Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kim Seungmin is going to regret the day that he was born. 

Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic, but he’s definitely going to regret the day he broke up with Han Jisung, that’s for sure. 

It’s stupid and childish and petty, but then again, Seungmin brought this on himself. Because the fact of the matter is, Jisung didn’t even really care that Seungmin broke up with him. Not at first, anyway. 

He and Seungmin are part of the same friend group, have been for years, but they never even had interest in each other until they got drunk and hooked up at Jeongin’s birthday party. It was good. Obviously good enough for both of them to give it a fair shot. 

It lasted almost four months, which is really saying something, because the only truly fulfilling thing about their relationship was the sex, and even then, they would always argue over who had to top. It fizzled out lamely by the end of the semester.

“We’re better off as friends, aren’t we,” Seungmin had said, pulling his pants on after a particularly heated post-argument fuck. 

Jisung blew out a big breath, puffing out his cheeks and letting them deflate. “Yeah. I think so.” 

And that was that. 

Summer started and Jisung was able to sequester himself in the studio for most of his days, privately moping about how no one will ever love him, and Seungmin went off and did whatever Seungmin does during the day. Working at his fancy, stuffy internship in his button ups and khakis. 

Good to their word, they did stay friends, but Jisung won’t lie and say that it isn’t a bit awkward. The rest of their group does a good job at acting normal about it, they just haven’t really talked one on one since the breakup. It’s fine. Jisung prefers it that way. 

Though, maybe, if he was talking to Seungmin, keeping up with his life, he would have been more prepared for the fallout of Changbin’s birthday party.

It’s funny, because they started at a birthday party and now… okay, maybe it’s not that funny. Jisung is just sad. 

“This is my boyfriend, Hyunjin,” Seungmin announces, a dazzling smile on his face. 

Hyunjin is tall, much taller than Jisung, and he’s also drop dead gorgeous. He’s willowy and toned and his long black hair curls around his ears in a frustratingly natural manner. His face is perfectly symmetrical in the way that only model’s are, save for the beauty mark beneath his left eye which somehow just makes him even prettier to look at. 

“Oh fuck me,” Jisung mutters, spinning on his heel and heading straight for the kitchen island where it’s crowded with liquor bottles. 

He hears Seungmin say, “Don’t worry about it, he’s just a bit childish.” 

It makes his blood boil. He pours himself four shots and takes them in quick succession, getting ready to pour four more when Chan yanks the bottle of vodka from his hands. Bastard. 

He learns all sorts of things that night. Like how Seungmin is bringing Hyunjin with him as his plus one to their yearly summer lake trip. Their sacred lake trip. The one that no one gets invited to unless their relationship is really serious. 

It took Changbin two years of messing around with Felix before the younger man got lake trip privileges. 

That’s why, with the help of those four extra shots that he finally managed to sneak when Chan took a bathroom break, Jisung decides to show Seungmin just how childish he can be. 

“Oh, I didn’t know this was a bringing new boyfriends thing,” he slurs, eyes narrowing on his ex menacingly. 

Seungmin looks right back, his hand resting lightly on Hyunjin’s thigh. “Well, Jisung, I kind of thought it was more about how serious you are about someone, not how new a relationship is.” 

Ouch. 

Despite it all, how horribly matched he and Seungmin may be, the dig still hurts. “Well in that case, I’ll bring my boyfriend too.” 

Seungmin snorts. “You have a boyfriend? A serious boyfriend?” 

He doesn’t, but the way Seungmin’s voice tips up on those very specific words makes the blow all the more fatal, and he realizes then that he’s going to do something stupid and petty and dumb. 

“Yes. I can’t wait for everyone to meet him.” 

He wakes up with a pounding headache, his mouth feeling like sandpaper, and Chan shoving a glass of water into his face. 

“Drink,” he orders. 

Jisung whines, grabbing at the glass with two hands and sucking it down with his eyes squinted almost shut. 

Chan sits down at the foot of his own bed, because apparently that’s where Jisung ended up sleeping last night, and looks at him with his, ‘I am very disappointed in you, son,’ face. 

At least he waits until Jisung is finished drinking before berating him. “How much of last night do you remember?” 

“Enough.” Jisung falls back on the bed, closing his eyes tightly. Maybe if he wishes hard enough Chan will disappear! 

“Do you remember anything after you kept sneaking shots even though I cut you off?” 

“Yeah, sure. Plenty.” Not a total lie, it’s just a bit… foggy around the edges. 

“Right, so, when were you going to tell us you had a boyfriend?” 

Hah, oh yeah, he did say that, didn’t he? That he had a super serious boyfriend. 

“Um.” He peeks at Chan through his fingers, finding the man with a fatherly frown etched into his cheeks. 

“Um? Really, Sung? Um?” The frown deepens. 

There are three things Jisung really truly hates in this world. 

First is when the cafe on campus runs out of cheesecake, that fucking blows. 

Second is when Chan is disappointed in him, like, really truly disappointed, and he looks at him with big sad eyes as if to say ‘how could you let me down, Jisung?’ 

And third, is when everyone is reminded how much of a pathetic, lovesick loser he is. 

He sees this shaking out in one of two ways. He could come clean, tell Chan that he made it up, that he has no boyfriend and he’s just a pathetic lovesick loser. 

Obviously, this is not ideal, because Chan would be far more disappointed about him making up a pettiness induced boyfriend than hiding said boyfriend from him. And on top of that, this also hits him right in the balls on number three, massive humiliation caused by pathetic-ness. 

Or, he could go along with it, only disappoint Chan a little bit, and try to beg someone to be his fake boyfriend in exchange for a free vacation. 

Clearly option two is far superior. 

“I was waiting… you know?” he reasons, sitting up to fully face Chan, energy restored now that he’s got it all figured out. “I didn’t want to make Seungmin uncomfortable or anything, so I wanted to give it some time before I brought him up.” 

Chan’s face softens a fraction. 

“But now that I know Seungmin doesn’t give a fuck about that, I am safely out of hiding,” he babbles on. “Surprise!” He fixes Chan with his best dopey grin, the one that always gets the older man to give him what he wants. 

It works, and Chan is dragging him into a bear hug, dimples on full display when he pulls away to clap Jisung on the back. “Look at you, Sungie! I’m happy for you, man! That must be why you’ve been writing nothing but love songs all summer, huh?” 

“Hah! Yep! You caught me!” 

Jisung has been writing love songs because he’s feeling extra burdened by the weight of his impending loneliness and doom, but, potato potahto. 

Chan grins. “What’s his name?” 

Now, if there are three things that Kim Seungmin truly hates in this world, it’s: one, being late; two, disappointing Chan; and three, Lee Minho.

“Lee Minho.” 

“Lee Minho from the dance department?” Chan questions, only looking slightly thrown off by the name. 

“The one and only!” Jisung actually had no idea Minho was in the dance department, but Chan’s comment sure is a great tip for where Jisung should look to find him! 

Chan lets out a low whistle, eyes growing wide. “Damn, how’d you pull off that one? Minho is notoriously single!” 

Oh fuck. Really? Of all the men that Seungmin could have as his enemy, he has to pick one that’s anti-relationship? 

“Oh, well, you know me! Extremely likable!” he cringes as the lie leaves his mouth. If he were likable Seungmin never would have dumped him in the first place. 

“Well I know that, Sung,” Chan laughs. “I just didn’t know you knew that.” 

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? 

—

He’s running on fumes when he makes it to the dance building the following Monday. 

He has it all figured out. He’s going to approach Lee Minho, explain the situation, offer him the once in a lifetime opportunity to be treated to a free vacation and get back at his mortal enemy, Kim Seungmin. 

If worst comes to worst and the guy spits in his face or something, he’ll simply tell his friends his dear boyfriend caught the flu right before the lake trip. Oh bother. 

Jisung is running on fumes, let that be very clear, because there is no way that he would have forgotten one very key detail of his errand to the arts building if he was of sound mind. 

The other dance department Lee. Lee Felix. His best friend’s long term boyfriend. One of his own best friends. 

Lee Felix, who spends all day on campus on Mondays teaching dance classes to little kids. 

At the dance building. 

Because he’s a dancer. 

“Jisungie! What are you doing here?” The freckled boy smiles, his face lighting up, pointy teeth on full display. “Wait! Don’t answer that, I bet I can guess…” he draws out his last word teasingly. 

Jisung just blinks. He has no fucking idea what’s happening. 

“A little birdie told me that you tied down my very favorite coworker, you dirty dog!” Felix beams, pushing at Jisung’s shoulder as he giggles. 

“Fucking hell, Chan,” Jisung moans, hiding his face in his hands to cover his rising blush. There goes his element of surprise. 

Felix reaches up to pry his fingers off his face, laughing loudly. “Don’t be embarrassed! You know what’s so funny is that I’ve been wanting to introduce you two for ages, but I was waiting until things with Seungmin died down!” 

“What?” Jisung looks at him, dumbstruck. 

Maybe he’s been thinking of the wrong Lee Minho, because nobody in their right mind, even sweet, innocent Felix would ever think to set him up with Seungmin’s Lee Minho. That’s preposterous.

Seungmin’s Lee Minho is a work of art. He’s at least twenty leagues out of Jisung’s own. His bone structure is unbelievable, and don’t get Jisung started on his thighs. Jisung has really only seen the man from across campus, because Seungmin always redirects their path whenever they get within twenty feet of him, but it’s more than enough to know that Lee Minho is way too good for him. 

He’s never heard Minho talk, but he bets his voice would be warm and comforting… 

“Hey, baby.”

Yeah, exactly like that.

Multiple things happen at once, then. Felix’s grin broadens, which Jisung didn’t even know was physically possible, and then two arms come to snake around Jisung’s waist. His breath catches in his throat, but he doesn’t have time to think before he’s being drawn into a warm chest and the attacker is placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, right on the bone. 

Felix squeals, genuinely and loudly, waving his hands around and stomping his feet like he can’t handle being inside his body. “Ohmygod you two are so cute!” 

And ah, would you look at that! The Lee Minho that’s called Jisung baby and is holding him at the waist, exactly where he loves to be held, is Kim Seungmin’s Lee Minho after all. 

He opens his mouth to try to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s rendered completely speechless. That never happens. 

Thankfully, Minho saves him from his peril, squeezing once around his waist before dropping his hug and shifting to stand beside him instead, though one hand still lingers at Jisung’s hip. “Hey, Lixie, could you give us a moment?” He flashes the boy a beautiful smile, eyes dangerous. 

“Of course, lovebirds! Don’t get too handsy, though, our next class starts in ten!” He throws them an exaggerated wink before stalking across the room to fiddle with the sound system. 

When Minho turns to him, his eyes are glinting with something unreadable, and his mouth is curled up in a smirk. He places his hands on Jisung’s shoulders and twists them so that Jisung’s back is to Felix. 

“So, boyfie, to what do I owe the pleasure?” There’s a playful lilt to his voice, giving Jisung at least enough confidence to say something. 

“I am so sorry,” he rushes, throat tight. 

“Sorry for what? Telling your friends that we’re dating, or getting found out?” Minho still doesn’t sound upset, only amused. 

Jisung coughs awkwardly. “Uh, both, I guess?” 

“Mhm,” Minho hums, cocking his head like he’s trying to figure Jisung out. It makes his skin tingle. 

“But, um, I kind of want to talk to you about something,” Jisung mutters, very aware that Felix is still in the same room as them. “I have sort of a… proposition about this whole thing.” He wrings his hands together nervously. Minho glances down, notices the fidgeting and easily runs his hands down Jisung’s arms, pulling his twisted fingers apart and swinging them gently back and forth between them. Jisung swallows. 

“You’re strange, Han Jisung,” Minho says simply. He pauses for a moment, raking his eyes across Jisung’s face.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? We’ve never even talked and here you are, acting like my boyfriend,” he argues. 

Minho shrugs like it’s a non-issue. “My classes end at five. Meet me at the cafe a few blocks over?” 

Jisung nods his head, probably a little too eagerly.

Minho laughs. “Cute.” He pulls him in by their joined hands, dropping a lingering kiss on Jisung’s forehead before brushing past him. Jisung remembers he’s a real person when Minho swats his ass with an outstretched hand as he goes, action accompanied by a wolf-whistling Felix. 

Jisung is truly and utterly fucked. 

The cafe is out of cheesecake. 

Because of course it is.

Because of all the things going wrong in his life, of course the cheesecake is out too. 

He arrives fifteen minutes before five, buys his usual iced americano with no cheesecake, and sits in a far corner, pouting. 

That’s where Minho finds him, thirty minutes later, staring solemnly into his drink and bouncing his leg in a lame attempt to soothe his nerves. 

“Hey boyfie, why the long face?” 

Jisung looks up to see Minho drop into the seat across from him, immediately straightening up in the older man’s presence. He looks so good, even though he’s wearing workout clothes and his hair is messy and damp with sweat. Ugh. No one is going to believe they’re together, are they? 

He finds his frown deepening. “You have to find a different name to call me if we’re going to do this. Boyfie sounds so lame.” 

Minho smirks. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

“They’re out of cheesecake,” he mutters, spinning his straw. A half-truth, then. He’s not about to tell Minho that he’s horrified by how dismally out of his league he is. 

“Oh you poor baby,” Minho laughs, reaching across the table to push at one of Jisung’s cheeks with his index finger. Jisung can’t help but crack a smile at the gesture. 

“Yah! I know it’s stupid, but I’ve been having a rough week!” he complains. 

“Obviously.” Minho grabs Jisung’s coffee and takes a long drink right from his straw. Jisung can’t do anything but gawk. “Or else we wouldn’t be here right now, would we, sugarplum?” He raises a cocky brow.

Jisung scrunches his face up at the nickname. 

“Not that one either?” Minho giggles. “Okay, I’ll keep workshopping.” 

“Anyway, um,” Jisung cringes at how awkward he’s being. He’s usually able to hold a fucking conversation. One of his best skills is acting like a cocky bastard. Minho has fucked up all his wiring and they’ve talked for a total of ten minutes. Tops. 

“Um?” Minho urges.

Jisung shakes his head, desperately trying to clear the dense fog that seems to get thicker every time Minho gives him any attention at all. “I’ll start from the beginning, I guess.” He doesn’t realize his leg has resumed bouncing until Minho wraps a hand around his knee, holding him still. 

“You’re a fidgeter, huh?” 

“Shit, sorry, yeah, I tend to be a pretty anxious person,” the words bubble out of his mouth, gut burning in embarrassment. 

Minho smiles sweetly, squeezing his knee before he drops it. “Stop saying sorry, Jisungie, I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t want to be.” 

Jisung can’t help the furious blush that rises in his cheeks, he nearly chokes on the drink of coffee he’s taken. Fucking hell. He’ll just pretend that nothing over the past sixty seconds happened. 

“So anyway! You know Kim Seungmin, yeah?” 

“Mhm.” Minho’s lips twitch, probably in anger, he and Seungmin are enemies after all.

“Yeah, so he’s my ex boyfriend?” Jisung’s words tip up like a question, another nervous habit. He pushes on despite Minho’s eyes widening a noticeable amount. “And we broke up at the beginning of summer, but then over the weekend he showed up to our other friend’s birthday party with a new boyfriend, who’s like… a lot hotter than me?” 

Minho takes another drink out of Jisung’s cup, listening intently. 

“So, like, I got super drunk, because, obviously, what else do you do when your ex boyfriend shows up to a friend hangout with someone miles more attractive than you, like, two months after you broke up? Not the point, though. The point is, Seungmin said he’s going to bring his new boyfriend to our yearly lake trip, which, okay I guess, but it made drunk me really upset. So I just told them that I also have a boyfriend, and I’m going to bring him to the lake too.” 

Minho nods. 

“Right, and, like, I know it’s really dumb but when Seungmin came in I heard him tell his new boyfriend that I’m childish, and it really pissed me off, you know? But obviously I don’t have a boyfriend, and I was all set to come clean,” he rambles on, words speeding up as he goes. “But then Chan came in and he looked so disappointed in me and I hate disappointing him, and then I thought… what if I really show Seungmin how childish I can be! Right?” 

Minho purses his lips and narrows his eyes a fraction. “So you said my name? Do you have a crush on me or something, Jisungie?”

“No!” He throws his hands up in defense, quickly realizing that maybe his lightspeed refutation could be taken negatively. “I mean, you’re beautiful, obviously, and, like, I don’t know– I don’t even know you! Obviously I don’t have a crush on you, but you’re way out of my league even if I did and you know what, this is fucking stupid. I said your name because you and Seungmin hate each other!” he finishes, cheeks on fire.

A wide smile works its way across Minho’s face. Jisung is starting to think the man gets a sick pleasure in making him flustered. “Me and Seungmin?” 

“Well, yeah, you guys are worst enemies, right?” Jisung’s shoulders slump, exhausted from how fast his brain is moving. 

“Seungmin said that?” 

What’s with all the questions? Jeez. 

“Yes, I’m pretty sure he did?” Jisung doesn’t even have the brain power to think back on the exact words Seungmin had used. All he knows is that it is a well established fact that Seungmin and Minho do not get along. 

“Huh,” Minho says, and then the bastard finishes off Jisung’s drink. “Okay. I’ll do it.” 

Jisung perks up, coffee theft forgotten. “You will?”

“Yeah, sure,” Minho shrugs, the hints of a smile playing at his lips. 

“I— that’s it?” Jisung chokes. “That’s all it took?”

“It’s a free vacation, and I get to piss Seungmin off… Wait, you are paying for the vacation, right?” 

“Yes! Yes, of course!” He’d pay a million dollars to avoid the humiliation of admitting he lied, to be honest. 

“Sweet. Well, here’s my number, just text me the details.” Minho pulls the sleeve off of his drink and a pen out of his pocket, scribbling on the cardboard and sliding it across the table. “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon, baby.” 

Jisung’s face heats even further at the term, pin pricks rolling down his spine. “I-I-okay,” he stutters, refusing to make eye contact with Minho.

Minho laughs, shoving his chair back and standing up. “I guess I found my pet name, huh?” 

Jisung peeks up at the last second, watching Minho throw him a wink before stalking through the shop and straight out the door. 

He collapses into his arms on the table, cafe chatter continuing around him like his world hasn’t just been rocked. 

Lee Minho is not good for his heart. 

—

The sacred yearly lake trip began in elementary school, when Chan invited Jisung and Changbin to tag along on his family vacation.

