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Jisung was having a very nice dream before he was so rudely interrupted. It was something about him onstage, performing with his guitar and singing his soul out. The sound of thousands of fans cheering for him and the brilliant flash of innumerable lightsticks still remain in his head as he blearily sits up, rubbing at his eyes. He allows his thoughts to go back to his dream, and he imagines himself being a singer, writing music and singing and bringing the world together with his songs. He shakes himself out of it and throws his blanket off of him, swinging his legs to the side of the bed.
I love my job, he tells himself firmly. And he does. He’s a music teacher at a high school, and teaching music to his students gives him a kind of satisfaction that few other jobs would. Except being a singer, that traitorous voice in his head whispers. He decides to ignore it.
Jisung then remembers the reason he was awoken from his beautiful dream. As if on cue, loud banging noises are heard from his front door. He glances at his clock: 12:00 am, January 11th.
Who on earth is knocking at Jisung’s door at 12:00 am?
He’s in the middle of debating whether opening it would pose a threat to his life, or at the very least his bank account, when the person banging away at the door calls out.
“Jisung-ah, are you in there?”
Jisung freezes. He knows that voice. He knows that voice very well. In fact, he thinks about that voice way more than a person should think about one singular voice. But there’s no way in hell that the owner of that voice is standing in front of his house right now.
Jisung stupidly stares at his door for a very long time.
Another loud knock snaps him out of it, and he finally brings himself to wrap his fingers around the doorknob and twist it. He cracks the door open painfully slowly and steps outside.
And stares.
Minho grins at him, his beautiful eyes softening as they take in Jisung’s pink teddy-bear printed pyjamas (ahem).
Minho, Jisung's best friend of ten years. Who lives a few hundred miles away. Standing of front of Jisung’s door and just fucking grinning at him.
Jisung is going to die.
Seeing Minho in person after years and years brings everything rushing back. Lectures, messy dorm rooms, and conversations late into the night. But most importantly it brings back Jisung’s huge, stupid crush on Minho.
“Hi, Jisung,” Minho says to him, his smile still wide on his unfairly gorgeous face. Jisung has forgotten just how gorgeous his face was; the pixelated screen of face-time didn’t do it any justice.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Minho inquires, tilting his head. The movement makes his hair fall into his eyes.
Jisung just stares at him.
Minho raises his hand to brush the strands of hair away from his eyes, and Jisung’s eyes track the movement. His brain chooses that exact moment to scream at him, he looks so good?! And he’s just wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, why does he look like he’s stepped out from a magazine cover?
Jisung, with an incredible amount of willpower, ignores his brain's exclamations about how insanely attractive Minho is and instead focuses on trying to speak.
“H–ah?” he says intelligently.
Minho just giggles at him and steps forward, putting his arms around Jisung and crushing him to his chest. He smells so good, like rain and fresh laundry. Jisung automatically pulls him in closer, hugging him impossibly tight.
After a minute or a year, Jisung regains enough coherent thoughts to pull back and squint at his best friend.
“What are you doing here, hyung?”
“What, you don’t want me here?” Minho makes a ridiculously pouty face. Ah he’s so cute, Jisung thinks before expelling this thought from his brain and reaching out to hit him on the shoulder. Minho laughs again.
“Hyung, that’s not the question and you know it,” Jisung whines. “What I mean is, what exactly are you doing hundreds of miles away from your house, on my doorstep on a random Wednesday?”
Minho tugs him back into a hug, his breath warm against the side of Jisung’s neck. “Because I missed you.”
“You travelled across the country, in the middle of the week, just because you missed me?”
“Yes. Now stop acting like you don’t want me here and invite me inside, you brat.”
Jisung is still reeling by the time Minho is on the couch in front of the fire, with a hot mug of coffee in hand.
“Tell me why you’re really here,” Jisung presses, sitting down on the couch and twisting his torso so that he can see Minho clearly.
Minho’s face reflects the firelight, his skin alight with hues of warm yellow. His eyes are unreadable as he stares into the depths of his mug for a minute, before looking back up at Jisung.
“I was telling the truth earlier. I really am here because I missed you.”
