Archive of Our Own

“Chris, what flavor did you say Jisung was again?” Jisung hears Felix ask his boyfriend.

“Excuse me?” Jisung snaps to attention. “Why?”

“He’s some sort of pudding flavor if I recall correctly. I don’t remember for sure. It’s been a while since I’ve tasted him.”

Tasted him? He thinks. What am I? A grocery store sample? He feels the beginnings of a heated blush working its way up his throat. He recalls the night he met Chan, two drinks over his threshold and throwing himself into the arms of the closest warm body on the dance floor. He was drunkenly lunging for a kiss before he realized he was dancing with a stranger. Thankfully that stranger was a gentleman, who made sure Jisung made it back to his friends. Then promptly fell head over heels for his beautiful sunshine twin. 

“Interesting,” Felix’s deep timbre brings Jisung back to the present. “Jisung, kiss Chan-hyung for me.” 

“Excuse me?” Chan says as he turns from his laptop to stare open mouthed at his boyfriend. 

“Not like that, love. I just need to know which flavor he is for sure. Can you kiss him for me? Please?” Felix pleads with wide, sparkling eyes. Jisung could see the question marks written across Chan’s face, certain that the same ones were etched in his own expression. 

“Uhm…okay. If you’re sure?” Chan responds hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck as he moves towards Jisung. Though his narrowed eyes and tilt of his head betray a curiosity that seems to directly contradict his hesitant tone. 

“Wait! I didn’t consent. What is this even about?” Jisung says, arms thrown in front of him in mild defence, scooting away from the imminent intrusion into his personal space.

“Don’t you trust me?” Felix asks, casting his wide eyes in Jisung’s direction. He hates when Felix uses those eyes. It’s almost impossible to say no when he looks at you like that. 

“There are times I wonder if I should.”  

“Just kiss my boyfriend!” Felix whines forcefully.

As Chan approaches him, Jisung’s eyes flit back and forth between his friends. His mind is trying to wrap itself around the strange request and what it might implicate. It was racing between wondering if he could make an escape and calculating his path options. Currently he was debating between barricading himself in the bathroom or his bedroom or if he could make it through the front door. None of which gave a high probability of success considering Chan was between him and the hallway leading to interior safety and there was little chance he could grab his shoes and open the entrance door before Chan grabbed him. 

He startles slightly when he feels Chan gently lifting his chin to face him. “Don’t worry, Sungie. It’s just a kiss,” he whispers before capturing Jisung’s mouth with his own. Tongue flicking at the seam of Jisung’s lips, asking for entrance, then forcing its way through. 

Jisung melts slightly into the kiss before his brain reminds him that this is his best friend’s boyfriend and he abruptly pulls back. Chan sits with a contemplative look on his face as he draws his own lips into his mouth, testing the taste on his tongue like a sommelier discerning the body and finish of an expensive chianti. 

“Definitely pudding. I think it’s a caramel custard maybe,” Chan says as though he might as well be giving a report on the climate conditions outside rather than breaking down Jisung’s flavor profile. 

“Oh, perfect!” Felix says, eyes alight with a menacing gleam. 

“Felix, I swear, if you don’t tell me what this is about, I’ll—”

“This,” Felix cuts him off, shoving his phone directly into Jisung’s face. 

Jisung grabs the phone and blinks, attempting to focus on the vision presented before him. “Wanted. Cake for tastings? The fuck is this?”

“The answer to your rent problem, Ji,” Felix says as a triumphant grin spreads across his face.

Jisung sits blinking, his gaze bouncing back and forth between his friend and the phone. He attempts to comprehend what exactly Felix is proposing, however, his brain refuses to process the concept.

Chan leans forward, squinting to read the ad over Jisung’s shoulder. “You want him to sell his flavor for cash?” he asks as a low laugh rumbles from deep within his chest.

“I’m mostly joking! But seriously, the money would be super helpful right now. I just thought it was hilarious because it’s a total coincidence. I mean they are looking for your exact flavor, Ji.”

The telltale rumbles of his friends’ continued conversation fades into static as his mind disassociates. He stares blankly at the screen as his brain calculates the risk-to-reward ratio of actually answering the ad. 

Pros: Financial survival. Though he has been actively applying to every position within the realm of his capabilities, nothing has come to fruition yet. Plus the ad says the pay is negotiable, so maybe that would mean the ability to dig himself out of this debt hole he currently resides in. 

Cons: Literally everything else. It could be a wrinkly, old, pervert. It could be a sadistic mafia boss wanting to abduct and make him his flavor slave. Or, worst of all, it could be one of those cannibalistic forks planning to turn him into a three-course meal. 

Shivers run down his spine as his mind travels down a darker and darker path of cons. Each one turning more gruesome than the one before. He’s almost certain he would never entertain an idea like this. But, why is my finger copying the URL for the ad? And, why am I sending a text message with the link to my phone? Finally, why am I deleting the sent text from Felix’s phone like it’s a secret? All questions Jisung will never be able to answer.

Even though he is relatively certain he has decided never to respond to the ad, Jisung’s mind continues to compile a mental list for and against the idea. Felix’s animated voice finally breaks his internal dialogue. “Can we get chicken? Ji, do you wanna get chicken?”

“Huh? Oh…uhm—” Jisung’s mind shifts to the nearly negative balance in his current bank statement, “—I think I’m going to have to pass. I’ll just make some instant ramen.” 

“Sung, you’ve had instant ramen for almost every meal for what? Four days now?” Chan asks with a heavy hint of concern.

“Five, but whose counting?”

“Come on, chicken and beer. On me,” Chan says, lifting Jisung from the floor like he weighs nothing more than a common house cat. 

Jisung is slightly stunned by the show of strength, feeling himself sway a bit as Chan settles him on his feet. Jisung feels a pang of jealousy for how lucky Felix is that Chan fell for him. Charming, nerdy, dommy when he needs to be, and strength for days. But as fate would have it, Chan’s favorite flavor is pineapple, which Felix just so happens to be. Plus they both immigrated from Australia, so, in short, Jisung never had a chance. Their connection was immediate, no one could deny that. But, still one could hope to be lucky enough to find someone as doting and caring as Chan is with Felix. 

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Later that night, after a few too many beers, Jisung finds himself sitting on his bed, staring at the link for the mysterious ad again. Due to his inebriated state, and the late hour, his mind has lost its ability to conjure up the list of cons keeping him from replying. So he clicked the link. 

He blinks his eyes a few times to adjust from the rapid shift of the usual brightness of his white background light to the extremely dark background of the simple website. 

The ad is very basic. No flair. No drama. Just a black background with white letters in a no frills font. The information for the desired candidate from the ad is reiterated at the top with a small button leading to a simple form for name, age, flavor, and phone number.

Sober Jisung would have realized this for the probable phishing scam that it was and clicked away from the page without a second thought. However, Sober Jisung is not in the building and Drunk Jisung didn’t even hesitate to enter his information and click submit. 

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The following morning finds Jisung bleary-eyed and scrambling for the phone that is ringing in way too close proximity to his hangover-ridden head. 

“Ello,” Jisung answers, his voice slightly dampened as his face is still pressed into the fluffy pillow.

“Yes, hello. Is this Ham Jusing?” The question from the unknown voice has Jisung shaking his head in vain, and in pain, attempting to make sense of the situation and further awaken himself. 

“This is Han Jisung. How may I help you?” With the worry that it might be a potential employer calling, Jisung quickly shifts to his most professional office voice trying to rectify his less than stellar first impression.

“Han Jisung?” the voice asks as Jisung hears the unmistakable clicking of a keyboard in the background. “Ah yes, that makes much more sense. Mr. Han, did you submit your information for a want ad recently?”

The realization of the nature of this call causes Jisung’s eyes to spring open immediately, fumbling with his sleep numb fingers to switch to his browser screen.

What the fuck did I do? The internal panic is in stark contrast to his own calm voice as he simultaneously responds to the caller, “Yes. It seems I did.”

There is a brief silence as if the caller is processing Jisung’s response. “It seems you did? Did you not mean to submit your information?”

Jisung hesitates for a moment, realizing that this was his get-out-of-jail-free card. That one simple, “That is correct, it was a mistake. I’m sorry for wasting your time,” could easily remedy the situation with which he’s found himself. As he resolves himself to say exactly that, his mouth overrides his brain, and he listens in horror as it says instead, “No, I did! I meant to. I’m just curious about the arrangement and what it entails.” 

“Great. Well the details are still confidential. I have emailed you a consent to background check form which will need to be completed prior to further information being shared. You can send them back to the same email address. Once you’ve passed that, more details will be divulged. Do you have any questions?”

Switching over to his email, he spots a new one from [email protected]. He clicks to open the consent form attached, but upon scrolling through it, his guard instantly shoots up. It’s asking for incredibly intimate, highly personal information. 

“How do I know this isn’t some sort of identity theft scam?” Jisung demands, his voice raising, “I don’t even know you. And how did you get my email address?”

“That is also confidential. And you’re right, you don’t know us. This could, in fact, be a scam. Should I cross your name off the list of potential candidates then?”

Jisung finds himself relieved that the man is so willing to remove him from the list, solidifying in his mind that this probably was not a scam after all. As it’s commonly known that scammers wouldn’t willingly let a mark off the hook. He makes the internal argument that if he were filling out an application for any other potential employer he would be required to give the same information. The highly secretive nature of the situation still causes him pause, but he reasons that this is an employment of sorts. Resigning himself to continue on he responds with, “I’ll get them submitted as soon as possible.” 

A slightly exasperated sigh bleeds through the speaker. “Great,” comes the monotone response. “If your background check comes back clear, you will be contacted with further details for your ‘interview’ at that time. Hope you have a wonderful day, Mr. Han.” 

The soft click of the call disconnecting leaves an overwhelming loud silence within the room. The heavy emphasis on the word interview had been distinctly tinged with sarcasm, leaving Jisung staring at his phone screen wondering—yet again—just what the hell he’s gotten himself into. 

But he’s committed now, so with a numb tap upon his screen, he sends the forms to his printer. He resolutely listens to the quiet whir of the machine as he uncaps a pen. 

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The nerves hit about three days later as Jisung has received no further communication from the mysterious “employer”. He’s resigned himself to a future of fighting identity theft and a tanking credit score worse than he already has. As he is internally debating whether to proactively do something about it or make it a tomorrow Jisung problem, his phone rings. 

Though he recognizes the phone number instantly, thanks to his previous foresight to save it in his contacts as ‘Weird Ad Guy’, he is still hesitant in his greeting, “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr. Han Jisung?

“It is.” 

“My name is Kim Seungmin. I’m calling to inform you that your background check has been cleared. The boss would like to schedule an introductory meeting with you. When might you be available?”

Jisung realizes yet again that he has the perfect opportunity to escape. Just apologize for wasting his time and hang up, his mind urges. But—again—the message gets lost in transit. Before his brain can finalize the escape plan, his body is already acting as if on autopilot. Distant, as though listening from outside of his own skin, he hears himself say, “I am available any day, any time.”

The slap upon his forehead stings as his mind and body continue to war in disconnect. He anguishes over why he is so out of sync lately. Over why his subconscious has taken over and is impetuously guiding him into the most seedy of territories against his better judgement. 

“Perfect. This evening, then. A car will be sent to your residence to pick you up. Please be ready promptly at 8 o’clock. Thank you.” 

Before Jisung can fully comprehend the information, the call disconnects. 

“What the hell have you done, Jisung?” he mutters quietly to himself.

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His watch reads two minutes to eight and Jisung is standing in front of his building. Despite the warmth of the summer air surrounding him, he is shivering in his hoodie and jeans. His nerves are setting his skin on fire, while ice runs through his veins leaving him in a paradoxical state of sweat and chills. His anxiety is sitting in his chest, causing his heartbeat to flutter as though the organ has been replaced by a kaleidoscope of butterflies. He takes a few deep, cleansing breaths attempting to calm himself before his ride arrives. 

He watches as a black, luxury vehicle slows to a stop in front of him. The man that exits looks to be no older than Jisung himself. A serious scowl is apparent upon his brow as he eyes Jisung from head to toe. Jisung glances down at his casual outfit, wondering for a moment if he should have dressed up a bit, then questions who he’s trying to impress. He knows nothing about the man he’s going to see. 

“Are you Han Jisung?” the stoic man asks with derision coloring his otherwise cool tone. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“I’m not Sir. You may call me Seungmin,” he replies as he opens the back door for Jisung. 

“Thank you, Seungmin,” Jisung quietly answers as he climbs into the vehicle that probably costs more than his entire apartment. He distracts himself by buckling his seatbelt then running his hands across the soft leather of the seat. The cool atmosphere provided by the car’s AC does little to settle his nerves. Neither does the lack of music or any other background noise within the luxurious enclosure.

