Work Text:
Lee Minho is the worst person Jisung has ever had the misfortune of meeting.
<><><><>
Jisung met Bang Chan last semester in an elective art history course, and had quickly bonded with the man over not giving a single fuck about art history. Chan had mentioned the possibility of producing a song with Jisung, and Jisung had fallen over himself to agree, but both of their schedules picked up and they couldn’t find a time.
Now, the new academic year is beginning, and Jisung is beginning anew his quest to be in Chan’s inner circle. Sending a text is too stressful–no, the best way to get closer to Chan is to force his way into his life.
So, for purely selfish reasons, Jisung had been excited to see Minho’s name on the roster of a class he was being forced to take. Chan and Minho are friends, so Minho is a great first step to infiltrating the entire friend group and securing a collaboration-slash-friendship. Not in a creepy way, though.
Even though Jisung didn’t know a lot about Minho, he’d heard good things from Chan, and he wasn’t overly worried about achieving his goal. Jisung figured that he’d show up to class, charm him with a few smiles and well-timed jokes, and then blow him away with his academic prowess. Everyone likes Jisung. It'd be easy.
Right?
Wrong.
<><><><>
Jisung shows up to class borderline late and slightly out of breath. It’s not his fault he only has ten minutes to do a walk that should take fifteen—he’s simply a victim to his schedule, which is unfortunately requiring him to take this bullshit class about rocks in order to graduate. He slips through the door at 12:59, and surveys his seating options.
Because it’s the first week of classes, everyone arrived ungodly early, so spots are limited. There are roughly thirty people in the class, and only five seats left: one all the way in the back, two in the front row, and two next to each other in the middle.
Middle it is.
After “excuse me!”-ing and “pardon me!”-ing his way through the first few rows, he finally lands in a seat next to a man with a kind face and huge biceps. The man smiles at Jisung, and Jisung doesn’t hesitate to return it.
“Hi! I’m Jisung. Your biceps are crazy.” Oops. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”
The man smiles, seemingly unbothered. “I’m Changbin.” It looks as though he’s going to say something else, but he’s interrupted before he can.
“Changbin. You didn’t save me a seat?” The voice behind him is soft, but the ice in it sends chills down Jisung’s spine. He isn’t even the one being scolded.
Changbin seems unphased, grinning up at the newcomer. “Minho! Sorry, but your seat got taken.” He gestures to Jisung. “I guess you should’ve gotten here sooner. This is Jisung.”
Minho. Chan’s Minho? Shit.
“I’m so sorry!” Jisung almost falls over himself trying to get up. “I didn’t mean to steal your seat.”
“You don’t need to move,” Changbin says, sounding baffled, but Jisung is already in the next seat over. Once he’s sure he has all of his things, he turns to grin bashfully up at Minho, who still hasn’t moved to sit. His smile falters when he gets a good look at Minho’s face.
Holy fuck. He’s the hottest person Jisung has ever seen. His facial features look like they’ve been sculpted from whatever it is that statues are made of (wow, he really was not paying attention to that art history class with Chan), and Jisung can’t look away. Everything about him screams sharp: his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, his cheekbones, the firm set of his mouth, his cheekbones… even his eyes, dark and intense, seem like they’re cutting through Jisung.
Unfortunately, Minho’s words are equally sharp, though his voice remains quiet.
“Don’t let it happen again.” Short. Clipped. He doesn’t look away from Jisung as he says it.
Jisung’s jaw drops. Seriously?
“Minho, come on,” Changbin rolls his eyes. “Be nice.”
“Maybe if you were in class on time, you wouldn’t have had to worry about your seat being taken,” Jisung snaps, staring Minho down. Changbin chuckles under his breath.
Minho’s eyes widen infinitesimally, but he doesn’t say anything. He also doesn’t break eye contact–he just blinks a few times–and Jisung finds himself growing more and more angry the longer it goes on without a response.
At the front of the classroom, the professor clears her throat, and Jisung is forced to look away. Minho takes the seat next to him, and Jisung tries to ignore him. Minho doesn’t seem to have the same goal, seeing as he spends the next 80 minutes staring directly at the side of Jisung’s face.