Jisung had missed him too. So, so much. So much that every facetime ended with Jisung’s heart aching, fervently wishing that he could cross the too-large distance separating them and throw himself into his best friend’s arms. Every little thing that reminds him of Minho causes that heart-ache to come crashing back with full force, overwhelming him till he forces himself to breathe and get on with his day. Now Minho is finally here, and after years and years of not being able to be in presence, not being able to physically touch him— Jisung doesn’t know what to do.
Instead of a reply, Jisung scoots closer and lays his head on Minho’s shoulder, linking their arms together.
“I missed you too, hyung. More than you can imagine,” he says quietly.
They stay in silence for a few minutes, until Jisung is struck with a sudden thought.
“Hyung, what about your work? It's the middle of the week!”
Minho is a choreographer, and as far as Jisung knows, a very busy person. Years of begging in vain for Minho to come visit him have taught him that Minho never gets an opportunity to take a break. So Jisung is very curious as to why after all this time, today is the day that his biggest wish comes true. Well, maybe not his biggest wish regarding Minho, but Jisung has no desire to delve into that at this very moment.
Minho smiles mischievously, his eyes sparkling. God, Jisung missed his smile.
“I told them I was sick. I think I was very convincing ‘cause I made my voice all low and raspy and started coughing on the call. I had to practice a few times, though, because I kept laughing in the middle of it, and I definitely couldn’t risk missing this visit,” he finishes this off with a wink. Jisung ignores his accelerating heart rate.
“Tell me, how exactly did you pull off this ‘low and raspy’ voice?” Jisung enquires.
“Watch and learn.”
Minho clears his throat, and proceeds to speak in a soft, husky voice that Jisung did not think he was capable of and it sounds so good and Jisung is going to pass away right this second. Minho finishes his little dialogue and looks at him with a grin, as if he didn’t set the entirety of Jisung’s blood on fire.
“I–hah.” Jisung says, the embodiment of eloquence as always.
He tries again. “Hhh–you–that was very–yes.”
Minho smirks at him. “Was it that good? You seem actually scared that I’m sick. You can't get a proper word out.”
Jisung throws a cushion at him, and Minho swats it away, laughing.
“So yeah, I fooled them into thinking I have the immune system of a Victorian child and got on the next flight here.”
Jisung has another question. “How long are you here for?’ Forever, please.
“Oh, just a couple of days,” Minho answers vaguely. “But this means we don’t have a lot of time, so let’s go!”
“Go where?”
“Out.”
Out turned out to be a tteokbokki stall at a park nearby.
“Hyung, why exactly are we getting fast food at 1 in the morning? In the cold?” Jisung wants to know.
Minho hums in response, bringing their tteokbokki and soju over to a table. “I told you I wanted to spend time with you, Jisung-ah. We haven’t done this in forever.”
This is true, Jisung thought sadly. And now he’s going to leave and it's going to hurt all over again–
“Hey, hey, don’t be sad, okay? Let's try to have as much fun as we can in the time we have,” Minho says, reaching over to ruffle Jisung’s hair. The years they’ve been apart may have changed a lot of things but not this: Minho being able to read Jisung’s every emotion like they were his own, reaching out with comfort and words that somehow knew exactly how to make him feel better.
Jisung smiles up at him. “Okay, hyung.”
They talk for hours and hours about their days in college, and laugh until their sides hurt.
“Oh my god. Do you remember when the power went out in the library and everyone was panicking, and Hyunjin said he was pushed up against a muscular guy who he fully decided to make out with?” Jisung manages in between wheezes.
Minho, who had just finished gasping for air, falls back into a fit of giggles. “When he found out it was Seo Changbin he went and washed his mouth out with soap! For an hour!”
Jisung is laughing so hard his stomach is cramping. “He was endlessly gushing about those muscles and those lips until he found out who exactly they belonged to!”
“You know I don’t think he actually washed his mouth, now that I think about it,” Minho says thoughtfully. “Hyunjin’s hate for Changbin always seemed very forced.”
“Yeah well, look where they are now.”
Hyunjin and Changbin are currently in a long-term relationship, and every time a picture of them together comes up on Jisung’s social media he feels insanely happy for them, a happiness that is only slightly tinged with the regret that he and Minho could never have the same ending.
Jisung looks at Minho, who is staring into the remnants of his tteokbokki, a hint of sadness in his big, pretty eyes. There is no way he is thinking the same thing that you are. There is no way in hell he is thinking about how he wants to date you, Jisung tells himself firmly. He watches as Minho visibly pulls himself away from his thoughts and slips into an easy smile. He gathers their used paper bowls and announces, “Time for our next venue!”