Seungmin returns swiftly to the driver’s seat and makes haste, weaving into traffic as if it were non-existent. After a couple of blocks, he hands a folder back to Jisung. “Some light reading for your travels. I’d advise you to pay particular attention to the agreement on top before signing.” 

“I have to sign an agreement for an interview?”

“Yes.” The man doesn’t offer any further conversation or explanation from there. He keeps his eyes on the road, ignoring Jisung completely. 

Jisung, for lack of anything to preoccupy his mind, opens the folder to see a non-disclosure agreement sitting atop. His curiosity, and the overwhelming silence surrounding him, get the better of him. “Uh, Seungmin? What kind of interview requires an NDA?”

“The kind that requires discretion. Are you opposed to signing? If so, I can gladly turn around and get you back home in no time.” 

He knows he should take the safe route. He should refuse to sign. But again the flashing warning signs combined with Seungmin’s blatant hesitancy to have Jisung proceed, only fuel his curious nature. “No. Discretion. I understand,” he states, meeting the challenge. “Do you have a pen handy?”

Seungmin hands back the pen with a soft, almost weary sigh. As if he wished Jisung had refused. The more Seungmin seems to oppose it, the more Jisung resolves to continue. Jisung chooses to pack that knowledge away for future analysis. 

Upon finishing his review and signing of the required agreement, Jisung realizes they have pulled into an underground parking garage of a luxury highrise. He watches intently as Seungmin parks next to the building’s elevator, then as he exits the vehicle to open the door for Jisung. 

“This way please,” he says as he heads towards the elevator. “Agreement, please,” Seungmin states, after the elevator door has enclosed them into the tiny car. He takes a moment to verify that Jisung has initialed and signed all the appropriate places before he produces a keyfob to scan on the elevator’s RFID reader, then proceeds to press the button for the penthouse. 

The ride up is just as rife with silence as the car ride over. Jisung forces his breathing into a steady, controlled rhythm by concentrating on the chime of each passing floor. When the elevator finally glides to a halt, the doors open to a breathtaking, spacious living area. The space is lavishly decorated, yet somehow manages to avoid looking pretentious. The aesthetic drifts casually between ‘don’t touch anything’ and ‘please make yourself at home’.

Seungmin gestures towards the massive sectional sofa situated in the middle of the room. “Please, have a seat. Help yourself to the refreshments, if you like.” He points towards the assortment of snacks and beverages perched on the coffee table in front of him. “He will be with you shortly,” he says before disappearing into one of the hallways off the main living space. 

Jisung looks around, trying to get any sort of indication of who lives here. No personal pictures aside from a handful of cat photos scattered randomly about. Expensive looking oil paintings adorn a few of the walls. He also notices a high quality projector and screen system. He takes note of all of these things, but still finds no clues as to who the owner might be. 

Resigning himself to waiting patiently, he reaches for a bottle of water among the array of snacks. He takes a few sips to help to calm his nerves a bit, then sets the bottle on the table just as someone enters the room from behind him. 

“Han Jisung?” The voice cuts through the quiet of the space, soft and dangerously breathy. A shiver ripples down Jisung’s spine. The unexpected, borderline romantic quality of the tone, almost entirely melts the professional pretense of the meeting.

When their eyes finally connect, Jisung is struck by the man’s ethereal beauty. That is, until his synapses snap into place and he realizes just who it is that stands before him. “Lee Minho?!” he shouts, his voice reaching an octave he wasn’t aware was within his range. 

“Ahhh, you know me then?” Minho asks, shyly rubbing the back of his neck as a slight tinge of red colors his ears.

“Know you? Who doesn’t know you? I mean, yes, sir, of course I recognize you. I’ve seen all your movies and series. You’re one of my favorite actors,” Jisung rambles, unable to stop the torrent of words spewing from his mouth. “I never imagined I would ever meet you. Let alone be in your living room. With you standing in front me. Do you have a cat? I noticed a cat tree in the corner. I love cats. Did you know cat’s noses are all unique. Just like humans with their fingerprints?”

“Could I have a sip of water?” Minho interrupts, chuckling as he takes a seat next to Jisung on the sofa. 

Jisung is thankful for the interruption as his anxious ramblings were getting dangerously close to embarrassing at that point. “Of course!” he replies as he reaches for one of the new bottles on the table. Unfortunately, this causes his nerves to start a whole new dialogue of cringe. “Did you also know that in ancient Egypt if a family's cat passed away, the family would show their mourning by shaving off their eyebr—” Jisung is finally stunned into complete silence as he turns to hand Minho the unopened bottle, only to see him already taking a long sip from the very bottle Jisung used. 

He swallows thickly, watching as Minho’s tongue lightly flicks across the bottle’s seams, then runs around the entire surface of the opening. Laving across every crevice Jisung’s mouth had touched. He can feel the fabric of his jeans growing tighter. At a loss for what to say, Jisung manages in a rough, quiet voice, “t-t-that was my bottle.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I was just really thirsty,” Minho replies with a smirk. “Please, help yourself to another.”

Jisung obeys, unconsciously cracking the seal on the fresh bottle in his hand and taking a long sip before setting it on the table in front of him. He is mesmerized by the feline stare of the man in front of him, watching helplessly as Minho’s eyes gaze relentlessly at Jisung’s mouth. He watches as the tip of the actor’s tongue glides across the surface of his glossy lips, like he’s eyeing a prime cut of meat at the finest steakhouse. 

“I think you’ll be perfect for the position. If you’re still interested, I’ll have Seungmin work out the terms with you,” Minho says with a fond smile. 

“Terms. Yes. Position.” Finally the weight of the situation crashes down upon him. The position. The ‘interview’. It all returns as the temporary amnesia caused by his nervous disposition over the last few minutes lifts, leaving him feeling exposed and chilled, like a bucket of ice water dribbling from his scalp down across his entire being. Swallowing thickly, he forces himself to ask, “What exactly is the position? Information hasn’t been very forthcoming thus far.”

“My manager should be able to handle that. I do hope you’ll accept, though. Like I said, you’re perfect.” Minho stands from the sofa in one fluid motion. He smoothly snags the second water bottle—Jisung’s other bottle— from the table before sauntering down the exact same hallway Seungmin had disappeared mere moments ago.

Jisung’s mind is a whirlwind of questions as he’s left in the deafening silence of the room, his stomach aflutter with frantic, nervous energy. What could a celebrity possibly want from me that he couldn’t get elsewhere? He didn’t even talk to me, ask me any questions, how am I perfect? What are these services? He blinks at the table in front of him. And did he seriously just take my other water??

His mental spiral is interrupted when a warm body plops on the sofa beside him. Tearing his eyes away from the empty space on the table where his bottle was previously sitting, he sees Seungmin with a slightly pinched grimace holding a different folder towards him. “I understand you’ve been offered the position, correct?” he states matter of factly. 

“Uhm, I guess?” The entire experience has left Jisung questioning reality at this point. “I’m not really sure what is going on anymore.” 

“Yeah, you’ll get used to that. So, you stated that you are currently available,” Seungmin pauses to check his notes, “and I quote “any day, any time”, does that availability still apply?”

Jisung, who is a little taken aback by Seungmin’s lackadaisical attitude towards everything, just blinks for a few seconds before responding, “Yes, I suppose it does.” 

“Good. That’s settled. Now here is the salary proposed. Please indicate if you accept by initialling here or tell me if we need to negotiate further.” 

Seungmin points to a substantial figure on the contract. He would definitely be able to make his monthly rent payment and still have a little left over for food and extras. “Is this monthly or bi-weekly or…?” Jisung questions, cutting off his inquiry for fear of overextending his reach. 

“Oh sorry,” Seungmin says, realizing he had inadvertently covered the rest of the terms. “This would be per occurrence.” 

Jisung feels his throat tightening, he swallows thickly around nothing, attempting futilely to ease the tension so he can respond. His voice comes out strangled, pitched, every syllable labored. “Per occurence? Uhm…y-yeah. That’s acceptable.” Quietly calculating that even if they meet once a week that would be more than enough to cover all his expenses plus anything else he could possibly desire. 

“Perfect. Initial here please.” Seungmin points to the indicated line. “This section is acknowledgement that either party may terminate the contract without prior notice at any time. If you agree, then initial here. Finally, this section is a reminder that the NDA you signed prior to this meeting is still in force and will be for the remainder of your employment and beyond. If in agreement, initial here. Then sign here.” 

Yet again, the strange emphasis on the word employment led Jisung to believe that Seungmin doesn’t necessarily approve of the position Jisung is being offered. Which reminds Jisung that he still isn’t entirely sure what the position is.

Jisung shifts through the few pages of the contract initialling the sections the manager had indicated, but hesitating before signing on the final line. “Uh, Seungmin, this doesn’t state what exactly I’ll be doing.”

Seungmin coughs and clears his throat, as if slightly uncomfortable with the question. “After further discussion with Mr. Lee, he has chosen to address those details with you privately.” 

Jisung stares at the man, unsure how to proceed. Should he sign without knowing what he’s truly getting himself into? The money is definitely worth it, but this all feels strange. With his bank account screaming for help and knowing that Felix will have to cover next month’s rent if Jisung doesn’t do something, anything, quickly. He contemplates the situation for a few more moments before cautiously signing his name. 

Seungmin pulls a cell phone from his jacket pocket, handing it to Jisung. It was newer, and much nicer, than his current phone. “As of now, you will be readily available should Mr. Lee require your services as per your previously stated availability. Should your availability change, you will need to communicate this directly. This will be your form of communication with Mr. Lee, we just need to initialize biometric security. Then you’re free to go.”

Then he adds as an afterthought, “hopefully I don’t need to remind you that anything on this device is also covered under the NDA.”

“Of course. Understood,” Jisung agrees, as he goes through the motions of scanning high fingerprint and face into the phone's security. 

“Alright, that’s everything then. Here is your copy of the contract. Unless you have any other questions?”

Jisung shakes his head. 

“Then let’s get you home.” Seungmin doesn’t waste time, he’s already at the elevator calling the car to their floor before Jisung can even stand. 

The ride home is a blur of information swirling through Jisung’s mind. He wants nothing more than to tell Felix all about his strange meeting, but he realizes the NDA prevents him from doing so. He wonders how he’s going to be able to keep this a secret from his best friend. The man who can read him better than anyone else on the planet. His stomach ties in knots from the constant stream of imagined dialogue in his head, he strategizes different ways to swerve the inevitable questions. Unfortunately, every envisioned scenario ends with him either upsetting his friend or breaking the NDA. This could get complicated, he thinks. 

“Have a good evening.” Seungmin’s voice cuts through the fog of his complicated thoughts, bringing Jisung back to reality. They were parked in front of his building and Seungmin was currently standing outside holding the door for Jisung to exit.

“You as well, Seungmin,” Jisung responds as he crawls out of the car, looking up at their apartment window. Noticing the light for the living room is lit, he wishes for a moment that he had somewhere else to be so he wouldn’t have to begin his tangled web of lies to Felix just yet. However, past experience has taught him that avoiding Felix will only raise more suspicions, more concern, more questions. So he steels himself with a calming breath before marching forward to face his reality.

“Hi, Sungie! Where’ve you been?” is the greeting Jisung receives as he walks through the door. Felix and Chan are curled up on the couch watching something Jisung doesn’t recognize. Felix’s sweet smile and bright eyes tear a hole in his heart. How am I going to be able to deceive that face? He thinks.

“It was a nice night. Decided to go for a walk.” 

Felix sits up, seemingly assessing Jisung’s state as his eyes graze from head to toe, then linger on his face. “Everything okay?”

Jisung had prepared for this. He knew his excuse of going for a walk would set off alarm bells in Felix’s compassionate instincts. Walks have always been a way for Jisung to blow off steam and clear his head. Felix knows this. So Jisung employed the kindest strategy his mind was able to cook up. A lie but wrapped in a hint of truth. “Yeah, I’m just a little stressed by the lack of job opportunities. Thought it would be good to clear my head a bit. See if I could come up with other options. You know?”

“Aww, I’m sure something will come up soon. Any company would be lucky to have you, Ji. Come here,” Felix responds, arms open for a hug. Jisung goes willingly, knowing a bit of skinship always helps to lift his mood. “Do you want to watch TV with us for a while?”

“Nah, you guys go ahead, I’m kind of tired. I’m going to go doom scroll a bit and go to bed.” He places a gentle kiss on Felix’s soft hair, tries his best to return Felix’s easy yet dazzling smile, then retreats to his room as fast as he can without looking too suspicious. That went better than I expected. 

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Jisung didn’t know what to expect, the anxiety of waiting for his first “shift” caused a sensation of static to run through his veins. The first day he checked his “work” phone religiously, worried that he might miss a call or text, nervously touching the screen to bring it to life before hurrying to shove it back in his pocket before anyone saw it. The second day he felt more relaxed about it, managing to check it periodically throughout the day as it crossed his mind instead of obsessing over it. The third day he almost forgot about it completely. He had left it in the drawer on his nightstand, next to his toys, knowing that Felix was well aware of what that drawer held and thus wouldn’t invade his privacy. 

