Archive of Our Own

1. BE DIRECT

Today is the day. 

For once in his life, Jisung got out of bed without snoozing his alarm. He showered and put on a fresh, clean outfit, instead of just waking up and throwing on the first sweatshirt he could find on his bedroom floor. He actually took his time eating the oatmeal his mom made him, instead of scarfing half of it down in thirty seconds. And most importantly, he walked all the way to school with his head held up high, headphones blasting his favorite Ariana Grande hype mix. 

Today is the day he’s going to confess his pure, undying love for Lee Minho, the hottest guy at Levanter High School. 

At least, he thinks so.

“There’s no way you’re actually gonna do it,” Seungmin cackles, tossing back a handful of roasted peanuts. Between bites, he snickers while watching Jisung attempt to smooth down his perpetually messy hair. “You chickened out the last three times you tried to confess to him.”

Jisung lets out a very dramatic sigh, giving up on his hair and slamming his locker shut. “That’s because back then, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for a relationship with him.”

Seungmin gives him a skeptical look. “The first time you saw Lee Minho two months ago, you literally declared the date of your wedding.”

“Yeah, ‘cause June is the perfect month, no school.” Jisung beams, insides already going all gooey and soft at the memory. He’d tripped over his own feet when he saw Minho from all the way across the cafeteria on the very first day of school. He had been so handsome that day— and every single one that followed after that. “I just mean that I wasn’t sure if I was cool enough for him—”

“—definitely not—”

“—but I was watching Dr. Phil with my grandma last night while organizing my Pokémon cards, and he said you can totally charm people by being direct.”

Seungmin pats Jisung on the shoulder. “Absolutely nothing about that sentence says you’re cool.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, shoving him away. “I’m serious. I did a lot of thinking about this, and I have a plan. I really think I just need to be honest with him about how I feel.”

“I’m serious too.” Seungmin shakes his head, adjusting his oversized glasses. “People like you and me can’t compare to people like Lee Minho. Like, your shoes. No way you’re still wearing them after drawing Pikachu all over them.”

“What?” Jisung sadly looks down at his Converse. All of his mutuals on Tumblr complimented his DIY customization after he proudly posted pictures of them on his anime blog. 

Seungmin sighs. “Look Jisung, it pains me to admit this. But Lee Minho is the most popular junior here. He’s smart, handsome, and totally unattainable. We, on the other hand, are freshmen. Bottom of the high school food chain. And not to mention, part of the social rejects. I can’t remember the last time we didn’t get our lunch money stolen. We don’t even breathe the same air as Lee Minho.”

“Well, I don’t care,” Jisung huffs. “You’re right that he’s smart and handsome. But he’s also nice. He rescued us both from getting swirlied last week.”

Seungmin surrenders. “Okay. Fine. Go tell him, he’s right there.”

Jisung falters, completely caught off guard, because he thought he’d have at least until the end of the day to maximize the high he’s been running on all morning, but oh well. Love can’t wait. He eagerly follows Seungmin’s gaze, and there he is. 

Lee Minho, devastatingly handsome, with his sparkly eyes and thousand-watt smile, the kind that dentists have laminated and pinned up all over their offices. He’s surrounded by his many friends at one of their lockers, all of them being the unapproachably cool older kids that Jisung dares not venture near. Effortlessly suave, Minho runs one hand through his silky chestnut hair, laughing at a joke someone has made. Jisung’s heart immediately aches; he so longs to be the one to make him laugh, to get his eyes to crinkle into that enchanting crescent moon shape. 

It’s that steadfast devotion he harbors for Lee Minho that has him trooping over to him, ignoring the exaggerated groan Seungmin lets out. After all, according to all of the romance novels he stole from his mom, there is no force greater than true love. 

Squaring his shoulders, Jisung does his best to feign confidence and stay concentrated on his beautiful crush, when one of Minho’s friends steps into view, fully blocking him. 

“Hey, I’m pretty sure the playground is in the opposite direction,” he sneers, crossing his alarmingly muscled arms. Jisung’s face goes warm as some of the group begins to halt their chatter and tune into his humiliation. 

“But we stopped having recess back in the sixth grade,” Jisung says in a small voice. The guy raises his eyebrows, clearly displeased with Jisung’s counter, but before he can say anything else, Jisung uses the chance to catch Minho's attention. “I was just hoping to speak to Lee Minho.”

“Did someone say my name?” A lovely, musical voice cuts through the tense air. Lee Minho pushes through the others and makes his way to the front, curiously peering down at Jisung, who suddenly can’t even remember what day of the week it is. 

“This kid says he wants to talk to you,” the mean guy snorts, puffing out his chest in an intimidation tactic obviously put on for show. Either way, it’s working on Jisung, who shrinks back immediately. “I was about to tell him to beat it.”

But Minho, being the love of Jisung’s life, just rolls his eyes, unamused. “Changbin, quit scaring the freshmen and go study before you’re put on academic probation.”

Jisung doesn’t hear Changbin grumble as he slinks off, nor does he hear the entertained giggles of Minho’s friends as they clear away to go to class. The deafening bell signaling the end of lunch rings, reverberating against Jisung’s skinny frame, but he doesn’t notice any of it. Not when he finally has Lee Minho’s undivided attention, as he stands right in front of him, brave and radiant and tall— or at least, taller than him.

“I, uh,” Jisung squeaks. “Hey?”

“Hi! Sorry about that! Changbin’s all bark and no bite, but I’ll teach him to be less of a jerk.” Minho gives him a friendly smile. “You’re Ji… Jiseok, right?”

“We can go with that.” Jisung fidgets nervously. “Lee Minho, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

“Sure, what is it?” Minho asks kindly, eyes locked into Jisung’s. This is the moment everything changes. 

Jisung takes a deep breath, preparing to lay his heart out bare for Minho to take. “Ever since I saw you, I have liked—”

“HAN JISUNG!”

Jisung’s blood freezes over. He slowly turns to see his mother marching down the hall, pure, unadulterated rage set in her eyes. Crap, crap, crap. He completely forgot that parent-teacher conferences were today, of all freaking days to forget.

“What is this I’m hearing about you failing algebra?!” His mother screeches across the hall, uncaring of the nosy students watching the spectacle unfold. “When I get my hands on you—”

“No!” Jisung yells, panicking. He looks over at Minho, whose wide-eyed gaze is fixed on the menacing silhouette of Jisung’s mother rapidly approaching. “So, I have to run! But I’ll see you later, Lee Minho!”

Jisung doesn’t have the chance to say anything else before he’s dashing away at a speed that questions the validity of his abysmal grades in gym class. He can practically hear the snap of his mother’s nails behind him, escaping being grabbed just by the scruff of his neck. 

“Good luck, Jiseok!” Minho calls out behind him.