At minute 32, Jisung breaks. “What the fuck is your problem?” He hisses. Minho quirks a brow at him, his face unreadable.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are!”
“What am I doing?”
“Staring at me!” Jisung says that last part louder than he meant to, and the professor pauses.
“Please keep it down,” she says, clearly irritated.
“Sorry,” he says with a tight smile.
Minho laughs next to him, and Jisung grits his teeth.
Rough start.
<><><><>
“Lee Minho is the devil,” Jisung announces, tossing his backpack onto one of the library chairs with much more force than necessary. “I hate him.”
“Good afternoon to you, too,” Seungmin comments drily. He barely spares Jisung a glance from where he’s furiously scribbling something into a notebook.
Felix, god bless him, looks up with a frown.
“Oh, no!” He says, brow creasing. “What happened?”
Jisung settles into the seat across from Felix and puts his head down on the table. “He told me that everyone hates me and that I’m a useless waste of space,” he sighs dramatically.
“Right,” Seungmin drawls. “What did he actually do? Not laugh at one of your jokes?” Jisung flips him off.
He tells his friends the whole story, complete with reenactments, and waits eagerly for their reactions.
“I don’t really feel like any of that warrants being called the devil,” Seungmin says first.
“Yes, it does,” Jisung says immediately. “Trust me. He’s evil.”
“I’m sorry that he was rude,” Felix says, “but he might just have been having an off day. You seemed really invested in being his friend before, so maybe give him another chance?” Jisung’s gut instinct is to start screaming and crying, but he knows that Felix is probably right.
He drags his hands over his face. “Fine.”
“And you should apologize for being rude,” Felix adds. “Just in the name of keeping the peace.”
Jisung groans loudly, ignoring the glares he receives from the people around them.
“Yay!” Felix claps loudly, seemingly unaware that Jisung never agreed. “Oh, also, I met a guy! His name is Chris, and…” Felix’s voice fades into the background as Jisung ponders Minho. More specifically, Minho’s face.
He wonders if Minho is into slightly annoying bottoms.
<><><><>
Unfortunately, Jisung would do anything not to disappoint Felix. As a result, before their next class, he finds himself preparing to swallow his pride and apologize for doing absolutely nothing wrong.
Pride tastes like shit.
<><><><>
He gets there before Minho, and he’s tempted to sit next to Changbin again, but Felix’s voice echoes in his ear. Keeping the peace. He wants to be friends with Chan (and now Changbin, who also seems to be friends with Minho), so he’s going to keep the peace. Light work.
Changbin arches his eyebrows at Jisung’s seating choice. “You’re really going to let Minho scare you off?”
Jisung scoffs. “No. I just like the energy of this seat better.”
“…Right,” Changbin says. Jisung opens his mouth to attempt to convince Changbin further, but he’s interrupted before he can speak.
“Glad you learned your lesson and sat in your own chair today,” an infuriatingly soft voice drawls.
Keeping the peace.
“Good afternoon,” Jisung says, trying to force a smile onto his face. “How are you doing today?” He cranes his neck to look up at Minho, who’s smiling down at him. It may seem like a nice smile, but Jisung can tell he has ulterior motives.
“I’m fine. If you’re trying to play nice, it’s not very convincing,” Minho informs him. Then, he has the absolute audacity to sit in the chair he sat in last time, letting his right foot fall by Jisung’s backpack.
“You’re in my personal bubble,” Jisung says tightly, staring down at the offending foot. Minho is wearing black combat boots. Not that that’s important or anything. He’s just noticing.
He’s also just noticing how Minho’s manspreading—which is super entitled and annoying, by the way—highlights his thighs. Which are huge. It’s a shame he’s the devil incarnate.
He startles when Minho waves a hand in front of his face.
“If you’re allowed to stare at me like that, then I’m allowed to have my foot by your stuff,” Minho says, still in that matter-of-fact tone.
Jisung sets his mouth in a firm line. He doesn’t have to sit here and take this from the hottest, shittiest man he’s ever met. He apologizes to Felix mentally as he bites the inside of his cheek, draws his foot back, and kicks. Hard.