However, a shock of surprise greeted him when he finally checked it in the early evening…

Glancing at the time in the corner, he realizes he has about 30 minutes to get ready before the car arrives. As he sprints to the bathroom, he’s thankful for Felix staying at Chan’s tonight, meaning he doesn't have to think of an excuse for why he's leaving. He rushes through a shower, deciding that towel-drying his hair is the best he’s going to get with his limited time. He pauses briefly to assess his image in the mirror, once again asking himself what he has gotten himself into as he mentally lists everything else he has to do. 

He stares at his closet, trying to decide what he should wear. He felt too casual the first meeting, yet he doesn’t believe this would necessarily be suit and tie worthy either. He ends up with a nice fitting pair of black slacks and a dressy silk shirt. The slacks are a bit high waisted, so he knows they show his figure a little better than the baggy jeans and sweatshirts he’s accustomed to wearing. 

He may not know what the night will entail, but dressing nicely to be in the presence of a celebrity seems like the best course of action. Especially after his lackluster first impression. He dusts on a little shimmery eyeshadow and soft blush and finishes with some light eyeliner that enhances his large eyes. He wants to look nice, but not like he tried too hard, especially now that he’s aware of who he’s trying to impress.

He manages to run out the door of his building just as the black vehicle glides to a stop. He doesn’t give Seungmin time to get out before he opens the back door and jumps into the seat. 

“Good evening, Seun…” Jisung stops as he realizes the driver isn’t Seungmin after all. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought this was my car. I apologize,” he blurts as he grabs for the door handle. 

“Wait. You’re Han Jisung, right?” the driver asks with a chuckle.

Jisung stops what he’s doing to look at the new face. “Yes. I am.” 

“Then this is your car. Seungmin had a prior engagement and couldn’t make it. I’ll be escorting you to Minho’s apartment this evening. My name is Jeongin. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Jisung takes a moment to study the friendly smile and adorable dimples on the man behind the wheel. “Nice to meet you, Jeongin. So you work for Mr. Lee as well?” he asks as he fastens his seatbelt. “Are you also a manager for him? Like Seungmin?”

Another small chuckle escapes from the man as he pulls into the light evening traffic. “Mr. Lee? You’ve talked to Seungmin too much,” Jeongin says with a full laugh this time. “No. I’m Minho’s publicist and I deal with his social media accounts.”

“Oh? That must be an exciting job,” Jisung says, relaxing a bit as the atmosphere is definitely more laid-back than his drive with Seungmin. 

“It can be. Most of the time it’s pretty boring, though. Minho isn’t usually the type to cause issues that need to be cleaned up and his media training is fairly impeccable. With the exception of a rogue selfie from time to time. But, his fans love that side of him, so we roll with it,” Jeongin replies casually. 

Jisung is well aware of Minho’s weird side, having witnessed some of his more random posts over the years. One of his favorites was the funny face filtered bathtub selfie he posted ages ago. It’s one of the reasons he’s so drawn to him as a fan. Jisung loves weird. 

“So, what is he like?” Jisung asks, leaning forward just a bit, enjoying the calmer, more welcoming energy Jeongin brings. “As an employer.”

“Minho? He’s great. He’s kind of a tsundere sometimes. Seems like he doesn’t care, but his actions speak louder than anything. He donates to multiple charitable organizations, but he doesn’t like to advertise it. He believes giving should be done from the heart not for publicity. He also volunteers at a few animal shelters around the city. He usually picks a place and volunteers quietly until a fan outs him, then he has to move to a new shelter. The shelters are grateful though because their adoptions always increase after he’s been spotted there.”

“Wow, he sounds like a really great guy,” Jisung thinks aloud. 

“He is,” Jeongin replies matter-of-factly. 

Jisung sits quietly for a moment, ruminating on the information Jeongin has shared, as he watches the blur of city lights passing in the window. He can’t help but think of how refreshing it is for a celebrity to live up to the public persona for once. 

“Jeongin…” he starts hesitantly. 

“Yes?”

“Do you know what my job is?”

Jeongin seems hesitant to respond at first, then speaks slowly as if carefully considering his words before saying them, “I don’t know the particulars of what he wants you to do, but I have an idea. If I am to understand correctly, he will be discussing that with you this evening. And with that, we are here,” he says casually as he parks next to the elevator and exits the vehicle. 

Jisung hadn’t even noticed they’d arrived, but he exits as well, following the man to the elevator. He watches as he produces the same kind of key fob that Seungmin had used and presses the penthouse button before moving to exit the elevator car.

“You’re not coming up?” Jisung asks, grabbing ahold of the man’s sleeve. 

“No, I have some errands I need to run. Minho will let me know when I need to return to take you home. Enjoy your first day!” He gives another dazzling smile full of adorable dimples, then exits with a wave. 

The quick trip to the penthouse feels like it drags on for hours. He feels relieved when no one else joins him on the ride, sucking in nervous breaths as he watches the number count upward on the panel above the door. 

He feels himself holding his breath as the chime for the penthouse finally sounds. As he steps out of the elevator, he is pleasantly assaulted by the amazing aroma of cooking. He’s unable to make out what it is, but it has his mouth watering in anticipation.

“Jisung-ah? Is that you?” He hears Minho’s voice drift from the kitchen. 

“Yes, it’s me,” he says as he takes another deep breath of the aromatic scent. “It smells amazing in here.” 

“I’m glad. I hope you’re hungry,” Minho calls back. “It’s almost ready. Make yourself at home.” 

Jisung sits on the sofa, and much like his first visit, he glances around to take in more of the details his mind missed the first time he occupied the space. He notices there are beverages on the table again, including twice the number of water bottles. A soft laugh escapes him as he recalls Minho stealing his drinks during the initial meeting, and he wonders if there will be a repeat of the offense tonight. Grabbing a bottle, he takes a large sip, eyeing the label before recapping it with another quiet chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” He hears from directly behind him.

“Oh! Just a random thought.” Jisung is struck by how ethereal the man looks dressed casually in jeans and a soft sweater, his skin glowing with the light sweat brought on by cooking over a hot stove. He admires the bunny teeth that peek out of the man’s soft grin. He really is a beautiful man, he thinks. 

“Mind if I have a sip?” Minho asks as he holds his hand out for the bottle. Jisung huffs a quiet laugh as he hands it to him. He watches the way the man’s tongue again runs the rim of the opening, barely taking any water at all. “Mmmm tastes so good,” he hums as he hands the bottle back. “Dinner is ready.”

Jisung’s teeth catch the soft flesh of his lower lip, digging in with a sharp, dragging scrape that pulls him back to reality. Minho’s confusing behavior has flustered him in the best way possible. Jisung waits until he has turned his back to adjust himself in an attempt to hide his growing arousal, then follows the actor to the dining table. 

A gorgeous floral centerpiece adorns the table set for two. Jisung fights a sudden, overwhelming urge to shove his nose directly into the colorful display, but figures proper decorum would probably frown upon that. So, he settles with just visually enjoying them.

Jisung takes the seat Minho has politely pulled out for him and watches as the actor retreats to the kitchen to retrieve their dinner. Taking the opportunity, Jisung leans in to sniff the jasmine that is bowing towards him. He is enjoying the sweet, heady aroma of the beautiful bloom, when the sounds of Minho’s footsteps echo back into the room. 

“Do you enjoy flowers, Jisung?”

A warm sensation spreads across his cheeks as he feels a blush rush across them. “Uh, yeah. You caught me. Sorry,” he replies as he sits back in his chair. 

“No need to apologize, I bought them to be enjoyed.”

Learning that Minho picked the flowers himself, rather than relying on an assistant or decorator, sends a tiny flutter through Jisung’s stomach. 

“Well they are beautiful. And they smell amazing.”

“They’re yours then,” Minho says casually as he places plates of steaming food in front of Jisung.

“R-really?” Jisung asks, his eyes darting back to the lavish arrangement. He’s stunned by how effortlessly Minho can just give away an obviously expensive centerpiece. 

“Of course, as I said, I bought them to be enjoyed. Seems like you will enjoy them more than just having them sit on my table wasting away.” 

“Thank you, Minho-ssi.”

“Please, call me Minho or hyung, if you prefer.”

“S-s-sure, Minho. Thank you. They are beautiful.” 

Jisung doesn’t know what to make of the soft smile on Minho’s lips. His eyes seem to roam Jisung’s face before zeroing in on his mouth. “Shall we eat then?”

“Yes, please. Thank you for making dinner, it looks amazing.” 

“It’s my pleasure. I love to cook. Though, I loved it a lot more when I was younger,” the actor says with a wistful sigh. “Here, try this,” he says while holding a bite of bulgogi to Jisung’s lips with his chopsticks.

Jisung takes the offered meat, being careful not to touch his lips to the eating utensils. He thinks he sees a shadow pass over Minho’s expression, but in a blink, it vanishes behind a pleasant smile. Jisung watches as the older grabs another piece of beef, this time swirling it into a rich sauce before offering it once again. This bite requires Jisung to deliberately scrape his lips across the chopsticks to clear the thick glaze from the tips. 

Jisung watches as Minho then scoops a bite of rice and brings it to his own lips, savoring the mouthful of grains as if they were the most succulent piece of meat he’d ever had. It’s just rice though, Jisung thinks as his suspicions begin to firm in his mind. 

As Jisung goes to lift his own chopsticks for his next bite, Minho accidentally knocks them out of his hand with the sleeve of his sweater. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Jisung. How clumsy of me,” Minho says as he quickly scoops the utensils from the floor and sets them aside. “Here, have another bite.” Prepped in front of him is another sauce-covered bite of bulgogi with a bit of banchan.

Jisung accepts the bite, then observes as Minho takes a small bite of banchan, again savoring it much as he did the rice. 

“Minho-hyung, you don’t have to keep feeding me. I can just get another set of chopsticks. Or clean those.” 

“It’s ok. I enjoy watching you eat,” Minho replies, offering yet another bite. 

Jisung watches closely, testing his theory. During one bite, he is careful not to let his mouth touch the utensils, the next he does. He quickly realizes that whenever his lips avoid the chopsticks, Minho refuses to take a bite of his own. To fully test his theory, instead of taking the next bite cleanly, Jisung closes his mouth entirely around it. He draws the food off slowly, deliberately dragging his lips across the smooth surface before laving his tongue along the tips to catch the remaining sauce.

When Minho takes his next bite of just rice, Jisung hears the man groan as his eyes slightly roll to the back of his head. The groan sends a small rush to his core, warming him from the inside. Wanting to hear more of it, he becomes reckless with his bites, intentionally leaving small traces of saliva on the utensils for the older man to enjoy. It all makes sense now. Minho is, in fact, a fork, he thinks as another groan of pure pleasure hits his eardrums.

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Once Jisung discerns the intent of his employment, he feels marginally better about the arrangement. He has never been very good at dealing with the unknown, and though this situation is still highly unorthodox, the knowledge of his purpose finally allows him some ease. 

As a fan, Jisung is aware that Minho has struggled with his diet over the years. In fact, the actor often shares pictures of his meals through his social media feeds. Though some meals look absolutely divine, such as when he’s invited to a grand opening of a trendy new restaurant, most of the time, the food leaves much to be desired. There are picture after picture of meager servings of grilled chicken or seaweed and tuna with rice. It’s enough to sustain, but not truly enjoy. 

Jisung finds himself relishing Minho’s enjoyment of the meal they are sharing. He watches as the man gets his fill until he finally groans, stretching back and rubbing his stomach as though he’s on the precipice of bursting. He gets a kick out of Minho reaching across to snag the water bottle that Jisung purposely left with just enough liquid to quench someone’s thirst. The actor laps at the rim like he is trying to glean the last remnants of dessert from a spoon, confirming for him that the theft of his drinks is bound to become a recurring theme between them.

With the knowledge that Lee Minho is a fork, everything falls into place for Jisung. Minho’s lackadaisical approach to eating isn’t a factor of dietary restriction after all, it’s a lack of flavor-driven desire. It makes sense because who would put that much effort into a meal they can’t even taste? he thinks to himself.

Jisung feels a sense of duty now to make sure Minho eats well. The fact that he himself will be benefitting from amazing meals, doesn’t escape him. But, more than anything, seeing the actor happy makes Jisung happy too. By the end of the evening, as Jeongin is driving him home and Jisung is sitting with a lapful of beautiful flowers, he finds he is actually looking forward to their next shift together. 

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Later that evening, as he’s relaxing in bed and replaying their dinner together in his mind, Jisung begins to think of some of the information Jeongin shared about Minho. His donating of time and money to charities and animal shelters doesn’t surprise Jisung with his warm demeanor. He is curious about the tsundere comment Jeongin made, though, as that didn’t seem to fit with the Lee Minho he’s known for years and recently had the pleasure to meet. 