Even though Jisung has never been this terrified for his life, he can’t help but sport a magnificently dopey smile as he runs; Minho cares. It doesn’t fade, not even when he crashes into the school principal and gets hot coffee spilled all over him.

On second thought, maybe love will have to wait. 

2. RECRUIT A WINGMAN

If there’s one thing Jisung is good at, it’s never giving up. Setbacks like having thirteen missing assignments and subsequently getting grounded are a part of life, and he refuses to be deterred by them. It’s why he spent twenty six whole minutes studying algebra last night— twenty six more than he’s done so far this year. 

It’s why he will not give up on Minho either. 

“Remind me again why we’re here?” Jeongin whines as Jisung pulls him into the library, petulantly dragging his feet on the carpeted floor. “I wanna go back to the computer lab and play League with Hyunjin.”

“Because, Jeongin!” Jisung explains exasperatedly for the thirtieth time. “Lee Minho always studies here during Tuesday free periods. And I need a wingman to help me win him over!”

Out of all of his friends, Jeongin was the only feasible option to be his wingman. Seungmin is too sarcastic. Hyunjin is too dramatic. Jeongin is… well… sufficient. 

“Whatever.” Jeongin rests his elbow on one of the shelves, before snatching it back a second later when he accidentally touches a book. “Let’s make this quick.”

After doing a quick scan of the area around them, Jisung grabs Jeongin and forces him to duck down with him. He ignores the yelp of surprise that Jeongin lets out, making sure they’re safely wedged in between the romance and science fiction shelves. 

“Okay. Listen. Let’s go over the plan, one last time.” Jisung exhales. “Do not veer off the script. Stick to it, just like we memorized over FaceTime last night. Just wait for my signal, and then start speaking.”

Jeongin nods solemnly. “Got it. And what’s your signal?”

Shit. He didn’t think of one. “Uhh… you’ll know.”

“Copy that.”

Jisung carefully hoists himself up, peering over the bookshelf to pinpoint Minho’s location. His target is tucked away in the very back of the room, half-hidden behind a teetering stack of textbooks as he diligently studies away; Jisung’s heart nearly melts at the sight. 

“Look at him! He’s so studious,” Jisung noisily announces, earning them a warning look from the librarian. “He’s so precious.”

Jeongin just rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “So are we just going to keep staring at him like creeps, or are we actually going to approach him anytime soon?”

“Can’t you even let me admire my own soulmate for a minute?” Jisung protests, but there’s no real bite to his words, not when he’s about to walk into the next chapter of the most epic love story to ever exist. 

“He’s not your—”

“Let’s go to that water fountain near his table and pretend to fill our bottles. That’ll get his attention.”

Jeongin sighs. “Alright.”

With the stealth of a newborn foal, Jisung plods over to the fountain while keeping his eyes zeroed in on Minho, who stays concentrated on his homework. Jisung clears his throat right as they pass by him, hoping he finally notices. 

“That was one hell of a pop quiz, wasn’t it, Jeongin?” Jisung exclaims loudly, nudging Jeongin to get him to focus.

“Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, it was pretty bad,” Jeongin deadpans, and Jisung has to keep himself from facepalming. Even Hyunjin’s overaction would have been better than whatever performance this is. 

“For real! I definitely bombed— ugh, this isn’t working!” Jisung complains, observing how Minho’s eyes haven’t once strayed from his notebook. “Why must he be so perfect!”

“Stop trying so hard and act more natural.” Jeongin pokes Jisung’s forehead and narrowly avoids being swatted. “We might as well fill our water bottles, since we’re here already.”

“Fine, I guess.” Jisung tries not to look too disappointed as he waits for Jeongin to finish filling his bottle, before he shoves his own under the tap. He’s dejectedly watching the stream of water overfill and spill out of his bottle into the drain, when Jeongin taps him on the shoulder. 

“Um, Jisung.”

Jisung doesn’t bother looking up, glumly staring into the drain like it’s hiding the answers to all of his woes. “Let me be, Jeongin. I kind of relate to my water bottle, in a way. It’s so full of water that it’s eventually losing all of it in the end. At one point, it’s both too much and never enough. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

“I never put that much thought into filling my water bottle, but that’s an interesting idea.”

The voice that answers does not belong to Jeongin.

Jisung whirls around, only to be met with Lee Minho’s gorgeous face grinning at him. Jisung’s cheeks burn as Jeongin stifles a laugh from where he is standing beside Minho. Jisung makes a mental note to strangle him later for his incompetence. 

“Erm…” Jisung keels over and coughs awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself. He can smell Minho from where he’s hacking into his elbow to buy time. He smells like fresh laundry and evergreen trees. 

“It might be time to take yours out now, though.” Minho gestures towards the water fountain, where Jisung’s bottle is still perched and overflowing with water. His eyes glimmer mischievously as he holds up his own water bottle, a mint green container covered in cat stickers. God, he’s adorable. “Mind if I have a go?”

“R-right, sorry about that,” Jisung stammers, snatching his bottle and drenching half of his sleeve in the process. “It’s all yours.”

“Thanks!” Minho places his bottle under the tap, before turning to Jisung with a warm smile. “How did it go yesterday? With your mom?”

Jisung winces, remembering his mom taking away his Nintendo and banning him from hanging out with his friends until further notice. “Let’s just say I’m grounded.”

Minho frowns. “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jisung opens his mouth to continue ranting about it, but catches himself before he does. He has to change subjects and get back on script; this is the moment! “Well—”

“Algebra is tough, don’t sweat it,” Minho says softly, placing his hand on Jisung’s forearm, and Jisung effectively forgets his own name. “Just do some practice problems and try your best and you’ll be okay.”

“Um…” Jisung stutters, mind completely blank. He did not account for physical touch in the script. It’s astonishing how the weight of Lee Minho’s soft, warm hand on his skin has endowed him with the IQ of a baked potato.

“Line three!” Jeongin whispers very loudly and unhelpfully. 

Fuck. Jisung can’t remember the damn line. No freaking way he forgot, not after pulling an all-nighter to memorize the script and in the process, getting caught by his furious mother when she found him trying to troubleshoot her Keurig at three in the morning. Jisung underestimated just how profound the power Minho’s presence impacts his ability to function as a sentient being. But Minho just nods kindly, encouraging him to keep going. 

“I, uh, think you’re smart, and I was thinking, that maybe we should—”

“No, you’re supposed to say the part about his eyes!” Jeongin cuts in yet again, and Jisung has to make an extraordinary effort to hold himself back from murdering him.

He just shakes his head, trying his best to ignore Jeongin and clear his mind, but by now, Minho looks utterly confused. 

“Is something going on?” Minho questions, concern etched into his features. 