“Ow!” Minho exclaims, drawing his leg back and reaching down to rub at his ankle. He turns to Changbin, as if to ask for help, but Changbin seems engrossed in something on his computer.
When he looks back, Jisung gives him a sickly sweet smile and turns to face the front of the room. It’s looking like peace will not be kept.
<><><><>
Jisung is poking at a mediocre, overpriced muffin from one of the campus cafés when Felix, Seungmin, and Felix’s friend, Hyunjin, find him.
“Hannie!” Felix says brightly. “How was your class with Minho?”
“Horrible,” Jisung complains. “He put his foot by me today.”
“Oh, the horror,” Seungmin says drily. “How will you survive?”
“Wait, Lee Minho?” Hyunjin asks. He sounds entertained, and laughs when Jisung nods miserably.
“Do you know him?” Felix asks.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin replied, opening his phone. “We dance together. We actually did a duet last semester.”
“Minho dances?” Jisung asks, eyebrows raised. “I guess that explains the thighs,” he mutters under his breath. Seungmin gives him a knowing look.
“Yep,” Hyunjin draws his attention back and turns his phone on its side. It’s a recording of two people—Hyunjin and Minho, Jisung cleverly deduces—dancing in a practice room together.
They’re both undeniably good. Even Jisung, who knows jack shit about dancing, can tell that much. But something about Minho draws his eyes and renders him unable to look away.
Each of Minho’s moves is wholly intentional and flows into the next. It’s clear that he puts his all into every single aspect of the dance, and Jisung is slightly awed, as he always is when he finds someone this good at their craft.
Minho has complete control over his body, the emotion he’s conveying, and Jisung’s attention. Even though the man is in sweats, Jisung has never felt more attracted to someone.
Jisung has often felt like he was born to make music. In the same way, Minho was born to dance.
“Ooh, you’re so good, Hyunjinnie!” Felix squeals.
“Aw, you’re too nice,” he hears Hyunjin say. Then, “are you and that Chris guy still going out?”
“Yes!” Felix enthuses. “He’s so cute, and so sweet. He’s in the music department here, actually!”
Seungmin leans across the table towards Jisung. “You’re drooling. Close your mouth.”
<><><><>
Next class, Jisung gets to talking with Changbin before Minho gets there. He learns that Changbin is older than him, and that he also studies music production; apparently, he works with one of his friends and they post their stuff on SoundCloud sometimes. Jisung has given up on ever befriending Chan, as Minho is too evil, so he decides that working with Changbin will suffice. He even gets Changbin’s number.
Speak of the literal devil, he chooses that moment to show up.
“I like your earrings,” he tells Jisung sarcastically. What a childish insult.
Jisung rolls his eyes. “Well, I hate yours.” Blatant lie! The little silver hoops are actually quite cute and fit Minho well.
Minho just smiles in response, his eyes crinkling. “Thanks.”
Not a compliment, dumbass, Jisung thinks.
<><><><>
Much to his dismay, they’re assigned a group project at the end of class. It’s relatively brief, as far as projects go: they have to research a type of rock of their choosing and put together a small presentation on it. It’s due next week.
They can choose their own groups, the professor says. She tells them that they should get into groups of four, except—“we have an odd number, so we’ll need one group of three.”
Before Jisung can react, Minho’s hand shoots into the air. “We’ll be the group of three.” We?
Unsurprisingly, it turns out that by “we,” Minho meant himself, Jisung, and Changbin. Jisung, although annoyed he has to work with Beelzebub, grudgingly recognizes that the guy is pretty smart. More importantly, he and Changbin seem to have been paying attention, which is more than Jisung can say for himself.
<><><><>
The next day, Jisung finds himself in one of the campus libraries. They all open their laptops, open up a blank Google Slide, and look at each other.
“So, what’s a rock?” Jisung asks. Changbin laughs. Minho does not. Rather, he tilts his head slightly and examines Jisung closely. Jisung feels a bit like a bug under a microscope, which he does not appreciate.
“He wasn’t joking,” he finally says to Changbin, who sobers up immediately.
Now at the receiving end of both of their attention, Jisung waves his hands, flustered. “I’m not stupid, I swear! I’m just not very interested in rocks, and it’s hard for me to focus on things I don’t care about. I won’t be dead weight, though!”