A curiosity gets the better of him, he finds himself searching for ‘Lee Minho donation’, clicking on the most recent article.

According to the interview, donating is an annual tradition for Minho, one that started long before he became famous. However, the donation amount has steadily increased with each passing year, which was a fact he only learned because of an editor’s note at the end of the article. Seems Minho refused to answer that particular question, quietly affirming Jeongin’s claim that the actor doesn’t do it for publicity purposes.

He’s just finished the article when he hears his text tone go off once, then again. Switching over to his messaging app, he doesn’t find any new texts. He’s confused for a moment before he realizes that the sound came from his ‘work’ phone. He pulls it out of the drawer immediately, curiosity spiking over what Minho could possibly need already. It’s barely been an hour since Jisung left his apartment.

A wide grin etches across Jisung’s face, his cheeks burning as he reads Minho’s messages. Without a thought in his head, he fires off his responses.

Then it dawns on him what he just wrote. Mortification burns him from the inside out. How could he possibly be stupid enough to say 'Who doesn’t like sushi?' to a fork? He slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand, mind scrambling for a way to repair the damage.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, Jisung isn’t sure what to think. His anxious nature insists that Minho stopped texting because Jisung was insensitive. His logical side counters that because Minho has never admitted to being a fork, it’s only natural that Jisung wouldn’t know any better. In the end, Jisung chooses to believe that anyone who sends a smiling cat emoji can’t be that upset with him. Plugging both of his phones in, he tries to lean into the calm of his logical mind, relying heavily on the silly little icon for comfort. There’s no use worrying over what’s already happened. Easier said than done, though.

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A bright beam of sunlight slipping through a crack in the curtain greets Jisung. Part of him is still in shock that he spent almost two hours with a world-famous actor the previous evening, and somehow only managed to make a complete fool of himself once. I’m counting that as a win, he thinks as he reaches for his nightstand. The ‘work’ phone shows no activity, which isn’t surprising. It’s not like he expected Minho would summon him for breakfast or anything. 

He picks up his personal phone, thumbing through the random notifications that accumulated overnight, including a couple from Minho’s social media accounts. Opening Instagram, he scrolls through some new behind-the-scenes photos from Minho’s recent shoot with Gucci. Jisung can’t help but admire how beautiful the actor is, however, no photograph could do justice to the raw expressions on Minho’s face as he was enjoying his ‘meal’ the night before. Realizing entirely too quickly that he needs to curb that thinking, Jisung hastily switches over to Minho’s fandom app. 

According to his latest posts, Minho is headed out of town for a fashion show. While Jisung looks forward to the onslaught of content that will inevitably pop up from the event coverage, a small part of him is disappointed that he won’t be seeing the actor for a while. I guess this is just something I’ll have to get used to, he resigns internally. 

A rumble from his stomach reminds him that he needs to get a few groceries. The one pack of ramen left in the cabinet will only last so long. He flips over to his banking app to get an idea of what his budget looks like, then lets his phone fall to his lap as he rubs his eyes. Looking again at the balance of his account, he stares at the numbers. He knows he should have received some income for the previous night, but he didn’t expect it so quickly. Furthermore, the amount of the deposit is almost twice what was discussed when he signed the agreement. Concerned that there has been a mistake with the transfer, he immediately dials Seungmin’s number. 

“What do you need, Jisung?” 

Jisung is slightly taken aback by the curt question instead of a greeting. “Hi, Seungmin. I just checked my bank account and I’m afraid there might have been an error. I just want to be sure, you know?”

“Oh, there has been an error, but it’s not with my banking,” Seungmin replies. “Mr. Lee decided you were a good fit for the job. Consider it a sign-on bonus. Don’t get used to it. Anything else?”

“Oh. Uhm, no. I’m good, thanks. Have a good d—” The line disconnects before Jisung can finish. “Well, that was rude,” he mutters to the empty room.

He sits in shock, his mind still reeling from the figure on his screen. He imagines all of the things he’d like to do with his new windfall, yet the prudent little angel on his shoulder is whispering that he should keep it saved, just in case he isn’t able to find other employment for a while. At least this will help him pay rent for quite a few months. After all, how long could Minho really intend to keep him around?

He places an order for grocery delivery, deciding he can splurge on the delivery fee this time. For once, it feels nice to be able to buy the name brand items instead of the cheapest knock offs. He wonders if this is what being an adult is supposed to feel like. Setting the delivery window for later this afternoon, he decides to treat himself to the bakery around the corner for breakfast. His mouth waters just thinking about a refreshing iced americano and chocolate croissant. A luxury he has not afforded himself for a long time.

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Jisung spends the time waiting for another text from Minho by falling into his normal routine: applying for a few more jobs, watching anime, and napping. Whatever his heart desires. It has been a few days since their first meal together, so Jisung finds himself anxiously awaiting the actor’s return from his trip, wondering if he will be in touch. He knows Minho is eating well, as he couldn’t help himself but to watch as Minho went live to enjoy a room service meal. The risotto looked amazing to Jisung, but watching Minho shiver and cringe with each tiny bite made Jisung chuckle, right up until he shoved the plate aside to just enjoy the steak.

Jisung is lost in thought, still envisioning how adorable Minho was when he tried the new dish. He pictures Minho’s stunning face, the cute tilt of his head, the soft glassy eyes, his gorgeous pouty lips, all thoughts he knows he shouldn’t be entertaining. Minho is his employer after all. Thankfully, he’s interrupted by a text from the other room. He hurries towards the bedroom to grab his work phone and silence it before any more notifications can come through. He opens his messages to see what Minho sent.

Jisung can’t explain why he’s blushing right now. Minho is aware he is a fan, but it never occurred to Jisung to explain that he’s subscribed to all of his socials.

Jisung isn’t sure what Minho is thinking at this point. Is he be upset that I follow him? Will it make things uncomfortable between us? Should I unsubscribe? All of the questions run rampant in his mind until the tone from his Babble account catches his attention. 

Jisung freezes. Pudding?!?! His mind screams. Does he mean me? Is Lee Minho flirting with me right now?

Sparks of warmth and excitement trickle through Jisung’s nervous system, lighting him from within. He reads through the Babble messages over and over, trying to decide if he’s just overthinking it or if it is, in fact, as significant as it seems. Normally, Jisung would run to Felix and ask for his advice on something this major, but the threat of the looming NDA hangs over his head. 

Jisung feels himself slipping further and further into his head, conjuring every conceivable meaning behind Minho’s post. A torrent of emotions ebb and flow through him as his brain argues for and against whether the pudding mentioned was referring to him. After an exhaustive period of overthinking, he finally decides it’s time for a distraction, turning to Youtube doom-scrolling as his weapon of choice until sleep finally overtakes him.

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The next day is filled with a restless, buzzing energy, though noticeably lacking the nervous tension of the previous dinner. As he’s no longer walking into the unknown, Jisung is surprised to find he’s excited for this evening. Now that he understands his purpose and knows who it’s for, the anxiety is gone, leaving only a desire to spend more time with Minho and hopefully get to know more about him.

Since Minho didn’t specify a time the previous evening, Jisung takes it upon himself to get ready early. Just like their previous dinner, Jisung chooses to dress up a bit, subconsciously hoping to impress his “boss.” He pulls on a nice suede button up over a t-shirt and fitted pair of cream jeans. He realizes almost immediately that the heavy suede may not be the best choice for the warm summer evening, but before he can search for an alternative, a text rings through. “Car will be there in 10” it reads. Understanding he’s out of time, he adapts, rolling the sleeves up his forearms as he heads towards the door.

“You look nice, Sungie. What’s the occasion?” Felix asks from the couch. 

Jisung freezes. He completely forgot to think of a cover story for his outing. “Oh. Uhm…” 

Thankfully, his panic is cut short by the sudden, shrill ring of Felix’s phone. That was close, he thinks. He watches as Felix checks the screen and answers it, throwing a small wave over his shoulder. Jisung feels like he barely escaped the firing squad as he quickly puts on his shoes and slips out the door. 

The car is pulling to a stop as Jisung exits his building. He rushes to the door, opening it before the driver even has a chance to step out. His only thought is getting in quickly before Felix decides to look out the window, but as he ducks his head into the vehicle, he stops dead.

“Minho?” he asks, completely taken aback. 

Minho chuckles, clearly amused at the reaction. “Surprise! Are you getting in?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jisung quickly slides onto the luxurious leather seat. He takes an unnecessarily long time pulling his seatbelt across himself and clicking it into place, a deliberate attempt to avoid Minho’s gaze. He maintains focus on the task at hand in the hopes the sudden heat burning his cheeks will fade before he’s forced to face the man next to him.

When he finally manages to make eye contact, he’s rewarded with a fond smile. Minho’s gaze travels briefly across Jisung’s features, sending a fresh wave of heat rushing down into his chest. 

“You look really nice tonight. Hungry?” Minho says, his voice carrying that effortlessly breathy tone that sends shivers down Jisung's spine. 

“Very,” Jisung replies. He finds his eyes dropping down to Minho’s lips, wondering for a brief moment what they would taste like. He quickly tears himself away from those thoughts, facing his body forward away from temptation. He’s already completely flustered, the absolute last thing he needs is to be turned on as well. 

The brief ride to their destination is filled with easy chatter, Minho talks about his trip and the glamorous fashion week events he had to attend, but also listens intently as Jisung opens up about the realities of his week: the fruitless job search, the endless cycle of applications, and mounting frustrations of getting nowhere.

When Jisung finishes, a soft sigh escapes Minho, followed by a quiet, “I’m glad you haven’t found anything yet.” 

Slightly offended by the response, Jisung asks in an incredulous tone, “Hyung?”

Minho leans slightly closer, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper meant for only them, “I quite like your availability as it is.” 

Jisung’s jaw drops as he stares, utterly stunned, at the incredibly uncoordinated blink Minho gives him. Minho’s total lack of winking ability is legendary among his fandom, Jisung just never thought he would be the recipient of such an honor.

Minho chuckles. Pressing a single pointer finger to the underside of Jisung’s jaw, he nudges his mouth closed as the car door opens. “We’re here,” he says easily, as if this was the most casual encounter ever.

The restaurant is quaint but exquisite. A traditional hanok-style wooden house serves as the unassuming exterior, giving way to an elegant and serene interior. The hostess quickly ushers them into a private room, tucked away from the prying eyes of the other patrons. 

The intimate setting and privacy gives off an almost date night vibe, however, Jisung tries to remember that it’s probably due more to Minho’s celebrity status than to any sort of intimacy. Jisung sits at the table and is surprised when Minho chooses to sit next to him instead of across from him. Jisung doesn’t think anything of it when Minho’s knee bumps into his own as he settles into the seat. 

The waitress brings them a bottle of wine and some water, then quickly exits the room, ensuring the sliding door is fully closed. Jisung looks around slightly confused. 

“Is something wrong, Jisungie?” Minho asks quietly from beside him. 

“She didn’t bring any menus,” Jisung says, feeling a bit shy when yet again Minho’s amusement shows in his soft chuckle. 

“This is an omakase. I hear it’s the best sushi in South Korea.” The wistful sigh Minho releases reminds Jisung about Minho’s inability to taste. Jisung can’t imagine living a life without being able to savor all the many flavors food has to offer. It makes him appreciate Minho’s predicament a bit more. It also makes him curious about Minho’s preference for caramel custard pudding. A small smirk lifts the corner of his mouth at the thought of Minho enjoying his particular flavor, but he quickly straightens his face when he realizes Minho is staring at him with a curious furrow on his brow. Though, thankfully he doesn’t ask about it.

Though Jisung has never experienced an omakase meal before, he’s aware that it is usually served in stages in person by the chef. He is surprised, however, when the waitress returns with multiple platters holding their entire meal at once, arranged beautifully in the exact order they would usually receive them. He realizes quickly that due to the nature of the necessary privacy, the restaurant is serving it more as a high-end moriawase instead of a true omakase experience. The food was gorgeous with intricate little touches like the sashimi fan out artistically on shiso leaves propped up by small mounds of shredded daikon radish, wasabi shaped to look like tiny mountains and even the ginger arranged to look like a little rose on the plate. It was almost too beautiful to eat.

Row after row of fresh nigiri, sashimi and temaki, all arranged like edible artwork, make Jisung’s mouth water in anticipation. Especially the abalone sashimi. But when he reaches for his chopsticks, he realizes they are missing from his napkin. A quick glance to his side reveals both pairs sitting on the far side of Minho’s plate. Sneaky bastard. I didn’t even see him move them, Jisung thinks, shaking his head. 

Minho picks up the first course—a bite of cod roe with crab—and offers it to Jisung. Jisung smiles before accepting the offering, making sure to scrape his lips across the shared utensils. Bite after bite, from steamed tilefish to grilled hairtail, causes explosions of flavor on Jisung’s palate. His mouth waters in between each course, providing even more flavor for Minho to enjoy with his own bites afterward.