Jisung’s heart sinks, knowing that he’s lost his romantic momentum and can’t follow through now, lest he risks looking like an even bigger idiot. “No, no. I was just wondering if you’d be free to help me with my homework sometime. You know, ‘cause I’m flunking.”

“Of course.” Minho gives him a sympathetic look. “Anytime.”

“Great! I’ll see you around!” Jisung doesn’t meet Minho’s eyes, grabbing Jeongin and preparing to get the fuck out of there, but:

“One more thing,” Minho starts. “I’m really sorry for mixing up your name yesterday.”

“Hm?” Jisung pauses trying to act nonchalant and not like he spent a full forty minutes collapsed on top of his bed last night, spiraling over the fact that Lee Minho confused him with Hong Jiseok, that one weird kid nobody talks to. “Oh, I don’t recall.”

“Jisung.” Minho smiles. Jisung never thought his name was anything special, until Minho pronounced it. “I’m terrible with names, but I’ll make sure not to mess yours up moving forward.”

And with that, Lee Minho walks away, taking Jisung’s poor, wretched heart with him. 

“Wow,” Jisung croaks, stunned to the spot like he’s been hexed. “He knows my name.”

“Monumental,” Jeongin remarks flatly.

That’s enough for Jisung to snap out of it. “And you! What happened to sticking to the freaking script?”

“Me? You’re the one who went off script first! I was trying to salvage your sorry attempts to flirt,” Jeongin argues as they finally make their way out of the library.

Jisung just groans, rubbing his temple. He really should have gotten some sleep last night. “How was I supposed to know that Lee Minho would want to move so quickly?”

“He literally just patted your arm, calm down.” Jeongin sighs.

“Please. He so wants me.”

Jeongin just sighs, yet again. 

3. BEFRIEND HIS FRIENDS

They’re in the cafeteria today, crowded into their regular table in the far corner of the room. And as usual, Jisung sits with his best friends, Seungmin, Jeongin, and Hyunjin, otherwise known as his fellow social outcasts. But instead of joining in on the ridiculous discussions Jeongin usually sparks, Jisung gazes longingly at the opposite side of the cafeteria that’s reserved for the seniors. Specifically, he stares at Lee Minho and the tantalizing way in which he sips his mango juice. 

“I’m willing to bet ten bucks that the mystery stew is going to give me food poisoning,” Jeongin announces. Jisung tears his eyes away from Minho for the first time during lunch, only to colossally regret it. The stew is a murky beige color, and it’s extremely bubbly, for some terrifying reason. 

“Literally no one is betting against that.” Seungmin carefully unwraps his own homemade sandwich, eyeing Jeongin’s school lunch with dismay.

Jeongin pushes his bowl away with a defeated sigh. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Nooo! How are you going to concentrate during our Animal Crossing tourney after school if you don’t eat?” Hyunjin swoops in, fussing over Jeongin like he always does. Jisung rolls his eyes. He used to be so surprised that someone as pretty as Hyunjin could be so unpopular, but becoming his friend opened his eyes to what a dork he actually is. Not that he can be judging. 

“Ah, Hyunjin. You worry too much about me,” Jeongin preens, making a show of trying to refuse Hyunjin’s attempts to feed him. 

“How could I not, you loveable idiot?” Hyunjin manages to wrestle a spoonful of pudding into Jeongin’s mouth, shutting him up. But Jeongin doesn’t complain, just watching a fully oblivious Hyunjin with hearts in his eyes.

“Doing all of this right in front of my lunch is crazy.” Seungmin makes a disgusted sound at their display, pushing his half-eaten sandwich away. Jeongin promptly swipes the rest of it for himself. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hyunjin replies lightly, before turning to Jisung. “How’s it going with Lee Minho, by the way?”

“Is it going at all?” 

As always, Jisung ignores Seungmin, just letting out a wistful sigh as he tucks his chin into his palms. “Trust me, he’s like, totally mine.”

“Reaaally?” Hyunjin narrows his eyes as they all follow Jisung’s gaze over to Lee Minho. Minho has finished his juice, and is now snacking on a packet of trail mix. And he looks stunning while doing it, of course.

“Lee Minho,” Jisung murmurs dreamily. “My knight in shining armor.”

Hyunjin snorts. “Please. There’s nothing shining about that damn hoodie of his.”

“One-hundred percent polyester,” Seungmin adds. Both he and Hyunjin shudder, making Jisung frown.

“Yeah? So what? It’s his signature look! And it’s the most gorgeous color and it brings out his eyes!” Jisung squawks, unwilling to watch them insult Lee Minho.

“It’s a plain brown hoodie, Jisung.”

“And I’m obsessed with it, and I want to wear it one day.” Jisung smiles proudly. “As Minho’s future boyfriend and one true love, of course.”

“Okay, then what’s your new plan to get him?” Hyunjin asks, delicately folding one leg over the other. “Innie told me about yesterday’s library fail.”

Jisung shoots an unbothered Jeongin a betrayed look. “It wasn’t a fail! It just didn’t go exactly as planned. But don’t worry, I came up with an even better idea to confess.”

His friends lean in, mildly intrigued. With a satisfied grin, Jisung continues.

“I’m going to befriend Lee Felix, aka the vice president of the baking club and Minho’s best friend.” He tips his head in the direction of the freckled blonde sitting next to Lee Minho. “I’m going to ask him if I can join his club and then show him my amazing baking skills and then he’ll just have to be my friend and then I’ll have my in with Minho.”

Hyunjin and Jeongin exchange a dubious glance, while Seungmin opts to directly shoot Jisung down. “And exactly what amazing baking skills are you planning to show off?”

“It’s just baking, how hard can it be?” Jisung scowls, and Seungmin just gives him that trademark, disappointed look of his. “Trust me! If I impress Felix, he’ll definitely tell Minho how cool I am. And then Minho is one-hundred percent bound to fall in love with me!”

“Jisung, do you really want me to tell you all of the flaws in your logic?”

“Not really, no!”

“You’re impossible.” Seungmin shakes his head, biting into his apple with resignation.

The lunch bell rings, and all of the students begrudgingly start to pack up to head back to class. Hyunjin and Seungmin, the only two diligent students of the bunch, scurry off to their respective classrooms. 

“Well, if you wanted to talk to Felix, this is your chance,” Jeongin mutters, still chewing on a yogurt pretzel. But when he turns to face Jisung, he’s already vanished from his seat, halfway across the room.

Jisung heads straight for Lee Felix, ignoring everyone else swarming around him. Felix standing alone near the compost bins, emptying the remainder of his lunchbox into it, Minho nowhere in sight. 

“Hey, you’re Felix, right? The president of the baking club?” Jisung asks in a faux-hesitant voice, even though he’d been meticulously stalking Lee Felix’s Instagram all morning during his chemistry class. He is now well-versed on the Malaysian beach resort Lee Felix and his family went to in Spring 2012. 