The Bangs own a cabin on a lake three hours outside of the city. It’s spacious and homey, and all around a great time. Once they were all in college, the trips kept going on, but now they weren't joined by Chan’s parents or his pesky younger siblings, trusted to have full run of the place on their own. 

Seungmin was brought into the fold when they met him at school, and, of course, Felix, two years later when Changbin finally decided that they were in it for the long haul. 

The last two weeks of August are blocked off, not to be tampered with, always set aside for the summer lake trip. It’s Jisung’s favorite part of the year, always a nice refresher before school starts up again. Even though Chan just graduated, they’ve all promised to keep the tradition going.

He and Minho have been texting on and off. Mostly to plan out the details of travel, but Minho has also been sending him cute photos of his cats, who will all be staying with his parents while he’s away. They decide that they have plenty of time to discuss the details of their arrangement on the ride to the cabin, agreeing that it seems too impersonal over text. 

Thankfully Minho can drive and has a car. Jisung won’t lie and say that the sight of Minho with his hands gripping the steering wheel, veins visible in his arms isn’t mildly arousing. But maybe he’s just a pervert. 

It doesn’t hit Jisung until they’re going eighty miles per hour down the highway that maybe he should have been more cautious about getting in a car with a virtual stranger, but then again, Felix only had good things to say about Minho, and Felix is an angel. Too late now! Surely, Minho killing him and burying him in a field somewhere is less embarrassing than admitting to his friends that he has no boyfriend at all.

“Okay, babe, give me the rundown,” Minho says cheerfully. He’s started using the nickname casually in conversation, and while it’s lost its original sting of adrenaline, it still makes Jisung smile a little bit every time Minho says it. 

“Right, so, there will be eight of us in total. Channie, it’s his family’s house, he’s the oldest. Then, you know Felix and his boyfriend Changbin. Um… Seungmin and his new boyfriend, of course, and then lastly is Jeongin, he’s the baby, you’ll love him, everyone does, he’s adorable,” he rattles off his list of friends, smiling fondly as he ticks off each one. 

Minho smiles too, glancing over at Jisung for a moment before moving his eyes back to the road. It’s taking all of Jisung’s willpower to not stare at Minho’s side profile as he drives, his ashy brown hair softly falling over his ears. He’s so pretty. 

But… no. Jisung keeps his eyes glued to the road in front of them. 

“There’s four rooms, so, um, we’ll be sharing. I guess I didn’t ask if that’s okay…” he trails off, biting at his thumbnail. 

Minho removes one hand from the wheel, bringing it to squeeze at Jisung’s knee reassuringly, something he does a lot, it seems. “Jisung, don’t worry, I kind of figured,” he laughs. “Serious boyfriends and all.” 

“Right. Duh,” Jisung’s laugh sounds much more nervous than Minho’s. He blames it on his anxiety over spending time with Seungmin rather than the thought of sleeping in the same bed as the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. 

“Okay, serious boyfriend, what’s our plan of action?” 

Jisung is grateful that Minho is keeping him on track. God knows he’s not able to do it himself.

“I think we should just act how we normally would in a relationship? I just want him to see that I’m happy too, and that he’s not the only one doing better, you know?” 

His brain is screaming at the irony. Pathetic, Jisung, really. 

“Mhm,” Minho hums. “Is there anything in particular you like your partners to do?” 

“Um…” he thinks aloud. “I guess I’m a pretty touchy person. Seungmin really hates PDA so we never really did that, but I think I would like it in other situations…” He’s a bit embarrassed by the confession. Admitting to your fake boyfriend that your ex boyfriend wouldn’t touch you in public isn’t really a fucking brag. 

“Okay, we can do that.” Minho sports a soft smile. It makes Jisung’s heart race. “I’m pretty cuddly with people I like anyway.” 

Jisung blinks. “And you like me?” 

“Of course, Jisungie! You’re my boyfriend!” he reaches over and ruffles a hand messily through Jisung’s hair. 

Right, of course, hah! Jisung is so stupid. 

He covers up his slip in reality with another question, hoping it doesn’t sound too awkward. “What about you, do you have anything specific?” 

Jisung notices how Minho’s long eyelashes flutter over the tops of his cheeks when he blinks. “No, I don’t think so, I’m pretty good with going with the flow, whatever feels natural.” 

“Okay, yeah.” He swallows thickly. “That works.” 

Minho shoots him a cheeky grin from the drivers side, it allows Jisung to settle into the comfortable rapport they’ve built. He feels innately safe with Minho, something that usually takes him years to build up with a new person. This fact is only slightly concerning.  

“Well then, Lee Minho, I declare you my boyfriend for the next two weeks! Congratulations! Do you have anything to say about your win?” he announces with flair, pretending to hold a microphone to the man’s mouth. 

“Oh my god! I can’t believe I’ve won this honor!” Minho matches his pace accordingly, fanning one hand in front of his face like he’s unable to control his excitement. “I’d like to thank Kim Seungmin and his sexy boyfriend! I’m going to Disneyland!” 

They both dissolve into a fit of laughter. Minho’s eyes so cutely crinkle up when he laughs, Jisung knows his cheeks are probably pink, but he doesn’t really care. 

“Okay,” Minho says through his leftover giggles. “I need the ten minute rundown on Han Jisung, the love of my life.” 

Jisung sighs, smile lingering from their banter, resting his head back on the seat. “Well, I’m a music production major… I make music with Chan and Changbin,” 

“Oh! I didn’t know my boyfriend was an artist!” Minho teases.

Jisung scoffs, “I wouldn’t say that. We’re more like glorified soundcloud rappers.” 

“Don’t discount yourself!” the older man warns, glaring out of the side of his eye. “Also, I will need to hear your music.” 

Jisung chooses to ignore the request. “I grew up all over the place. We moved around a lot for my dad’s work, but I’ve been liking having a steady home. I’m a cat person,” he adds, knowing that one is sure to get a smile from Minho. 

It does.

“I skipped a year in school so I’m a senior this coming year… And uh, yeah. I guess that’s it,” he lets out a breath. 

“Oh, an artist and a genius. I really lucked out, huh?” Minho grins. 

Jisung rolls his eyes, smacking Minho on the shoulder. “Shut up, it’s your turn.” 

“Lee Minho, also a senior next year, I’m a dance major, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“I grew up in the city, also a cat person, but you know that.” 

He does.

“And my favorite color is the pink that your cheeks get when I flirt with you,” Minho adds smugly, waiting a minute before turning to look at Jisung. “Yep, that’s the one, right there.” He taps on Jisung’s cheek. 

Fuck. His body turns to jelly.

Jisung focuses hard on lowering the flow of blood to his face to no avail. “Can I ask you something?” Second plan of action, if the blush is a lost cause, is to distract.

“Anything,” Minho says easily. 

“Why did Chan tell me you’re notoriously single?” Maybe he’s asking to steel himself for the inevitable fall when he gets lost in the feeling of Minho being his… but that’s ridiculous, no?

Minho’s hands shift on the steering wheel, Jisung hopes he hasn’t gone too far. “I guess I have a reputation.” 

“For being single?” 

“I wouldn’t say I’m against relationships. I just haven’t found anyone who interests me enough to put my effort into it,” Minho explains. 

“How is that possible?” Jisung huffs in disbelief. 

Minho chokes out a surprised laugh, “What?” 

Jisung crosses his arms across his chest, he can suddenly feel every spot the seat belt digs into his skin. “You’re like, perfect, I’m sure everyone’s banging down your door. How is it possible that not one person caught your interest at all ?” He doesn’t know what he’s digging for, maybe some sort of proof that Minho isn’t as great as he seems. 

“Oh, Jisungie,” Minho sighs, long and drawn out. “None of them were you.” 

His heart twists painfully in his chest. Obviously Minho is joking, if the shit-eating grin on his face is anything to go by. Surely Jisung isn’t the only one who knows how the two of them look together. 

It’s ridiculous, and Minho knows that too, which is why he’s making jokes about it. 

But Chan always tells him to look on the bright side. Jisung knows he’s a chronic worrier, a chronic doom-and-gloomer, and his friends do too, always telling him to try to spin his problems in a positive light. 

Negative: Minho is too good for Jisung.

Positive: Minho is (for all intents and purposes) his boyfriend for the next two weeks.

They pull up to the Bang house after sundown, the windows on the place awash with a low glow in the dawn.

Felix is already bursting out of the front door, bouncing on the balls of his feet when Jisung shuts the car door. 

The man shoots down the steps and straight into Minho’s arms. “You guys made it!” he squeals, expertly detaching himself from the hug and rounding the car to attack Jisung next. 

“Sorry we’re late, couldn’t leave until after work today,” Jisung says tightly, all the air in his chest forced out by Felix’s hug. 

Felix relents, disentangling his limbs from their hold and returning to bouncing in place like the energizer bunny. “Don’t even worry about it! Seungmin and Jeongin can’t make it until tomorrow anyways!” he chirps. 

Jisung lifts his gaze to Changbin where he’s standing leaning against the entryway, arms crossed over his chest, looking fondly at his boyfriend. It’s disgusting how absolutely soft his best friend has gone over the man. But Jisung thinks anyone would start going soft if they were on the receiving end of Felix’s love. 

Minho’s hand falls to his lower back as they walk towards the house. The touch has a calming effect on Jisung’s nerves, despite how rampant and desperate to overtake him they are. 

Changbin looks the pair of them up and down, face eventually breaking into his easy grin. “Hey, man, nice to meet you,” he says to Minho. “I hear more about you from my boyfriend than yours.” 

Jisung rolls his eyes, swinging his duffel bag into Changbin’s chest, forcing him to grab it with a startled oof. 

Minho laughs easily, “Yeah. We were keeping things down low for a bit.” 

“Well I’m sure now he won’t be able to shut up about you… Huh, Jisungie?” Changbin fixes Jisung with a cocked brow, eyes looking straight through him. 

Oh fuck. He knows. 

“Hah!” Jisung stutters out. “Yep! You know me!” 

“I do indeed,” Changbin says ominously. 

Minho looks between them, confusion evident on his pretty face. 

“Don’t mind them, Minho,” Felix giggles, saving his ass from humiliation. “They’ve known each other for way too long. Weird twin telepathy or something. Come on! I’ll give you a tour!” He takes a hold of Minho’s wrist and drags him inside, shoving past Changbin with little elegance. 

Jisung’s eyes grow wide and frantic, cutting Changbin off as soon as he opens his mouth. “Please don’t tell Chan,” he hisses, only inches from Changbin’s face. He’s very aware that he looks like a crazy person. He feels like a fucking crazy person. 

Changbin smirks, slow and devious, chest shaking with quiet laughter. He licks over his bottom lip, like the evil, evil man he is. “I won’t tell Chan, or Lixie, but you owe me like ten beers.” He raises a hand to flick Jisung in the center of his forehead, right where it hurts the most. “And we’re going to talk about it. Like, seriously talk, Jisung, not any of your closed off bullshit.” 

He nods so furiously his head might snap off his neck, ignoring the dull throb where Changbin smacked him. “Okay, yeah! Sure, anything!” 

“Did someone say my name?” 

Changbin turns his broad shoulders to reveal Chan peeking his head out of the front door, smiling goofily per usual. 

“Oh, yeah!” Changbin says, roughly wrapping an arm around Jisung’s waist to tug him into his side. “Sungie was just telling me that he had a massive crush on you before he met Minho. A huge one!” 

“What!?” Jisung shrieks, desperately fighting against Changbin’s hold.

Chan’s grin widens, dimples on full display. “Aw, Sungie! That’s so sweet! You’re really not my type though!” He reaches out a big hand to muss Jisung’s hair like he used to do when they were kids. 

Jisung howls, finally managing to remove himself from both of their pestering. “I– he’s lying to you! I did not say that!” he splutters. And then, “What do you mean I’m not your type, bitch? I’m everyone’s type!” 

Changbin laughs, socking him in the arm with a closed fist. “It’s okay Sung, no need to be embarrassed! Channie won’t judge you!” 

“It’s true, Sung, I’m flattered that you had a crush on me!” Jisung can do nothing but whine when Chan fully exits the house to fold him into a strong armed bear hug. 

Changbin piles on, just to be a bitch, hugging him from the other side. “Sungie sandwich!” 

“We’re not twelve anymore! Please!” Jisung furiously wiggles around, dropping to a squat to pull himself out of the hug. Once free he straightens his hair and dusts his clothes off, frown painted on his face. 

“Aw, baby, we’ll leave you alone,” Changbin pinches at his cheek but is quickly slapped away. “We know you want to look cool for your new boyfriend.” 

Jisung slings his bag over his shoulder from where Changbin has so lovingly dropped it on the ground and escapes into the house, leaving his laughing asshole friends on the porch. 

Felix is right. He has known them for too long. It’s a pain in his ass. 

Being the baby of the trio certainly doesn’t help his already nearly nonexistent cool-guy image. 

The three of them have been attached at the hip since they were kids, their childhood homes in a cute little line on a quiet neighborhood street. Jisung and Changbin’s parents were more comfortable letting the younger boys wander around outside if responsible and older Chan was around. Once they fit in they just never fell apart. He loves them, they love him, it works. 

They all have their specific roles, though. Chan is the stupidly oblivious father, Jisung is the cocky, annoying littlest brother, and Changbin is the all seeing entity that can open Jisung up and read him to filth with the slightest glance. It’s annoying as hell. 

Somewhere along his fake-boyfriend journey he forgot to factor in the teeny tiny fact that Changbin can read him like a fucking book. Not even a hard to read book, either. A children’s book. Changbin can read him like fucking Go Dog Go. He should have been completely prepared for Changbin to know, upon arrival, that his relationship was a big, fat sham. 

But if there’s one other thing Changbin is, besides a freaky people reader, it’s loyal. 

To a fault sometimes, but he always keeps his word. So Jisung knows he won’t have to deal with something slipping out. A small reassurance in a hand basket of hell.

He flattens his hair out as best he can where Chan fucked it up, blowing out an exhausted breath and heading upstairs towards the bedrooms. 

He finds Felix and Minho in the furthest back room in the house, all the way in the corner of the second floor, the younger man splayed out on the bed like a starfish while Minho pokes around in the dresser. 

“Hi, how is it?” he greets, dropping his bag at the foot of the bed and throwing himself next to Felix. 

“It’s cute!” Minho says happily. “Huge too, Jesus.” 

Felix giggles, turning to wrap around Jisung like a koala, something he tends to do to whoever is closest to him at any moment in time. “Channie is kind of loaded. You wouldn’t even know it though, he’s so humble.” 

“So annoying,” Jisung grumbles, still feeling the sting of their interaction outside. 

“Oh Sungie, don’t pout too much!” Felix kisses him sloppily on the cheek before springing up to skip out of the bedroom. “I put you in this room because it’s removed from the rest of them.” Felix smiles innocently, cheeks bunching up in their cute way. Jisung scowls. “We all know Jisung’s a screamer!” And then he’s gone, bubbly laughter fading as he runs down the hall. 

Jisung groans like he’s been shot, covering his face with his hands and rolling into the fetal position. His friends cannot let him catch a fucking break today. He feels the bed dip when Minho sits down and then the prodding of the older man’s fingers into his side. 

“A screamer, huh?” Minho continues poking until Jisung has to remove his hands from his burning face to relent against the tickle by smacking him away. 

“Don’t listen to them, they’re evil.” 

Minho’s eyes shine with a spark Jisung doesn’t fully understand. Half mischief and half danger. “I wasn’t complaining. Maybe I want to test his theory.”

Heat spreads across Jisung’s body, chest to neck. “Oh my god , you cannot say things like that!” He complains, scrambling to his feet. “You’re going to give me the wrong idea!” 

He looks back momentarily, only long enough to see the way that Minho’s brow is furrowed, before slipping out of the room and down the stairs. 

The next two weeks are going to kill him. 

They watch movies that night.

Jisung shares the loveseat with Felix, cuddled up together. Changbin moans and whines for a bit, but is quickly shut up when Felix reminds him that he sees him every day and he, “never gets to see Jisung.” 

It doesn't matter what movie is playing, because Jisung ends up spending more time watching Minho than he does the screen. The way the glow of the television casts rainbows across the high points of his face is intoxicating. He feels stupid and gay.

He also grossly miscalculated how awkward it would be to share a bed with Minho. He hasn’t shared a bed with anyone he isn’t familiar with in a long time, he always flees the scene after one night stands. 

“Um,” he says awkwardly, both of them standing at the foot of the bed staring. “Do you care which side?” He winces at the stiffness of it all. 

“Nope, do you?” Minho sounds much more amused than him.

“No…” 

“Okay then, I’ll sleep here.” Minho moves to the left, slipping under the covers, already changed into his sleep clothes. Jisung can’t help but choke out a laugh at the way the man pulls the blankets right up to his chin, grinning cheekily up at Jisung once he’s settled in. 

Jisung feels like a robot, moving to grab his things and get ready in the ensuite, anxiety tumbling around in his stomach. He’s not used to acting like such a loser around men, but Minho has managed to tear down his mask with one tilt of his pretty lips. 

“Get it together, Jisung,” he whispers to himself in the mirror, teeth clenched. 

After adequately splashing himself in the face with punishingly cold water he tiptoes back into the bedroom. Minho is scrolling through his phone on his side, one bedside lamp switched on. Jisung hurries to get into bed, dragging the blankets over himself and laying on his back. 

Fuck, why is this so awkward. 

“Goodnight, Jisung,” Minho murmurs, moving his head enough to meet Jisung’s eyes, smile, and then turning his back to him once more. 

“Night,” Jisung returns, shifting so his back is facing Minho’s. 

Jisung knows he’s a sleep cuddler, Seungmin complained about it every night they spent together. He has a tendency to cling onto anything breathing that’s in the same bed as him. Should he tell Minho about it? Is he going to wake up wrapped around Minho and have to humiliatingly extract himself without waking him? Or worse, will Minho wake up first and find Jisung attached to him like a pathetic succubus? Fuck. 

He looks over his shoulder to find Minho snoring softly. Too late now. He settles for curling in on himself, his hands pressed between his knees, coaching his brain over and over in time with the hammering of his heart. 

Do not do anything stupid.

Do not do anything stupid.

Do not do anything stupid.

It takes at least an hour for the rapid thumping in his chest to subside enough to allow him to slip into sleep. 

When he wakes up, his hands are still safely closed between his knees and he's alone.

He checks his phone, nine AM, about when he naturally wakes up every day, and wipes the sleep out of his eyes. 

