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“I can’t imagine you being like, my actual boyfriend.”, Jiho says with a hint of laughter in his voice. The loud, careless, shameless laughter Minhyuk loves so much.
“Yeah, same.” He takes a sip of his drink, watches Jiho empty his, head thrown back and eyes closed.
Later that night, he sees Jiho in the same position as he goes down on him, adams apple exposed, his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Faster.”, he whimpers, and Minhyuk does as he’s told to.
Jiho comes, and goes. He didn’t even full take off his pants, left his shirt on.
He asked though, asked if Minhyuk wants something in return. He asked with big eyes and red cheeks, half from the orgasm, half of embarrassement. They’ve been doing this for a year, he still gets shy. Shy and soft and cute and nervous. Jiho is soft. Jiho feels bad when he doesn’t even take off his shirt and when he leaves without another word.
Jiho is soft and needs a relationship, not a fuckbuddy. Jiho needs someone to listen to him and to hold him at night and to kiss away the pressure and stress.
Minhyuk is a good kisser, a good listener. Jiho can’t imagine him as his boyfriend.
Jiho can’t afford a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or even just a friend. Minhyuk sees him checking his phone all the time, always making calls, always cancelling plans. He’s so busy, so wanted, so loved by the entire world and Minhyuk. He has no time for a boyfriend.
He just has time for a quick fuck, a sloppy blowjob, a filthy something in some hotel room or bathroom, to destress, to relax, to, for once, let someone else do the work, to lay back and enjoy. Minhyuk watches Jiho let go and feels good. He never sees Jiho letting go.
Minhyuk can’t remember the beginning, or the unfolding, or anything for that matter.
He and Jiho never were close. They aren’t now either, not really, they don’t share a bond like Yukwon and Sunhye. They don’t even share beds.
Minhyuk thinks about it, Jihos slow, steady breath against his skin, tries to imagine it, waking up to Jiho still sleeping with messy hair and puffy cheeks, but he can’t.
Not because he doesn’t want to.
Not because he doesn’t know how.
But because he knows Jiho never sleeps, Jiho is always on the road, Jiho is busy, is wanted, is loved by the entire world. And Minhyuk.
“I gotta go, I’m sorry.” MInhyuk is still panting, Jiho already has his pants on.
“Gotta catch a plane.” First shoe. Minhyuk sees the dark circles under his eyes. Jiho won’t sleep on the plane, he’ll write lyrics, or compose, or do other things Minhyuk has no idea about because he and Jiho don’t talk about things like that.
“I’ll be back in like a week, are you free sometime then?” Second shoe. Minhyuk watches him swallow down pills, vitamins, medicine, something. Head thrown back, eyes closed. Beautiful. Jiho is beautiful. Jiho isn’t staying.
“Sure, just text me or something.” He sits up, cracks his neck. Jiho never leaves hickeys. Or scratches. He doesn’t leave clothes or toiletries. No sign of him ever being with Minhyuk, ever. He couldn’t imagine him as his boyfriend.
“Will do.” Belt. Jihos tattoos are pretty, but Minhyuk never got to dedicate much time to them, never got around to admiring the details. It’s always fast when they’re together. Fast, quick, simple, easy, because Jiho is busy and wanted and loved by the entire world and Minhyuk.
Shirt. Hoodie. Watch. No more words, because Jiho has no time for words. Minhyuk knows and Minhyuk doesn’t want to burden him with complicated words about feelings and possibilities. Minhyuk keeps quiet and hands him his phone with a smile.
“Don’t forget it, you need it.”
“Thanks.” Jiho smiles with teeth and little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and Minhyuk wants him to stay. To nap and eat right. With Minhyuk. But Jiho will go and not leave a thing behind.
“Did you see my jacket anywhere? The Vetements bomber?”
Minhyuk shakes his head. “You didn’t have one when you arrived.”
“Left it in the taxi, goddamn it.”
“Want one of mine? I think we have the same one, actually.”
Jiho laughs, and says yes, and leaves with Minhyuks jacket.
Minhyuk knows Jiho didn’t leave it in the taxi, but threw it in some corner of Minhyuks bedroom.
And he wears it, and it smells like Jiho, and for two weeks, Minhyuk can pretend his boyfriend, busy, wanted, loved, left him a little something to remember him. Because he knows Minhyuk loves him.