“That’s me!” The boy turns, face erupting into a huge smile. “And you’re…?”

“Han Jisung, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jisung says, sticking out his hand. He’d read in Vogue that being classy is the best way to make a good impression in social situations. 

Felix pauses for a second, his brows knitting together in slight confusion, but the expression is smoothed away with an easy grin as he accepts Jisung’s handshake. “So. You’re interested in joining our club?”

“Yes. I adore baking,” Jisung declares, slapping a hand onto his chest for extra emphasis. “I can talk all about it for hours.”

“That’s amazing!” Felix exclaims, fishing a sticky note pad from his pocket and scribbling down a number onto it . “We actually have a meeting after school today. Here is the room we’ll be in. You should come!”

Jisung relaxes, taking the note from Felix. This is too easy. “Great! I’ll be there!”

“Yay! Nice to meet you, Jisung!” Felix laughs.

Jisung watches as Felix leaves for class, waving back at him with a big smile. Figures that Lee Minho’s best friend is one of the nicest guys at this school. Does he have any flaws at all?

The end of the final period doesn’t come fast enough. Jisung is restless for the entirety of eighth period Spanish— one can only conjugate so many verbs before mentally clocking out— so when his watch finally strikes three, he springs out of his seat and dashes out faster than his teacher can lecture him about the homework assignment. Whatever.

“Is there anything in my teeth?” Jisung bares his teeth at Hyunjin, who reels away from him immediately. “Quick, check me!”

“Stay away!”

Jeongin, however, leans in and calmly assesses Jisung, before giving him a thumbs up. “You’re good.”

“Okay, okay.” Jisung sighs, shaking out his shoulders. They’re right outside of Room 480, the multipurpose room where the baking club meets. “Are you sure you guys can’t come with? Seungmin has stupid book club, and I can’t do this alone!”

Hyunjin shrugs apologetically. “Sorry, Jisung. Innie asked me to go with him to the mall and help him find an outfit for a job interview.”

“But he just accepted his job offer from Burger King last night,” Jisung whines, crossing his arms. “Why does he need a new outfit?”

“You didn’t tell me you already got a job.” Hyunjin turns to Jeongin, confusion painted all over his face. “So we don’t need to go shopping anymore?”

Jeongin scrambles forward, turning a furious shade of red that Jisung didn’t know was possible. “No, we should still go! Because, uh, you know how this job market is! Never know when I might get fired! Might as well prep for the next one, you know?”

“I guess…” Hyunjin turns back to Jisung, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. The plans are still on.”

“Mhm.” Jeongin grabs Hyunjin’s arm, nodding wildly. “We are busy, Jisung. Sorry.”

Jisung watches, slightly bemused, as his two friends walk away. Something’s happening there, but he tables that thought for later. He has bigger fish to fry. 

He pushes the door open, meekly peeking in before setting foot inside. There’s quite a few people present for today’s meeting, but he spies Felix, setting up utensils in the back, and heads straight for him. 

“Hey Felix,” Jisung says, leveling his voice to a hopefully cool tone. 

Felix looks up with a grin. “Hey Jisung! Glad to see that you could make it!”

“Glad to be here,” Jisung replies, returning his smile. “So, what are we doing today?”

“We’ll be making caramel cookies.” Felix holds up a big bag of sugar. Easy. “So, have you ever made caramel?”

“Pfft. Loads of times,” Jisung lies through his teeth. Eating chocolate chips while his grandma bakes counts, right? He vaguely remembers her even banning him from the kitchen after he burned a pot of ramen. But he shoves that memory down, because it doesn’t count. “I bake too much for my own good.”

“Perfect! We actually have a turnout that was greater than we planned for, so there’s not enough baking mentors today for all new members.” Felix pats Jisung on the back. “But you can fly solo!”

And there’s the regret. “Oh, are you sure? Because—”

“Nonsense! You don’t need a mentor, since you’re experienced! You got this!” Felix smiles encouragingly, but Jisung can feel the dread curling around him in ropes. “This is a copy of the recipe, and I’ve prepped a station for you right here.”

Felix flounces away, leaving Jisung to stare down at a frighteningly unfamiliar arrangement of baking utensils. But he has no way to back out now, so he mashes down his nerves and reads through the recipe. 

1) Cook sugar on medium heat in a steel saucepan. Stir constantly until sugar melts.

Right. So he has to make the caramel sauce first. Straightforward enough. Jisung picks up the pan, measuring in the sugar before gingerly turning on the small portable stove that Felix set him up with. 

Carefully, he slowly stirs the sugar in the pan, drowning out everyone else in the room to focus on the task at hand. He watches giddily as the sugar eventually starts to become a silky fluid, taking on a deep amber color. Like Lee Minho’s eyes. 

Jisung smiles to himself like a fool, dreamily thinking back to Minho. He can’t wait to wow Felix and watch him rave about his kitchen skills to him. He should have never doubted himself. Minho and him, they’re meant to be. 

“Jisung!”

Jisung jolts forward, snapping out of his reverie. “Huh?”

Felix runs over with a panicked expression on his face. “What’s going on?!”

“Shit!” Jisung looks down at the pan only to see that the sugar isn’t visible at all, because of the thick plumes of black smoke curling out of it. “It was okay a minute ago!”

“Didn’t you hear me tell everyone to add water?” Felix asks. “It helps control the sugar and keeps it from getting too hot.”

“Not exactly!” 

“I thought you said you’ve made caramel before!”

Jisung does not end up having the chance to make up another excuse. Felix tries to douse the smoke down with some water, but it makes the smoke cloud the air, forming a hazy cloak over them. In his haste to help Felix clean up the mess, Jisung inadvertently ends up creating a bigger, scarier one; he accidentally knocks over an open bottle of oil onto the stove, sparking a flame.

“FIRE!”

The next few minutes are a blur. The sharp curl of Felix’s thin fingers grabbing his wrist, the chaotic scramble of the others, the blaring fire alarm ringing in his ears. Being pushed outside, gasping for fresh air, the flash of firefighters running inside, past their group. 

Jisung doesn’t realize himself until Felix is shaking his shoulders, asking him if he’s okay. The boy is clearly worried, eyes widening in relief when Jisung finally coughs out a response. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” Jisung mumbles, unable to meet the eyes of the other baking club members peering down at him. He looks over at the entrance of the school, where the head firefighter is speaking to one of the teachers. Everyone else in the building has evacuated too, huddled outside, and the excruciating shame sets in. “I ruined the meeting.”

“Oh, Jisung. Everyone is okay, that’s what matters.” Felix sighs. “But you’re not really a baker, are you?”