Jisung is famously groggy in the mornings, working through a haze as thick as his skull (Changbin’s words). He manages to grab the first sweatshirt he can and make his way downstairs, only tripping once on his way down. 

Six sets of eyes turn on him when he enters the kitchen. Freaky.

Seungmin looks him up and down, arm freezing in place, a forkful of pancakes halfway to his mouth. Hyunjin is sitting right next to him, arms wrapped lazily around the man’s middle, and Jeongin is there too, half asleep by the looks of it. 

Jisung should have known they’d be in early. If Jisung is a famously groggy riser, Seungmin is a famously early riser. He would also always complain about Jisung wanting to stay in bed all day, even if he wasn’t sleeping. 

He blinks. Blinks again. “What’s with the fucking staring, did I wake up deformed or something?” 

As soon as Changbin’s face splits into a nasty smirk he should be prepared for the touch, but he’s still caught off guard by the way Minho presses against his back, dropping light kisses on the nape of his neck and coming to rest his chin on Jisung’s shoulder. 

“You look good in my clothes, baby,” he says hot against Jisung’s cheek, loud enough to be audible to the room at large. 

What an entrance. At least Minho is taking this shit seriously.

Oh, shit. In his fogginess he put on Minho’s sweatshirt when he got out of bed. The one that has his dance team number and last name emblazoned across the front like a fucking sign that says "I'm dating Lee Minho!" That’s probably why the newcomers are staring at him like he’s grown a second head.

A second oh, shit, is the way his stomach tightens with something dirty at Minho’s words. 

And finally, oh, shit, he never told Seungmin who his boyfriend precisely is. 

“Minho?” Seungmin says, syrup dropping off his fork into his lap, jaw hitting the floor. 

At the same time, a completely unexpected, “Minho!” From Hyunjin. 

Jeongin lifts his head, shaking it back and forth like he’s stunned, mouth falling open mirroring Seungmin’s. “You’re super hot,” he blurts. 

Seungmin twists around, shooting simultaneous daggers at both his boyfriend and Jeongin. 

“This is going to be fun!” Changbin claps, grin crawling from ear to ear.

Chapter Text

It turns out that Hyunjin is on the dance team with Minho, something Felix knew and neglected to mention. 

“I didn’t even think about it!” the man says cheerfully. 

It also turns out that Jeongin is a little bit obsessed with Jisung’s boyfriend. Absolutely smitten on first look, which really shouldn’t be a big deal, but Jisung can’t help the slight twist of jealousy he feels at the way Jeongin looks at Minho. 

But, Minho isn’t really his, is he? 

Chan breaks whatever weird tension is hanging in the air by quickly diverting everyone’s attention to the next plate of pancakes he’s served up, telling Minho and Jisung to eat up with a dimpled smile on his face. Thank god for his oblivious ass.

He and Minho sit across the table from Seungmin and Hyunjin, unfortunately leaving Minho flanked by a starry-eyed Jeongin. Jisung tries not to look over in his direction, instead, childishly scooting his chair as close as possible to Minho’s and tucking himself into the man’s side. Minho doesn’t say anything, just glances at him with a little smile on his lips and easily drops a hand at Jisung’s hip. 

Seungmin has been staring holes into Jisung’s head since he sat down, angrily shoveling food into his mouth through his glaring. 

“Hey, Seungmin, stare any harder and your eyes might fall out,” Jisung bites over the table chatter. 

Seungmin immediately drops his eyes and brings his arm to rest behind Hyunjin, frown remaining intact. 

“How did you two meet?” Hyunjin asks, cheerfully oblivious to his boyfriend’s pouting. The man has a blinding smile. Jisung doesn’t trust it for a fucking second. 

Minho squeezes him closer, momentarily breaking him out of his evil thoughts. “I saw Jisungie at a coffee shop and I thought he was beautiful so I had to go up and introduce myself,” Minho says, lie easily rolling off his tongue. When Jisung looks up, Minho’s eyes are already on him, soft and fond. It makes him ill. “He asked me if I was free to sit, and we ended up talking for hours.” Minho smiles widely, leaning in to drop a kiss on his temple. His heart screams for more while his brain waves a white flag. 

“That’s funny, last I heard Jisung hadn’t left the studio all summer,” Seungmin bites. 

Jisung’s hand clenches against his pants. Seungmin has never been able to let anyone else have the last word. Minho must notice the way his nails are digging into his own thigh, letting his fork clatter to the table and sliding his hand between Jisung and the fabric, easing their fingers together.

It’s sickening how quickly Minho has picked up on his tells and figured out how to soothe them, it makes the wires of his brain tangle even further. 

Minho doesn’t care about him, he’s just good at reading people, they literally just met.

“And how did you meet?” Minho asks politely. 

Jisung tries not to let the way Hyunjin looks at Seungmin bother him, eyes crescented and happy. The man genuinely glows in his ex boyfriend’s presence. 

“Well, we met back in March, actually,” Hyunjin giggles.

March.

They met in March. A month into Jisung and Seungmin’s relationship. 

“And kind of like you, I saw him on campus and I thought he was so cute! But he was super closed off.” 

Yeah, because he had a boyfriend. Jisung’s teeth close together so hard he thinks he might break some. 

“So I pined after him until he started showing interest in me!” Hyunjin finishes happily. 

Jisung’s eyes narrow, flicking over to Seungmin. The man visibly stiffens. Good to know he’s still got a shred of humility left. “When did he show interest back?” Jisung says, voice tight. 

Hyunjin ponders the question for a minute before sealing his fate. “Oh… probably around May. It was super sweet, he brought me flowers at work, just because he knew I love them.” Hyunjin doesn’t tear his eyes away from Seungmin’s face to see Jisung’s murderous glare. 

“Sung…” Changbin warns lowly from his left. Felix sits still as a statue, waiting for the next move. 

Jisung doesn’t spare a glance the other way, pushing back out of his chair and slapping his palms harshly against the table. “That’s really great, Seungmin, really sweet !” His voice grows louder by the second. “You’re just such a stand up guy aren’t you?” 

“Ji–” Seungmin starts, mouth opening and closing helplessly. What a fucking idiot. 

“Fuck you,” Jisung growls, storming out of the kitchen and straight through the front door, hastily shoving his socked feet in Chan’s too-big sandals as he goes. 

The cool morning air hits his face, drying up the few angry tears that managed to escape from his eyes. 

This is fucking humiliating. He’s humiliated. 

It’s worse than he even thought it was. He thought Seungmin had just gone and replaced him with someone better, but, no! He replaced him with someone better while he was still with Jisung.

Fuck. 

“Fuck!” he screams into the woods, stopping his aimless journey at the line of trees to the west of the house. 

“Jisung?” 

Minho has followed him. What a treat.

“You didn’t have to follow me, Minho. I’m fine.” He drops into a crouch, wrapping his arms around his knees so his chest presses into his thighs. He’s well practiced in the art of making himself as small as he feels inside. 

Minho snorts, dropping down on the grass right next to him, not a care in the world for his ass getting dirty. “Obviously you’re not fine.” 

Jisung tilts his head away, focusing on a bird flitting around on a branch a ways off, picking at leaves with it’s beak. He wonders if birds cheat on their partners. 

The sounds of the forest fill the gap in conversation, birds chirping, sticks snapping. Though, it probably wouldn’t be awkward to sit with Minho in complete silence anyway. 

Maybe that’s why he decides to proverbially roll over and show the man how pathetic he really is.

“He didn’t break up with me until June.” 

“Shit,” Minho commiserates, eyebrows raising. 

Back to the bird then, now tugging at a twig. Who’s he kidding, birds probably fuck whoever they want. 

“Do you trust me?” Minho asks, knocking their shoulders together lightly. 

“Uh, yes?” He finds himself telling the truth.

“Okay, let's go for a walk.” Minho pushes himself up, his unfairly muscled thighs straining against the material of his jeans, and reaches out for Jisung’s hand. 

Jisung takes it, wordlessly, and lets Minho pull him up. He expects the older man to drop his hold when he’s done his job, but he maintains his light grip on Jisung’s hand, warm and reassuring, leading him into the forest via the small walking path a few steps to the left. 

“Is this where you, like, kill me?” Jisung asks, stumbling over a log when Minho pulls too quickly, the house now out of sight. 

Minho grins at him over one of his shoulders. “Maybe. We’ll see how you behave.”

The words should make Jisung nervous but they just get him a little too excited to be innocent. 

“Ah, well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened to me today,” he jokes. 

“Han Jisung,” Minho sighs, long and drawn out. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Each step they take, towards wherever Minho is leading him, takes a bit more of the edge off. Makes him feel a tiny bit less horrid about the situation. For now, at least.

Minho is leading him, it turns out, to the creek. 

“Lee Minho!” laughter unwittingly bubbles out of Jisung’s chest. “Are you propositioning me?” 

Minho drops his hand, tilting his chin down and looking up through his brow. “What?” 

Jisung can’t fight the grin on his face. “You took me to make out creek.” 

“Make out creek?” He sounds nonplussed, but he’s smiling. 

“Yeah! Changbin named it after he found Chan giving me my first kiss right…” he steps down towards the water, digging a toe into the dirt of the sacred spot. “Here!” 

“No shit!” 

“Yes shit! This place is legendary. This is where we always took dates to get it on!” Jisung laughs, feeling much lighter than he did ten minutes ago. Minho is fucking up his brain chemistry. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, then,” Minho’s eyes sparkle, almost identical to the way the sun glints off the creek. “But I took you here because this is where I found the cats this morning.”

“The… cats?” Jisung pushes through the insinuation of his first comment. 

Minho nods, sticking his hand in his jacket pocket searching for something. “I always bring cat treats with me when I go on trips.” He pulls out a teal bag, holding it up for Jisung to see. “So I can make friends with strays.” 

He shakes the bag, turning his attention to the bushes by the water, making soft clicking noises with his tongue. Jisung stands and watches, unsure if he should be moving. He doesn’t want to scare anything off. 

Then, a kitten pokes it’s head out of the bush, slowly creeping out towards where Minho crouches. 

“Oh hi, little one,” Minho coos, voice soft and sweet. “Here, I brought you some more treats.” He extends his hand towards the cat, letting her sniff at his hand until she’s comfortable enough to eat. When Minho looks up, his face is blatantly joyful. Jisung thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“She’s friendly, you can pet her, just go slow,” Minho says. 

Jisung steps over, following directions, sinking down next to Minho. “Hi there.” He reaches a hand out, earning a cautious sniff before the kitten rubs into his palm purring. 

“Oh look, she likes you!” Minho breathes giddily. 

When they lock eyes, they're both smiling like idiots. 

It feels like a thing. 

But then a branch snaps, loudly, followed by a, “God damnit, Jisung!” 

Seungmin. Fucking Seungmin has come after him too. 

The cat skitters off, spooked by the noise, and Jisung scrambles to his feet, pulling Minho up with him, also fucking spooked. 

The last thing he wants right now is to talk to Kim Seungmin, so he does the next best thing: backs himself into the trunk of the nearest tree and pulls Minho on top of him.

“Kiss me,” he says frantically, Minho’s hands landing on either side of his waist, weight bearing into him.

“Are you sure?” Minho searches his face, brings a thumb up to stroke at his cheek, his tongue teasing over his bottom lip enticingly. 

“Yes, for the love of god, please,” he chokes, flustered under the pressure of Minho’s hands. “I can’t talk to him yet.”

And Minho does. 

He curls his hand under Jisung’s jaw and brings his mouth down, pushing their lips together. It’s warm and a little bit wet from where Minho licked his lip, and Jisung is shocked by the way he immediately wants more. His hands drag down Minho’s back, pulling in, desperate to be closer. Minho laughs softly into his mouth, leaning back slightly as he does. Jisung has to tell himself not to whine at the loss of contact, chasing after his mouth instead. 

He’s just about to dip his tongue into the seam of Minho’s lips when Seungmin shrieks, “Oh fuck! Sorry! Should have known, make out creek!” 

Jisung shocks back, head knocking lightly against the tree. Seungmin stands at the edge of the clearing, hands at his sides awkwardly. 

Minho doesn’t give him a second to breathe, going for Jisung’s exposed neck now that he’s been pulled from his mouth, leaving wet kisses along the column of his throat. 

“Yeah, um,” Jisung embarrassingly moans. He feels Minho’s teeth graze his skin in a smile at the reaction. “Could you, like, leave us be?” Jisung chokes out. 

Seungmin visibly swallows, eyes wide, cheeks growing pinker by the second. “Yeah!” he squeaks. “We can talk later!” 

Jisung assumes he walks away, right back where he came, but he doesn’t have time to check because Minho’s directing his chin with one hand, leading him back into another searing kiss. Jisung melts into the tree, pliant under Minho’s mouth. He could easily get addicted to the lazy drag of Minho’s lips against his, how soft and sure, and fucking perfect it feels. 

Shit. 

“Minho,” he manages between kisses. 

“Hmmm?” Minho hums, still kissing him. 

“He’s…” A sigh, another kiss. “I think he’s gone.” 

Minho slots their lips together one more time, warm and lingering before pulling back. His thumbs press into Jisung’s hip bones, pushing his ass against the solid trunk. Jisung could fucking die, given the chance. 

“Was I better than Chan?” Minho asks, playfully smirking. 

Jisung gasps, shoving him away by his shoulders, mostly for his own sanity and self preservation. “I told you that in confidence!” he laughs, throwing his hood (Minho’s hood) up and tugging the strings tighter, hoping to hide some of his growing blush. “But if you must know… no you weren’t. Chan’s the best I ever had.” He sticks his nose up, arms crossed.

His stoic expression doesn’t last long, Minho diving in to attack him by poking at his sides, dragging laughter out of Jisung’s throat. “I’ll keep working on it,” Minho purrs, pecking him right on the apple of his cheek. 

“Good luck with that!” Jisung sighs dramatically. 

He feels stupid at the way his heart beats faster at the thought of Minho kissing him again. 

Minho doesn’t like him. 

Minho is out of his league.

Minho is doing him a favor.

He and Minho get in the car as soon as they return and Minho drives them into town. 

They go to the shitty movie theater right downtown that’s playing some marathon of bad horror movies and sit there all day, eating popcorn and joking around. There’s no one else there, because it’s the middle of the day on a Friday, and by the time they exit the sun is already below the horizon, last bits of light fading into the night. 

He checks his phone and finds twenty unread messages.

Channie

Are you okay?

Where did you go?

I’ll assume you’re okay & with Minho, but you should really tell me when you’re going somewhere.

I worry about you, Sungie.

 

Changbin

tf are you

i know ur not getting dicked down… so… 

dumbass 

 

Lix

Seungmin looks like a kicked puppy what did you do to him

I hope the dick is worth the bad vibes you left us with you mother fucker

 

Innie

when r u coming back 

:( 

im bored

:( 

:( 

chan is making us play bocce ball

i can’t believe youve done this to me

i beat seungmin’s ass for you

btw

y didnt u tell me u had a super hot bf 

 

Kim Seungmin

We can talk whenever you’re ready.

 

Jisung sighs, shutting his phone off. “Can we get fucked up tonight?” 

Minho grins, “I thought you’d never ask.”

They hit the liquor store on their way back, the one they’ve been going to every summer since they were sixteen, stocking up on as much as they can physically carry. 

Jisung buys Changbin his ten beers. He buys a dozen, actually, because he’s that fucking kind. 

The scene at the house is grim when they bust through the door, both laughing at some stupid joke Minho has cracked, arms full of booze. 

Everyone lies in different states of mopiness across the living room as they watch the fucking news. Jisung knows it’s Chan’s doing. 

Jeongin looks about one second from bashing his head against the wall, but immediately brightens when he sees them, shooting off his chair. “Are you God?!” He runs over, taking some of the bottles from Minho’s arms and immediately popping a lid to take a big gulp of tequila. 

“Gross, Innie,” Jisung cringes. Tequila tastes like piss until he’s at least five drinks in. 

Jeongin looks at him, crazed. “You have no idea what I’ve been through today, Jisung.” 

Minho barks out a laugh, pushing past them towards the kitchen, Jeongin hot on his herls like an excited puppy. 

“Hey! You’re the one who had my shoes all day!?” Chan shouts, throwing an accusatory finger at Jisung’s feet. 

Oops. Jisung doesn’t dignify him with a response, marching over to Changbin and dropping his beer in his lap. “Here’s your beer, Binnie,” he smiles sickeningly sweet, fluttering his lashes at the man. “Now… who wants to get fucked up?” Felix, Changbin, Seungmin and Hyunjin’s hands all shoot up. 

“Aw, c’mon guys!” Chan whines. “Bocce ball wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Changbin makes a fire, the fucking boyscout that he is, and they all gather around to make s’mores and shoot the shit. Jeongin and Felix are catching fireflies or something, chasing each other around the yard, both a few drinks in, while the rest of them sit on chairs around the pit.

“I want to know more about what Jisung was like as a kid,” Minho grins, sitting on the fold out chair next to him, close enough that their hands brush together each time he goes to pick up his drink. 

Jisung sinks down, hiding behind his hands. “Please, god, spare me. I’m not drunk enough for this,” he groans. Drunk enough would have to be blackout, really, because he is pretty fucking drunk already.

Changbin and Chan delightedly giggle and launch into their usual stories. 

He lasts until they start talking about The Drive-In Movie Incident, before he has to excuse himself to refill his drink. He can only take so many painful retellings of his past before he explodes. He tries, to no avail, to quell the swooping of his stomach when Minho gives him a fond smile and a wink when he gets up.

The alcohol hits him all at once along with the harsh chill of the air conditioning as he enters the house. He’s definitely more drunk than sober at this point, probably thanks to Felix and his notoriously heavy hand. 

He flicks off the cap to the vodka, messily pouring some into a cup of sprite. It’ll probably taste fine enough to drink. 

A light knock at the door frame sounds, making Jisung spill even more alcohol than before. “Hey, Sung…” It’s Seungmin.

“What do you want,” he snips, tone venomous, throwing back the drink he just mixed. He can never get drunker fast enough with Seungmin around.

“I was hoping we could talk?” Seungmin tries, stepping fully into the kitchen. He’s dressed stuffily, in khakis and a sweater vest, because of course he is. The man never lightens up. 

“I don’t really want to talk to you right now, Seungmin.” He grabs his cup, making to exit the kitchen as fast as he can, but Seungmin reaches out to grab his bicep before he can escape. 

“Jisung… please, we need to talk.” 

