, Minho and Jisung chuckle to themselves, like they can’t believe it. 

For the foreseeable future, Jeongin will blame everyone for this misconception. He was a kid when he met Jisung, they should have been a lot more explicit when introducing him. Jeongin’s parents should have said, “Jisung, Minho’s boyfriend” instead of “Oh, you know Jisung, he was at that birthday party three months ago with Minho!” 

Honestly, it’s sort of on Minho and Jisung too, nearly a decade, and this is the first time Jeongin has ever seen them kiss. They really could have clued him in earlier. 

“We can pretend this…never happened right?” Jeongin begs. He’s begging after breakfast and before their day begins, for them to never, ever mention this out loud again. “I’m just a little clueless, a little naive, please don’t-” 

It’s mortifying that it took Jeongin this long. It’s humiliating and embarrassing, it’s the kind of thing that might be etched onto his gravestone in sixty years. Yang Jeongin, who can’t read rooms and apparently doesn’t see love even if it hits him smack in the face with a baseball bat. Jeongin, who has stupidly drawn parallels between Uncle Minho and his roommate of ten years, and his own parents. God. He cannot believe this. 

They make it through the entire weekend with Jeongin there, without them mentioning it. They laugh quietly at him over dinner when Jeongin suddenly picks up on all the little habits he has just never noticed before. The gentle touch of a hand when they pass each other, private but not so secret looks, a kiss on the cheek when they think no one can see them. But Jeongin sees them now. Of course, no one ever spelled it out to him, it’s so obvious, Jisung has always been a part of the family, he’s always been there, right next to Minho. 

He thinks it’s over, they drive him to the station and see him off so that he doesn’t get kidnapped. He will take this to his grave. His dad asks about the weekend when he drives Jeongin home, and he thinks it’s over. That no one knows. 

It’s only three weeks before it’s someone's birthday. With a family as big and integrated as theirs, there’s something almost once a month. If it’s not a holiday, it’s an anniversary or a birthday or a celebration of some kind. 

Jeongin can sense it when their family barges through the door, when he sees Minho and Jisung chatting with a family member in the living room. 

Oh no. 

“Jeongin-ah!” 

His face falls to the floor, and his ears are bright red. Minho is patronizing, Jisung is patting him on the head like he’s ten again. Jeongin—who is finally invited to the adult table—has to sit through the worst meal of his life. They’re laughing big and loud, they’re asking how it’s possible, he will never live it down. 

Chewing through the embarrassment, Jeongin looks up at Minho and Jisung sitting on the other side of the table. 

He blows them raspberries.