When Minho lifts a bite of abalone sashimi to Jisung’s lips, a low-register hum emanates from within the younger. He isn’t even conscious he’s done it until he notices a flash of appreciation wash over Minho’s face. With a mischievous smirk, Minho quickly guides three more bites of the delicious dish into his mouth. With his cheeks stuffed to capacity, Jisung throws a beseeching gaze at Minho, silently begging him not to offer more just yet. 

“Sorry, Jisungie. You just look so adorable with your cheeks full like that. I couldn’t help myself,” Minho says, finally helping himself to a round of tuna sashimi and leaving the rest of the abalone for Jisung to enjoy. Throughout the rest of the meal, Minho makes sure that Jisung gets to enjoy all the premium bites, while taking the lesser pieces for himself. 

Just like the discarded chopsticks, Jisung’s wine glass suffers the same fate. He smiles at it sitting pristine and untouched out of reach, while Minho refills the singular glass left between them, offering sips to Jisung before taking his own taste. After the first bottle is emptied, Minho orders a second, and then a third. Jisung knows he only has himself to blame for his pleasantly tipsy state. He simply couldn’t resist dragging his tongue across the rim of the glass after every sip, enticing Minho to offer more and more.

The food is superb, the atmosphere is elegant, and the company is divine. The more they chat and open up about themselves, the more Jisung realizes how comfortable he is with Minho. How normal he really is. Well, normal might not be the best word. He is still a bit quirky and weird, but Jisung likes that about him. But, what he comes to understand is that underneath the celebrity facade is just a regular guy, and Jisung likes that even more.

A small blanket of sadness falls over him as they exit the restaurant. Knowing the night is coming to an end, Jisung doesn’t understand why he’s so hesitant to go home. Usually, after an outing with his friends he is dying for his bedroom, aching for his recharge time in solitude. It’s curious that spending time with Minho doesn’t seem to drain his energy the way other people do. 

Thinking back to the conversation throughout the evening, Jisung realizes maybe it was because Minho allows Jisung to be extra without feeling like too much. He doesn’t roll his eyes when he starts spouting random facts about crested geckos that he learned from a documentary. He doesn’t change the subject to try and distract him when Jisung mentions wanting to get a pet gecko for himself someday. His eyes don’t glaze over when Jisung gushes about the new anime he has just started or the new band he’s just discovered. Instead, Minho encourages him to tell him more of what he learned, asks him why he doesn’t get the pet he wants, shares that he is trying to catch up on a few anime of his own as his schedule allows, and excitedly tells him about the concert of that very same band that he has tickets for.

Jisung isn’t aware of how distracted he is until he feels Minho lightly tap his knee with his own. “Everything ok, Jisung? You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden,” Minho asks, tilting his head to assess Jisung’s face. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking,” Jisung responds with a smile. 

“What about?”

“How much I enjoyed tonight. It was a new experience for me and usually I would be a nervous wreck about it, but you made everything so effortless and fun. Thank you for that,” Jisung says as he meets Minho’s eyes. He gets temporarily lost in the obsidian gaze, a bottomless well of quiet, magnetic intensity. 

He watches Minho’s grin as it spreads to allow a hint of his bunny teeth to peek through. “I enjoyed it too, Jisungie,” Minho replies. Jisung sees Minho begin to reach over to pat his leg, but withdraw at the last moment. Jisung feels a tiny tug in his chest, almost as if the receding hand were pulling on a string embedded within him. He reminds himself that this is still a professional arrangement and Minho, as his employer, would be crossing a line by initiating physical touches such as that. Yet, that doesn’t soothe the small ache that begins to build within him from the perceived rejection.

After a somewhat hesitant goodbye in front of Jisung’s building, his mind is preoccupied with replaying the entire evening like his own private picture show. He quickly realizes that Minho accidentally bumped into his leg multiple times, but it was so casual, Jisung didn’t even notice it. And he recalls the hand he held under the offered bites that would occasionally graze his chin as Jisung took the food. The seemingly innocent touches in conjunction with the previous night’s texts and Babble message make Jisung think there could be something to it. But, then he remembers Minho’s sudden restraint in the car, pulling away right before he touched him, which only confuses him further. Am I projecting my own desires and exaggerating normal, innocent touches? Or is Lee Minho actually flirting with me?

“Jiji, you’re home!” Felix’s bright voice rings through the living room.

Jisung wasn’t even aware he had come inside, but apparently his auto-pilot brought him home. “Hi, Fefe. Where’s Chan?”

“Working late tonight. Where were you? You ran off before I could interrogate you.” 

Jisung knows Felix is just teasing him, but that doesn’t stop his body from reacting with pure panic. “Went to dinner. It was a work thing. Networking. You know…” Jisung lets the sentence trail off, trying to play it as a casual occurrence. 

“Oh! That’s great. Did you get any leads?” Felix asks with invigorated interest.

“I did. I’m doing a temporary position until I find something more permanent.” Jisung watches as Felix eagerly rises to his knees, his kind, wide grin silently urging him to tell him more, but Jisung doesn’t know how to tell him anything without breaking his NDA. “Yeah, so these dinner meetings might become more regular, but good news! I have the rent for this month.” Jisung holds his breath, hoping that the attempt to divert the conversation works. 

“I wasn’t worried about that, Ji. I hope you know that,” Felix says softly, his eager grin shifting into a sweet, understanding smile. 

“I know. I appreciate you, Fe. You’re the best.” Jisung wraps his arms around Felix in a big hug, thankful that the diversion worked. 

“Wanna watch something with me?”

“Of course! Let me go and change real quick.” Jisung scurries off, swapping his dress clothes for an oversized t-shirt and shorts. He was just reaching for his face wash when the distinct chime of a Babble notification cut through the quiet.

The wide smile spreading across Jisung’s face makes his cheeks burn with the implications. Thankfully, only a select few people truly know what these messages actually mean. He quickly scrubs and towel dries his face, eager to get back and spend the rest of the evening with his friend. 

“Why are you blushing so hard?” Felix asks the second that Jisung flops onto the couch next to him.

“Because I just cleaned my face,” Jisung says, attempting to keep a casual tone. 

“Did you clean your ears too? Because those are bright red,” Felix teases, a mischievous grin warping his usually stunning features.

“So, what are we watching?” Jisung deflects, He snuggles close, burying his face in the crock of Felix’s neck, knowing that skinship is his weakness and Jisung’s best weapon to shut down the interrogation. 

Thankfully, it works, as Felix melts into Jisung’s touch with a sigh. “Why are you so cute?”

“Because I’m just a lil guy. Love me!” 

Felix starts an anime that Jisung has already seen, but tucked into his friend’s side, wrapped in the heavy, radiating warmth, he doesn’t mind the rewatch. The familiar colors of the screen flicker across the dimly lit room, lulling him into a comfortable haze. 

“Did you have sushi?” Felix’s quiet voice breaks the silence after a few moments.

“Uhhh, yeah,” Jisung mumbles as his eyelids grow heavier with each passing second. “Why?”

“No reason. Just thought I smelled abalone for a moment.”

The odd observation barely registers to Jisung’s sleep-addled mind. He doesn’t think twice about it, letting the question drift away as he sinks deeper into the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of Felix’s chest. He finally lets go and falls into a deep sleep.

🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮

The next morning Jisung wakes still completely entangled with Felix on the couch. His back is incredibly sore from the awkward position he slept in, and his arms and legs are completely numb from where they wrapped around his friend. Slowly and carefully, he attempts to extricate himself from the knot of limbs, hoping not to disturb Felix. Once free, he takes a moment to stretch his stiff body in a desperate attempt to wake himself up. Felix stirs slightly at the involuntary groan Jisung releases, but he quickly settles back into a peaceful sleep. 

Back in the safety of his room, Jisung checks his phone. The screen lights up with a deposit notification from his bank. A cold prickle of guilt washes through him, as seeing the generous deposit reminds him of the literal price tag of his time with Minho. Deep down, he can’t help but feel that if their circumstances were different, they could have been real friends. But they aren’t. They have a contract. Steeling himself, Jisung pushes the nagging feeling aside and locks his phone, readying himself to face the day ahead.

A couple of hours later, Jisung is surprised to hear a message on his work phone. Considering that Minho had just employed him the previous evening, he didn’t expect another assignment so quickly.

Realizing that he forgot to ask where they were going, but feeling too self-conscious to text again, he decides to dress casually but nicely. Surely Minho won’t take him to a fancy restaurant two days in a row. He chooses a pair of black skinny jeans and pairs them with a nice loose-fitting, lightweight red-and-black striped sweater, laying them out on his bed for later.

He settles into his desk chair, ready to check emails and continue the tedious search for employment. The telltale sounds of Felix awakening and taking a shower filter through the paper-thin walls. He’s ready to hit submit on yet another application, when Felix with damp hair and smelling of bodywash, bounds into the room, flopping onto the bed. 

“Morning, Ji! That was some of the best sleep I’ve had in a while,” Felix says with a smile that could rival the sunshine. 

“I’m telling Chan that you don’t like sleeping with him.” 

Jisung’s head jerks forward as one of his pillows thuds against the back of it. “Han Jisung, that is not what I meant and you know it.”

“I’m just a better cuddler than Chan, I get it,” Jisung teases with a cheeky grin. 

“Shut up,” Felix snarks with no real bite to it. “What’s with the fuck-me outfit?”

“The what?”

“Oh, come on, Ji. Don’t tell me you don’t recognize that this is your surefire pickup outfit. This is always the default fit when we used to hit the clubs.” 

Jisung sits stunned. He looks at the outfit laid out on the bed as if it’s a foreign object. Moments long forgotten in that exact style, pulling random strangers for a quick bit of fun, flash through his mind. Oh shit. Am I unconsciously trying to seduce Minho?

“So, who is the lucky one?” Felix asks with an intensely interested gaze. “Ji, do you have a date? Why haven’t you told me? Where did you meet them? Tell me everything!”

“It’s not a date, Fe. It’s a work thing, kind of, sort of.”

“What kind of work thing calls for your never fails get-laid outfit?”

“Stop calling it that! I didn’t even realize that was what I had picked until you brought it up.”

Felix looks taken aback for a moment, his shocked expression slowly shifts to one of concern. “Is everything ok, Ji? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Jisung regrets snapping. He didn’t mean to take his frustrations out on Felix and he really does want to open up to him about the whole mess he’s entangled in, but he’s legally obligated to keep it quiet. He sighs, wishing he could tell Felix enough without giving anything away. Resigned, he decides to placate him with a sliver of the truth. “So…there is a guy that I’m interested in. But, we work together and it’s complicated. Plus I don’t think he even likes me like that. I don’t know. I don’t really want to talk about it.” 

“I get it, Ji. Work relationships can be tricky,” Felix says, wrapping his arms around Jisung from behind the chair. He presses his cheek against Jisung’s and looks at their reflection on the laptop screen. “So, how’s this, let’s do the whole beauty routine today. Facials, hair treatment, nails, the works. I mean you said this was only a temporary gig, so you won’t be coworkers forever, right? Let’s show him what he’s missing out on.” 

Jisung can’t help but be endeared by his platonic soulmate’s understanding and compassion. He smiles at their reflection and nods his head. “That sounds amazing.”

A few heartwarming hours later, Jisung is refreshed and feeling pretty. His skin has never felt so soft, his hair is fluffier than usual and his nails are painted to perfection. Felix even applied a bit of makeup to enhance his natural beauty without looking like he tried. He stares at his reflection in the mirror, almost not recognizing himself. Jisung knows he’s cute, but Felix always has a way of making him look stunning. 

“Thank you, Fe. I needed this today.”

“Me too. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed us time.” 

“I’ll do better. I’ve just been so stressed about this job search. I’m sorry. We will definitely have to schedule some roomie time. How’s that?”

“Sounds perfect. And now that I have you all pretty, I need to finish getting myself ready. Chan’s taking me to a work event tonight, so I will probably stay at his place after,” Felix says, kissing Jisung’s cheek as he turns to leave.

“Have fun, baby!” Jisung calls out.

“You too, love!” Felix calls back with a giggle and cheeky eyebrow wiggle. 

At precisely 3:59, Jisung spots the usual black car at the corner, gliding to a stop in front of him. Minho’s people are nothing if not punctual. He quickly gets into the back, relieved to see Jeongin’s smiling face greeting him. Seungmin is nice, but Jeongin makes him feel more relaxed and comfortable. 

“Hi Jeongin, so you get chauffeur duty today?”

“Seems like it. Seungmin is stuck in meetings with the production staff for ‘Lonely St’, ironing out all of the scheduling conflicts. And I was available.” 

“Sounds fun,” Jisung replies with open sarcasm. 