“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispers, bending his head down. He can’t even look him in the eye, he’s already been seen right through. “I’m really sorry, Felix.”

Felix shakes his head, eyes full of pity. “Jisung—”

Jisung pushes himself off the ground and scampers away, before he cries in front of everyone and humiliates himself even further. He can kiss any potential friendship with Felix goodbye; that opportunity was charred to a crisp, along with his sugar. Not only is he an idiot, but he can now officially be branded an arsonist. This was a terrible idea.

It’s time to go back to the drawing board.

4. WRITE A LOVE NOTE

“So, how was baking with Lee Felix?” Jeongin inquires, happily taking a sip of Hyunjin’s juice when he offers it. School’s out for the day, and they’re all walking home together, like they always do. 

“Well, you know. I unfortunately didn’t get the chance to really get to know him better, he was pretty busy.” Jisung shrugs, pretending he doesn’t notice Seungmin’s suspicious glare. 

“I heard someone burned down the entire multipurpose room kitchen!” Hyunjin exclaims excitedly. “Do you know who it was?”

“Okay, can people stop saying the whole kitchen burned down? It was just a small grease fire that was eventually subdued!” Jisung erupts, and his friends stop walking, staring at him with concern. Jisung shuts his eyes, trying to project his voice in a calmer way. “Look, nothing happened. Everything was fine. And no, I don’t know who caused the fire.”

“Mhm.” 

“Kim Seungmin, I’m not in the mood,” Jisung snaps, exasperated. “And let’s just say, I’m taking a different approach.”

“What is it?” 

Jisung reaches into his backpack, pulling out his journal and brandishing it in the air. “I’m writing Lee Minho a confession of my love.”

“Jisung, I mean this in the best way possible, but is all of this really necessary?” Hyunjin asks. “Why can’t you just be honest with him, directly?”

“I’ve already tried that, Hyunjin. And the universe doesn’t want my life to be easy, apparently. So this is what I have to do.” Jisung glances down at his journal, inside of which his love note is safely tucked in. 

“Yeah, and, it’s not always easy to be direct to someone’s face,” Jeongin chimes in. “It’s hard being open with the person you like.”

“You like someone?” Hyunjin’s brow furrows as he redirects his attention to Jeongin, who is now staring down at the sidewalk like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “Who?”

“Take a wild guess,” Seungmin mutters, before crossing the street in the opposite way to go home. “You guys are all idiots. Later.”

Jisung nods goodbye to Seungmin, and starts to continue on his way, but Hyunjin and Jeongin don’t budge. “Um, you guys coming?”

“I think Jeongin and I need to talk,” Hyunjin answers, his gaze fixed on Jeongin. In complete contrast, Jeongin looks everywhere but at Hyunjin.

“Alright, see you tomorrow!” Jisung stuffs his hand in his pockets, casting one last look at them, before wandering off on his own. Things have been pretty weird between those two, lately, with a palpable tension manifesting in the strangest dips of conversation, but he supposes that he’s been so preoccupied with Minho that he hadn’t even noticed. He’ll have to spam call Seungmin to debrief about it sometime. 

With a sigh, Jisung whips out his headphones, plugging the wire into his phone and letting the melody float into his ears. It’s a gorgeous November day, with a turquoise blue sky and the last of the fall foliage adorning the trees. He’s listening to the playlist that he’d specially curated for his daydreaming time, and it’s the perfect set he needs to imagine strolling this street with Minho.

He doesn’t hear them approach, not until his headphones are being ripped out of his ear, and he’s being pushed onto the ground, the wind knocked out of his lungs. Jisung cries out, feeling his knee get badly scraped as he curls into himself. 

“Better watch where you’re going, punk.” A burly guy towers over him, watching him with glee in his beady eyes. “You don’t want to accidentally trip and hurt yourself.”

Jisung clutches his knee, disheartened to see his number one tormentor and the biggest bully at Levanter High, Tony Miller. And along with him, his usual gang of lackeys, all snickering behind their palms. Before he can say anything else, one of them is snatching his precious journal out of his palm. Jisung watches in horror as they pounce onto the journal like wolves, a far worse outcome than taking a few punches to the gut and being left alone.

“What’s this?” Tony questions, holding the journal between two fingers and dangling it in front of Jisung’s face. “Your little diary?”

“It’s mine, give it back!” Jisung lurches forward, ignoring the shooting pain in his knee. Tony just steps back, letting Jisung fall onto his palms once again.

His lip curls nastily. “I don’t think so.”

“He said, give it back.”

They all turn to see where the new voice has come from, and as always, there he is. Lee Minho, his kind knight. He stands, in the middle of the sidewalk, fists balled at his sides, beautiful even when shaking with rage. 

“Give it back to him,” Minho repeats, voice low with anger. “I’m not going to say it again.”

Tony just chuckles. “Fuck off, Lee. This isn’t any of your business.”

“It is, actually. Jisung is my friend. So you’re bullying my friend, because you have nothing better to do with your sorry life.” Minho walks up to them and helps Jisung up from the ground, holding onto him even when he’s stood up. “Now, do I have to show you why I’m a blackbelt, or are you going to fuck off?”

“Blackbelt?” Tony’s front falters, for a second, before he’s replacing the hesitation with a stony glare. “I don’t believe you.”

“Want to take that chance?” Minho counters in a dangerous whisper. It sends a shiver down Jisung’s spine, in a way he can’t say out loud. 

Tony holds Minho’s gaze for another few, charged seconds, before he breaks it off. He tosses Jisung’s journal into the grass with a sneer, signaling to his friends to leave. “This isn’t over, Lee.”

Tony and his gang skulk off, leaving just Jisung and Minho. Minho picks up Jisung’s journal, wiping it off on his own jeans, before handing it back to him. Jisung just stares at him, openmouthed. “Are you really a blackbelt?”

“No,” Minho giggles. “I just have a really good poker face.”

Jisung shakes his head, clutching his journal against his chest, hoping it muffles the sound of his heart going crazy inside. “I really am a weakling.”

“Hey, don’t let those jerks get to you. They’re compensating for their own shitty lives. And you’re not weak, Jisung.” Minho’s eyes flash with anger once again, before they’re focusing on Jisung’s knee. “You’re bleeding!”

Jisung watches, starry-eyed, as Minho slings his backpack onto the ground, unzipping it and pulling out a small pack of bandaids. With utmost care, he dabs away the blood from the scrape with a clean tissue, before delicately pressing a bandaid over it. Jisung never felt very much tender, but he does now, being so gently cared for. 

“I can’t remember when you haven’t been there for me,” Jisung breathes out, as Minho finishes patching him up and stands. “I don’t know how to keep thanking you.”