Minho clicks his tongue once. “Okay. Why don’t you pick which rock we research, then? Changbin and I don’t care–”
“We don’t?”
“–which one we do, so you should pick something you’re interested in.”
Jisung narrows his eyes, annoyed at Minho’s condescension. “I don’t need to be babied.” Minho blinks. Blink blink. “I wasn’t trying to baby you,” he says. “If it’s easier for you to do work on something you enjoy, we should try to pick content you’ll like.”
“I’ll get the work done regardless,” Jisung snaps. “You don’t need to cater to me. I’m an adult.” Blink blink blink.
“I’m not catering. There’s just no need to make this harder than it needs to be.” Minho’s dry tone, which is flat more often than not, is not doing Jisung any favors right now.
“Oh, so now I’m difficult to deal with?” Blink. “You’re the one who wanted to be in a group with me.” Jisung crosses his arms defensively and leans back in his chair.
Changbin, who’s been glancing warily between Minho and Jisung, clears his throat. “I don’t think Minho was calling you difficult,” he says carefully to Jisung. Minho’s face provides no information about the veracity of that statement. “But he’s right,” Changbin continues, “in that neither of us care which rock we research.”
“Just pick so we can all move on,” Minho interjects. Jisung shoots him a dirty look, but figures that making the choice will get them out of here faster.
After conducting a lot of thorough research (in other words, Googling “types of rock” and skimming the results), he makes his decision. “Amphibolite,” he announces. He likes amphibians.
“Great,” Changbin says, sounding deeply relieved.
“Can’t believe you picked the ugliest one,” Minho mutters under his breath.
“You’re the ugliest one,” Jisung snarks back.
Not his best work.
<><><><>
Later that night, Jisung is laying on the ground in the apartment he shares with Felix, attempting to garner sympathy from his useless friends.
“…and then,” Jisung says emphatically, “he told me not to make it harder than it needed to be!”
“Are you sure he didn’t mean that he wants to make it easier for you?” Felix offers from the kitchen. “It sounds like he was genuinely trying to help.”
Jisung rolls onto his stomach and muffles a scream into the hardwood, though he learns almost immediately that hardwood isn’t great at muffling things.
“If it was anyone else, I would maybe give them the benefit of the doubt,” he allows. “But Minho has been mean to me since we met.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Seungmin says. “There’s a chance you’ve been misunderstanding his intentions.” Stupid, stupid, idiot Seungmin.
As it’s wont to do lately, the conversation shifts towards Felix’s situationship with that Chris guy, and the Minho issue is left untouched.
<><><><>
Next class is their presentation. Jisung is quite pleased with their work–none of them put their all into it, but he thinks it’s enough for an A. They’re slated to present in the second half of class, and Jisung spends the first half pretending he doesn’t see Minho picking at the cuffs of his hoodie.
They’re given a break halfway through, and Changbin quickly disappears to use the bathroom. Jisung takes this as his opportunity to lean over and nod pointedly at Minho’s sleeves.
“Are you trying to pick your sweatshirt apart?” He asks sarcastically.
Instead of the cool response Jisung was expecting, Minho shoves his hands into his pockets and glances up at Jisung with big eyes. He brings his gaze back down again almost immediately.
Now, it’s obvious that Minho is hot, but Jisung is suddenly struck with the realization that he’s quite cute, too, with his fluffy hair and soft-looking lips. A bit like a cat, Jisung muses. Before he can follow that train any further, Minho finally responds.
“Sorry,” he mumbles mechanically, looking intently at the pencil on his desk. Blink blink.
Jisung is momentarily stunned into silence by the apology. He’s never been good at staying quiet for long, though, and recovers quickly.
“I mean, if you want to destroy your clothes, you’re free to do so,” he says with a shrug. Minho’s lack of snark did raise a bit of a red flag in his head, though, so he examines Minho carefully: the lack of staring, the picking at his clothes, the stiffness of his voice.
He clicks his tongue once when he figures it out. Jisung’s a pretty anxious person in general, but public speaking never did it for him–he just isn’t phased by it. He understands why it makes people nervous, though he’s surprised that Minho is one of said people.