Minho refuses to tell Jisung what this said next venue was. He instead hands Jisung a bottle of soju, and tips his own neck backwards to chug the alcohol in one go. Jisung momentarily loses himself in the swoop of Minho’s neck, the curve of his Adam's apple and the angle of his jaw. It would be foolish to let his gaze travel further up into dangerous territory, but today seems to be the day where Jisung was being stupid anyways so he lets his eyes rest on Minho’s perfect, pink lips, the top lip pressed inside the neck of the bottle and the slightly fuller bottom one shaping itself to the dark-green glass as he takes swallow after swallow.
Jisung’s mind is instantly transported to all the fantasies that keep him twisting in his sheets with suppressed whimpers at night. He imagines Minho wrapping his mouth around Jisung’s lips instead of the bottle, and Jisung has to physically look away before he plucks that damn soju bottle from Minho’s hands and kisses him until they both can’t breathe.
Mercifully, Minho puts the bottle down, having drunk the entire thing in one go. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes sparkling with an amount of mischief that could only be attributed to excess alcohol.
“Your turn.”
Jisung obediently raises the bottle to his mouth. He, for some unfathomable reason, tries to appear sexy while drinking it, arching his neck a little too much and stretching his lips around the mouth of the bottle a little wider than necessary. When he finishes drinking, he puts his bottle down and looks up to see Minho staring at him. Or more specifically, staring at his lips, his gaze sending a thrill down Jisung’s spine.
Jisung forces himself to breathe. “Where to now, hyung?”
Both of them are tipsy when they reach Minho’s next destination, which turns out to be a dimly lit Noraebang with a neon yellow sign sputtering on and off. Jisung follows Minho into a tiny room in which there were snacks and more soju.
Minho picks up the remote and goes through the songs before picking one and turning to Jisung with a wide grin. As soon as Jisung hears the first few notes of the song he lets out a whoop and leans in to share the microphone with Minho, ignoring the other microphone on the table because why would he need that when he could instead lean into Minho’s personal space and breathe the same air as him?
“Heartbeat” by 2pm starts to play,and both of them are absolutely yelling into the microphone, without a care for tune, pitch or key. They sing their hearts out and collapse laughing when the song ends, well aware of how ridiculous they sound. But that’s the way it always had been, when Minho and Jisung would sneak out of their college in the middle of the night and go to the Noreabang nearby, singing late into the night with zero regard for their 8:30 am class the next morning.
They go through the list of all the songs they used to sing all those years ago and Jisung is hit by a wave of nostalgia so intense that he has to take a deep breath and exhale through the pain in his heart.
Minho meanwhile is setting up another song on the screen and refuses to let Jisung see it.
Then Jisung hears the first notes of ONE OK ROCK’s “Wherever You Are” and fights his rising blush. This was the song that Minho always begged him to sing whenever they came out. Jisung spent hours perfecting it on his guitar so he could record it for Minho’s birthday, and Minho was so ecstatic when he received this present that, much to Jisung’s embarrassment, he went around showing the video to everyone.
Minho steers Jisung to the couch and puts the microphone into his hands before settling down next to him and giving him his full attention, wordlessly urging Jisung to do the same thing he always did all those years ago.
Jisung takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. As he sings each line, he remembers all the late nights and hangovers and glaring rays of sun spilling through parted curtains in their dorm room. His head is full of bright laughter, teasing and pokes to the side, the clink of shot glasses and the ever-present challenging look in Minho’s eyes as he gave Jisung dares that always became increasingly ridiculous through the course of night. He remembers how he always looked at Minho when the other was singing, wishing that the moment would stretch into a forever where he could keep listening to Minho’s voice until his entire being was filled with it.
Jisung sings the last few lines and holds the final note till the music dies away and it's just his voice echoing through the small room. He lowers his microphone and turns to look at Minho.
Minho’s eyes hold a world of wonder and sadness and joy. His expression reflects everything Jisung felt while singing the song and they both just look at each other for a while, their past a tangible thing in the air between them.
“You really do sing so well,” Minho whispers.
Jisung ducks his head and smiles at the floor, a hot blush creeping his neck and cheeks. Compliments from Minho are everything; they liquify Jisung’s insides and make him feel warm all over until he wants to melt into a puddle.