“You don’t ever have to thank me, Jisung.” Minho smiles at him, all anger gone and only warmth left. It’s enough to heat Jisung up and make him go all toasty inside. “I’ll always be there for you. Because like I said, we’re friends.”

Jisung tries to speak, to say anything at all, but the words don’t leave his mouth. It’s hard, because now, according to Lee Minho, they’re friends. One step further, and they’ll have matching keychains and know all of the subliminal things about each other. 

But Minho just laughs his awkwardness off, like always. “Alright then, Jisung. I gotta catch the bus, I have to head downtown to run some errands for my parents. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“See you,” Jisung manages to get out. Minho gives him a sunny little wave, before putting on his own pair of headphones and making his way to the bus stop.

Jisung just stands there for a few minutes, still processing the events prior, before he once again realizes how big of an idiot he is. Lee Minho was right there, they had a moment, and he failed to deliver the damn note. Frantically, he scans around for Minho before placing him at the far corner of the street, next to the bus station pole. 

Jisung opens his journal and whips out the note, sprinting forward. His chest heaves from the effort, along with how he calls out Minho’s name to get his attention, but it’s fruitless. Minho is distracted on his phone, and Jisung curses whoever invented noise-cancelling technology. 

The bus ends up arriving before Jisung does, and Minho gets on, still completely unaware of Jisung desperately running after him. The doors board shut, and the bus starts rolling away, leaving Jisung to double over his knees, panting for air. 

To make matters worse, a gust of wind knocks his letter clean out of the light hold in his hands. Jisung jumps up to catch the letter, but of course he misses, and he can only watch helplessly as the breeze gracefully lands it right in the middle of the biggest puddle on the street. 

Jisung hurries over, fishing out his letter, but it’s completely fruitless; the paper is steeped through with muddy water, and the heartfelt words he had poured out of his pen have been smudged fully illegible. 

Before he can get to safety himself, however, a large truck rushes past, splashing him to make him match with the letter. As Jisung aimlessly wades out, he dumps the soggy mess of paper into a nearby trash bin, before stomping all the way home to dry off and stream Sweetener while having a good cry. 

This can’t be the end. 

5. PERFORM A GRAND GESTURE

Jisung knows that he’s kind of fucked when Kim Seungmin starts to feel bad for him. He had explained what had transpired yesterday— the bullies, Minho rescuing him, the tragic end to his love letter— and Seungmin just listened quietly, puppy dog eyes devoid of any of their usual mirth. He didn’t once interrupt Jisung to dish him a clever burn. He didn’t even yell at Jisung for putting his feet up on his precious desk in the computer lab, where he works as a technician for the school broadcast crew. 

“I’m sorry that happened, Jisung,” Seungmin says, when Jisung finishes his long rant.

Jisung just squints at him. “Who are you and what have you done with Kim Seungmin?”

“Very funny.” Seungmin shuts his notebook. “As much as I like making fun of your crush on Lee Minho, I’m really proud of how you’ve put yourself out there.”

“Thanks.” Jisung softens, before a wicked smile spreads across his face. “Aw, you love me!”

Seungmin rolls his eyes, shoving Jisung away. There’s the guy he knows and loves (sometimes). “Shut the fuck up, or I’m not going to help you get what you want.”

“Really? What did you have in mind?” Jisung sits back in his chair, making a valiant effort to keep his hands to himself. He’d been too busy last night to brainstorm, too busy wallowing over his last failure to confess. But Seungmin’s ideas are always the best, meticulously mapped out and highly technical— there’s a reason he’s the smartest one in their group. 

“It’s a risky plan,” he begins. “Tomorrow morning right before school, I'll be here in the lab, setting up for the morning announcements. The other tech caught a nasty case of the stomach bug, so he isn’t going to be in. It’s just me until the crew comes to record.”

“And how does this involve me?”

“I’m getting to that. You’re going to sneak into the lab and I’ll set you up with the mic. I’ll stand outside and be on guard, and if the crew arrives earlier than anticipated, I’ll stall them until you do what you need to do.”

Jisung frowns, trying to process Seungmin’s plan. “Wait, so what exactly are you suggesting I do?”

Seungmin purses his lips nervously. “You’re going to confess to Lee Minho over the school intercom.”

Jisung bursts out laughing. “You’re joking.”

However, Seungmin’s face stays stoic, unmoving. “I’m not.”

“This is insane. You are insane.” Jisung scoffs, shaking his head. “Do you know how much trouble we could get into?”

“Probably just detention, since this would be my first offense.”

“Well, not for me!” Jisung throws his hands up in frustration. He’s lost count of how many times he’s been sentenced to detention. “I’m already on thin ice at home. If we get caught, my mom is literally going to disown me!”

“Look, Jisung, I don’t know!” Seungmin slams his hands down onto the desk, silencing Jisung’s ramble. “Directly talking to Minho didn’t work. Getting Jeongin to help you didn’t work. Trying to become friends with Felix— I know you’re the one who caused the fire. And the letter? Come on. Clearly something is going wrong.”

Jisung wilts like his grandma’s bloom in the winter. “I don’t know what I’m missing.”

“I think I know what,” Seungmin sighs. “You need to perform a gesture of your feelings. You need to do something so grand and big that Lee Minho is forced to listen and acknowledge it. The whole school is also going to be listening, but all that matters is that Minho is.”

“You think it’ll go well?” Jisung asks sadly, picking at his nail. “You think it’s possible for him to actually like me back?”

Seungmin waits a moment, before he finally answers in the most earnest tone he’s ever used. “Jisung, all I can say is that he would be a fucking idiot not to.”

It’s exactly 7:59 AM, six minutes before the crew is supposed to come in and sixteen minutes before the morning announcements are supposed to go on live air. The light from the morning sun filters in through the shuttered blinds, tickling Jisung as he wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans for the hundredth time. He can already hear the noisy chatter of the student body trickling into the school building, the teachers laughing in the halls before classes start. 

“Now!” Seungmin hisses through the doorway, before shutting it closed behind him to resume his guard post in the hallway. 

Jisung swallows harshly, unable to get rid of the lump of fear in his throat. It’s not just the danger of getting in trouble, but the terror of facing rejection. But he supposes that getting rejected is better, rather than a lifetime of regretting never speaking his heart. 

He exhales sharply, powering the mic on and pressing the speaker button. He winces as the crackle of the intercom echoes, and he powers forward before he loses his nerve. “Good morning, everyone. My name is Han Jisung.”

There’s no going back now. “I’m really sorry for this interruption, but for quite some time now, I’ve been trying to say something to someone, but you know, um, life keeps getting in the way.”

By now, his fellow students are probably on their way to class, pausing to whisper to each other in confusion, while the teachers and staff have probably caught on, dramatically radioing to each other. This is it.