Jisung grits his teeth. He knows he’s going to have to get this over with eventually . He just didn’t think eventually would be now, their first real night at the cabin. 

“Let me go.” 

“No, Jisung, not until you talk to me!” He sounds pathetic and desperate. 

Jisung doesn’t have it in him to feel bad, but he wishes his head weren’t so foggy so he could properly wrench his arm out of Seungmin’s iron grip. He flails around but Seungmin continues to hold him in place. 

“You’re so annoying!” Jisung whines. “I don’t want to talk to you, Seungmin! Let me fucking go!” 

“Woah, everything alright in here?” 

Minho. 

Seungmin immediately drops his hand, freeing Jisung’s arm to fall back into Minho’s chest, caging him in protectively. He looks up at Minho. The older’s face is pinched up with worry. 

It’s cute. 

He’s drunk. 

Minho is so pretty. 

The room is spinning a little bit. 

“Can we go to bed, please?” Jisung pouts, blinking what he hopes are pleading eyes up at the man. 

Minho chuckles, smoothing a hand over Jisung’s hair comfortingly. “Yeah, sure baby, let’s get you to bed.” 

Seungmin scoffs, loud enough to drag both of their attention away from each other and towards him. “Be careful, Minho, he’s a needy drunk. He’s not going to let you fucking breathe.” 

Minho reacts for him, hold around Jisung’s body tightening. “Thanks, Kim, I think I can properly take care of my own boyfriend, even if you couldn’t.” 

The heat behind his words moves over Jisung’s skin, he looks up at Minho entranced. 

“You’re so hot,” Jisung breathes. His drunk brain really needs Minho to know. 

“Alright, drunkie, let’s go.” Minho pats him on the ass, short and sweet, before bending at the knees and tossing Jisung over his shoulder like a ragdoll. The show of strength is impressive, and mind numbingly sexy. Seungmin must think so too by the way he stares, mouth hanging open, watching them leave. 

Jisung bubbles with laughter at the feeling of Minho’s shoulder pressed into his stomach, earning another smack to his ass when his wormy movements make it hard for Minho to carry them up the stairs. 

Eventually, he’s tossed into bed, bouncing on the landing. Minho is smiling just as wide as him, now that Jisung can finally see his face. 

“Thank you,” Jisung giggles, feeling joyfully dizzy. His brain is filled with champagne bubbles. 

“I’ll go down and tell them we’re turning in. You should put on some pajamas while I’m gone.” Minho says, resting a knee on the bed right next to Jisung’s feet. 

Jisung petulantly locks his ankles around Minho’s thigh, trying to tie him to the bed. “Don’t leave me,” he whines, drawing out the words. “I’ll be so lonely! People can die of that, you know!” 

Minho just laughs, putting a hand on either of Jisung’s legs and separating them, standing up again. “I’ll be back so fast you won’t even notice, okay?” 

Jisung feels light headed and floaty. 

Minho is so pretty. “‘Kay.” 

“Okay, but, pajamas. Focus on that.” Minho leans over, hovering right over his face. 

For a moment, Jisung thinks he’s going to kiss him, just like he did in the woods, but he leaves a peck on his forehead before sheepishly pulling away. 

Once Minho is gone, Jisung is able to drag his heavy limbs up, slipping on more comfortable clothes, and wrangling himself back into Minho’s sweatshirt, the one he discarded on the floor before they went outside. The fabric is soft and it smells nice.

He’s half asleep, right in the middle of the bed when Minho finally returns, a bottle of water in his hand. “Sleeping already?” he muses. 

“Mmmph,” Jisung mumbles. “C’mon… so lonely in here…” 

“One second, let me clean up and then I’ll join you,” Minho says softly, brushing Jisung’s hair off his forehead with a careful hand. “Drink some of this water, okay?” 

Jisung sleepily nods, dutifully taking some gulps from the bottle.

He doesn’t know how much later it is when the bed dips next to him, Minho sliding under the blankets, warm skin suddenly pressed right up against him. 

“Aish, Sung, you’re so close to the middle,” he laughs, shoving Jisung over a bit. 

“Can I cuddle you?” Jisung murmurs, half asleep and still fully drunk.

“Course. C’mere.” Minho stretches his arms out and pulls Jisung into his side, letting him snuggle right into his chest, breathing in the smell of him. He’s so firm and warm, Jisung is overwhelmed with the feeling of it all. 

“Sorry,” he sniffles, suddenly very aware of the fact that he’s getting a little too comfortable with his very fake boyfriend. 

“For what?” The arm hooked around Jisung’s waist shifts, Minho thumbing circles into his hip. 

“I dunno. Being such a mess… wanting to cuddle…” Jisung’s afraid he’ll start crying if he goes further than that. 

Minho hums, hand still working at his hipbone. “Don’t say sorry, Jisung. You’ve done nothing wrong. I never said no, did I?” 

“No,” he sighs.

“Baby, you’re never putting me out, alright? I’m more than happy to be right here with you.” 

He feels the press of a kiss to his hair, the rumble of Minho’s chest underneath him with his words. 

“Okay… okay…” Jisung is teetering on the edge of sleep, just waiting for the fall. He hopes he remembers this in the morning.

“Okay.” 

—

Jisung does remember in the morning. 

He remembers everything in nauseating detail. He truly may be the most embarrassing person on the planet. 

There’s not much time to dwell on it, though, because he’s awoken by Felix and Jeongin shrieking and screaming when they burst into their room and leap onto the bed.

Jisung startles out of sleep, memories rushing back to him, gut twisting, eyes sticky with sleep. Minho shifts beneath him, also rudely awoken by the demons. 

Minho groans at the disturbance, turning over while keeping Jisung locked into his arms and hiding his face in the younger man’s neck. Jisung feels the tips of his ears redden. 

“What’re you doing, Jesus,” Jisung moans, waving a hand at the rattling children by their feet. 

Jeongin leaps up, eyes round and sparkling. “We’re going for a hike!” 

“Woo!” Felix adds, swinging his hands above his head. 

“Oh my god , how are you two not hungover?” Jisung complains, dropping his head against his pillow, Minho still breathing into his neck. 

“We’re young and spry. You have thirty minutes before we make Changbin and Chan come and drag you outside. No excuses!” Felix cheers, smacking Jeongin with a loud high five before they’re scrambling out, probably to wake up someone else. 

Minho shuffles, pulling away enough so Jisung can see his squinting eyes. “What time ‘s it?” 

Jisung grunts, fumbling to check his phone. “Eight.” 

“Fuck.” 

The sickness hits Jisung all at once. “Oh god, I think I’m going to throw up…” He shoves Minho off of him, stumbling for the toilet. 

He empties his stomach, Minho slowly following after him, eventually coming to run a soothing hand over his back. 

After it’s all done, Minho still sitting next to him, helping him through, he mumbles, “I am so fucking embarrassing. I promise I am not usually this embarrassing.” 

He definitely is usually this embarrassing, but Minho doesn’t need to know that. 

Minho just laughs, helps him up, and gets him water. 

Minho doesn’t care about him.

Minho is doing this as a favor.

Minho is not his boyfriend.

It’s easier than expected to avoid both Minho and Seungmin on their hike because Seungmin takes up the lead, a peppy and painfully beautiful Hyunjin on his heels, and Jeongin attaches himself to Minho the second they leave the cabin. 

He’s all, “Minho how did you get into dancing,” and “Minho you’re so cool,” and “Minho look at this weird rock.”

Jisung tries not to let Jeongin’s interest in Minho get to him, but why the fuck is Jeongin so interested anyway? Minho isn’t that great. 

“He is,” the voice in his head whispers. 

Jisung trails behind everyone, stomping through the brush becoming more sour with each stupid question Jeongin asks. 

Changbin eventually notices his pouting and hangs back to walk in step with him at the back of the pack. 

“Wow, you look like shit.” 

“I threw up my fucking insides before we left, so…” he huffs. 

“Sure,” Changbin muses, annoying grin on his face. Jisung wants to smack him. “It has nothing to do with your boyfriend giving all his attention to the baby instead of you, right?” 

Jisung feels heat streak up his neck. Like a fucking book. Changbin should not be allowed to talk. 

“Shut up,” he retorts lamely. 

Changbin laughs gleefully at the response in his distinct Changbin way. “If it helps, I’ve caught him staring at you like you hung the fucking moon on multiple occasions.” 

It doesn’t, it just makes Jisung feel like he’s going to be sick again. “He’s just a good actor.”

“Right. Whatever you want to tell yourself, Sung.” He claps Jisung on the back before trotting to catch up with Felix. Annoying. 

By the time they reach the top of the hill they’re climbing, everyone is out of breath. The view makes it worth it, overlooking the entire valley, lush trees rolling green over every inch of land. 

Minho wanders over to him, bumping their shoulders together. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Jisung snips, feeling petty about being ignored, even though he was gunning to ignore Minho anyway. 

Minho frowns, peering down at him with a concerned look, bringing up a hand to rub circles over Jisung’s back. It’s endlessly frustrating how fast the touch allows him to calm down. 

This entire thing is really fucking overwhelming, truly. That’s the worst part of it all. 

He knew things wouldn’t work out with Seungmin, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to know that Seungmin was probably cheating on him, and it doesn’t mean that it’s not supremely confusing to have a stormy mix of complicated feelings for his fake boyfriend. 

He’s a fucking mess. A self-imposed mess, but a mess nonetheless. 

“Let me take a picture of you cuties!” Felix chirps, hopping over with his camera in hand. 

Minho looks at Jisung as if to ask if he’s up for it. He gives a slight nod, shifting into a happy face to please the others. His favorite party trick.

“Sure, Lix, where do you want us?” Minho asks.

“Right there is good! I can get the view as a backdrop… smile!” He goes about directing them into different poses, Minho’s arms linked around his waist. 

Jisung is doing a fantastic job at playing happy boyfriend until he catches Seungmin’s eye, the man grimacing at them from across the way. 

Minho notices the way his body goes rigid, glancing over at Seungmin for half a second before blowing a long breath out of his nose. “Sungie,” he murmurs, leaning in close. So close that Jisung’s heart starts beating wildly in his throat. “Forget about him.” 

And then Minho brings a hand up to his chin, tilts it up and kisses him, firm and solid. 

Felix squeals as he snaps photos, and Changbin wolf whistles, but all Jisung can feel is the hand steady on his waist, the one at his jaw, and the way he melts into Minho. 

When they break apart, the kiss leading nowhere more than a lingering peck given the circumstance, Jisung can’t tear his eyes away from Minho’s face. The elder smiles out to Felix. “Did you get a good one?”

Spell broken. Good show!

Jisung coughs to cover the sound of any possible fracturing of his soul.

At least Seungmin isn’t looking at them anymore. 

Minho unhands him in favor of peeking over Felix’s shoulder at the camera’s viewfinder. Jisung stands in place, static ringing in his ears. He’s always been a fucking dumbass. 

“Baby,” Minho trills, smiling widely. “Come see how cute we look!” 

His steps are on autopilot, his body only coming back to life when Minho interlaces their fingers, pointing out his favorite shots. 

Why is it that he only feels alright when Minho is around, but he also feels his worst when Minho is around? 

They walk down the trail hand in hand, Jeongin hanging off of Felix instead of his boyfriend for the first time all day. Changbin sending him horrifyingly knowing looks every few minutes until Hyunjin drags him into his own conversation. 

Jisung slows down enough to lag behind, head pounding, tired of hearing his friends shout. Minho matches his pace, forever solid at his side.

“You’re really alright?” Minho asks, squeezing his hand. “We kind of got interrupted up there…”

“Fine,” Jisung sighs, a repeat of what he said earlier, without so much bite. He’s just exhausted by now. “I’m just really hungover.” 

Minho looks like he doesn’t believe him. Smart man. “Right.”

They continue walking, footsteps crunching on the forest floor, filling the silence for a few painful moments. 

“It’s just… a lot,” Jisung winces with his words. Something about Minho makes him want to be honest. It’s horrifying. 

Minho hums in agreement, and Jisung can’t tell if he’s imagining the way he tugs him the tiniest bit closer by their hands, shoulders brushing every bump in the path. “You can always talk to me, you know. We’re friends, right?” 

Jisung manages a pathetic snort. “Yeah, Minho. We’re friends.” 

When Minho looks at him he’s sporting a dazzling smile, eyes on fire. Jisung can’t stop the tug at his own mouth. 

Then Minho pulls him closer again, breath tickling his neck, making goosebumps rise on his nape. “It’s also okay if you're a little jealous of Innie, baby.” 

Jisung gasps, immediately dropping Minho’s hand and shoving him away by his shoulder, laughter bursting out of his chest. “Asshole! Don’t make fun of me! I’m having an emotionally tumultuous time!” 

Minho’s smile is seemingly more beautiful than before, clutching his stomach as he laughs along with Jisung. He makes grabby hands, only to be swatted away, the younger pouting dramatically. 

“Ah, baby, please,” Minho pouts back. “I think it’s cute.” 

Jisung’s cheeks heat instantaneously, he’s certain they’re embarrassingly pink. “Shut up!” he retorts, trudging ahead of Minho, they must be close to home by now. “I need a nap, you’re making my hangover worse!” 

Minho’s laugh rings out behind him, echoing through the trees. The sound warms Jisung’s insides, makes him smile against his will. 

When they finally return home he falls into bed with a huff, only complaining a little bit when Minho feeds him some painkillers and makes him drink some water. He’s already half asleep under the blankets when Minho stops shuffling around the room, doing whatever he’s doing organizing his things. Jisung can’t tell if he’s dreaming when he feels the hair being brushed off of his forehead and a kiss dropped there.

Hangovers are such a bitch.

He wakes up an unknown amount of time later, coming to with the sound of a slamming door. 

Jisung groans, bringing his hands up to scrub over his eyes, blearily blinking. It takes all his strength to lift his head up. The sound of dresser drawers opening, someone rifling through them. “Minho?” he croaks, eyes still cloudy. 

“Hmmm? Oh, sorry, did I wake you?” 

Definitely Minho’s voice. It gives him the energy needed to fully open his eyes, only to be met with the sight of miles of tanned, honey skin, Minho just having pulled his shirt off. Jisung’s exhaustion seeps from his bones with the catch in his breath. Ope, there goes Minho’s pants. Should Jisung be seeing this? 

Minho looks over his shoulder, smirking when he sees Jisung’s awestruck expression. He pulls whatever he’s been searching for out of the dresser, turning around and leaning back, the front of his nearly naked body visible now. 

Jisung’s eyes unwittingly rove up and down the man before him, his mouth feeling increasingly wet. 

Minho’s body… it’s straight out of one of his wet dreams. He’s bigger than Jisung. Broader. Clearly strong, but his skin and curves are soft and pretty in a way Chan and Changbin’s aren’t. 

He blinks, blinks again. His eyes land on Minho’s face, the older man pulling his lower lip into his mouth, teeth dragging over the plush skin through a sultry grin. 

“Uh–” Jisung swallows. “What are you doing?” 

Minho laughs, finally pulling on the shirt he’s taken out of the dresser and quickly stepping into his athletic shorts. 

Jisung looks down at the bed, almost ashamed at getting caught blatantly staring for so long. Minho’s cocky smile only makes him feel slightly less nauseous. 

“I’m about to kick Kim Seungmin’s ass in soccer,” Minho says excitedly. Jisung’s eyes snap back up, finding the man buzzing with joy. “You coming?” 

“I– uh– yes?” Jisung stutters, still a little lost.

“Great! Meet us downstairs,” Minho says, jogging back towards the door. “I promise I’ll give you another show out there, kay?” And then he has the audacity to wink at Jisung before disappearing behind the door.

It takes a painfully cold shower and an aggressive self-deprecating pep talk in the mirror for Jisung to kill his half-chub and get ready to watch Minho display his athleticism. Not unreasonable at all, surely.

Everyone is already congregated in the back yard when he arrives, Chan’s old nets set up on either side of the expanse of grass. There seems to be two clear teams formed, Changbin with Seungmin and Hyunjin and Minho, Chan and Jeongin a ways away. Felix sits on the grass, just out of bounds of the imaginary field tying daisy chains. 

Jisung trudges over the grass, only dragging his feet a little bit. Minho looks up, holding a hand over his eyes to shade his eyes from the sun, his face splitting into another breathtaking smile when he sees him. 

Minho trots over to meet him halfway, arms coming up to hold onto Jisung’s naturally. “Hey, superstar,” Minho says quietly. Jisung clocks Seungmin watching them over his shoulder. Minho always seems to know the right time to turn on his caring boyfriend schtick. “You wanna play or are you going to join Lix as a cheerleader?” 

“Probably just sit with Lixie… I’m not one for sports,” Jisung replies. The sun shines down, warming his skin in nearly the same way that Minho’s presence does. 

“Alright,” Minho says, leaning in to peck him on the mouth. Seungmin must still be watching. “I’ll make you proud, baby.” Another small kiss, and then Minho is running back to the field, clapping his hands twice. When Jisung looks up, Seungmin is completely engrossed in a conversation with Hyunjin, his back turned to them. Huh. 

Felix welcomes him with open arms, shoving an already picked pile of flowers onto Jisung’s lap. “Even though we’re cheering for opposing teams I’ll help you with your daisy chains,” he smiles. 

Jisung is overcome with appreciation for his friend; despite everything, Felix has never looked at him with pity or worry. He and Jisung vibrate at the same frequency, they understand each other. 

The boys on the field start kicking the ball around, apparently starting their game. Jisung truly doesn’t care enough to track what’s happening. He only cares to watch the way Minho’s legs flex in his shorts. He breaks five flower stems with the amount of tension in his hands, too distracted watching Minho move before he gives up altogether, letting out a sigh and shoving the flowers off his lap. 

Felix laughs, nudging him on the shoulder, a daisy chain crown already atop his blonde head. “I understand, Sungie. Minho’s so super hot.” The boy grins at him, but Jisung doesn’t feel jealous like he does with Jeongin, he knows Felix and Changbin are rock solid. 

“Yeah,” Jisung sighs dramatically, tilting his head to rest on Felix’s shoulder. “I don’t know what he sees in me.”

“Oh, Sung,” Felix says sadly, arm slipping around to hug Jisung close. “I don’t think that’s something I can answer for him, but what I can say is that you are so loved. Deservingly so.” 

Another sigh. 

The boys sit quietly, watching their friends play, only interrupted when Changbin scores a goal, Felix shooting up from under Jisung, jostling his skull around when he jumps up. Jisung pouts, rubbing his head. 