“You need to be onstage, Jisung-ah. The world deserves to hear your voice,” Minho continues.
“I want to,” Jisung admits softly. “But I can’t. I can’t, it’s too late now, I’m already 25. No one's going to take me. Besides, I already have a job.”
There was a twinkle in Minho’s eye, the one that always appeared when he possessed something that he very much knew Jisung was going to like.
“Good thing you have me then.”
Jisung stares at him.
Minho reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. He hands it over to Jisung and says, “These are the details of the manager of a band in the company I work at. And guess what, they’re looking for a new vocalist ‘cause their last one had a fight with them and quit.”
Jisung looks down at the card.
Bang Chan
Manager of The Strays
xxx-xxx-xxxx
Something warm rises up Jisung’s chest, making him feel lightheaded. Something that feels suspiciously like hope. Jisung tamps it down ruthlessly.
“I can’t, hyung. It's too late,” Jisung says quietly.
“No. It's not too late. Promise me you will give this a shot. You love music, I know you do, I know exactly how much you want this, and you are so talented that the world would be infinitely lucky to hear you sing for them. Would you do it for me, Jisung?”
Anything for you, Minho.
“Okay, hyung. I will.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
Minho breaks out into a smile, hope and pure happiness radiating from his face. The sight is so breathtaking that Jisung’s chest tightens. His mind takes a picture of this moment and tucks it away in the part of his mind where he keeps all of Minho’s smiles.
Still smiling, Minho picks up the remote to choose a song, and as soon as Jisung sees the title and suddenly the room is on the verge of spinning.
And then Minho starts to sing.
Jisung shuts his eyes and lets Minho’s high and sweet voice flow into him, wrapping its melody around his heart, burrowing deep and resting inside his soul. His voice paints hues of yellow and blue and gold behind Jisung’s eyelids, framing pictures of the ocean and the skies.
When the path you take is too tiring and hard
Tell me, don't hide it because you're not alone
Jisung squeezes his eyes tighter shut. Something inside, something sharp and hot is trying to claw its way out of his chest.
Just like the blue whales. someday, let's swim
A tear slips past Jisung’s eyelid, tracing a warm path down his cheek.
I hope we can live in this big world without fear
I hope we became those kind of people
Jisung has forgotten how to breathe. Breathing seems pointless anyways, why need air when Minho’s voice is Jisung’s anchor, his entire existence?
Don't get hurt anymore, don't cry, but smile.
The tears start coming steadily now, his heart aching. He puts a hand on his chest to try and stop the intense hurt, to push it back deep inside where it has resided ever since Minho left.
Minho sings the rest of the song, his beautiful voice filling every corner of the room, and when he finishes it feels like all the air inside has been sucked out, leaving a gaping hole where his voice should be.
He puts on his microphone and smiles at Jisung, a simple, devastating smile. His eyes are shining and reflecting the dim light of the room, looking like stars.
He wordlessly gets up and throws himself into Minho’s arms. He wraps his arms around him ever so tightly, tight enough that Jisung fools himself into thinking they can stay in this embrace forever. That Minho could never leave.
Minho laughs softly in his ear as Jisung rests his head on Minho’s shoulders, letting his hoodie absorb all his tears.
Jisung just hugs him harder, hoping his hug tells Minho just how much he’s in love with him.
Minho decides that the crack of dawn would be an excellent time to take a tour of the entire city, ignoring Jisung’s pleas of rest and sleep and instead arguing, I’m more important than sleep and we don’t have much time, don’t you want to spend it all with me? Jisung has no reply to that as the thought of Minho leaving sends him into a spiral of panic, so he lets Minho drag him around wherever he wants.
Wherever he wants turns out to be everywhere. They visit a bookstore (“you need to read more, Jisung-ah, people will think you’re illiterate”), have coffee at a cafe by the road while watching the sunrise through the long glass windows (“don’t I look good in the morning sun? I should get into modelling, you know.” Of course Jisung knows, he knows better than anyone, and yes Minho did look insanely good in the morning sun but Jisung wasn’t going to tell him that), and they finally end up at the mall.
“Oh, you would look good in this,” Minho says giggling, holding up one of the most ridiculous t-shirts Jisung has seen in his life. It is a tight, pink, sparkly thing which has the word “Princess’ written on it with rhinestones. Jisung glares at him, which only makes him laugh harder.