“It’ll be fine,” he says confidently. “The material isn’t difficult, and all three of us will be up there. If someone misses something, the other two will just catch it.” Minho doesn’t respond. “Also,” Jisung adds, “no one is paying attention.”
He’s right. Many of the people who already presented used the break time to flee the classroom, and those remaining are checked out. Someone two rows ahead of him is on Zillow. The person to his diagonal is breaking up with a contact labelled “babe 🩷”. He’s pretty sure he just heard the PornHub theme play. So, yeah, not the most engaged audience.
Minho doesn’t give any indication that he’s heard Jisung, and Jisung rolls his eyes mentally. He was just trying to help. The least Minho could do is say thanks, or something.
Sure enough, the presentation goes fine. Of the three of them, Jisung is actually the one who screws up by talking too fast. His speed-talking doesn’t keep them from getting a 98 on the project, though.
“Why’d we lose the points?” God, can’t Minho’s annoying ass just take the win?
Changbin skims the feedback sheet the professor gave to them. “Uh. It just says, ‘rock too ugly’,” he says, defeated. Fuckkkk, Jisung says to himself. Or, based on the looks he receives from passers-by, maybe he says it aloud.
“You ruined our project,” Minho says, sounding put-out. Jisung leaves before he says something he’ll regret.
<><><><>
Instead of going back to his own apartment, Jisung lets himself into Seungmin’s. Seungmin himself is nowhere to be found, but Felix is playing League of Legends from the floor. He doesn’t acknowledge Jisung.
Jeongin is also there, standing in the kitchen.
“Hey,” Jisung says tiredly.
Jeongin doesn’t technically live with Seungmin, but he can be found in Seungmin’s apartment frequently. He has a habit of disappearing for months and then reappearing with new hair dye and expensive jewelry. None of them are really sure what his deal is, actually–they tried to remember where they met him once, and were unsuccessful.
“I hate Minho.” Jisung throws himself face first into the couch. “He fucking sucks ass,” he says, voice muffled in the cushions.
“I bet you wish he would,” Felix cackles. Then, “oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck,” as something bad presumably happens in his game.
The lock turns in the door. Jisung and Felix both ignore it.
“I mean it,” Jisung whines, sitting up. “It’s actually starting to kind of get to me. I don’t get why he hates me.”
Seungmin walks in, holding what must be at least ten grocery bags.
Felix sets the controller down and turns to look up at Jisung. “Aw, Hannie, don’t be sad. I really don’t think he hates you.”
Jisung pouts. “I don’t know what to do. He’s so hot.”
Seungmin is muttering under his breath, shooting them glares from where he’s tripping over their shoes on his way to the kitchen.
“If anything, he’s flirting with you,” Felix adds. “Like how boys pull on little girls’ pigtails on the playground.”
“I don’t want pigtails,” Jisung says sadly.
Something crashes in the kitchen. “Who the fuck put a bunch of frogs in the cabinet?!” Ugh, Seungmin. So damn dramatic.
<><><><>
Jisung has not had a good day. He couldn’t sleep, but somehow still woke up late—this meant that he neither had time to eat breakfast nor finish the homework that he hadn’t bothered to complete the night before for his 9:00am class. The cherry on top was a Canvas notification letting him know that he got a 63% on one of his midterms.
Long story short, Jisung is not in the mood for bullshit.
As is typical, Jisung has his laptop out before Minho even walks into the room. He’s mindlessly scrolling through all of the assignments he has due, trying to fight the sinking feeling in his stomach. Eventually, unfortunately, Minho appears.
“Good afternoon,” Minho says. “Did you bother to do the reading today, or are you going to Sparknotes it again?”
When Jisung looks up, Minho is grinning down at him.
Jisung is aware that Minho has no way of knowing that he’s on the verge of a breakdown. He recognizes that this is how their enemy-ship works. He’s unbothered. He is #booked, #busy, and #blessed. Unfortunately, his body doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo.
He can feel his bottom lip tremble as his eyes well up. Jesus Christ. This is humiliating. Minho’s smile drops, and his eyes widen.
“Jisung? Are you okay?” Changbin says, alarmed.