“Woooooo! Go Binnie!” Felix cheers, bouncing up and down.

Changbin smiles widest when he’s looking at Felix. It’s something Jisung had noticed a long time ago. Something he had to point out to Changbin to get him to acknowledge that he was desperately in love with the man. 

He smiles like that now, pumping a fist in the air. “Love you baby, it was for you!” 

Felix looks completely lovestruck when he sinks back down, a dopey grin on his face. 

“Sungie,” Minho yells out, hands around his mouth to throw his voice. “Next one’s for you!” 

Jisung smiles as he watches Changbin and Minho play fight, shoving each other around until Chan breaks it up. Minho fits in with them so well. Seungmin rolls his eyes so hard they might fall out.

It doesn’t take long for Minho to score, catching Hyunjin off guard at his goalie post, and Jisung mimics Felix’s cheering, jumping up and down and screaming for the man. 

Minho doesn’t stop running after the goal, coming straight towards Jisung and using his momentum to pick him up, hugging him right at the waist and spinning him around in a circle. Jisung’s cheers evolve into laughs, and Minho swallows them up as soon as they stop spinning, pulling the younger into a heated kiss, one hand cupping his jaw. 

Jisung squeaks in surprise but kisses back. He’s afraid he’s already addicted to the feel of Minho’s lips. Minho swipes his tongue across Jisung’s bottom lip, quick and fast, the fucking tease, right before pulling away, making sure to keep Jisung locked in his arms. 

“Showoff,” Jisung breathes, the force of his smile making his cheeks ache.

“Only for you,” Minho returns, kissing him once, twice more before relenting to a complaining Chan and Changbin asking him to return to the game. 

He’s sure he has an equally lovestruck-dopey grin on his own face when his jelly legs give to drop him back down on the grass. Felix cackles, head thrown back so far that his flower crown slides off his head. Jisung hasn’t felt the burn of internal joy this strong in months. 

It lasts for a good while, eating up his insides with it’s fire as he watches the boys run about. But Kim Seungmin can’t help but snuff out his flame. 

It’s expected at this point. Jisung burns, and Seungmin dumps a bucket of water over him. 

“What the fuck is your problem, man,” Minho bites, suddenly chest to chest with Seungmin, the younger’s lip curled up.

“What the fuck is my problem? Watch where you’re going, asshole,” Seungmin hisses back, roughly shoving Minho by the shoulders, causing him to stumble backwards. 

Jisung has never seen Minho look so angry, eyes dark, jaw tight. “Always been so mature, huh, Kim?” 

Jisung feels confused and dizzy, but then his legs are carrying him across the field, putting himself between the men, placing a hand on Minho’s chest. Minho’s eyes drop a hint of shadow, softening completely when his hands bracket Jisung’s waist.  

Their friends jog up as well, Jeongin the only one that was close to the altercation when it occurred, standing stock still with a shocked look on his face. Hyunjin attaches himself to Seungmin’s arm, whispering to his boyfriend. Chan and Changbin look as concerned as Jisung feels.

“Woah, what happened, guys?” Chan asks, using his daddy is here tone. 

“Minho doesn’t know how to keep his eyes in front of him, he nearly knocked my teeth out because he was too busy staring at Jisung,” Seungmin spits. 

Minho’s hands tighten around Jisung, anger returning as easily as it left when he shifts focus to Seungmin. “That’s rich considering we all know you have a wandering eye, huh?” Minho shoots back.

Jisung’s eyes feel as wide as saucers, Jeongin’s face mirrors his own. Chan just looks in pain, and Hyunjin looks innocently confused. 

“What is he talking about, babe?” Hyunjin asks, brow furrowed.

Desperate to diffuse the situation Jisung brings a hand to Minho’s cheek, applying light pressure until Minho’s eyes are back on him. “Min,” he says, nickname slipping out. “He’s not worth it, jagi.” 

Minho blinks, shakes his head slightly, leans into Jisung’s touch like a cat. “ Jagi,” Minho smiles softly, words only audible to Jisung. “I like that.” 

Butterflies erupt inside of Jisung, inside his entire chest cavity. “Okay,” he giggles. “Let’s not get in a fist fight with my friends, jagi.” 

“Even if he deserves it?” Minho whines, frowning prettily. 

“Even then.” 

And maybe the delusions have progressed too far, because this time it’s Jisung who pulls Minho in, kissing him square on the mouth. 

“Ew, is it possible for you two not to be attached at the mouth for two seconds?” Jeongin chokes through faux retching noises. 

Seungmin has been pulled away by Hyunjin, both of them curved into their own conversation. Jisung finds himself caring less and less what Seungmin thinks. 

“You can just say you want your own kiss, Innie,” Minho laughs, puckering his lips at the boy, though still cuddled in close to Jisung. 

Jeongin doesn’t deny the accusation, cheeks turning furiously red. “Shut up!” 

Chan looks absolutely wrecked, running a stressed out hand through his already unruly hair. “Why don’t we all do our own things tonight, yeah?” He pleads. “Take some time to cool off?” 

‘Taking some time to cool off’ turns into the six of them sitting in the living room in silence, Hyunjin and Seungmin escaping for a walk to avoid the awkward atmosphere.

“This is so fun, but, uh, who wants to go out for ice cream?” Changbin eventually says, breaking the near silence in the room. 

Felix and Jeongin immediately scramble up off the couch. 

Chan also sees his out. “I’ll drive!”

“You two?” Changbin raises his brow at Minho and Jisung where they’re curled into each other on the couch.

Minho answers for both of them, thumb stroking comfortingly along Jisung’s knee. “I think we’ll stay in.” 

“Suit yourselves,” the man snorts, filing out the door after the others. 

When they’re all safely gone, the sound of Chan’s truck fading away in the distance, Minho speaks again. 

“What do you want to do tonight, Sung? Besides sit around and mope.” 

“Movies?” Jisung asks, putting on his best pretty smile.

“Oh, alright,” Minho sighs, groping around for the remote. “But only because you’re too cute to say no to.” 

There goes those fucking butterflies again. 

They watch Jisung’s favorite movie, because he’s ‘too cute to say no to.’ 

Really, Jisung should have expected that Minho would want to know about he and Seungmin at some point, but it still catches him a bit by surprise when Minho asks, “How did you end up with Kim Seungmin anyways?”

It’s something Jisung has been avoiding thinking about all summer, since the day Seungmin broke up with him. Yet, it doesn’t feel so serious when Minho’s the one asking. He’d probably tell Minho his deepest darkest secrets, if he only asked.

“Ugh,” Jisung breathes out of his nose, wracking his brain for an accurate answer. “I think… it was mostly convenient,” he settles on, the low hum of the movie drowning into the background under the sound of his heart.

Minho nods, looking at him as if urging him to continue. 

“We slept together one time while we were drunk… and we were both lonely… and we just kind of fell together.” It sounds lame when he says it out loud. Probably a little sad. 

“That makes sense.” Minho purses his lips, looking thoughtful for a beat before adding, “Is his dick weird?” 

The comment shocks a laugh from Jisung and he reaches a finger out to poke Minho’s hip softly. “No, you freak! The only reason we even stayed together was the sex. I have no complaints about that.”

Minho cocks an eyebrow, mouth curving deviously. “Absolutely none?” 

“Well…” Jisung ponders, taking the question much more seriously than Minho intended. It’s not often he gives himself the space to critically engage with his own memories. “We’d always fight over who got to bottom… and he gets really pissy when he doesn’t win so I’d usually just suck it up.” 

Now it’s Minho’s turn to laugh, throwing his head back in a way that makes his hair fall away from his forehead. 

He’s beautiful. 

Jisung is stupid.

“Oh poor baby,” Minho drawls. “Good thing your new boyfriend is an insatiable top, huh?” 

“Oh my god,” Jisung laughs, cheeks heating up. Maybe a little bit of blood rushes south, too. “What my new boyfriend is is a pervert!” He lands another poke to the man’s side. 

They fall into a comfortable silence. Jisung thinks it would be hard to feel uncomfortable around Minho. Jisung’s head rests comfortably on the older’s chest, he can hear the thump of Minho’s heart. Is it going a beat or two faster than it was a few minutes ago? Probably just his imagination.

Minho has, however, created the perfect gap in the conversation for Jisung to ask the question he’s been wondering. “Don’t you have any evil exes?”

“Are you implying I attract evil?” Minho says, chest rumbling.

Jisung hums. “Well… you have me, don’t you?” He’s glad his face is mostly out of Minho’s view in that moment. He doesn’t think he could stand looking in Minho’s eyes to see his reaction.

Minho pulls him in tighter, crushing him against his side. “I suppose I do, you are particularly devilish.” A deep breath, and then, “Nah, though. My most serious relationship was with my childhood best friend. We didn’t work out, but we don’t hate each other either.” 

Huh. 

“I think I’m doomed to never find love,” Jisung divulges. “All of mine are evil.”

Minho shifts so Jisung is forced to lift his head, forced to look into Minho’s eyes. He’s met with an achingly soft look and features pinched in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

The burn of shame begins to form in Jisung’s gut. Minho is the most perfect man he’s ever seen, and now he’s dug himself into a share-sesh of his insecurities. “I uh… fuck, it sounds so dumb,” Jisung chews on his bottom lip, shaking his head slightly. 

“No, Sung,” Minho furrows his brow. “Nothing you’re feeling is ever stupid.” 

Jisung swallows, his throat feels tight. “Why are you…” he blows out a long stream of air. “We barely know each other, Minho. I’m not trying to dump my problems on you.” He draws his knees to his chest, scooting away from Minho ever so slightly. 

Because it’s true, isn’t it. It’s been scarily easy to forget how little time they’ve spent together, because it feels like he’s known Minho forever. 

Minho frowns, his face flashing something close to pain before returning to its previous state. ”I care about you, Jisung,” his voice is firm. Sure of himself. He reaches out to lay a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, squeezing once before pulling back. “And fuck time. I feel like I’ve known you forever. I can’t even explain it… I just…” 

“Me too,” Jisung rushes. He needs Minho to know the feeling is mutual. 

The assertion earns him a blinding smile, and he returns one of his own.

“I’m not going to make you tell me anything, Sung, but you can always talk to me, alright? I’m not just going to disappear when this is over.” 

Jisung wishes, with every cell in his being, that Minho meant it in the way Jisung wants him to mean it. 

But he knows he doesn’t. 

Still, despite only having the promise of being Minho’s friend in the future, he thinks he’d take that than have no Minho at all. 

“Thanks,” Jisung says, taking a chance and launching himself back across the couch, cuddling into Minho’s side again. “Can we watch the movie now? My favorite part is coming. You almost made me miss it.” Nice save, Jisung, very good diversion of the subject. 

Minho laughs again, relaxing into his seat, humming his agreement. 

Sometime between that moment and the time the others return home, Minho’s hand becomes buried in Jisung’s hair, soothingly playing with the strands. They’ve also moved on to watching Minho’s favorite movie. 

After that’s done, Felix pouts until they put on his favorite. Seungmin and Hyunjin even join when they come home, Seungmin offering Minho and Jisung a half-assed smile, but no apology. 

It’s a great night, all things considered, and they watch movies into the early morning. 

The only road bump comes thirty minutes after Changbin and Felix retire to bed, and indescribable noises of pleasure start sounding from their room. Jeongin screams at the top of his lungs, nearly breaking his legs trying to jack up the TV volume. 

Jisung doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up in Minho’s arms, jostling around as they ascend the stairs. He makes a noise of sleepy confusion, unprepared for the storm of feelings Minho’s soft eyes looking down at him cause.

“Shhh, baby, go back to sleep, we’re almost to bed,” the man coos. 

He yawns, following instructions, only awoken again when Minho tucks into bed next to him, too sleepy to be embarrassed by the way he automatically sticks to the older’s side like a magnet. 

“Night, Min,” he mumbles, still half asleep.

“Sweet dreams, baby.”

Jisung dreams of honey skin and butterflies. 

—

Changbin wakes him up at the ass crack of dawn. 

“Wake up, jackass, we’re going fishing!” the man hisses, face hovering two inches above Jisung’s. 

Jisung is having a hard time understanding what’s going on. He hears a groan and a rustle from behind him, feels an arm tightening around his waist. Minho is spooning him. 

Minho is spooning him and Changbin is close enough to kiss, mouth wide as the fucking cheshire cat. 

It seems unfair that both times he’s had the pleasure of waking up with Minho in bed with him it’s been because one of his friends is unkindly interrupting them. 

“Sung?” Minho mumbles, his breath warm in the hair at the nape of Jisung’s neck. 

“G’back to sleep. S’just Changbin,” he replies. 

Minho lets out a long sigh, relaxing into Jisung’s back, lips brushing against his neck. Jisung could get used to this.  

He squints at Changbin, one eye still sealed shut, trying to convey the message to get lost. 

“Get up or I start screaming, Han,” Changbin warns. His breath also warm on Jisung in a much less pleasant way. 

“Okay, Jesus,” Jisung moans, attempting to extract himself from Minho’s grip without waking him up completely. When he makes it out, Minho’s sleeping face contorts into the cutest little frown he’s ever seen, rolling over and hugging to his pillow. Jisung’s heart aches at the sight. 

He’s only allowed one single second to mourn the loss of Minho’s body pressed against his before Changbin is hoisting him up, throwing Jisung over his shoulder and carrying him away from his happy place. 

Jisung doesn’t fight, he knows there’s no use. They’ve done this hundreds of times since Changbin realized he was strong enough to carry Jisung around at the ripe age of fifteen. He just lets the air rush from his lungs and relaxes, arms dangling around Changbin’s ass.

He doesn’t start complaining until Changbin walks outside, not even giving him a chance to grab shoes. “Hey! If you’re making me go in my pajamas at least let me put shoes on,” he whines, making use of his position to spank Changbin as hard as he physically can.

“Ay! You brat!” Changbin yelps, still not letting up. “I put your shoes in the car already! It’s like you don’t know me at all.” Jisung doesn’t have to see Changbin’s face to know he’s scowling in that particular way he does. 

Blood rushes from his head when Changbin chucks him into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind him carefully. Just as promised, Jisung’s shoes are waiting at his feet, socks stuffed in the top, too. 

Changbin has always been a carer. 

He loves big and hard, even if he pretends he doesn’t. He’s thoughtful and he notices everything, and he’s incredibly emotionally intelligent. It’s a recipe for disaster for someone as perpetually lovesick, insecure, and confused as Jisung. 

They don’t talk on the drive to the lake. It’s not far at all. They could have walked, but Changbin knows Jisung would bitch and moan the entire time if they did. Emotionally intelligent. 

It’s only when they’re walking to the pier, Jisung in charge of holding the bait bucket that he talks. 

“I don’t know why you always drag me out here.” A lie. He knows exactly why Changbin drags him out here, it happens once a year.

It’s because…

“This is the only time I can get you to be real with me, Sungie. You know that!” Changbin claps him on the back, thwacking open his fold up chair, then Jisung’s, dropping into his own. 

Jisung follows suit, setting the bait at Changbin’s feet. The air is cold, thankfully he’s wearing Minho’s sweatshirt, cuddling closer into it. The lake is still, fog lifting off of it, the sky a pretty mix of pink and orange with the rising sun. As much as he hates getting out of bed, he loves the sunrise. 

Changbin doesn’t need to know that. 

“I hate fishing.”

“No you don’t,” Changbin grunts. “It’s relaxing. That’s why you always open up out here.” 

Jisung frowns, deep and overexaggerated. “I hate you ,” he amends weakly. They both know he’s lying.

Changbin ignores him, casting his line for the first time. “What happened, Sung?” the older man asks, lolling his head lazily over to glance at Jisung. 

“I’m stupid,” he says blandly. 

“Try again.” 

Changbin never gets angry when Jisung self-deprecates. He just gets firm. 

Somehow that’s worse. 

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Seungmin brought Hyunjin to your party, and I got drunk and said I had a boyfriend.” 

“C’mon, Sung,” Changbin sounds annoyed. “The part I don’t know already.” 

“I said Minho’s name because I know Seungmin hates him and I wanted him to hurt like I did.” 

Changbin nods, pulling in his line. Caught one! 

“Did it work?” he asks.

“Dunno.” Jisung shrugs. “He seemed pretty fucking mad. But maybe that was just because I found out he cheated on me.” 

Changbin is annoyingly still. Probably why he’s so good at fishing. “You should talk to Seungmin, Sung.” 

“Sorry?” Jisung scoffs, curling in on himself further. “Are you really taking his side right now?” 

“Han Jisung.” Changbin fixes him with a nasty stare. “Your self-defense mechanisms will not work on me. Spikes down.” 

Jisung runs a fist over his eyes, hand coming away wet, but no shame rises from his emotions. He knows Changbin won’t mention it. “Sorry,” he sniffles.

“I know, Sung. And you know I’m on your side, of course I am. I just think you should make sure that’s what actually happened before we make up our minds.” Changbin runs a hand through his hair. It’s getting long. “You know if you decide he’s done then I’ll help you hide the body, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Jisung laughs wetly. “I will talk to him before we leave. I just need a bit more time.” 

Changbin reaches out and squeezes Jisung’s knee. “Okay,” his voice is reassuring. 

They fall into silence for a few minutes, only the sound of Changbin’s rod whirring. He catches another fish, immediately unhooking it, studying it for a moment, and releasing it. Changbin never keeps any fish he catches. He says it’s too cruel. 

“So what about Minho, then?” Changbin asks, mouth curling up at the ends. 

Jisung’s done crying now, but he’s still feeling cagey. “What about him?” 

Changbin lands a punch on his shoulder, smiling fully. “Come on, Jisung. He’s fucking gorgeous, he’s exactly your type!” 

“I’m telling Lix,” Jisung retorts, having a hard time fighting the smirk forming on his own face. 

“Okay,” Changbin laughs, hearty and full. “He’ll agree with me.” 

The sun is almost fully hanging in the sky by this point, big and round. 

Jisung enjoys the sun, the way it warms his skin. He lets his head rest on the back of the chair, enjoying the feel of the heat creeping over his skin. 

“So what do you want me to say,” he drawls. “That Minho is exactly my type and it’s killing me inside to act like we’re together because he’s perfect and I’m me.” 

“Well that’s surely a start,” Changbin snorts. 

“Ugh!” Jisung throws his hands up helplessly. “I don’t know what else to say. All my relationships have ended in an explosion. There’s a common denominator, Bin! It’s me!” 