Jisung then has an idea.
“I dare you to wear it.”
“Me?” Minho says incredulously. Jisung nods smugly.
“You’re just scared I’ll look better than you wearing it,” he informs Jisung, taking the t-shirt and disappearing behind the door of the dressing room. A few moments later he walks out like he really is a model, flicking his imaginary long hair over his shoulder. The tight shirt is stretched out across his muscular chest and his arms look so good and Jisung begs the universe to not be unfair because why would someone look so good in such a stupid outfit.
Minho comes and stands in front of Jisung, his hands on his hips and his mouth in a ridiculous pout. “I told you I’d pull it off.”
Yes. Please pull it off.
Instead of replying, Jisung pulls his phone out and takes several pictures. Minho obediently poses, his positions getting more and more absurd. Jisung’s favorite picture is when both of them are laughing so hard that the camera is shaky and Minho is halfway through trying to make a heart with his arms but keeps doubling down because he can’t stop giggling. Its quality and lighting are horrible, but Jisung thinks it's the best picture in the entire world.
Minho is then drawn to the claw machine outside the store. He insists on trying again and again even though he’s unable to get a single stuffed animal. They stay there for twenty minutes with Jisung cheering him on from the side, when Minho finally wins a stuffed rabbit. They both break out into applause, and Minho turns to Jisung with a small, shy smile, holding out the rabbit.
“This is for you.”
Jisung is going to melt through the floor of the mall.
“Awwww, thank you hyung,” Jisung squeaks, fighting hard against his rising blush. He loses, and his face fills with warmth, causing Minho to notice and giggle at him.
“Come on, time for our next stop.”
Minho pays the taxi driver and helps Jisung out of the car.
“Don’t open your eyes yet,” he insists. He acted like this the entire drive, refusing to let Jisung open his eyes because it would ruin the "surprise". Minho puts his hands on Jisung’s shoulders and steers him for a short distance when he finally says, ”you can open your eyes now.”
In front of them are tall, black gates which are made of metal and look very, very familiar. Jisung’s jaw drops and he turns to Minho, his eyes wide. “You didn’t.”
Minho grins at him. “Welcome back!”
They both slowly walk into their college, retracing steps they’ve taken a thousand times. They walk through the library, the garden, the music room, and everywhere Jisung looks he sees the ghosts of two boys studying, laughing or crying, but always together. The past makes Jisung’s head spin, and he loops his arm around Minho’s, taking comfort in his presence and the fact that he is still right here next to him even after all these years.
They walk past the dorms and head down a path that Jisung knows by heart. A small winding road that led through a copse of trees and ended on a wooden bench, hidden away from the rest of the world.
Jisung and Minho’s spot. The memories come rushing back in a tidal wave.
Minho’s 19th birthday. Jisung bought him a little cup of pudding with a candle instead of a cake, and showed him the song he recorded especially for Minho. They sat on this bench until the moon was high and talked about cats and how good pudding actually was.
The day after the first round of finals. They celebrated by making a bonfire and burning all their notes.
The beginning of junior year. Jisung had a panic attack, and was sitting on this bench with Minho, shaking uncontrollably while his best friend held him in a hug so tight that it was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart.
Senior year. They were craning their neck against the hard wood of the bench as they looked up at the sprinkle of stars across the night sky and talked about their future. Minho talked about dancing and Jisung talked about singing.
Graduation day. They celebrated surviving college and threw their hats up in the air, just the two of them.
Jisung takes Minho’s hand, tugging him to the bench and they sit down just like they did all those years ago; Jisung fitted to Minho’s side with his head on his shoulder and his arm around his waist. They reminisce about professors and classes, friends and enemies. Jisung looks at Minho and he hurts a little bit. He hurts because of the way the sun shines on Minho’s perfect face, making his eyes sparkle more than usual and interlacing the brown strands of his hair with gold. He hurts because of how his laughter makes Jisung want to bottle up the sound and get drunk on it. But mainly, he hurts because this kind, thoughtful, beautiful person sitting next to him could never be his.
But that’s alright for now, as long as they were together, sitting on this bench and laughing about their shared memories. Jisung pushes down the pain, and allows himself to get lost in Minho’s words.
