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The bed shook whenever they slept together, so Minho had taken to sleeping on the stiff, itchy couch. Jisung had argued about it, but he could only stomach so much stonewalling, and the one time he’d tried to sleep on the floor to make a point, he’d woken up tucked back in the bed.
They had another three days minimum before they could leave. Every day at breakfast the receptionist turned up the local radio so that all of the hotel’s guests could hear the weather reports and warnings from the coast guard. Another three days until the water was calm enough for the ferry to resume round trips to the mainland. Another three days on a small island with no other hotels, and they couldn’t even sleep together.
Jisung ate his breakfast methodically, the cereal soft and mulchy in his bowl. Minho was nose deep in a book, his burnt toast ignored. The people around them talked about the weather, the ferry delays, the terrible food.
Did Minho even want to sleep with him anymore?
“Do you think our room is haunted?” Jisung asked.
It took a moment for Minho to pull himself out of his novel. “Huh?”
“Do you think our hotel room is haunted?” Jisung asked again, voice even. He told himself the disinterest didn’t hurt.
Minho blinked slowly. “I’m so fucking tired jagiya. There could be a circus in there and if I walked in on the clowns doing backflips I doubt I’d notice.”
Jisung forced himself to smile. “Maybe the weather is making local ghosts angry.”
Minho kicked him gently beneath the table. “Don’t project onto the ghosts, that’s rude. They might be perfectly content.”
“I’m not angry.” Jisung’s words came out harsh, surprising them both.
“…Okay,” Minho said, squinting. “That wasn’t convincing.”
Jisung suddenly felt sick. They’d been together for six years and had never been so awkward and stilted. Across the small table was the man he knew best, and he looked like a handsome stranger. “I’m not hungry. I’m gonna head back for a shower,” Jisung mumbled, standing to gather his jacket and keycard.
“Jisung-”
“Love you, hyung.” Jisung didn’t turn back.
It wasn’t a lie. I love you. Not even close. If it was a lie maybe this wouldn’t have hurt so much.
-
The water was ice cold for the first couple of minutes, and the second it had warmed enough for Jisung to step under the water the temperature rose to scalding. He almost fell getting out from under the spray, the top of his back bright red and stinging as he checked it in the mirror.
When he stuck his hand back under the water, it was cold again.
He gave up on the shower and washed his hair in the sink.
With hair still wet, he called his mother, sat atop the bed Minho refused to sleep in. The anxiety was churning in his stomach, and he needed to see if she’d changed her mind.
“Are you still stuck?”
He swallowed more grief. “Yeah, mom. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Have you given the ring back yet?”
“No.”
She sighed, short and angry. “You know how I feel, how your father feels. When you were young boys it was one thing, Jisung, passable at least, but you’ll be thirty soon. You’ll want a real family.”
His back pulsed and his cold, wet hair dripped down his neck. Minho let himself into the room just as Jisung’s mother started to speak again. He hung up on her.
The old-fashioned lamp on the desk fell over.
“Do you regret saying yes?” Minho asked bluntly. “I can’t take much more of this.”
Saying yes was the only thing Jisung didn’t regret as of late. “What the fuck, hyung?”
“That was your mother, right?” Minho gestured to Jisung’s phone. “Has she changed your mind?”
“No,” Jisung whispered. Then, louder. “No. No.”
Minho cocked his head. “You’re angry. You lied about it, and you’re angry.”
“You won’t even sleep in the same bed as me.” Against his will, Jisung felt himself start to tear up. His back hurt, he was cold, and he felt alone. He’d felt alone since they arrived, fresh off the sucker punch of their engagement announcement and his parents telling him they disapproved. “Hyung, you’ve barely looked at me.”
Stubborn as always, Minho stared right at him. “You needed space.”
“I needed you.” The shower spluttered to life in the ensuite. “Do you regret asking me? You barely speak to me, you won’t look at me, you won’t sleep with me – was it that bad? Do you regret it all now?”
“Jisung-ah, I won’t pit you against your family.”
“You’re my family, hyung.” Jisung scrubbed his eyes before the tears fell. “I love you. I love you more than – it’s you. Why won’t you sleep with me? If they’re going to hate me now I’ll need you more, not less, I can’t – this isn’t you, this is a me problem, even if you weren’t here I’d never be the son they wanted. I want – I need –”
Minho wrapped around him and the shower’s pipes groaned. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into Jisung’s wet hair. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I misread you. I’m sorry.”
Jisung shoved his face into Minho’s chest and let himself cry. He was grieving something - the end of a relationship, the start of something new. More than anything, the realisation that if he gave the ring back it wouldn't help - that hurt the most. Minho wasn't the problem to Jisung's family, Jisung was the problem. He'd always be the problem, but if he gave the ring back he'd be the problem and he'd be alone again, small and screaming in a vast, unfriendly world.
Minho kissed his head again. “I wanted to give you the space to figure out what you wanted. I’m so sorry it came across like... like I'd changed my mind.”
Jisung clung tighter, crying like if he stopped he’d die. “Don’t go, hyung.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Jisung-ah. Nowhere, not unless you send me away. I promise.”
“You love me?”
Minho’s breath shuddered out of him, his grip almost crushing. “More than anything else. I swear it.”
-
Minho ran Jisung a bath after he heard about the faulty shower, and the temperature was perfect. He wanted to sit with Jisung for a while, but Jisung insisted he go read. The bath was the perfect time for space, the perfect amount of it – Minho was only an open doorway away.
When Jisung emerged, clean and warm, Minho was asleep on the bed with his book open on his chest.
Jisung climbed into the sheets beside him, and even in sleep Minho turned to curl around him.
The bed was still.
Out of the window beyond Minho, Jisung could see the first peeks of blue sky beyond the endless grey. His engagement ring glinted in the dim light.