“I think you just pick people you know will treat you how you think you deserve to be treated.” 

Another deep frown etches into Jisung’s face. “It doesn’t matter. Minho would never actually be into me anyway.” 

Changbin raises an eyebrow. “You cannot be serious, Sung.” 

“Dead!” He throws himself back in his chair. Maybe he should pitch himself into the lake. 

“I don’t know Minho well… yet . But the way he looks at you…” Changbin sucks his teeth. “It’s something , Sungie.” 

Something rolls over in Jisung’s stomach. He thinks he might be sick. “I don’t know, Bin…” he lets his sentence fade off. It’s a sign to Changbin that he’s done talking. Too much for one day.

“Alright,” Changbin sighs. 

He doesn’t bother him the rest of the time they’re out.

When they get home, before Jisung can even step away from the car Changbin has rounded from his side and is wrapping him up in a strong-armed bear hug.

“I love you, Sungie,” he murmurs into Jisung’s hair. 

“I love you too.” 

Minho is still sleeping when he climbs back into bed, the movement rousing him into a half-awake state, much like when Jisung left.

“Sung?” he mumbles, once again. 

“Shhhh,” Jisung soothes, easily accepting Minho into his arms when the man curls around him. “Go back to sleep, jagi.” 

If Changbin had asked him for the positive and negative, Jisung may have said,

Positive: Things are going well.

Negative: Things are going well.

Chapter Text

When he wakes up again it's afternoon.

He finds Minho in the kitchen; apparently everyone else left for the day. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Jisung asks, hugging Minho’s sweatshirt closer to his body. He’s been wearing the thing more than Minho has. 

Minho continues pulling stuff out of the cabinets, seemingly in the middle of some sort of project. “Maybe I wanted to spend the day with just you,” he smiles sweetly. 

“Hmph,” Jisung huffs, dropping down heavily on the stool at the island counter and resting his chin in his hand as he watches Minho hustle about. “What are you doing?” 

“We’re,” Minho looks at him pointedly, waving a finger between the two of them. “Making cookies.” 

“I don’t know how to make cookies.”

“Oh, well lucky for you, darling, I do.” Minho sticks a finger in the bag of flour and dots it onto Jisung’s nose.

“Hey!” he sputters, rubbing the back of his hand on his nose. “I’ll get you back for that!” 

Minho laughs his mischievous laugh. Jisung has noticed he has many different laughs. This one is specifically for when he’s fucking around. 

Jisung has also noticed that he never stood a chance against getting sucked into Minho’s orbit because everything feels so natural with him. Being with Minho feels as normal as breathing. Interacting with him is never the hard part, not even close, avoiding the feelings is the fucking hard part.

Jisung does almost none of the actual baking, spending most of his time measuring ingredients and handing them over, and trying to smear things onto Minho’s cheek. They have fun.

They talk about everything and nothing at all. Their childhoods, their parents, their pets, their most embarrassing hookups. Minho even admits that his first crush was Kevin Bacon in Footloose, which is much more embarrassing than Jisung’s on Usher. 

When the cookies go in the oven, Jisung hops onto the counter, swinging his feet back and forth and watching Minho do the dishes. What a man. 

He doesn’t realize he’s staring, watching the water run over Minho’s hands, thick and strong, until Minho’s voice pulls him back to reality.

“Getting a little wet over here, huh?” Minho’s mouth curls into a smirk, lips twitching.

“Can you go two minutes without making some sort of innuendo,” Jisung says incredulously, reaching a leg out to kick Minho’s leg lightly, cheeks only heating a tiny bit at getting caught. 

Minho grins, drying his hands on the dish towel and moving over to cage Jisung in on the counter. From this angle, Minho is below him, his palms flat to the granite on either side of Jisung’s ass, the right one moving dangerously close to touching. Jisung’s head rolls down, their foreheads inches apart. 

“I think you like it,” Minho purrs, tipping his chin up slowly, slowly… so close that he’s a breath away.

God, is Minho about to kiss him? When no one is here but them? 

Jisung’s eyes flutter, awaiting impact. 

He’s expecting the press of Minho’s lips, soft and hypnotizing, but instead feels Minho’s thumb at his lips, smearing a line of flour along his mouth. 

“I win,” the bastard whispers, backing away just in time to avoid Jisung’s shriek and smack, giggling wildly. 

They end up wasting the rest of the flour, chucking it across the kitchen at each other in some variation of a food fight led by sexual tension. 

It takes much longer than it should to clean up, especially when Minho’s hands seem to be having a hard time staying away from Jisung’s waist. Minho had warned him that he’s touchy with his friends, and he really can’t complain about the feel of strong hands kneading into his hips. 

When they’re done cleaning and baking, they take turns showering, and then tuck into bed hunched together over Jisung’s phone, munching on the cookies they made and watching nature documentaries. 

Felix and Jeongin manage to sniff them out, wiggling under the covers with them, and then Changbin comes to lay across all of them. They only leave when Minho shoos them all out, complaining that he needs alone time with his boyfriend. 

Jisung tries not to let his heart hurt too much when he falls asleep that night with Minho’s arm wrapped around his middle absentmindedly. 

Minho does care about him, but not like that.

Minho is not his boyfriend.

Minho is his friend.

—

Jisung hasn’t been to the drive-in theater since the famous Drive-In Movie Incident.

It’s not worth going into detail about, but it involves braces and a very bad blowjob and Jisung had completely forgotten that Chan and Changbin made Minho privy to that information until they’re in line for concessions. 

Minho leans down to whisper into the shell of his ear. “Wanna dip into the bathrooms, baby? I don’t have braces, I’m sure I can make it worth your while.” Jisung can hear the smile in Minho’s voice, it sends shivers down his spine. 

He spins around to smack Minho on the shoulder. “Oh my god, shut up. I’m going to kill Chan and Changbin for telling you that,” he hisses, his own smile giving away any chance at pretending to be upset. 

Minho giggles gleefully, tapping Jisung’s ass when he’s pushed away. He’s being especially clingy tonight, even when their friends are nowhere in sight. Jisung’s brain feels like a tangled mess of vines. 

The cashier calls him up, Minho still a few paces behind, perusing through the candy. 

“Hi there,” the worker smiles. He’s tall and very cute, dyed ginger-brown hair curled behind his ears, and he’s looking Jisung up and down like he wants to eat him. Jungsu, his nametag reads. “What can I get for you?” 

“Uhhh,” Jisung scans the menu as if he hasn’t been reciting his order in his head since they got in line. “A large popcorn, and a large coke?” 

The man smiles. He really is cute. It’s flattering that he seems to be into Jisung. “Sounds good,” he says, handing the order off to his coworker before leaning his hip onto the counter. “You here on vacation?” 

“Mhm,” Jisung nods, pretending to be completely oblivious. 

“Cool, cool,” he nods, chewing on his bottom lip like he’s thinking before dropping the real bomb. “Listen… I shouldn’t do this but you’re really cute, so would–”

“He’s taken,” Minho cuts in, his tone downright venomous. 

Jisung gasps when he feels arms wrap around his waist and Minho’s lips on his neck, making repeated contact. Much too repeatedly to be appropriate in public. 

His cheeks burn, but he offers the worker a pitiful smile. “Sorry.” He slides his money onto the counter.

And then Minho starts sucking. Right at the juncture of his jaw, hard enough to bruise, licking his tongue over the skin afterwards to soothe the spot. Jisung inadvertently yelps, clapping his hand over his mouth at the sound. Jungsu looks horrified, eyes round, pushing his food across to him as soon as physically possible. 

Jisung wrenches himself out of Minho’s grasp, getting the man to detach his mouth only to reveal a shit-eating grin. Bastard. 

“I am so sorry,” Jisung repeats to Jungsu, taking his items. 

The apology gets a short, awkward laugh out of Jungsu. He quickly eyes Minho up and down. “If you’re ever free, you know where to find me.” 

Jisung doesn’t wait around to see what may happen if he let’s Minho respond, instantly turning and dragging Minho outside with him. 

“What the hell was that!?” he hisses, shoving the food into Minho’s arms so he can grumpily stomp towards their spot in the lot.

Minho pouts, lower lip poking out cutely. “I don’t like to share.” 

Jisung breaks into an incredulous laugh. “What if I wanted his number!? You just ruined my chances!” 

“Hah!” Minho scoffs. “What are you talking about? He wasn’t that cute.” 

A tug at the bottom of Jisung’s stomach spurs on his confidence. He stops dead in his tracks and turns to face Minho, the man almost running into him from the quick change in pace. “You’re actually jealous!” Jisung says, words bubbling out giddily. 

“Psh,” Minho breathes, but he refuses to meet Jisung’s eyes, sidestepping Jisung’s roadblock to continue towards the cars. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jisung scampers after him, grinning stupidly. 

Their cars are set up in a neat line, trunks thrown open in preparation for the movies to start, but everyone’s sitting on folding chairs while they wait for the sun to set.

Minho sinks into his chair grumpily, handing the popcorn to Jeongin, the reason for their trip in the first place. Jisung can’t wipe the smile from his face, plopping down right on Minho’s lap, hooking his arms around his neck. Minho huffs but still brings his hands up to hold Jisung in place. 

“Did you get bit by a vampire on your way to the concessions, Sung?” Changbin snorts, reaching a prodding finger out to poke at the spot at his neck Minho mauled. 

“Something like that.” 

Minho cracks the tiniest smile, his hand at Jisung’s back creeping further down, landing right at the waistband of his pants. Jisung shivers. Minho’s smile becomes more noticeable. 

“You guys are really cute,” Hyunjin says, smiling so genuinely Jisung almost feels bad. He and Seungmin have their hands locked, cuddled together across the way. 

“Thanks,” Jisung says, returning his smile. He doesn’t even insert any sarcasm into the word. Growth! 

Minho leans in to kiss him on the cheek. 

Jisung doesn’t even look at Seungmin’s reaction. 

The movie is a double feature, Back to the Future and the sequel. Jisung couldn’t care less, but he is enjoying cuddling close to Minho in the trunk of his car, tucked into a cocoon of blankets. 

They’re playing some sort of modified version of gay chicken, rules unspoken, hands exploring each other’s chests, stomach, sides. Slowly. Carefully. Just feeling, eyes glued to the movie screen. 

The credits on the first movie roll right as Minho’s fingers, now just under the hem of Jisung’s shirt, start wandering lower on his hip bone. Jisung sighs wistfully. Rotten timing. He knows they have approximately three seconds before…

“Snack run!” Felix croons, popping his head into Minho’s trunk. “Coming, Sung?”

Jisung blows out a long breath, more than a little disappointed that Minho’s hands retract to his own space. “Okay, sure.” 

Before he can get up Minho grabs his wrist. “I’ll go, baby, you stay here.” There’s something in Minho’s eye Jisung can’t quite place. “What do you want?” 

“Twizzlers,” he flops back into the blankets, happy to not get up. Why is Minho so insistent anyway? 

Oh, shit.

“Say hi to Jungsu for me, kay?” Jisung smirks, getting sick pleasure from the way Minho scowls. 

“Don’t be mean, Sungie,” he grumbles, leaning over to draw Jisung into a searing kiss before he leaves. “Be right back,” he whispers against his lips. 

Jisung has to stop himself from kicking his feet and squealing the second he’s alone. He settles for a soft scream into his blanket.

The idea that Minho is jealous, that Minho possibly feels some sort of way towards him is enough to light him on fire. 

The thing about Jungsu, who’s name he only remembers because it’s so similar to his own, is that he was ancient history the second they left the concession building. 

When Jisung is with Minho, Minho is all he’s thinking about. 

He allows his mind to wander. A daydream, almost, about what it might be like if Minho was his. Of Minho in his apartment, the one he shares with Changbin. Of he and Minho going on dates. Jisung bringing flowers to Minho’s dance showcase. Minho showing up at the studio to take him home. Minho kissing him every night before bed. Him perched on Minho’s thigh, chasing release. Minho working him open, slowly and carefully. Making love to him. 

The car shifts with Minho’s weight, the man clamoring back inside. 

Jisung doesn’t have time to sit up before Minho is throwing the pack of twizzlers to the side and crawling right over him, legs on either side of Jisung’s hips. Minho looks so big, so in control when he’s hovering above him. Jisung feels so small in the best possible way.

Is he still dreaming? 

“Kim Seungmin is thirty seconds away from coming to try to drag you away for a talk,” Minho says, breathless, eyes wide. 

And then they’re kissing. 

Jisung’s own breath is stolen, his hands grope around helplessly until they meet Minho’s form, one at his jaw and one at his neck. He pulls Minho down further, he needs to be closer. Minho follows his lead, pressing Jisung into the bed of the car, a hand pillowed gently behind his head, licking languidly into his mouth. 

The way Minho is kissing him is unlike any kiss they’ve shared thus far. It’s careful. Passionate. Loving?

Whimpers and soft sighs are easily coaxed from Jisung with every touch, every contact point brings him new life. 

Kissing has never felt like this. 

Jisung has no idea how long it’s been when Minho gets tired of holding himself up, maneuvering them so that they’re on their sides, facing each other and kissing lazily, legs tangled together. 

It doesn’t go further than kissing, but it still feels like more than enough. Minho’s hands skim over him, mapping out every inch of his body while their mouth’s move together. Jisung is too focused on how wonderful Minho’s hair feels between his fingers to explore much further than that. 

They lay together, kissing for what feels like hours but is really around the runtime of the second movie, only breaking a few times to laugh, smile at each other, take in the moment. 

At one point, Minho kisses down the column of his throat, sucking another mark into his collarbone. 

“You’re so pretty, Jisungie,” he thinks he hears Minho whisper, but his brain is too fuzzy to parse through what’s real. 

Jisung doesn’t think about Seungmin again. 

He forgets to question if Seungmin was ever even coming to talk to him at all.

—

Jisung hates to admit it, but he really likes Hyunjin.

He so badly wanted to hate him. He was anticipating it. Happily! But Hyunjin is wonderful. 

He ended up alone with the man when they lost a competition to see who had to walk to the convenience store to buy ice cream. It turns out Hyunjin is just as bad at rock paper scissors as him. 

Minho shoots him a look before they leave, silently conveying an, “are you okay?” 

Jisung nods and heads into the night with his ex boyfriend’s new boyfriend. 

“I feel like we haven’t really had time to talk this trip!” Hyunjin gushes almost immediately after they leave, trudging down the gravel road together. 

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that. I hope you’re feeling like you’re fitting in…” Jisung says awkwardly, rubbing a hand at his neck. 

Hyunjin laughs. “Don’t even worry about it, I know you and Minho are so in love you barely know what’s going on around you. I get it.” 

Jisung has to stop himself from laughing out loud. 

“Anyway, everyone’s been so nice. It’s really beautiful here!” 

They chat idly. Jisung learns that Hyunjin is an artist, an only child, that he’s painfully friendly and kind. 

“You know you’re way out of Kim Seungmin’s league, right?” he cuts in during a gap in conversation. He’s not a completely reformed man, after all. 

Hyunjin gets a dreamy look on his face, the setting sun reflecting off his pretty eyes. “Ah. I don’t think so.” A sigh. “He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, you know?” 

“I’ll be honest with you, man…” Jisung places a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “I absolutely do not.” 

They’re both laughing when they walk in the door, arms full of ice cream. The look of horror on Seungmin’s face at seeing them enjoying each other’s company is enough to make Jisung’s whole year.

“Everything good?” Minho asks, easily adjusting to his newly Jisung-full lap. Minho is becoming his new favorite seat. 

“Mhm,” he assures, pressing his nose into the older’s neck. “He’s really great.” 

Negative: Kim Seungmin dropped him.

Positive: Seungmin’s new boyfriend fits with him better than Jisung ever did.

Positive: Minho might just be everything Jisung’s ever wanted, too.

The group ends up playing board games over their ice cream, cheering and shouting and having a good time. 

Minho’s hand rests on the small of Jisung’s back all night, and when he leans close to whisper into Jisung’s ear, asking if he wants to go down to the lake, the answer is easy. 

“Fuck yeah.” 

The moonlight glints off the water, and it glints off of Minho’s eyes. They hold hands as they stumble down the road, completely sober but laughing like they’re drunk. 

Jisung has to catch his breath when they finally arrive at a small alcove off the woods leading into the lake. “What are we doing here again?” 

Minho grins, fire in his eyes. “Han Jisung. Have you ever been skinny dipping?” 

Then Minho peels off his shirt, tossing it onto the ground. Jisung swallows thickly. “No.” His eyes are plastered to Minho’s torso. 

The pants go next, with only the quick rustle of the button and the hiss of his zipper. Jisung might die. 

“Then I can be your first,” Minho says, and when Jisung manages to rip his gaze from his thighs Minho is smirking. 

Jisung nearly chokes when Minho slides his boxers off, leaving the man completely bare in front of him. He’s like one of those sculptures of a god from the old times, every inch of him crafted with complete love and painstaking care. 

He’s fucking magnificent. 

His mouth is still hanging open in awe as Minho prances down to the water, wading in until he’s deep enough to dive. Jisung crosses his arms, hugging himself tightly. 

How is he meant to measure up?

Minho breaches the water, wet hair covering his face, slicked back by his hand. He’s still smiling. “What are you waiting for, Jisungie?” he teases. “I showed you mine, now it’s your turn.” 

Jisung know’s he’s blushing. He hopes it’s not as noticeable in the moonlight. 

He so desperately wants to be confident around Minho, for once in his miserable life. He needs to suck it up and take his clothes off. Minho is a bit closer now, floating in the water, watching Jisung carefully, the tiniest sliver of challenge alive in his eyes.

It’s never taken Jisung so much willpower to get naked for a man. But this one is different. Minho is different.

He takes his shirt off first, shivering a bit when the breeze hits his bare skin, then his pants, dropped around his legs. Only then does he manage to look up to gauge Minho’s reaction.  

Minho stares at him hungrily, every inch of exposed skin touched by his eyes. Jisung can see his breathing increase pace, the slightest change, only noticeable because of the way his chest peeks above the line of the water. 

Jisung burns. His insecurities masked by a thick veil of smoke. He burns for Minho in a way he’s never burned for anyone before. 

He sheds his last defense, and lets his legs carry him into the water. 

It’s not as cold as he expected, so he dives in, much like Minho had, and when he comes up he’s within an arms length of the man. He pushes his hair out of his eyes, thick and sopping down his cheeks. 

“Hi,” Jisung whispers.