Minho is still staring at Jisung as though he’s shell-shocked. However, he’s started blinking so rapidly that Jisung’s vaguely concerned that he’s having a stroke.
If Jisung didn’t know better, he’d say that Minho is worried. He does know better, though, so he just grits his teeth and attempts to stop the tears.
Minho eases into the seat next to him, hands held up placatingly.
“Uh,” he says (rather stupidly, in Jisung’s opinion), “what?”
Wow, Minho. Thanks.
“I mean,” he corrects, “what’s wrong?”
Jisung ignores him as he shoves all of his things into his backpack. Not today, Minho. Not today.
<><><><>
[unknown number] → me
[unknown number]: Hey, this is Minho. I’m sorry for making you upset today, and I hope you’re feeling better. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.
“You’re not supposed to use ‘if’ in an apology,” Jisung scoffs tearfully.
“I think that when people say that, they’re referring to stuff like ‘if I hurt you, then I’m sorry.’ The ‘if’ in this case is totally unrelated.” Seungmin says evenly. He’s right. Jisung knows he’s right.
“We’ll kill Minho,” Felix says fiercely. Jisung likes that a whole lot better than Seungmin’s “logic” and “reason” and “sense.”
“No,” Jisung sobs. “He’s too hot to die.” A pause.
“We could go out?” Felix suggests. “We haven’t gotten stupidly drunk in a while.”
<><><><>
me → [unknown number]
me: this i sjisung. i am so sad that u hate me… i do not know why u do not like me…
[unknown number]: Yes, I know who you are.
[unknown number]: I don’t hate you. Why do you think that?
[unknown number]: Are you okay?
me: wht r u?? fbi?? smh
[unknown number]: I asked two questions.
me: i fsiled a test today. and u hate me
[unknown number]: That answers neither.
me: u r mean to me. in class
me: my friends r gone
[unknown number]: Oh
[unknown number]: I thought that we were just teasing. I didn’t know I was actually hurting your feelings.
[unknown number]: You’ve been thinking that I hate you this whole time?
me: yes duh
me: sux bc u r so pretty
me: beautiful msn in ym class and he hates me… woe is me…
[unknown number]: Pretty?
[unknown number]: Actually, this can all be handled later.
[unknown number]: Are you sober?
me: no
[unknown number]: Are you with people you know?
me: i was
[unknown number]: ?
me: my friend felix was ehre
me: hes also pretty but not as pretty as u
[unknown number]: Where is he now?
me: dont know!
me: i think he has a new boyfrind
[unknown number]: Do you have other friends there?
me: no :((
me: kim seungmin goes to bed at 830 pm
[unknown number]: Who?
[unknown number]: Are you having fun?
me: no :((((
[unknown number]: If you aren’t comfortable with this, you can say no and I won’t be offended. But if you’d like to go home, I can come pick you up. I have a car.
me: i donot wsnt u to hate me more
[unknown number]: I’ve never hated you. Send me your location?
me: lets focus on communicatin
[unknown number]: ?
me: khalid?
[unknown number]: ?
me: [location shared]
[unknown number]: I’ll be there in ten minutes.
<><><><>
Despite (somewhat) popular opinion, Minho isn’t a dick. He isn’t an idiot, so he knows how he comes across, but it’s still a little sad when people think he’s mean.
It’s especially sad coming from Jisung, whom he likes a lot. Lovely Jisung, who apparently didn’t know that Minho was only teasing him. He swallows down the guilt as he pulls out of the parking lot of his apartment. He hopes that Jisung will understand, but he’s not sure that the way he’s acted is forgivable.
Jisung’s at a pretty popular club, and the curb out front is full of scantily-dressed people shoving their friends into Ubers. Minho doesn’t have to look very hard for Jisung–he’s standing off to the side by himself, bouncing on his toes. He pulls up beside him and rolls down the passenger window.
“Hey, Jisung.” He waits, unsure of what else to say. Jisung stumbles over the curb and leans down so he can make eye contact with Minho. Jisung has glitter on his eyes, which looks lovely. Less lovely is the look of utter misery on his face. He’s clearly been crying, and Minho feels a sharp pang when he remembers that he’s the reason for the tears.