“For Minnie it is. He likes having control over scheduling. He’s really good at it, too.”

Jisung just hums non-commitally while imagining the straight-faced man with his abrupt responses. Yeah, he does seem the type that would thrive in that environment, he thinks to himself. 

Silence fills the car, but not an uncomfortable one, just casual relaxation with the space filled with the soothing sounds of the radio playing today’s top hits. Jisung is a bit squirmy in anticipation of seeing Minho again. A smile spreads across his face as he envisions the gorgeous man. The way his eyes always sparkle as if a CGI effect was permanently applied to them. His crooked bunny teeth sticking out when he laughs loudly. The shivers of delight that run through his body when he takes a bite after Jisung does. 

The shivers bring back a vivid memory of one of Minho’s live streams. One where he ate a particular brand of pudding from Japan that he raved about for its texture and creaminess. The same live where he recalled enjoying the flavor so much when he was a kid and his grandparents always bringing some back with them after their trips. The one where Jisung now realizes that Minho wasn’t actually tasting the flavor of the pudding, but feeling the nostalgia of his childhood and reminiscing the flavor he’s lost. Coincidentally, the same pudding that happens to be Jisung’s exact flavor profile. He spots a specialty shop ahead and gets a brilliant idea. 

“Jeongin, can we pull over for a moment. I want to grab something from that shop,” he asks as he points the way to Jeongin.

“Sure!” the younger replies as he easily slides into a space just outside the door. 

“I’ll be quick,” Jisung calls as he sprints inside. 

He scours the shop quickly, making a beeline towards the pudding section. There are a lot of options, but Jisung is looking for the one specific brand that Minho enjoyed in his live. Spotting the unassuming containers in the very bottom corner of the case, he quickly snags the last six left on the shelf and checks out. 

Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t ask any questions as Jisung climbs back into the vehicle and he doesn’t offer any explanations. The young manager just offers a smile and continues their journey towards Minho’s penthouse. 

When they pull up to the elevator, Jisung expects Jeongin to get out with him to scan him up. However, he is surprised when Jeongin reaches back over the seats producing a fob for Jisung. 

“Minho decided it was time you had your own,” he says, offering it for Jisung to take.

To say that Jisung is shocked is an understatement. Instead of reaching for the literal key to Minho’s apartment, he stares at it in wonder and confusion.

Jeongin gives a small smile at Jisung’s hesitation. “I know this seems like a lot, but Minho seems to trust you. So, congratulations. Don’t break that trust. Seungmin is like a pit bull when someone breaks a contractual agreement. And I know I seem like the congenial type, but I can be ruthless and a bit possessive of those I hold dear. I hope Minho is right about you.”

Jisung swallows thickly around the lump that has formed in his throat. Realistically he knows the fob weighs little, but the heaviness of the implicit trust that comes with it feels like a mountain sitting atop his shoulders. 

“Thank you, Jeongin. I promise I won’t abuse this privilege.” His hand shakes a bit as he accepts the responsibility that comes with such an unassuming, tiny, piece of plastic and technology. 

It takes the entire ride for Jisung to calm his nerves, which isn’t saying much as the elevator moves pretty quickly, for an elevator, that is. He takes a deep, cleansing breath as the chime for Minho’s floor rings and the doors slide open.

He is greeted by an empty room. Or at least he assumes it’s empty, until a dark creature scurries between the furniture startling Jisung at first. The yelp he lets out is quite loud, causing the creature to peek its head from behind the sofa in curiosity. 

Jisung instantly realizes it’s the infamous Dori that he has seen in numerous pictures and videos on Minho’s socials. Dori tilts his head slightly, assessing Jisung, before he slowly creeps towards him. Jisung crouches down, making himself smaller, less threatening. He holds his hand out for Dori to sniff, which he does. The cat bumps his nose into his fingers, then inspects the bag in Jisung’s hand. Apparently, he’s passed inspection as the brown and gray feline then proceeds to rub his forehead and cheek against Jisung’s offered hand. 

A loud meow can be heard from one of the cat towers across the room. Jisung’s gaze immediately follows it, seeing Doongie, another of Minho’s cats lounging in the afternoon sun. Doongie eyes him, but doesn’t seem interested in moving to get to know him any better, instead choosing to stay within the warmth of the sun's rays. 

Jisung rises slowly, so as to not spook Dori who is still sniffing at the bag of pudding. He makes his way toward the cat tower, careful not to step on the young kitty that is winding its way around his feet as he walks. When he gets there, Doongie gives a quiet mew while keeping firm eye contact. As with Dori, Jisung slowly lifts his hand, offering his scent to the cautious cat. Doongie turns away for a moment, acting as though he will ignore Jisung completely. However, Jisung can see his tiny nose twitching. After a few more brief moments of Jisung standing still, hand steady in its offering, Doongie slowly turns back and gives it a proper sniff. Jisung feels an intense sense of relief when Doongie bumps his fingers, gives him an unblinking stare, and follows it with a slow blink. His heart melts at the beautiful gesture. A cat kiss is one of the best forms of validation a cat can give. Doongie showing that he feels safe and comfortable in Jisung’s presence means the world.

“Cute.” The voice surprises Jisung who turns around swiftly, causing Doongie to meow in disapproval. Minho is standing in the opening of the hallway holding Soonie, the eldest of the three cats, stroking the cat’s ears with a fond smile on his face. 

Jisung immediately turns back to Doongie, “I’m sorry, Doongie. It’s just that Minho startled me. I didn’t mean to startle you, too.” He gingerly reaches up offering pets to Doongie, waiting patiently for the cat to give the go ahead. When he receives a slow blink, Jisung strokes his head lightly. “Thank you for forgiving me.”

Minho clears his throat. “Like I said, cute.” Jisung looks over his shoulder to watch Minho casually walk over to the sofa and sit with Soonie perched upon his lap. 

“I was just making friends with Dori and Doongie,” Jisung offers as an explanation as he sits on the other side of the sofa, placing the bag of pudding on the coffee table.

Dori immediately jumps into Jisung’s lap, kneading at his thighs before settling in to rest. Jisung’s hand automatically strokes the warm body lying on him. 

“I see it went well. So, you actually know the names of my cats?” Minho asks, his brow arched in disbelief. 

“Of course I do. This is Dori, the baby. That is Doongie, the talkative one. And you are holding Soonie, the oldest.” 

“Impressive. Most people don’t even know I have three. You must have been a fan for a while then.”

Jisung feels a warm flush spread across his chest. He doesn’t know why he feels embarrassed at Minho knowing he’s a fan. “I’ve followed you ever since Levanter.”

Minho’s eyes widen in astonishment. Levanter was his first ever series and serious acting job. It was only a supporting role that was meant to have a two-episode run, but fans of the series liked his character so well that they extended his contract through the rest of the production. 

“I’m flattered,” Minho says with a smile. “Does it make you feel awkward to be around me?”

Jisung is shocked by the question. “No, actually. I mean when we first met, I was star-struck, of course. Who wouldn’t be? But after spending more time with you, you’re just a regular guy. Which makes me like you more.” Holy shit, did I just tell Minho that I like him? “As a fan, of course. I like you as a fan. Does it make you feel awkward that I am a fan?”

Jisung’s heart races, both at his faux pas of saying he liked him and at Minho’s potentially devastating response to his turning the question around. 

“Of course not. Like I said, it’s flattering that you’ve liked me for as long as you have. But it’s heart-warming to know that you like the real me even more.”

Jisung risks a glance at Minho, and seeing the honesty shining brightly from his eyes gives Jisung a little more courage. “I mean, to be a Lee Minho fan, you have to embrace your weird side a bit. I like that you’re just authentically you, even in the public eye.” 

Minho’s smile morphs into a tiny frown. “I’m not weird.” 

“You are weird, but that’s what I like about you. You aren’t like other celebrities always trying to play it cool in front of crowds or the camera. It’s a good thing. I mean, compared to you, I’m normal.” 

“I like normal.” Jisung wasn’t prepared to hear such a sweet statement, delivered by Minho with a quiet, honest, almost fond tone. He feels a blush warming his cheeks, and when he sneaks a glance at Minho, he notices his ears have turned a bright red. 

“Thank you,” Jisung responds, his voice tiny and quiet. 

“What’s in the bag?” Minho asks, diverting the conversation and thus defusing the tension. Jisung is thankful for that. 

“Oh, I almost forgot! It’s dessert for later. I should probably put it in the fridge.” 

Minho delicately moves Soonie to the cushion between them, then stands to grab the bag. He peeks inside, his eyes widening at the sight. “You got pudding?”

“Yeah. Your favorite, if my memory serves me.” 

“It is! I can’t believe you found it. I can’t believe you bought it. That’s really considerate of you, Jisungie. I’ll be right back.” Minho heads towards the kitchen, which Jisung is also thankful for, as it gives him a moment to compose himself. 

Soonie finally gives in to his curiosity, creeping towards Jisung, who he has pretty much ignored up until this point. Jisung offers his hand to the third cat, who pulls back for a moment, spooked by the movement. He eyes Jisung as if he doesn’t quite know how to take him yet. Jisung sits still, patiently giving the oldest cat plenty of time to warm up to him. Soonie keeps his distance for a moment or two, continuing to observe before his curiosity wins again and he creeps forward enough to reach and sniff the offered hand. He doesn’t automatically accept Jisung as Dori and Doongie did, but he doesn’t reject him either. Instead, he loafs on the cushion next to him. 

“Wow. Seems you’ve been accepted by all three of my cats. That’s high praise.” 

“Soonie accepted me? He just loafed. I thought that meant he was still reserved about me.”

“No, Soonie would have made himself scarce if he didn’t feel comfortable with you. The old man is just slow to trust. Don’t worry. He’ll warm up the more he sees you.”

The more he sees you. The words replay in his head. So Minho intends to keep me around for a while? He can’t explain how happy that makes him feel. Then he feels a bit of guilt realizing that this is still a financial transaction. Minho will be paying to spend time with him. That leaves him with a heavy feeling gnawing away at his stomach. 

“So, I asked you over because I thought we could watch that anime you mentioned last night.”

The guilt in his stomach doubles. Minho is going to pay me a ridiculous amount of money, just to watch anime with him? I would do that with any of my friends for free. It doesn’t feel right. “Sure that sounds great, hyung.”

Minho picks Soonie up, settling into the cushion that he was resting on. The one that is directly next to Jisung. He can feel Minho’s heat next to him. He is close, but not close enough to be touching. Jisung feels nervous being this near, but he also finds he likes it. A lot. 

About halfway through the first episode, Dori and Soonie lose interest and wander away. Jisung feels Minho shift slightly, getting more comfortable, he assumes. Jisung can’t help himself but to comment on different elements of the show—pointing out potential plot points, aweing at the vivid backgrounds, expressing his appreciation of the characters. At first, he feels like he’s annoying Minho with his commentary, until Minho begins to offer his own as well. It feels very natural to be sitting next to Minho, sharing their thoughts on something they both enjoy, leaning into each other’s spaces, laughing at the same obscure jokes, sharing similar thoughts on the predictable plotlines. It’s almost as if they’ve known each other for years instead of a mere week. 

A few minutes into episode four, Jisung’s stomach lets out a loud grumble. Minho laughs at the sound, then coos at the pout Jisung gives. 

“I’m sorry, Jisungie. I got distracted by the show and forgot about dinner. How about we order something. Do you like fried chicken? It’s my cheat day.” 

“Your cheat day, huh? And fried chicken sounds great.” 

Minho places the order for delivery, so they can relax and enjoy more of the show. Jisung settles back into the sofa again, as Minho heads to the kitchen for a few snacks to tide them over. When he returns with a bowlful of popcorn, he places the bowl on his left side, away from Jisung, plucking a large perfectly popped piece from the top and offering it to him. Jisung accepts the offered piece. When his tongue accidentally touches Minho’s thumb, he’s ready to apologize. Until he notices the satisfied smirk on Minho’s face as he takes his own piece and makes a show of cleaning the butter off his thumb. The sight sends a cold chill through Jisung, a sharp reminder of why he’s here to begin with. The gnawing in his stomach intensifies. He takes a few more bites of popcorn before it starts to turn. 

The next offered piece is turned down. Minho frowns a bit. “Everything okay?” he asks with concern.

“Yeah, I just don’t want to fill up before the chicken gets here. Thanks for the snack,” he replies, giving Minho a tiny smile. 

He watches as Minho places the mostly full bowl on the coffee table, then leans back with a fraction of space between their shoulders. If Jisung were to move even the slightest bit, they would be touching. Jisung is a little more reserved this time, not speaking up as much. If Minho notices he doesn’t comment, instead he fills the space with his own commentary, allowing Jisung to respond instead of initiating.

It’s not long after that Minho’s phone rings. He answers and responds with a quick thank you before standing. “That was security letting me know they were sending the food up,” he says as he heads towards the doors.