The smile Minho rewards him with is unlike anything he’s ever seen. 

“Hi.”

Jisung laughs, and then once he starts he can’t stop. 

It’s ridiculous. This whole situation. Him being here with this beautiful man, naked in a lake that’s probably too dirty to be sanitary. It’s laughable. 

Minho smiles wider, leaning back to float with his head on the surface of the water, looking up towards the stars. “What’s so funny, Jisungie?” 

“God…” Jisung breathes out, lowering himself to peer up at the sky as well. Out here, the stars are bright and twinkling, unlike in the city. “Just… everything. You… being you. Being here with me.” 

‘Hmmm,” Minho hums. The silence stretches for long enough that Jisung thinks he’s not going to say anything else. But then, “You know you’re gorgeous, right, Jisung?” 

The world stops moving. The bugs quit chirping and the stars cease blinking. Jisung takes in a shaky breath. 

“You don’t have to try to flatter me, Minho. This isn’t for real.” 

The unspoken; no matter how badly I wish it were. 

Breath out. World start. Bugs chirp. Stars blink. Safe.

“Sung…” Minho sounds closer to him now. “I–” 

He doesn’t let him finish. Doesn’t let the world stop again. 

“Minho, it’s okay. I’m okay. You’re perfect. I like being with you.” He moves to a more upright position. He’s afraid his head will fall off if he doesn’t. 

Minho’s face holds a confusing storm of emotion. He pinches his eyebrows together, taking time to really look at Jisung, right through to his soul before he says, “I really like being with you, too.” 

Jisung lets his face break into the most contagious smile he can muster, needing to dissipate the serious tone hanging thick in the air. “Should I make an innuendo about how wet I am right now?” he asks softly.

The most terrifying part of it all, of this entire exchange, is that Jisung realizes that he knows how to read Minho’s face well enough by now to know that the look that passes before he splits into a grin is one that says this isn’t over. A look to make sure Jisung knows that the subject isn’t stale, just tucked away for the time being. 

Sometimes the time being is all he can ask for. 

“Aish, you brat,” Minho laughs, cupping his hands to splash water at Jisung. 

Jisung shrieks, retaliating with a wave of his own. 

They spend time playing and laughing with the moon and the stars, until their fingertips are pruney and their chests sore. 

The entire time Jisung makes sure to not let Minho get close enough to kiss, because he’s afraid of what will happen if he does. 

He’s afraid Minho would be able to hear the gears crunch when the world comes to a stop, hear the strangled cry of his heart, wrung completely dry. 

He can’t handle it. Not tonight. 

Being brave, laying himself bare, it can only take him so far before he becomes small once more. 

Not tonight.

Chan is sitting on the porch swing when they tumble home, hair damp and feet smacking against the pavement. 

Jisung waits until Minho is in the shower before he slips back outside and tucks himself under Chan’s arm, curling up as small as he can. 

The older man’s arm wraps protectively around him, and then the other, the second soothing up and down his back. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t have to. They’ve done this enough times already for Chan to know that if Jisung wants to talk he will. 

Not tonight.

Tonight he just wants to hear the bugs chirp and watch the stars blink and listen to his best friend hum lullabies into his hair. 

—

When Jisung has one of his moments, the worst of it is usually contained to the night. 

He’s got it down to a science by now. 

Step 1: become small

Step 2: ride it out

Step 3: go to bed

Step 4: wake up more refreshed than ever before! 

He wakes with a groan, stretching his sore muscles and wiping the sleep from his eyes. Minho’s side of the bed is cold. He pouts petulantly. 

When he finally retired to bed last night Minho was already half asleep. The older had mumbled some form of question about if Jisung was okay, and then nuzzled into his side like he belongs there. 

Jisung selfishly wished he would be there when he woke up so he could spend his bounce-back to personhood with Minho. 

No such luck. 

It’s understandable, then, that he’s already grouchy when he stomps down the stairs. 

Changbin reclines on the couch, legs wide, scrolling through his phone. “Good morning, sunshine!” he says annoyingly.

“Where’s Minho?” Jisung frowns.

“Wow,” Changbin snorts. “What happened to, good morning to you too, my best friend in the world, the light of my life, the–” 

“I’m going to actually kill you,” Jisung butts in. 

Light of his life… as if. 

Changbin rolls his eyes dramatically. “He went out to the woods with Innie.” 

Jisung’s heart nearly falls out of his ass. He drops to the couch, exasperated. “What?” 

“Yeah,” Changbin shrugs. “Innie asked me to go for a walk with him but I wanted to be here when you woke up to make sure you’re good. Chan said you had a bad night.” 

“Changbin!” Jisung wails, smacking him in the chest, then two more times for good measure. “How could you let this happen!?” 

Changbin raises his arms defensively, looking alarmed. “What the hell are you talking about!?” 

“You let the siren of youth take my boyfriend into the woods!” He yelps. “What if they’re kissing!” Jisung can feel his lifeblood seeping out, he’s dying at Changbin’s feet and all his friend can do is laugh. 

“You’re fucking joking!” Changbin chokes gleefully. “Oh this is rich.” 

Jisung whines, throwing himself back so his head lands in Changbin’s lap. “I’m serious, Bin! Innie is totally into him and totally cute!” He feels crazy. Minho makes him feel a little crazy. 

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, Sung.”

“Can’t you let me mope?” 

“Every second is moping with your dramatic ass.”

Felix skips into the room, cheerful as ever, his freckles darker than they were last week from being out in the sun. His smile drops to a cartoonish frown when he sees the state of Jisung on his boyfriend’s lap. 

“Aw, Sungie, what’s wrong?!” The man rushes over, dropping down on Changbin’s other side to pet at Jisung’s hair. “I know Channie said you had a hard night, but are you still anxious?” 

“Can anyone have any secrets in this family?” Jisung moans, throwing his hands over his face. 

“Jisungie is worried that Minho took Jeongin to make out creek to have his way with him,” Changbin says, tone dripping with humor. 

Jisung socks him in the stomach, right in the center, smiling for the first time all morning at the way Changbin groans. 

“Huh?” Felix asks, innocent as can be. “What do you mean? He just took Innie to see the cats.”

“That’s exactly where he first kissed me!” Jisung howls, losing control of his limbs and slumping to the floor. 

Felix squints down at him, poking him with an outstretched foot. “What do you mean first…?” 

Oh fuck . 

Jisung’s eyes widen along with Changbin’s. “Uh, sorry I misspoke, I meant–”

He doesn’t even have time to flounder over his half-assed excuses because the men of the hour bang through the front door, Jeongin screaming, “We’re home!” at the top of his lungs. 

All three of them jump out of their skin at the intrusion, Felix falling on his ass next to Jisung on the floor. 

Minho smiles blindingly when he locks eyes with Jisung. “Baby, you’re up!” 

Jisung crosses his arms, nodding once, short.

“He’s having a bit of a fucking drama queen moment this morning, Minho. I’d stay away,” Changbin drawls, skittering out of the way before Jisung can punch him again. 

“Aw, babe,” Minho frowns, gliding across the room towards him. 

Jisung attempts to wiggle away, scrambling up from the floor, but Minho catches him around the waist, dragging him down into the arm chair on top of him. He gives into the capture right away. Even his pettiness can’t stop him from relaxing at Minho’s touch. He’s a weak man.

Jeongin wanders further into the house, probably going to bother Chan, and Felix and Changbin start moving to leave as well, Felix knowingly smiling down at them, Jisung’s slip forgotten.

“Good luck,” Changbin scoffs, patting Minho’s shoulder. 

Jisung scowls, turning his head away from them. 

Minho’s hand comes up, fingertips catching the side of Jisung’s chin, trying to pull his head back towards him. Jisung resists, whining lowly. He is feeling particularly dramatic. He can’t help it. His emotions have been so whirled up, so confused, he can barely control any reaction he’s having. 

“Baby,” Minho coos, leaning in and placing light kisses to Jisung’s jaw, crawling up slowly, inch by inch until he reaches Jisung’s ear. “What’s wrong?” 

Jisung leans into the kisses, head giving into the turn with the help. “Nothing,” he grumbles, his answer fading into a sigh when Minho starts kissing down his neck. 

“I don’t believe you,” Minho mutters, lifting up to meet his eye. 

“Mmph,” he complains, words stifled by the press of Minho’s lips, soft against his own. 

Jisung doesn’t think. He finds it achingly hard to think when Minho is touching him. He kisses back, parting his lips and letting their tongues slide together. It’s lazy and slow, like they have all the time in the world. 

They don’t, to be clear. They have one more week. 

Heat collects in Jisung’s gut. He’s suddenly very aware that he hasn’t jerked off since they’ve been at the cabin. Very, very aware that if he doesn’t put a stop to Minho mapping out the inside of his mouth that he’s going to have a much bigger problem than jealousy on his hands. 

He pulls away abruptly, Minho’s hand flexing at his waist so that he doesn’t fall on his ass with the recoil. “Did you have fun with Innie?” he asks weakly, trying to inject the sting of pain he feels into his words. 

Minho’s lips are pink and swollen, slick with spit. Jisung has to look away, focusing on his poreless forehead instead. Of course Minho has perfect skin. 

The older huffs out a laugh. “Is that what this is about?” 

Jisung tries to wrench his head away again, only to be stopped by Minho’s hand this time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Ah, baby, please,” Minho says, hint of a smile evident in his voice. 

“I’m just feeling grouchy,” Jisung argues. “It has nothing to do with you taking Jeongin to make out creek.”

Minho brushes the hair out of Jisung’s face, biting his lip like he’s trying to suppress a smile. “Sungie. C’mon…” 

“Don’t make fun of me! Jeonginnie is handsome! I don’t know what’s going on in your head!” He blurts. He’s so pathetic it’s laughable. “And he’s obsessed with you, just to top it the fuck off!” 

Minho leans in, pressing their foreheads together, his thumb running back and forth along Jisung’s lower lip. “Jisung. I’m not interested in Jeongin,” his voice is firm.

“Well maybe you should be! He’s single and cute, just like you!” Jisung sounds more deranged by the second. 

“Sung,” Minho sighs. “I’m here with you. I’m not interested in anyone else.” He kisses Jisung to punctuate his point. 

Something fizzes up in Jisung’s stomach. He may pass out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so confused and emotional all the time,” he admits, cringing slightly. 

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Minho retorts, thumb now at the line of his jaw. “Stop focusing on logistics. Let’s just go with what feels right, yeah?” 

“I’m fragile,” Jisung frowns, shrinking in on himself. 

“And yet…?” Minho smiles his prettiest smile. “I still want to hold you together.” 

Jisung melts. 

A while later Jisung escapes to take a shower. 

He thinks of Minho’s hands, of the way he holds him, the way he touches him like he’s something precious, someone worth his time. He thinks of Minho’s tongue, and his eyes, and his spit-slick lips when he wraps his hand around himself. 

He has to bite his hand as he comes to muffle his moans, lest Minho’s name fall from his lips. 

And isn’t post-nut clarity meant to be a thing? Because Jisung has never felt it. 

He finds his usual mantras failing him as he looks at himself in the reflection of the glass shower door, evidence of his sins washing down the drain. 

Minho does care about him, but maybe (?) not like that

Minho is not his boyfriend (?) right (?)

Minho is his… 

What is Minho to him?

By nightfall everyone is gathered together. 

Chan and Minho cook, another thing Minho is frustratingly good at, and the rest of them laugh and shout and sit around the table. 

It’s Felix who suggests they all play drinking games together. 

All of them are already at least a bit buzzed, they’ve been casually drinking since the late afternoon. Jisung is three drinks in himself, feeling light and happy and warm. 

Felix insists they play never have I ever so, “Minho and Hyunjin can get to know everyone better!” He ushers everyone into a circle on the living room floor, Jisung falling into Minho’s lap. He’s really too used to that by now. 

“Lixie, I hate this game,” Jisung complains. “Chan and Changbin have an unfair advantage, they always gang up on me! Plus, Minho knows everyone well enough.” 

Minho laughs at his protests, warm breath fanning over the nape of his neck. “I like the idea, Lixie,” Minho says. 

Traitor. 

Felix grins at Minho and waves Jisung off. “Don’t worry, Sung, I’ll get them back if they try.” He wags his finger between Changbin and Chan in an ‘I’m watching you’ movement, then turns to address the group at large. “The game is simple, we go in a circle, if you’ve done it you drink. Last one to finish their drink wins.” 

Jeongin gets them started with a low blow. “Never have I ever been over twenty two.” 

A grumble of disapproval goes around the circle. Changbin shouts a, “Cheap shot, Yang.”

They all drink anyway. 

Jisung learns a lot.

He learns that Minho has had sex in a church (kinky), and that Minho has never gotten high (he will be changing that). Jisung is halfway through his drink, sinking back further into Minho with every question, when things really start to get interesting. 

“Never have I ever kissed Chan,” Changbin says, staring right at Jisung as he does. Bastard. 

“Fuck you!” Jisung howls, taking a drink along with Jeongin (drunk mistake last summer), Seungmin (not so drunk mistake last summer) and Felix (spin the bottle gone wrong). 

Changbin laughs hysterically, pointing at all of them and slinging an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. 

“You watch yourself, Seo, I’ll get you when you least expect it,” Chan warns.

“Oh, how juicy! My turn!” Hyunjin claps. The man must be a lightweight, he’s completely blasted off of three margaritas. “Never have I ever… slept with anyone here besides my partner!” 

Jisung groans, taking another slug of his drink, Changbin and Chan too, nasty bastards, they may not have kissed but they did lose their virginities to each other. 

Seungmin follows, more reserved about his action. Hyunjin zeroes in on Jisung, though.

“Oh! Jisung, who was it!?” Hyunjin asks giddily. 

Is he stupid? Or maybe he’s just that drunk. 

“Are you serious?” Jisung coughs, choking on his mouthful of liquor.

“Was it Chan?” The man presses.

“Ew, no,” Jisung’s lip curls. “No offense, Channie.” 

“Oh, then Changbin?” Hyunjin seems more confused now. 

“Um, double ew?” Jisung cringes, face twisting up.

Hyunjin’s face falls. “Who was it, then?” 

“Are you serious?” Jisung repeats, gaping at the man. 

Minho tightens his hold on Jisung’s waist, grounding him. “Uh, Jinnie… it’s Seungmin,” he supplies.

Hyunjin’s head whips back and forth between Jisung and his boyfriend. “Really!? No way!”

The silence in the room is nauseating. 

Jisung suddenly feels much drunker than before, or maybe he’s been this drunk the whole time, it was just much more pleasant when his head wasn’t spinning with anger and confusion. 

Did Hyunjin not even know that he and Seungmin were together? Oh god, he might be sick. 

Minho splays a hand out over Jisung’s stomach like he can sense the impending explosion. Jisung pays it no mind, downing the rest of his drink. “Uh oh! Guess I lost! I’m going to go get another!” 

He wiggles out of Minho’s grasp, stumbling as he gets up. 

Before he leaves, just to make it painfully clear, he blurts, “Never have I ever broke up with my boyfriend in June.” His eyes shift, it’s hard to focus. He manages to lock eyes with Seungmin. “Drink up, Seungminnie! No lying allowed!” 

He is most certainly drunker than he thought. He nearly trips over Jeongin’s legs on his way out. 

The cap to the vodka won’t open, he fumbles with it, hands not following the will of his brain. 

Minho swoops in, pulling the bottle from his hands. “Woah there, Sungie. Maybe we should stick to soda from now on.” 

Jisung pouts, bottom lip sticking all the way out. “Not fair, I’m having a moment!” 

“Ah, I know, baby,” Minho says, grasping at Jisung’s arms and pulling him into his chest. Jisung releases all the tension in his body embarrassingly fast, his limbs turning to goo. Minho is practically holding him up. “But I don’t want you to get sick again, hmm?” Minho combs through his hair with his fingers.

“I’ve had a terrible day,” Jisung mumbles petulantly into his chest, cheek squished up to where he can feel Minho’s heart beat. 

“Ah, Sungie. I thought we had a good day?” Minho asks. 

He’s right. They did have a good day. After Jisung’s shower they cuddled and laughed and hung out with Chan. They even went down to the creek, so Minho could, “make it up to Jisung,” and they pet the cats. 

Jisung peels himself away, openly frowning up at Minho from a few inches away instead of pressed against him. “Yeah but Seungmin fucked everything up,” he whines. 

Minho laughs, making Jisung’s frown deepen further. “Oh no, c’mon baby, don’t be sad.” Minho squishes the pads of his thumbs into the apples of Jisung’s cheeks. “I promise Seungmin isn’t worth it.”

And because he’s drunk and has no filter, and his chest has been stomped flat by Kim Seungmin and his lies, “Maybe I’m sad because I know you could do so much better than me. Just like Seungmin did.” He knows he’ll be humiliated in the morning, but for now, he needs reassurance. 

Minho’s eyebrows pinch together, thumbs running softly across his cheekbones, eyes searching. “Sungie, baby, I think you’re projecting your insecurities a little bit.” 

Jisung’s chest collapses further at the thought that maybe Minho can read him just as well as Changbin can. 

When Minho looks at him he really looks at him. He looks at him like he can see straight through, like he can read every letter of his soul. It’s scary. It’s thrilling. 

“I wish you could see yourself how I see you,” Minho whispers, the pads of his fingers pressed into Jisung’s skin hot. Electric.

“What does that mean?” Jisung blinks. He feels like he can’t breathe.

“Jisungie…” Minho is so close to his face. They’re practically sharing breaths. “Fuck, Jisungie…” Minho screws his eyes shut. “I… We need to have this conversation when I’m sober. When you’re sober. But, Sung...” he trails off. 

When he opens his eyes, Jisung can see something deep and dark within them. “What?” he murmurs.

“You’re everything.”

It’s impossible to tell who dives in first, but they’re kissing hot and heavy and rushed. Jisung is glad he came earlier, or he’d be hard already, just from the insistence of Minho’s lips. 

“Sung,” Minho cuts in, between kisses. “Jisungie…” 

“Hmmm?” Jisung whines, foggy brain slow on the uptake. Minho is pulling away. 

“Sober, Sung. We need to be sober when I have you for the first time.” Minho gasps, breath coming quickly. 

“Okay,” Jisung nods. He doesn’t really know how to keep track of what’s going on, but whatever Minho is saying sounds like it makes sense.

He follows dutifully, attached to Minho at the hand when the older pulls him back into the living room. 

