Chapter Text
Jisung hunched over his lunch tray, pushing around a solitary noodle. The cafeteria’s roar washed over him, a distant tide. Felix, beside him, nudged his arm.
“Still perfecting that impression of a mournful otter?” Felix’s voice, light and teasing, cut through the din. Hyunjin chuckled, already halfway through his kimchi fried rice.
“Just thinking.” Jisung didn’t look up.
“About what? The existential dread of algebra homework? Or the fact that you haven’t exchanged more than three words with Minho hyung in a month?” Felix’s gaze sharpened, no longer joking.
Jisung’s fork clattered against the plastic tray. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, please. It’s written all over your face, Jisungie. And his.” Hyunjin nodded towards the far corner.
Jisung’s eyes flickered, drawn by an invisible thread. Minho sat with Chan, a comfortable slump to his shoulders. Minho’s laugh, a low rumble, echoed across the room, but his gaze, when it lifted, found Jisung. A fleeting moment, then Minho turned away, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.
“See?” Felix pressed, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You’re both acting like someone stole your last brain cell.”
“He’s older. He’s… Minho hyung.” Jisung mumbled, the words tasting like ash.
“And you’ve been glued to his hip since you were six. What changed?” Felix challenged, leaning in.
Before Jisung could answer, a hand clapped heavily on Minho’s shoulder. Chan’s booming voice carried over the tables.
“You’ve been moping around like a kicked puppy for weeks. Go talk to him.” Chan gestured subtly towards Jisung’s table.
Minho flinched, his cheeks coloring. “Talk to who?”
“Don’t play dumb. Jisung. You two are practically siblings. Now you’re acting like strangers.” Chan’s brows furrowed, a rare seriousness in his expression.
Minho’s jaw tightened. “He’s busy.”
“He’s staring at you like you hung the moon, Minho. Go.” Chan pushed him gently.
Minho hesitated, a battle playing out behind his eyes. He stood, his movements stiff, and began weaving through the tables, a reluctant pioneer. Jisung watched him approach, a knot tightening in his stomach. Felix and Hyunjin exchanged a triumphant glance.
Minho stopped a few feet from their table, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He cleared his throat. “Hey.”
Jisung’s breath hitched. “Hey, hyung.”
“Can we… talk?” Minho’s voice was softer than the cafeteria noise, almost lost.
Jisung nodded, pushing his tray aside. He stood, his knees feeling like jelly. As he followed Minho out of the chaotic room, a silent understanding passed between them, a fragile bridge forming over the chasm of unspoken months.