“So I’m confessing my feelings to someone I really, really admire.” Jisung takes a deep breath. “Lee Min—”

“Young man, what in the world do you think you’re doing?”

Jisung nearly falls out of the chair in his struggle to switch off the intercom and turn around to face the intruder, but the damage has already been done. Mr. Song, the grouchy old computer science teacher, glares down at him, sporting a cup of coffee in his hand and a disgruntled expression on his face. Before school started, Jisung had slept through class registration and was forced to sign up for the coding elective, the only option left. Rest assured, he is not Mr. Song’s favorite student.

Jisung laughs nervously, the despair already wringing through his body. He completely forgot about the fact that Song uses the back entrance every morning to get into the school building; this is a total disaster. Why in the world did he ever agree to this? “Mr. Song, I didn’t think you’d be here—”

“In my own computer lab?” Mr. Song scoffs, setting his coffee down. “Think hard, Mr. Han Jisung. I know you rarely do.”

By now, Jisung’s face is positively aflame. Between Song and the fiasco that awaits him outside, he doesn’t know what to panic about first. “I’m sorry, I just had to say something really important.” 

“What could possibly be more important than the fact that you currently have a C in my class?” Mr. Song frowns, crossing his arms. “Detention after school for a week, starting today.”

Jisung doesn’t bother protesting, just hanging his head low and grabbing his backpack. He feels more deflated than a flat tire. Not only has he just made a spectacle of himself in front of the whole school, but he’s probably going to be grounded until he’s thirty. 

As he makes his shameful exit out of the lab, he passes by the students in the morning crew, who all stare back at him looking extremely confused. Seungmin is right behind them, looking an equal mixture of worried and apologetic. 

“I’m so sorry,” Seungmin calls out behind him, his voice cracking. “I totally forgot to account for Mr. Song.”

“It’s okay, Seungmin. It’s not your fault.” Jisung stops walking to turn and give his friend a sad smile. “I’ve humiliated myself.”

“But you basically confessed. This isn’t over yet,” Seungmin says, eyes flashing indignantly. “Besides, you didn’t finish saying his name, so how could he know for sure that you were talking about him?”

Jisung shakes his head, willing the tears not to fall. Besides Lee Minho, there’s only Lee Minjeong, the sophomore in Hyunjin’s musical theater class, but she pretty much sticks to herself. Anyone could connect the dots if they tried hard enough, but Minho especially has probably figured it out. He’s smart. Painfully so.

“It’s not about him knowing that I have a crush on him or something,” Jisung sniffles. “All of this was about me being able to get everything off my chest. I didn’t want him to reject me before I could tell him exactly what he means to me. But now I’ve lost that chance.”

“But Jisung, can’t you just—”

“No. I give up.”

1. GIVE UP

The weekend didn’t end up providing much solace to Jisung. Between school and getting yelled at by his mother at home, Jisung barely had the chance to process what had happened a week ago, when his final attempt at confessing to Minho spectacularly failed. Jisung had figured that Minho deduced his feelings for him, because he didn’t reach out to Jisung all week, so… here he is now, nursing his broken heart in the middle of detention.

“I’m going to check your homework before you leave to make sure that you’ve finished it,” Mr. Song mumbles sleepily, from where he’s perched on his stool in the front of the classroom. 

“Yes Mr. Song,” Jisung says somberly, before looking down at his math worksheet. He’s drawn sad-faced kittens all over the piecewise functions, instead of actually solving them. Maybe this is why he got a twenty percent on the last algebra test.

With a heavy sigh, Jisung continues to sketch, but now switching to sad puppies. Dr. Phil was right— love hurts. Jisung doesn’t bother doing his homework, resolving to just scribble some numbers down before the time is up; he spends the next half hour alternating between his depressed doodling and moping over the uncomfortable desk he’s been forced to sit at. 

“Jisung.”

Jisung barely hears his name being whispered, chalking it up to a hallucination sprouting from being lovesick. It isn’t until the person says his name once more, this time louder and more urgent, that he finally looks up.

“Jisung.”

It’s Lee Minho, lovely as ever, looking at him expectantly from where he stands behind the door. Jisung can’t help it— it’s a visceral reaction, the way his pathetic heart soars at the sight of him.

“Got a sec to talk?” Minho asks softly, now that he’s caught Jisung’s attention.

“Uhh…” Jisung glances over at Mr. Song. He’s already dozed off, light snores filling the room. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, Jisung. Let’s go to the vending machine.” 

Right, because they always just get snacks together casually, like they’re actually friends. But Jisung can’t turn him down, not with that pleading look in his eyes— honestly, he was a goner the moment he called his name. Besides, he’s extremely curious about what exactly Lee Minho could possibly want to talk about with him. 

Jisung sets his pencil down and creeps past Mr. Song, slipping out of the door. Quickly, he moves past Minho in the direction of the vending machine in the back hallway; it’s easier to stay strong when he isn’t looking at Minho’s face

The hallways are fully empty by now, as it’s nearly four on a Friday afternoon. Jisung wouldn’t exactly say that his usual interactions with Minho are normal, but it feels even stranger now, walking in utter silence, shrouded in an abnormal tension that he can’t quite place.

Jisung sneaks a look over his shoulder at Minho, who keeps his eyes trained on the ground, and his hands shoved into his pockets. He isn’t walking with his usual swagger; he looks rather despondent, unlike Jisung has ever seen him, and the realization hits him immediately.

Minho is going to reject him. 

That’s it. Jisung speeds up his pace, internally spiraling over the possibility. He had already come to terms with the fact that Minho found out about Jisung’s crush on him, but he assumed that by keeping enough distance in between them, the older boy would eventually just forget about him. Now, he’s about to be brutally rejected in person and everything is going to be a thousand times worse.

But before Jisung can fake food poisoning and get the hell out of there, they’ve reached the dead end of the hallway, where the vending machine is centered. Minho wordlessly steps in front of him, swiftly punching in the buttons, and Jisung loses the nerve to excuse himself.

Minho is probably stocking up on pity snacks for Jisung when he lets him down easily. It’s okay. This is fine. Jisung just decides the best route is to mentally hype himself up; worst case scenario, he gets his heart stomped on and walks away with some Doritos. 

The loud, jarring thump of the dispenser makes Jisung cringe in discomfort, but Minho just picks up the twin jumbo packets of peanut M&Ms and quietly hands one to Jisung. 

“Thank you,” Jisung whispers. 

Minho doesn’t immediately say anything in response, just exhaling sharply. After a moment, in a voice so quiet that Jisung almost misses it— 

“Why did you give up?”

“Huh?”

Minho blankly stares at the ground, the poor packet of candy crumpling in his tightened fist. “Jisung, I know you’ve been trying to confess to me. That you like me.”