They stay on their bench for so long that before Jisung realizes, the sky turns gray and the breeze turns cold. Minho gets up and stretches. “Ready to go home?”
Jisung is about to agree with him when he sees something behind Minho. “Hyung–look!”
Minho turns. “A firefly?!”
More join the first one, and soon a swarm of fireflies appear in the trees around the bench, casting them in a dim yellow glow.
Minho looks at Jisung, his eyes reflecting the yellow light and making them larger and, if even possible, more beautiful.
I love him so much, Jisung thinks, and he’s smiling at him and now they’re both stupidly smiling at each other.
And then–
“Jisung-ah.”
Minho’s voice is soft.
“Yes, hyung-ah,” Jisung replies.
“I–” he hesitates, and then abruptly turns and sinks onto the bench, burying his face in his hands.
“Hyung, what’s wrong? What were you saying?”
Minho wordlessly shakes his head, his face still in his hands. Jisung sits next to him and puts his arm around his shoulders. Shoulders which are shaking, he realises. With growing alarm he says, “Talk to me hyung, tell me what you were about to say, I’m here for you.”
Minho lifts his head and Jisung sees that his face is streaked with tears.
“I can't,” he chokes out.
“Can’t tell me? Why?”
“Because. Because Jisung-ah, I’m so in love with you, and I shouldn’t tell you this because it's so incredibly selfish of me, but oh Jisung I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep this to myself anymore and I love you so much; I’ve loved you ever since we became roommates and every day I just love you more. I was never supposed to tell you this,” Minho finishes in a whisper.
Jisung’s entire world comes skidding to a halt. His mind empties of every single thought he’s ever had.
“Hyung.”
A sniffle.
“You love me.”
“Yes.”
“You’re in love with me?”
Minho just shuts his eyes.
“And you’re being selfish by telling me this.”
“Yes.”
Jisung looks at him. Minho’s expression is earnest and longing and heartbroken all at the same time. Jisung says, slowly, “Why exactly, are you being selfish?”
“Because,” Minho cries out. “You were never supposed to know this Jisung, this was never the plan, I was just supposed to stay by your side and now–”
Jisung cannot stand it any longer. He leans forward and presses his lips against Minho’s, effectively interrupting him. Minho makes a noise of surprise and freezes for a second, before parting his lips and deepening the kiss. His hand comes up to twist in Jisung’s hair and he wraps his other arm around Jisung’s waist, pulling him impossibly close.
Jisung cannot believe this is happening. He’s kissing Minho. Who he’s loved ever since he showed up to their dorm room with pictures of cats and anime posters. He’s kissing his Minho.
Little by little, everything around Jisung falls away until there is nothing but Minho and the warm, soft pressure of his mouth against Jisung’s. He twines his arms around the other’s neck and kisses him harder until Minho makes a noise at the back of his throat and brings his hand up to cup Jisung’s face.
Time feels stretched, a fluid thing that is long but not nearly long enough when Minho finally pulls away and looks at Jisung with eyes containing a world of love and wonder. “You kissed me.”
“Hyung-ah. Oh, Minho-hyung. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”
Minho stares at him in shock.
Jisung simply leans in and kisses him again.
They go home hand in hand, refusing to let go of each other, and fall asleep to kisses and whispered ‘I love you’s’, so closely intertwined that it’s impossible to tell where Minho ended and Jisung began.
Jisung is awoken by his phone ringing.
The first thing that hits him is a sense of deja-vu as he looks at the clock and it reads 12:00 am. He gropes around blindly for his phone, blinking when the caller ID comes into view.
Binnie💕
Why was Changbin calling him at this time of the night? Jisung swipes to answer and lifts his phone to his ear. “Mm, hyung?”
“Jisung-ah”
Jisung freezes. Changbin’s voice is hoarse and cracked and thick with tears. Something is very wrong.
At this exact moment, the second thing that hits Jisung is that Minho is no longer lying next to him. This realization is like a punch to the gut and Jisung loses all the air in his system because somehow he knows, he knows-
“Jisung-ah, it's— it’s Minho hyung.”
Please, no please, please, please.
“–h-he was in an accident,” Changbin’s breath hitches.
“Hyung, what do you mean? He was with me a couple of hours ago, he was sleeping next to me hyung, what do you mean?” Jisung begs him to understand, to give him an answer that would stop the gasping breaths that were being ripped out of him.