“You’re here to take me home?” Jisung asks, blinking big eyes at Minho. It’s a slightly redundant question, but Minho nods once regardless.
“Are you sure?” Jisung presses. Even more redundant.
“Yes,” Minho answers slowly. How drunk is he?
“Why?” Oh, Minho’s motives are being questioned. That makes more sense.
“I’ve never hated you,” he says simply. “I quite like you, actually. And even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t want to leave anyone in a situation they didn’t want to be in, especially if I had the means to help.” Jisung’s mouth falls open. He’s always so expressive, which is one of the things Minho likes about him–there is never any confusion about what Jisung is feeling.
…Minho just didn’t realize that his exaggerately-offended expressions signified actual offense. Oops.
Jisung, usually quick to respond, has yet to say anything more. Through his rearview mirror, Minho notices a very angry Uber driver behind him.
“Will you let me take you home?” He asks.
Jisung sighs dramatically. “I guess.”
Once Jisung’s essentially fallen into the passenger seat, Minho has Jisung put his address into Minho’s phone. This simple request prompts a very long story with many names, almost none of which Minho is able to catch. He gets the gist, though: when Jisung and his friend Felix go out, they only bring one house key after an unfortunate incident where they lost both in a single night. This normally doesn’t pose an issue, because they always go home together; if they don’t, they make sure the correct person has the key.
This time, Felix was responsible for carrying the key. A little bit before Jisung texted Minho, Felix had shouted in Jisung’s ear that he was going somewhere with a guy he’s been talking to and asked if Jisung would be fine. Jisung thought he meant they were going to the bar for more drinks. When he checked Felix’s location ten minutes later, Felix was at the guy’s apartment.
Minho frowns at this–it seems like abandoning your friend in a club is a big enough deal that you should make sure everything is communicated clearly.
“Exactly!” Jisung exclaims, presumably in response to Minho’s expression. “Like, what the fuck? I know he’s safe with the guy, though,” he rushes to say. “He’s been talking to him for a long time and he seems super chill. I’ve never met him, but Seungmin has.” Minho did not know who Kim Seungmin was when Jisung mentioned him in his texts earlier, and he still does not know now.
While Minho enjoys listening to Jisung talk, this information does provide a point of concern.
“If you aren’t able to get into your apartment, where are we going?”
“Oh!” Jisung says brightly. “Seungmin’s.”
“Didn’t you say he’s asleep?”
“I have a key!”
“You’ll carry around a key to his apartment but not your own?”
“Duh,” Jisung scoffs. “Felix and I have, like, eight. Losing one isn’t a big deal.”
<><><><>
When Minho pulls into the parking lot of a small apartment building, he hesitates before turning the car off.
Some mysterious force urges him to open his mouth and ask, “may I walk with you to make sure you get in okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jisung, whose head is now in his hands, says weakly. “I can do it.” He doesn’t move.
Eventually, with Minho’s assistance, he does do it. Minho essentially drags him inside and towards the elevators, but is brought up short when Jisung stops walking.
“No,” Jisung says. “We’re taking the stairs.”
Minho thinks that elevators are slow and awkward, so he’s fine with the decision, though he’s not entirely confident in Jisung’s ability to handle stairs right now.
“How many flights?”
“Five.” Woof.
In those five flights, Jisung almost eats shit roughly four thousand times, only saved by a firm grip on his bicep.
“You’re strong,” he comments breathlessly.
Minho shrugs. “I have to be for dance.”
“It’s hot,” Jisung says. “You’re hot. And cute.” He’s slurring his words slightly. Minho hopes that Jisung still has these opinions once he’s sober.
“I think that you’re hot and cute too,” he informs Jisung. “But we can talk about that at a different time. Do you have the key?”
They’ve made it to the fifth floor, and Jisung gestures loosely to Kim Seungmin’s door. He starts digging in his pockets for the key, but he’s wearing cargo pants, meaning he has an abundance of pockets to choose from. He’s not going about it in a very methodical way, Minho notes.
Eventually, he emerges triumphant, showing the key to Minho with a flourish.
Minho watches patiently while Jisung tries–and fails–to insert the key into the lock. Finally he turns and offers the key to Minho. “Please?”