The chime for the elevator rings and sitting on a cart unattended is their order. Minho plucks the bags from the cart and hits the button to send the elevator back to the ground level. “Food’s here.” 

He places the spread across the coffee table, snapping a few pictures that Jisung is sure will end up on Babble later, before offering Jisung his first taste. Jisung has learned quickly not to bother even trying to feed himself anymore. He fully understands his role and becomes silently content with it. Besides, how many people can boast about being hand-fed by an international star?

Once they’ve consumed all they could of the crunchy indulgence, they both collapse against the back of the sofa. This time they are touching. Jisung feels the warmth of Minho’s shoulder resting against his, but neither seem eager to pull away. Instead, Jisung leans into the touch. Enjoying the weight of what it carries behind it. 

They continue with the episode they are watching, and eventually they both relax enough that Jisung feels their knees connecting as well. Again, neither pull away from the touch. Maybe it’s not as one-sided as I think. Then again, he could just be this comfortable with his friends. Wait, does that mean we’re friends?

Minho pauses the show, turning slightly towards Jisung, his expression showing concern, “Sungie, you’ve gotten quiet again and you look like something is bothering you.”

Jisung’s mind races for an excuse. He can’t possibly tell Minho that he’s spiraling over what they are. That’s something he needs to figure out for himself. He reaches for the first plausible excuse he can think of. “I was just thinking about the pudding.” 

“The pudding? The pudding has you looking that stressed?”

“I’m just in the mood for something sweet, but I didn’t want to interrupt the show,” Jisung says, hoping that Minho will accept it. 

The look Minho gives him is full of skepticism, but he sighs and heads to the kitchen. He returns with two jars of pudding and a single spoon. Jisung doesn’t bother questioning the lack of a second spoon. He just grins and chuckles to himself. 

Minho opens the first container, scoops out a generous bite, and offers it to Jisung. Instead of taking the whole mouthful, Jisung merely skims his lips across the top, taking just enough to taste the delicate delight, leaving the rest on the spoon. Without hesitation, Minho pops the remaining portion into his own mouth. As he cleans the spoon, a sudden, involuntary shiver ripple through his body. His pupils dilate until his irises are nothing but black, like two sparkling onyx stones. His breathing quickens a bit, causing his chest to heave in an almost provocative way.

They fall into a hypnotic rhythm. Jisung taking only the surface layer, leaving the rest for Minho to enjoy. With every shudder, every sharp intake of breath, and every subtle roll of Minho’s eyes, Jisung feels a quiet rush of ecstasy that he thought of this. 

On the final bite, Jisung skims his usual layer, but a small drop slips onto the corner of his lip. He glances around for a napkin, but before he can reach for one, Minho’s hand gently cups his cheek, turning Jisung to face him. Jisung’s breath catches as Minho’s thumb softly brushes the stray drop away. His jaw drops as he watches Minho place his thumb into his own mouth, cleaning up the mess. 

“So cute, what am I going to do with you?” Minho murmurs, his voice dripping with quiet reverence. 

Jisung sits frozen, mouth still slightly agape, when Minho suddenly surges forward. Both of Minho’s hands grip his jaw, framing his face as their lips collide. Taking full advantage of Jisung’s stunned state, Minho licks his way into the kiss. Jisung is still for a moment, his mind racing as he tries to discern if this is reality or a ridiculously good day dream. But when Minho lets out a soft, helpless moan against his mouth, Jisung melts, closing his eyes and leaning in as he now realizes how perfectly they fit together. 

Minho’s plush upper lips caresses Jisung’s full lower one, his tongue continuing to flick inside to steal tiny tastes. Jisung finally responds, meeting him halfway. Their tongues slide together, sharing the sweet flavor of pudding that Minho so craves. And Minho groans unabashedly at every new taste. 

Acting on pure instinct, Jisung shifts forward, climbing into Minho’s lap. Their kiss turns reckless, slick and completely unfiltered. It isn’t until Jisung feels the undeniable evidence of Minho’s arousal pressing against his own that reality slams back into him. Horrified, Jisung tears himself away as a cold blanket of shame washes over him. He’s let this go entirely too far. He’s completely crossed a boundary, sitting right in his employer's lap.

He scrambles sideways, tumbling off of Minho’s lap and back onto the sofa to put the necessary distance between employer and employee. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry, Minho.” 

“Jisung?” Minho asks, pure confusion written across his features. 

“I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to cross a line. I’m sorry,” Jisung stammers, entirely blind to the flash of hurt and disappointment taking over Minho’s face. He barely registers Minho's hand reaching for him. He jumps up, backing away fast, until his back hits the metal doors. He pushes the button for the elevator multiple times, for once grateful for how swiftly the doors slide open. He stumbles inside, pushing the button for the lower level with urgency.  “I’m really sorry, Minho.” 

“Jisung, wait!” he hears Minho shout just as the doors glide shut between them. 

Tears sting the corners of his eyes as the elevator drops and opens directly into the parking garage. Minho’s car sits in its usual spot closest to the lift, shiny, sleek and empty. No sign of Jeongin or Seungmin anywhere. Jisung doesn’t pause. He bolts out of the garage as though the building is on fire. Only when the cool night air hits his face does he take a brief moment to collect his breath and thoughts. He wipes away the tears that threaten to fall, then begins the long, arduous walk to his own apartment. 

He makes it barely two blocks when the familiar luxury car pulls up beside him. The window rolls down, revealing Jeongin in the driver’s seat, looking genuinely worried. 

“Jisung, please get in. I’ll take you home.” 

Jisung hesitates for a moment before giving in, reluctantly crawling into the backseat. “Thank you, Jeongin.”

“You’re welcome, Jisung.” Jeongin pulls into the evening traffic, the silence in the car becomes overwhelming with no comforting music playing this time. Jisung sits quietly, his gaze glued to the floor mats. “Want to talk about it?” Jeongin asks softly from the front seat.

“Not really.” 

“Okay.” 

The ride feels longer than usual, leaving Jisung with far too much time to replay the evening. He mentally berates himself with every passing streetlight. Why did I crawl into his lap like that? Why do I always take things too far? He has no idea how he’s supposed to face Minho after this. The quiet sound of Jeongin’s voice letting him know they’ve arrived snaps Jisung out of his spiral. 

“Thank you, Jeongin,” he mutters, slipping out of the car and heading up to his apartment. He remembers that Felix is staying at Chan’s tonight, so a small wave of relief washes over him. There is no way Felix wouldn’t ask about his sour mood. 

He plops face-first onto his bed, still chiding himself for his actions, when his phone suddenly chimes with a Babble notification.

The weight on Jisung’s chest intensifies as he stares down at the screen. Sad it ended. What does he mean by that? Is he sad the food is gone? Orrrr… 

Jisung abruptly cuts off that train of thought, refusing to give himself more importance than he deserves. Surely Minho isn’t upset that I left. Surely Minho understands the need for boundaries with our contractual agreement. Surely Minho will be upset that I crossed a line and forced myself on my employer. Surely Minho will scold me the next time we see each other. If we see each other again. 

The last thought brings a wave of crushing sadness over him. Being with Minho has been one of the absolute best things that has happened to him. Not because he’s a celebrity and not because he’s getting paid to spend time with him, but because he’s Minho. He’s silly, sweet, goofy, and endlessly fun to be around. Jisung has truly started to view him as a friend, and now he’s jeopardized that by being an idiot who couldn’t control himself.

He tosses his personal phone aside, fully prepared to drown in his own wallowing, when the sharp, distinct chime of a text notification rings from his work phone. 

Jisung stares at the message, unable to formulate a response. Of course I made it home okay. I’m sure Jeongin let him know. Why would Minho ask? Shouldn’t he be repulsed by what I did and ignoring me?

Another message. More of Minho being sweet and genuinely concerned, which just further confuses Jisung. Why does he care if I’m okay? I should be apologizing again and making sure he’s okay. I screwed this up. I crossed the line. Why is he being so sweet about it?

He hopes I can forgive him??? What? How? When? Why does he think he did something to upset me? The evening replays in his head, vivid and frantic. He remembers the pudding. He remembers the way Minho’s thumb felt against his lips. He remembers Minho kissing him. Oh! Minho initiated it. He thinks I’m upset that he kissed me. Oh no. What should I do?

Jisung types, then deletes. Types again, only to backspace until the cursor sits sadly blinking in an empty response box. Everything he tries to write is either not good enough or completely incoherent. He reaches for his personal phone to call Felix, but stops. The looming threat of his NDA acts as a brutal, sharp reminder. He tosses the phone aside with a frustrated groan. Okay. What would Felix do? He channels his inner Sunshine and finally begins to type.

Jisung wants to say yes, but the unanswered question of what they actually are holds him back. He knows they are employer and employee, the contract says so. He feels like they are friends, but friends don’t pay for each other’s time, nor do they kiss like that. Leaving it in the air is driving him crazy, so he decides to take the leap and ask.

Jisung can’t bring himself to ask what he really wants to know. Whether they are more than friends. Whether the feelings that have all too quickly taken hold of him are reciprocated in any small measure. Whether this is more than just a fan having a delusional moment over his celebrity crush. And most devastatingly, whether Minho likes him for more than just the flavor of his DNA.

The two minutes it takes for Minho to respond stretch into an eternity. Jisung can’t even bring himself to look at the glowing screen. He’s too afraid that Minho’s answer will crush him. Fearful that he will strip away the fantasy and confirm that it’s nothing but a business arrangement. That to Minho, Jisung is nothing more than his employee.

Jisung opens his eyes, a heavy sense of dread settling in at the thought of facing Minho in person. But, beneath the anxiety, a fragile warmth takes root. If this were really nothing more than a contractual arrangement, Minho would have just confirmed it and moved on. The fact that he didn’t means his side is complicated, too. Jisung decides to lean into the hope that he isn’t delusional, and that there is real depth to whatever is happening between them.

A single, smiling cat emoji is all it takes to fan the tiny flame of hope within him. He sets both of his phones on the nightstand and lies back to stare at the ceiling, completely failing to block out the evening’s events. Before his mind can fully spiral, again, a final text chime brings his attention right back to the conversation.

The tiny flame burns a little brighter, still not enough to scorch the lingering unease, but enough to soothe his anxious mind. The war within him leaves him entirely drained, as though someone has pulled the plug on his consciousness. Exhaustion claims him quickly, dragging him into an uneasy sleep.

🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮

Jisung’s morning flies by in a haze of excitement, dread, and a bit of dissociation. Whenever he feels a flutter of excitement, his brain promptly reminds him of all his unanswered questions. The anxiety then kicks in, causing him to lose touch with everything for minutes at a time. He’s just grateful that he’s developed a coping mechanism that allows him to prepare himself for the day ahead. 

He stares at his reflection in the mirror. He’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt—one that swallows him whole but brings him comfort—loose-fitting jeans that he’s had since reaching full puberty, and his favorite pair of platform sneakers. He doesn’t recall picking any of it out, but overall, it’s a good look for someone on the verge of running away from everyone and everything. 

Upon further inspection, he’s even managed to put on a bit of makeup, a touch of cologne, and a few accessories. Maybe I need to get dressed on autopilot more often, he thinks with a trace of self-derision. 

A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s almost time for his car to arrive. He reaches for the front door, only for it to suddenly burst inward. Luckily, his foot is out front, and the toe of his platform takes the brunt of the hit instead of his face. 

“Ji! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” Felix shouts as he wraps his arms around him in a tight, apologetic hug. 

Jisung laughs as he hugs him back. “I’m fine, Fe. You just hit my shoe.” 

“Oh good. I’m glad I didn’t hurt you. You heading out?”

“Yeah, not sure what time I’ll be back.” 

As Jisung turns away from his friend, he realizes that Chan is standing in the doorway, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Isn’t that my sweatshirt?” Chan asks, his head cocked slightly as though he’s trying to recall. 

“Is it? Surely not. Why would I have your sweatshirt? We must have similar ones,” Jisung replies, knowing full well it is, in fact, Chan’s—stolen when the older left it at their apartment months ago.

Jisung can hear the faint echoes of Felix and Chan’s conversation through the apartment’s closing door as he walks away. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s my sweatshirt.”

“Channie, baby, why would Jisung steal your sweatshirt?”

Jisung hurries to the elevator before Chan can come back out and confirm, silently laughing about it all. 

Jisung is still a few minutes early, so he stands watching the street for Minho’s luxury sedan. He notices a gorgeous, limited edition sports car with blacked-out windows sitting right in front of his building. He wonders briefly which apartment is lucky enough to own that and why on earth they’re living in this building. 

He turns back to watch down the road, hearing the distinct whir of a car window rolling down. “Need a ride?”

The voice sounds eerily similar to Minho’s. Turning towards the sleek two-seater, Jisung sees him. His eyes are hidden by dark sunglasses, but his trademark bunny-toothed grin is unmistakable.