“What? What are you saying? Jisung, this happened over four hours ago. It happened it front of his house.”
The room is tilting and Jisung loses all sense of reality. His head is spinning and in his ear Changbin is saying something about how he only found out because Hyunjin knew someone in the hospital which Minho was brought to and how he was sorry he couldn’t find out earlier but Jisung can’t listen, can’t process anything.
He looks around the room in a daze, and his eyes snag on his clock once more.
12:10 am
January 11th.
Everything is too slow, too sluggish. The strength is slowly leaving Jisung’s limbs as he wilts, shoulders drooping and arms brushing his blanket, when he hears it. The crinkle of paper. Jisung whips his head around. A white, folded sheet of paper is sitting under the stuffed bunny that Minho caught for him at the mall. With shaking hands, Jisung unfolds the letter and starts to read.
Dear Jisung,
I don’t know where to start. I think I should start by saying the most important thing in the entire world: I love you. I love you I love you I love you.
And I am so sorry. I know that you’re confused and I don’t truly understand it either, but I think, Jisung-ah, that Time looked down upon us and saw that we deserved an extra day. An extra day where we could laugh together, walk together, be together for one last time.
Remember everything we talked about on our bench under the stars? I want you to go out and do all of it. Chase after your dreams and sing for the world. Sing for me, I will be listening.
I could say that this ended too soon, that I wish I could stay in the world for longer, but every second that you were in my life is enough to keep me going for an eternity. I am alive in all the moments we shared and in every smile you ever gave me. I hope that whenever I am going has the sound of your laughter, and as long as I can take your love with me, I don’t need anything else in the entire world.
So I should say good-bye, but it really isn’t a good bye, is it? I will always be by your side Jisung-ah, just like you made me a promise I shall also make you one: I promise I will never leave.
With the all the love this world can hold, and much much more,
Minho
Jisung is falling. He keeps telling himself to wake up, but he knows he’s not in a dream because no one else could write words that undo him like this, reach inside him and twist his heart so painfully. His eyes are blurry with tears and the words on the page are distorting and fading, but Jisung rubs the tears away roughly and reads the letter again and again and again. He reads it until the white sheet is wet with tears and he’s sobbing, clutching the paper to his heart. He curls up on himself trying to cover the gaping hole in his chest, slowly unraveling as his body shakes with the force of his sobs.
He stays there for hours and hours, until the first rays of dawn slant through the gap in the curtains and Changbin comes to find him.
One year later.
The crowd is wild, clapping and cheering as The Strays finish the last notes of their newest song. The sound of thousands of people rings in Jisung’s ears as he looks around, the breathtaking view and the awe of being onstage never truly leaving him.
The lights dim and everybody quiets as Jisung steps forward to announce their next song. He takes a deep breath and says, “This one is for the love of my life.”
Jisung shuts his eyes and begins to sing the familiar lines. The crowd, the lights and the sounds fall away until all that remains is a pair of sparkling eyes, chocolate brown hair and a laugh that is tattooed on Jisung’s heart.
When the path you take is too tiring and hard
Tell me, don't hide it because you're not alone
In his mind's eye he sees the dim yellow light of a Noraebang, and two people singing to each other.
Just like the blue whales. someday, let's swim
Jisung hears another voice, high and sweet, blending with Jisung’s song until they create a perfect harmony.
I hope we can live in this big world without fear
I hope we became those kind of people
The crowd is softly singing along, each individual voice coming together to form a mesmerizing sound.
“Promise me you will give this a shot. Will you do it for me, Jisung?
Don't get hurt anymore, don't cry, but smile.
Anything for you, Minho.
After the concert, Jisung goes back to their college. He passes their dorms and the copse of trees, and for the first time in his life he walks the familiar winding path alone. He reaches their bench and stops in front of it, remembering the last time he was here.
He sits on the bench for a long time.
His phone lights up with a notification, and he looks down at it.
6:00
January 11
He looks at Minho on his lockscreen, laughing in a pink t-shirt that reads ‘Princess.’ His heart is so full of love and pain.
Jisung stays there until evening melts into twilight. There is a sudden gust of wind, rustling the trees around them and causing a flurry of leaves to swirl around in the air. A lonely leaf floats down to the bench and sits right next to Jisung.
Jisung picks it up and puts it in his pocket, right beside his heart.