Jisung’s heart sinks faster than the ill-fated miniature boat that he built last week during shop class. He turns his head to the side, desperately trying to suck back in the deluge of tears that threaten to fall, because this is it. This is the moment Lee Minho breaks his heart. “Because. You obviously don’t like me back.”

“And what made you come to that conclusion?” Minho frowns, like he can’t even fathom Jisung’s logic. Please. 

Jisung just sucks in a shaky breath, shutting his eyes. “You didn’t speak to me all week. You’re clearly avoiding me, because you now know that I like you.”

Minho scoffs. “Jisung, you’ve been avoiding me. How could I speak to you?”

“I wasn’t—”

“Jisung.” Minho gives him a look, and Jisung shrugs sheepishly, reminded of two days ago, when he ran into Minho washing his hands in the bathroom. They’d met eyes in the mirror, and before Minho could say anything, Jisung promptly walked right back out, no matter how bad of an emergency it was.

“Okay, maybe I have been avoiding you. Just a little.” Jisung scratches his arm, horrendously embarrassed, because he is as much a coward as he is a lovesick fool. 

“I knew it.”

“But that doesn’t change anything!” 

Minho sighs, crossing his arms. “Yes, it does, Jisung. This whole week, I’ve been waiting for you to try to confess to me one more time.”

Now, Jisung just feels like an idiot. “But… why?”

“Do you seriously not get it?” Minho rolls his eyes. “Because I like you too.”

Wait. WHAT?!!!

No way. No fucking way. 

Jisung feels like he’s been swept off his feet, like somebody has shined a giant spotlight into his face, blinding him. He feels absolutely faint, and Minho's gorgeous, gorgeous face has gone slightly blurry; is this cloud nine, or is he just going into cardiac arrest? Neither, he’s being punked.

“You’re playing me. Where is the camera?” Jisung looks behind the vending machine for good measure, before starting to pace the entire length of the hallway in search. “Kim Seungmin, you can come out, you evil—”

“You hijacked the morning announcements, Jisung. You nearly burned down the entire school.” Minho calls out behind him, making Jisung halt in his tracks. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Jisung turns around, his face heating up. “In my defense, caramel is an extremely hazardous substance—”

Minho doesn’t budge, staring him down. “Jisung, I like you. And I’ll keep saying it until you get it.”

“But… but… my Pikachu shoes,” Jisung splutters in utter disbelief, mind in full crash out mode. God, he wishes he had the ability to shut his damn mouth. Like come on. “I’m not cool.”

His heart desperately calls out for him to end it here, to walk away and ponder in private how cruel life must be. He can’t help it though, rooted to the spot like a freaking tree. Cool, popular Lee Minho, and awkward, loser Han Jisung. That’s what they are. But hey, maybe ABC could take inspiration from his life for their next greatest comedy sitcom. 

“Pikachu is my favorite Pokémon.” Lee Minho blushes pink like a rose petal, and Jisung thinks he might have just heard an angel sing. “Also, you’re possibly the cutest boy I’ve ever met.”

Aliens. That’s it. Aliens probably kidnapped the real Lee Minho and replaced him with a cyborg that looks exactly like him. But before Jisung can voice his extremely concerning theory with the imposter—

Minho strides forward and grabs Jisung’s face with both hands and kisses him square on the mouth. Jisung goes slack for a full five seconds, before he’s kissing him back. 

For years, Jisung had prepared himself for this exact moment by watching countless tutorials on YouTube, scrolling through romance subreddits, and even taking meticulous notes on the corniest WikiHow tutorial known to man (RE: “how to kiss like a player [with pictures]”). He’d like to think that they’ve helped him, to some degree, but it’s hard to tell, because right now, everything somehow just makes sense. 

Minho tastes like blue raspberry Sour Patch Kids and the feeling of nostalgia that Jisung could never quite place, not until now. He longs for Minho even when he’s right in front of him, grinning while tugging on his collar like an excited cat. Minho’s better than any teenage dream Jisung could have ever had, better than rainbow friendship bracelets and listening to “Break Free” on full volume. 

Jisung has never done drugs in his life, but Lee Minho feels like an addiction he can’t quit. It’s proven when Minho pulls away for some air, blinking down at Jisung like he’s hung the stars in the sky; Jisung already feels immense loss.

“I think I love you,” he croaks. So much for acting nonchalant. 

Minho’s smile just grows wider. So, so pretty. “And I think I love you too, silly boy.”

Yup. Definitely better than the entire Dangerous Woman tracklist. He’ll profusely apologize to Ariana at his closet shrine later. 

“Are you real?” He shakes his head, wondering if he should ask Minho to pinch him, for good measure.

“I think so,” Minho laughs, moving his hand down to slot his fingers into Jisung’s. They fit perfectly into place, like they were made for each other. Jisung pinches himself. “So, we should probably get you back before Song wakes up. I don’t want you to get into trouble again.”

Jisung really could just melt right then and there, because gosh, why must he always be so caring? What a sweetheart. His life cannot be real, but he’ll keep pinching himself if it means he can say Minho is his. All his. “I guess. But only if you kiss me one more time.”

“I’ll kiss you as many times as you want,” Minho whispers, before pressing his lips against Jisung’s ever so softly. “Isn’t that what boyfriends do?”

They hold hands all the way back to the classroom. It takes longer to walk back than it did to leave it, due to the fact that Minho keeps pausing to kiss Jisung. And then there’s the way Minho smiles at him, like he’s the most endearing thing to have ever spawned into creation; Jisung feels like a bubble, airy and free and so in love. 

He can’t wait to gloat about it in Kim Seungmin’s smug face. Lee Minho loves ME!!!

“Wish I didn’t have to go inside.” Jisung grumbles, when they’re finally right outside of the room. He only has an hour left of detention, but still! He doesn’t want to waste a single minute of being Lee Minho’s boyfriend. This is heartbreaking!!

“I’ll be waiting for you right at the entrance when you get out.” Minho cards his hand through Jisung’s hair with a fond look in his eyes. “I’ll treat you to something delicious.”

“Lee Minho, I’m going to be the best boyfriend. Just you wait,” Jisung promises. Minho giggles, but he wholeheartedly means it. He deserves the world and anything else Jisung has to offer, if not his heart.

One last kiss, and Jisung is forced to turn back into that dreaded classroom. Thankfully, Mr. Song is still asleep, his glasses teetering precariously on the tip of his nose. But before he can close the door behind him, he feels Minho grab his arm.

“Jisung, wait.”

Jisung looks back, giddy. Soulmates do exist, after all. “Yes?”

Minho’s hair is slightly rumpled, because he has rushed to take off his hoodie. He holds it out to Jisung with a shy smile that makes him go weak in the knees. 

“Do you want to wear my hoodie?”