Minho gently nudges him out of the way and opens the door for him. It’s pitch black, but the light from the hallway allows him to see Jisung stumble towards a lamp.
“Okay,” Minho whispers, aware that it’s well past midnight. “Are you alright, then?”
“Yep!” Jisung responds at full volume and then throws up into the kitchen trash can.
Ten minutes later, Jisung is hunched over the toilet in the bathroom.
Minho, feeling like he’s stuck in some sort of moral hypothetical—leave the drunk boy to throw up by himself or stay in an apartment that belongs to neither of them without the inhabitant’s consent?–is sitting on the floor next to him, offering him sips of water from a cup he found in Kim Seungmin’s kitchen. He already replaced the trash bag, and the old one is neatly tied up and waiting primly by his shoes. He’ll take it when he leaves. It’s like nature, right? ‘Leave no trace’?
His pondering is rudely interrupted by Jisung.
“I’m gonna die,” he chokes out, reaching one hand towards Minho’s general direction. Unsure what he wants, Minho takes it and holds it.
“No, idiot,” Jisung stops to retch, “the water.” That makes more sense.
Minho carefully hands it to him, then brushes Jisung’s damp hair away from his eyes. Instead of reacting poorly, as many people would, Jisung leans into the touch.
“You’re not going to die,” Minho responds belatedly. “You’ll be okay.”
Before he can attempt to reassure Jisung some more, he’s throwing up again.
“Hey, Jisung,” Minho’s eyes shoot to the bathroom door, where a foxy man is passing by. And not foxy like hot, foxy like he actually looks like a fox. The orange hair completes the look. Jisung offers him a weak wave in response.
The fox doesn’t seem concerned about Jisung’s health or Minho’s presence, just offering Minho a nod when he walks past again with a bag of chips. Bewildered, Minho nods back.
“Was that Kim Seungmin?” He hisses once he hears a door shut.
“No,” Jisung says. “That’s Jeongin.”
“Oh.” A breath, then the sound of another door.
“Han Jisung. For the love of god, who is this random man in my apartment?”
“That’s Kim Seungmin,” Jisung says helpfully.
Kim Seungmin is wearing a pajama set with little dogs on it, and he does not look pleased.
“Hello,” Minho offers. “I’m Lee Minho.” Unfortunately, this is not a situation he’s encountered before, so he’s not quite sure what to say past that.
Kim Seungmin rubs a hand over his eyes. “Of course you are.”
“I’m sorry that I’m in your apartment. I felt bad leaving him on his own.”
“I am a grown ass man,” Jisung says from inside the toilet bowl.
Seungmin ignores him. “I’ve heard a lot about you, y’know.”
“It was a misunderstanding, Seungminnie,” Jisung’s words all run together, but the message gets across. “He thought we were teasing.”
“So…I was right.”
“You were right,” Jisung confirms wearily.
Seungmin laughs all the way back down the hallway.
<><><><>
When Jisung wakes up the next morning, he spends a minute or two utterly confused. Most of his morning-afters are a circle of hell and consist of waking up in his going-out clothes, with his makeup still on, phone dead, and feeling like complete shit. This time, though he’s on Seungmin’s couch, he’s in sweatpants and he can tell that his makeup has been removed. On the coffee table, his phone is charging next to a glass of water and painkillers.
“I like him,” Seungmin says. Jisung hadn’t even realized he was in the room.
“What?” Jisung asks groggily.
“Minho did that,” Seungmin nods towards the table.
“Min–?” There’s a beat of silence. “Oh, fuck”
minho → me
minho: I hope you’re feeling okay. If you meant the things you said last night, let me know. I’d love to take you on a date.
<><><><>
“This is my boyfriend, Chris!” Felix says excitedly.
No fucking way. “Jisung!” Chan says. “It’s so good to see you again! We need to get together soon. I’d love to get your opinion on some stuff I’ve been working on with my friend. He knows Minho, too, but I don’t know if you guys have met yet. His name is Seo Changbin?” No fucking way.
<><><><>
“Something crazy happened today. Y’know how I originally wanted to impress you because I wanted to get closer with one of your friends?”
“No.”
“Oh."