“Hyung? Where is the sedan?” Jisung asks, making his way over and sliding into the passenger seat. 

“That’s the company car. This is my baby. It was the first big purchase I ever made for myself, but I don’t get to drive it as often as I like—you know liability and safety and all of that crap.”

“Where is Seungmin or Jeongin?” 

“Gave them the day off. I want zero distractions today.”

“Oh,” Jisung says softly. He’s unsure of the implications of zero distractions, but a spark of hope tells him maybe it means they will finally figure out where they stand. 

“Buckle up, Buttercup,” Minho says with a grin as he smoothly weaves the sports car into traffic. 

Music fills the cabin and Jisung quickly realizes it’s the band they gushed about over sushi. He leans back against the headrest, enjoying the quiet calm before the inevitable storm. The smooth glide of the car weaving around traffic gives Jisung a pleasant distraction.

“Are you comfortable? Too hot? Too cold?” Minho asks, pointing towards the climate controls with the hand resting on the gear shift. The same hand that sits just centimeters away from Jisung’s knee. 

“I’m good. Thank you, hyung.” Jisung recognizes the route they are taking as the one to Minho’s penthouse. It’s probably for the best. The conversation they need to have isn’t exactly a topic easily broached in public.

Recalling the task ahead of them triggers Jisung’s anxiety. He doesn’t even realize he’s scratching at the fabric of his jeans until he feels the warm, steady weight of Minho’s hand soothingly squeezing just above his knee. The contact serves to ground Jisung, calming his anxious heart a bit. 

“You okay?” Minho asks, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the side of his leg. 

With words failing him, Jisung manages a quiet, “Mhm.”

Minho doesn’t remove his hand until he’s forced to make a turn, returning it to the gear shift between them. Jisung tries not to dwell on the small pang of disappointment he feels at the loss. 

Moments later, they pull into Minho’s garage. Jisung notices the black sedan being absent from its usual parking spot. Minho easily swings into the empty slot, turning to Jisung with a soft smile. “We’re here.”

Jisung can feel the cool clamminess of his hands as the elevator lifts to the top floor. He grips the hem of the sweatshirt in an attempt to ground himself and wipe away the sweat. A wave of relief rushes over him when the doors slide open; he hadn’t realized just how claustrophobic the ride up had felt. 

The kitties are lounging about in their respective spots across the living room. Dori is stretched out on the rug, soaking in a sliver of sun peeking through the blinds. Doongie is perched on his tower, and Soonie is loafed on the sofa. When they walk in, Dori is the only one that scampers over in greeting. 

Jisung crouches down, holding out his hand, for the youngest feline to sniff, though Dori immediately rubs his head against it instead. “Hi Dori. You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?”

“He really likes you. Didn’t even greet me. Traitor,” Minho says with a laugh. 

Jisung loves Minho’s laughs. He has several distinct ones, and Jisung has every single one of them memorized. His usual laugh is rapid-fire, high-pitched, loud and utterly infectious. That laugh is the one that indicates he’s genuinely happy and amused. Then there is his evil laugh, usually accompanied by a maniacal expression, which he pulls out when he’s feeling playful and feisty. 

But Jisung’s favorite, by far, is this one. Minho’s shoulders hitch in a quiet, breathless chuckle that melts into sudden, airy chuffs of laughter, turning his cool composure into pure radiance. It’s the laugh usually reserved for inside jokes and more intimate moments. He’s absolutely beautiful when he laughs like this. 

Jisung feels some of his tension drain away in the moment. The tactile comfort of soft kitty fur combined with the almost musical amusement in Minho’s voice finally gives him ease to breathe and relax. 

“Would you like something to drink?”

Jisung looks up, catching a fond look on Minho’s face. “Water would be nice,” he says, feeling the warmth of a blush begin to creep up his neck. He makes his way to the sofa, choosing to sit next to Soonie who offers the tiniest mew in greeting. Jisung tucks one leg underneath himself so he’s facing the cushion Soonie is lying on. He holds his hand out, the cat doesn’t even bother to sniff, he simply offers a slow cat kiss and leans into Jisung’s hand as he strokes his head.

Minho returns moments later holding two bottles of water, two puddings and two spoons. He sets them on the table, then plops himself on the opposite side of Soonie, also tucking one leg under his thigh so he’s facing them. 

Jisung stares at the second spoon, his hand is still mindlessly caressing the soft fur of Soonie’s head. He finds himself feeling way more conflicted than he should over a simple piece of flatware. 

Minho sits quietly and begins to stroke Soonie’s back. Their fingers occasionally grazing whenever they meet at the nape of the feline’s neck. Each brush of skin slowly anchors Jisung to the reality that is sitting right in front of him. The reality where he is sitting in the living room of a high-profile celebrity actor, an actor who employs him, who he’s developed feelings for far beyond any normal fan experience, and who likes the way he tastes. And yet, Jisung still does not know where Minho stands. 

“I know why you hired me, Minho. Even though you never actually spelled it out. It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Jisung says, figuring this conversation needs to start somewhere. 

Minho’s shoulders tense slightly, enough for Soonie to take note of it and excuse himself from the sofa. He wanders over to rest on another tier of the cat tower, watching over everything with Doongie. “I wasn’t exactly being subtle about it, Jisung. I do regret not having the conversation with you, but I don’t regret finding you.”

“So this is strictly a business arrangement to you?” Jisung steels himself for the answer that will finally allow him to draw his boundaries.

“That’s how it started, yes,” Minho admits quietly. The brief pause that follows sends a painful jolt to Jisung’s chest. He thought that he had prepared himself to hear this, but apparently he was deluding himself. “But, now it feels a little more complicated than that.”

“Complicated how?”

Minho closes his eyes for a moment, as if he’s collecting his thoughts, weighing what to say. “Growing up, the thing I loved more than anything was food and cooking with my grandmother and mom. I learned so much from both of them. Those are truly some of the happiest memories of my life. When I presented as a fork, it was just a few days after my birthday. My grandmother and mom prepared my favorite meal and then my grandfather gave me pudding for dessert.” He reaches for one of the untouched jars on the table, looking at it as though it held the key to all of those fond memories. “This pudding, actually. Those are the only foods I can recall any sort of real flavor of.”

Jisung remains quiet, watching Minho’s expression filter through wave after wave of emotion, fondness, happiness, confliction, and sadness all flickering across his handsome face as he continues, “As someone who has always loved food, losing the ability to enjoy it hurts. I had to relearn to cook, relying on others to taste for me. Obviously my own food is probably bland and tasteless, because I’m eating for nutrition only. But sometimes I would make my favorite meal, or I would buy this pudding…and I would imagine I could still taste it. They were my comfort foods. They got me through a lot of really tough times.”

“A few months ago, I was at an event for Gucci in Japan. I made Seungmin add an extra day to my trip so I could stop at the little shop that makes this. The one my grandparents always visited. It had been a while since I’d had any, so imagine my disappointment when I took a bite and the memory had faded. The texture was right, the creaminess was perfect, but it just tasted like…nothing. Like every other food out there. No longer special. It broke my heart.”

“Minho, I’m so sorry. That must have been horrible,” Jisung says, unconsciously sliding closer, lessening the gap between them. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t one of my best moments. I tried to get over it, but losing that memory made me feel like I was losing my grandparents all over again. I lost one of the things that never failed to cheer me up when I needed it. I took a bit of a dark turn that I’m not exactly proud of. It took Seungmin yelling at me to snap out of it before I lost my career over it. It’s actually his fault I placed that ad, you know?”

“Seungmin’s? You mean the guy who was avidly against you hiring me?” Jisung asks with a quiet laugh.

“You knew he didn’t want me to hire you?”

Jisung laughs again, “Yeah just like you, he wasn’t exactly subtle about it. But his reluctance was what spurred me on to accept.” 

“I think I owe Seungmin a thank you, then. But anyway, it was a passing comment he made about finding a cake that tasted like that pudding. He was meaning for it to be a joke, but…I don’t know, it triggered something in me. I couldn’t get the notion out of my head. Obviously, being in the industry I’m in, I’ve encountered a few cakes in my time. Some of them were pleasant, some of them were definitely not to my taste. So I placed the ad on a whim, knowing it was a one-in-a-billion shot that someone would trigger that memory for me. And I was right. I was ready to give it up. I pulled the ad and just resigned myself to the fact that I’d lost that piece of myself. In fact, you applied on the very last day it was live.”

“I did?” Jisung asks, a feeling of awe coming over him. “That timing almost seems like a twist of fate. But maybe that’s too grand to say.” 

“I’d tasted many pudding flavored cakes up to that point. Some were close, but none were enough to trigger that memory for me. Until you showed up. You’re the only applicant I had to go back for seconds with. It was like you were made for me. Absolute perfection. I knew I needed to hire you at that very moment.” 

Jisung felt as though his entire body was glowing from the warmth of his blush. “Okay, so that explains why the arrangement came to be…but that still doesn’t explain how it’s complicated.”

“Because I didn’t expect to like you as much as I do, Jisung. That’s what makes this complicated.”

“You say you like me, but do you like me in that way or…” Jisung hesitates for a moment, unsure if he’s really ready for the answer. “Do you like me as an employee, as a friend, or…as possibly more?”

“As all of those things.” Minho’s voice is so soft and vulnerable as he finally opens up. “If that makes you uncomfortable then I am perfectly happy to keep the arrangement exactly how it is. I will accept whatever boundaries you require.”

“What if I said I don't want it to just be an arrangement?” Jisung’s breath catches. He feels a tiny spark of hope ignite again at the look of pure fondness in Minho’s eyes. 

“Then what do you want it to be, Jisungie? If it means I get to keep you in my life, then I’ll accept whatever you want.” 

“Well, for starters, I would say we are friends now.” 

Jisung watches as a flash of disappointment crosses Minho’s features before the cool composed expression slips back into place. “Friends for sure,” Minho says, nodding his head as if he’s trying to convince himself.

“But friends don’t pay each other to spend time together, Minho.” 

“Is that what bothers you? Because if you read the contract, I’m not paying you for your time, but we can rip up the contract right now if it makes you uncomfortable to continue…as a friend.”

“Minho, friends don’t kiss the way we did,” Jisung says, his tone softening into something almost painful. 

“You’re right. That’s what makes this complicated,” Minho responds. Jisung watches as Minho swallows thickly. “I like you, Jisung. As in, I have feelings for you.”

“But only because of my flavor, right? What if some day you decide that you are sick of pudding. What then?”

“Is that what you think? That that is the only reason I have for liking you?”

“Isn’t it? You are a worldwide celebrity. You are quite literally surrounded by the most beautiful people on the planet on any given day. You could have any cake you wanted. Why me?”

“You really sell yourself short, Jisung. I won’t lie, your flavor is incredibly attractive to me, but it’s not the only reason I like you.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Jisung, you are so incredibly smart, but you’re being kind of dense right now. I like you for so much more than just that. First of all, we have the same interests. We listen to the same music and watch the same shows. We both love the running commentary as we watch, when most people tell me to shut up because they are trying to concentrate. You are so much fun to be around that I find myself laughing constantly when we’re together. Which is another thing, our sense of humor. Most people don’t get me the way you do. They don’t understand my jokes or think I’m making fun of them. You get it. You get me. You let me be me and you actually like that I’m weird. Most people run for the hills when they figure that out. And to top all of that off, you’re adorable when you pout, cute just in general, and you’re sexy as hell. Tell me what is not to like about all of that.” 

Jisung’s breath catches in his throat. He’s stunned into silence, his mind racing to process every word as Minho’s gaze holds steady. He didn’t expect Minho to have so many reasons.

Minho continues, “But the thing that gets me the most, the thing that makes this so real to me is that when I’m not with you…I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Jisung isn’t expecting that. Not from someone of Minho’s caliber. His brain scrambles to think of something, anything, to say, but yet again he finds himself lacking. With his words failing, he lurches forward instead, connecting their lips. 

Minho is surprised at first, but as soon as Jisung’s tongue touches the seam of his lips, Jisung feels him easily reciprocate. Jisung feels Minho’s strong arms wrap around his waist, pulling him tightly against his chest. He feels the rapid beat of Minho’s heart thumping a frantic rhythm where they press together. The kiss is urgent, messy, and perfect with every emotion inside Jisung broadcasting through tangled tongues and soft moans. 

When they finally pull away, chests heaving from the breath they both so desperately need, their eyes remain locked onto each other as they share the air between them. Minho smiles, showing his crooked bunny teeth. “So does this mean we are more than friends?” he asks breathlessly.

“Friends don’t kiss like that,” Jisung returns, capturing Minho’s lips again and reveling in the low groan Minho releases when their tongues slide together. 

Pulling apart once more, a thin thread of saliva lingers between them until Minho licks it clean from Jisung’s lips with a gentle swipe of his tongue. “Baby, I don’t think I could ever get sick of tasting you.”