The mood is completely shot, a 180 from an hour ago. Chan and Changbin are engaged in an inaudible conversation, hunched together, while Felix and Jeongin sit stock still, sadly sipping at their straws. 

He doesn’t have to ask where Seungmin and Hyunjin are, because he hears them, voices raised and muffled, bleeding through the walls of their bedroom. They’re fighting.

“Um…” Minho says, looking around. “Should we…” 

“I wouldn’t go upstairs until they’re done,” Chan warns. “Just… give them a minute.” 

Minho nods, dropping to the empty couch and pulling Jisung down with him. Jisung complies mindlessly, curling into Minho’s side. 

It’s hard to not drift off when Minho is so comfortable… and the room is so calm and quiet… the only noise the soft thrum of Hyunjin and Seungmin’s voices. With Minho’s hand petting soothingly through his hair.

Jisung wakes up to his shoulder being shaken, a hand gripped tightly around him. His forehead scrunches, prying his eyes open. The lights are out. His head pounds. The first thing he sees is Minho, chest rising and falling, asleep, his hand still where it’s buried in Jisung’s hair. 

Then he sees Hyunjin.

The man looks destroyed, his eyes rimmed red, bloodshot and frantic, his long hair messy. It’s Hyunjin who has his hand closed around Jisung. 

When the man speaks his voice is raw, scratchy, “Jisung, I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t know.” By the end of his repetitions he’s fallen to pieces, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Jisung’s brain is creaking back to life, gears sticky. He doesn’t want to do this while he’s half asleep and drunk, so he pulls Hyunjin down next to him and hugs him close. The man comes without resistance, fitting into Jisung’s embrace. His tears wet Jisung’s shirt at the shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin croaks again.

“Sleep, Hyunjin,” Jisung mumbles, and then he knows that Minho is awake too, because his hand inches under the back of Jisung’s shirt and his fingers start drawing comforting circles on his skin. 

“We’ll be okay,” Jisung says. 

He’s speaking to all three of them. Hyunjin, Minho, and himself. 

He’s speaking to all three of them, and he means every word. 

Chapter Text

Positive: Jisung wakes up in Minho’s arms, in bed rather than on the couch.

Negative: He remembers everything.

Positive: He remembers everything.

Negative: He’s going to have to talk to Seungmin. Today.

What he doesn’t remember is how they got to bed, or where Hyunjin went, or how much of last night Minho remembers. 

Does he remember telling Jisung that he’s everything? 

Did he mean it? 

Will he leave too?

For the first time since they’ve arrived Jisung gets out of bed for the day before Minho does. 

He unwraps himself from the man’s limbs, carefully, making sure not to wake him. He presses a kiss to his forehead before he leaves, just because he can. 

Jisung knows exactly where he’ll find Seungmin. Of course he does. He knows Seungmin better than almost anyone else, they are… they were, best friends. 

“Hi,” Jisung greets, picking through the forest floor towards the gazebo. 

It’s an odd structure, off a random trail near the cabin. No one knows how it got there, but it exists. Seungmin likes to sit on the bench inside and listen to the birds when he needs to think. 

Seungmin isn’t someone who’s easy to crack. He’s stoic and proud and he’s got one hell of a shell, but once he relaxes he’s one of the most lovable people Jisung has ever met. 

It’s been hard to remember that, but that doesn’t make it less true.

“Hey,” Seungmin replies halfheartedly. He looks tired. His eyes are rung with dark circles. 

Jisung sits down next to him, tucking his hands beneath his thighs on the bench. “Are you okay?” 

“Fuck , Sung,” Seungmin brings a hand to his face, pressing on his temples. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” 

“Maybe,” Jisung shrugs. “But you’ve always been the selfish one.” He’s going for a joke, but Seungmin looks deadly serious. 

The silence between them stretches, both of them watching a bird pull at a twig a few meters away from their feet. Jisung waits for the creature to fly away before asking the question he’s been burning to know the answer to. “Did you cheat on me, Minnie?” 

Seungmin furrows his brow. Sniffles. Looks up at Jisung with his big brown eyes. “I don’t know.” 

Jisung nods, waits for him to continue, because he knows he will, because he knows Seungmin. 

“I didn’t think I was, Sung, I need you to know that,” Seungmin doesn’t sound defensive, he sounds honest. “I met him in March, and I could tell he was interested, but obviously we were… us.” He swallows. 

Jisung looks out into the forest, listening.

“And we became friends, really, that’s all it was. He was my best friend. I think the wires got crossed… because Jinnie… how do I put this… he’s a hopeless romantic.”

Jisung doesn’t miss the way Seungmin’s eyes sparkle at the mention of Hyunjin. It’s sweet.

“He interpreted things as romantic that I was doing as a friend. But at the same time… I think…” Seungmin looks at him again, face cracked open and raw. “I think I knew. I knew that he would, and I still did it.” 

“Okay,” Jisung exhales. It feels like he’s been holding his breath in for weeks. Months, rather. 

“I swear to you, we weren’t officially dating until after we ended, Jisung. That’s something I’m certain of.” 

“We were never going to work, Seungmin. Everyone knew it. Even us.” Jisung digs the toe of his shoe into the ground, watching the dirt puff up. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Seungmin asserts. “It doesn’t fucking matter. What matters is that I went behind your back, and I’m sorry. I don’t deserve forgiveness, but I just hope that we can finally be honest about it.” 

He’s telling the truth. When Seungmin is lying, or exaggerating, or being anything less than genuine, his ring finger twitches. It’s a dead tell every time. 

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Jisung asks. The other question that’s been on his mind.

“I was scared,” Seungmin says softly, raking a hand through his hair. “I was afraid that if he knew he’d realize he deserves better than me. I am selfish.” 

Jisung knows Seungmin, and Seungmin knows Jisung. 

It’s unbearably evident in that moment, with Seungmin admitting his insecurity. Seungmin feels just as small as Jisung does. 

They know each other because they’re one in the same, at least in this aspect. 

“I don’t think I’m a good person, Jisung.”

“No,” Jisung murmurs, sliding his hand across the bench to grab hold of Seungmin’s, squeezing lightly. “You’re a fine person, Min. You’re just fragile.” 

Seungmin blinks hard, it looks like he’s trying to hold back tears. “I’m sorry, Sung. I’m sorry I pretended I’m not.” 

Their hug feels like the closing of a chapter. Or maybe, the beginning of a new one. 

He doesn’t know if he forgives Seungmin, but he’s been afforded the space to not know. 

No one is asking him to, no one is asking him to not. 

It hurts. 

It hurt. 

But Jisung knows Seungmin, and now he knows that Seungmin’s actions weren’t because of Jisung, no, but in spite of him. Not because of his own inadequacy, but Seungmin’s insecurity. 

He doesn’t forgive Seungmin, and he doesn’t know if he ever will, but he knows him. 

When they break apart, Seungmin has tears in his eyes. 

“If it makes you feel better, I told Hyunjin he’s out of your league.” 

Seungmin barks out a laugh, shaky and wet. “Somehow it does.” The smile he offers is returned without hesitation. 

“He loves you, Min,” Jisung says, squeezing Seungmin’s thigh right above his knee. “Really. He does.”

“I know,” the man nods, wiping at his nose. “I hope I didn’t fuck it up too bad.” 

Jisung snorts. “Me too. You’re never scoring that well again.” 

When Jisung stands up to leave, wiping off the seat of his pants, Seungmin speaks up again, “I’m happy for you and Minho, Jisung, really. I can tell how much you love each other. You never looked at me like that.” 

Again, it’s not unkind, just honest. Seungmin knows him. Jisung knows he’s right. 

He forces a tight smile, unsure what the truth means for him. “Thank you.” 

Jisung takes the long way home, winding around to follow the creek back up to the house. It’s not often that he gives himself space to think. To feel. Too scared for the implications on his being. 

He’s fragile, after all. 

He’s fragile, and imperfect, and small, but he’s also loved, and understood, and cared for. 

That much is obvious when he’s shuffled into the squeeze of Chan’s arms as soon as he walks through the door, and when Changbin claps him on the back. When Felix kisses him on the cheek, and when Jeongin pokes his sides until he’s laughing on the floor. 

They’ll be okay. 

His family will be okay. 

Even if he doesn’t forgive Seungmin, even if Minho leaves, just like the rest of them have. They’ll be okay. 

—

Jisung and Minho go for a walk around sunset, hands loosely attached at the fingers. 

They haven’t had a chance to talk, just the two of them, since Jisung saw Seungmin. 

Jisung takes the lead, directing them to the lake, but he doesn’t realize his legs are carrying them to Changbin’s fishing dock until they get there. They perch on the end, peeling their shoes off to let their feet dangle into the water. Jisung doesn’t drop Minho’s hand, and Minho doesn’t drop his. 

The sun hangs low in the sky, a gorgeous deep orange, the color of honeycomb. Light stretches across the world in hues of pink and gold, touching everything with her warmth. 

Minho looks even more beautiful in the light of the setting sun, honey highlights drawn out of his skin, his eyes, his hair. The light touches his face delicately, bringing out the best parts, the bridge of his nose, the bones of his cheeks, his defined cupid’s bow. 

Jisung thinks everyone that has the luck to share Lee Minho’s presence looks dull in comparison. Even the sun. 

“So…” Minho starts, drawing shapes into the back of Jisung’s hand with his thumb. 

“So,” Jisung smiles, watching the ministrations of his fingers. 

“How’d it go?”

Jisung’s eyes follow with rapt attention as Minho raises their joined hands to his lips, placing a tender kiss to Jisung’s, the elder’s eyes flicking up to meet his when he makes contact. Jisung’s breath hitches, his eyelashes flutter. He has to gather his wits before he speaks. 

“Um. It went good, I think. I think we got to a point of understanding, even if I haven’t forgiven him.” 

Minho nods, lifts his arm in invitation for Jisung to scoot under it. 

He goes quickly, shuffling sideways on the dock, slotting himself into Minho’s side, laying his head on the man’s shoulder. Minho’s outstretched arm relaxes around him, hand coming to rest at the curve of his hip. 

“I’m proud of you, baby,” Minho murmurs, laying a kiss on the crown of Jisung’s head. 

Jisung hums contentedly, snuggling closer into Minho’s side. 

He selfishly hopes the sun is jealous that she can’t touch Minho like this. 

“Seungmin said something… funny,” Jisung squeaks, anxiety festering within his chest. He probably shouldn’t. 

“Yeah?”

He probably shouldn’t, but then Minho kisses his hair again, and he does anyway. “He said I never looked at him the way I look at you.” 

Minho’s hand flexes at Jisung’s hip, pressing into his flesh. “And what do you think about that?” Minho whispers. 

Jisung falters at the unexpected question. 

“It scares me,” he admits, quietly, like he’s afraid of breaking something. 

And the world doesn't stop, not when Minho pulls him into a proper hug, nor when he responds, “That’s okay.” 

The world doesn’t stop, but it does shift when Minho kisses him, sunlight warm against his cheeks. 

A slight difference, the feeling of shifting rather than stopping. One he might have confused just a few weeks ago. 

When they part, a tear escapes Jisung’s eye. Minho swipes it away, and ducks in to kiss the spot it fell. 

Jisung giggles and chases his lips. Minho is smiling when they meet again, it makes for a messy, mismatched kiss. 

It’s perfectly them.

—

Chan makes sure that they make themselves scarce the next day, giving Seungmin and Hyunjin space. They rent a pontoon boat and spend the day floating on the lake, swimming and joking around. 

Jisung hates to admit that there is a noticeable gap without Seungmin there. In the way Jeongin jokes, in the way no one snarkily responds to Changbin acting cute, in the way Chan has four kids to look after instead of five. 

Jeongin plops down next to him on the vinyl seat, leaning back and crossing his legs at the ankles, flinging an arm behind Jisung. “Sup,” he grins, wide and vulpine, his pretty eyes narrowing. 

Jisung scowls. 

Jeongin knows exactly what’s up , that’s why he’s being a brat. Jisung has been enjoying the last thirty minutes, lounging on the bench, sipping his beer, and staring at a very shirtless, very wet Minho where he sits at the edge of the boat playing around with Felix. 

“Somehow he looks better soaked,” Jeongin drawls, leaning into Jisung’s personal space. 

“God, you fucking brat,” Jisung smacks him hard in the chest, palm flat. The skin to skin contact makes a satisfying smack. “Can you lay off my boyfriend for ten seconds?” 

Jeongin rubs at his chest, still grinning. “Ah, c’mon, Sung! Don’t be selfish. You get him all the time, can’t the rest of us look?” 

Jisung just grunts, sinking lower into his seat, content to openly sulk if he gets to keep staring at Minho. 

“You know,” Jeongin sighs, long and drawn out. “When we were in the woods, he couldn’t stop talking about you.” 

Jisung’s hands clench around his beer, the tin crackling. 

“He was all, Jisungie said this, Jisung likes that, Me and Jisung, blah blah blah.” 

Just then Minho turns around, his ears must be ringing, locking eyes with Jisung and breaking into his blinding smile. Jisung’s lips quirk up, Minho throws him an exaggerated wink before he’s dragged into the water by Felix, screeching. 

“He’s fucking obsessed with you, bro,” Jeongin states. “Does he have any hot friends?” 

Jisung lands another slap to his friend’s chest, this one much lighter than the last.

Hyunjin catches him within seconds of he and Minho walking through the cabin door, one hand wrapped around Jisung’s bicep. 

“Can I talk to you, Jisung?” he asks, eyes big and pleading. 

Minho stops with him, waiting for an affirmative nod before ducking in for a sweet kiss and a, “I’ll be in our room when you get back.” 

Hyunjin patiently watches the exchange. 

“You look cute when you blush,” he comments when Minho is out of earshot. Jisung is sure his cheeks burn even brighter. 

They sit side by side on the porch swing, the sound of crickets chirping filling the night air. Hyunjin pulls his knees to his chest, guarded. Jisung gets it. 

“So… how did it go?” he asks, trying to give Hyunjin a start. 

“It kind of sucked,” Hyunjin frowns, his forehead creasing. He still looks unfairly pretty when he’s deeply troubled. “But it was necessary.” 

Jisung nods, pushing his toe into the deck so that the swing starts rocking slightly. “So you guys are…” he trails off.

“That’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you,” Hyunjin says, worrying his bottom lip. He won’t meet Jisung’s eye. “Seungmin wants to make it work.” 

Not surprising, especially after the talk Jisung had with him. 

“Okay… and what do you want?” He’s confused as to what Hyunjin is exactly asking him here.

“I…” Hyunjin blinks a few times, shakes his head like he’s trying to rid it of fog. “I want that too, but…” He lifts his head, looking at Jisung with palpable sadness. “I just wanted to make sure it was okay.” 

Jisung can’t hold back the curt laugh that worms its way up his throat. Hyunjin’s face falls even further at the reaction. 

“Hey, hey, no, I’m sorry, it’s just…” he tries to find the right words. “Do you really think you need my permission to be with him?”

Hyunjin takes in a big breath, shoulders sagging on exhale. “I know I don’t need it, I guess I just want to know what you think.” The man looks on the brink of tears. “The last thing I would ever want… that Seungmin would ever want is to fuck up anything with your little family, you know?” He gestures to the house, or, rather, to the people within it. 

“Seungmin told me you’re a hopeless romantic,” Jisung says, smiling softly.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin breathes, his pretty eyelashes dusting his cheekbones. 

“I’ll tell you a secret.” Jisung reaches out, taking Hyunjin’s hand. “I am too.” 

The smile that blooms across Hyunjin’s face is lovely, it warms Jisung from the inside out. He squeezes Jisung’s hand, tight and sure.

“He loves you, Hyunjin,” Jisung asserts. “I know because I know him better than I know almost anyone else.” 

“Really?”

“Really.” 

Hyunjin practically launches himself across the bench and into Jisung, startling a squeak out of him. He adjusts fairly quickly, returning the hug. 

“Thank you, Jisung. You’re a really wonderful person.” 

“Ah, whatever,” Jisung laughs. “I better have the best seat in the house at you and Seungmin’s wedding.” 

Hyunjin nods furiously, his nose brushing Jisung’s neck. 

“And you can put us all the way in the back at yours and Minho’s.”

—

Minho is taking him apart, his hands burning, solid, everywhere. 

“God, Jisung, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, lips dragging down his chest, tongue teasing at his nipple. 

Jisung moans, rutting his hips down, desperate to relieve some of his intense need. The pressure cooker of want inside of him that’s been painfully building for weeks. “Min , oh my god, jagi,” he whimpers. 

Minho smiles at his whines, teeth grazing his chest. Jisung nearly blacks out when he presses his thigh up, right where Jisung wants it, his dick hard in his boxers, the fabric scratchy. He hardly cares when he’s chasing the pressure Minho is allowing him, his thigh tensed beneath him. 

“Jisungie,” Minho sighs.

“Jisungie,”

“Jisung.” 

His brain snaps to life, eyes open, body heavy with sleep, with…

Minho looks at him, eyes dark, intense. 

“Jisung,” he says, dead serious, his hand firm on Jisung’s shoulder. Then he moves his leg, ripping a stifled whine from Jisung’s throat, and, oh. 

Oh. 

Their legs are slotted together, probably from the way they fell asleep, facing each other, Jisung pillowed on Minho’s chest. 

Jisung was having a sex dream about Minho.

About riding Minho’s thigh.

He was getting himself off on Minho’s thigh in his sleep. 

His heart stops, heat rising up the back of his neck, settling in the tops of his ears. He’s too in shock to think clearly, but the shame is sure to hit very soon. He needs to leave. 

“Minho, I’m so sorry, oh my god,” he stutters, shakily trying to pull himself out of bed. 

“Sung.”

“Let’s just… can we forget this happened?” he blubbers, failing to unlock Minho’s legs from his. Why isn’t he letting him go? 

“ Jisung ,” Minho repeats, low and serious. 

Jisung shivers at his tone, body stilling, but his heart still rabbiting. 

Minho reaches out, grabs onto Jisung’s wrist, moving it towards himself. “May I?” he asks. 

Jisung nods wordlessly. He would let Minho do anything to him. 

Their hands travel down, down, down, until Minho has them hovering right over his crotch, covered in black sweatpants. 

“Feel,” Minho orders, releasing his hold. 

He doesn’t need to ask twice. Jisung bridges the gap, hand pressing into Minho’s dick, clothed but very obviously hard. 

Minho hisses.

Jisung gasps.

“Don’t run away,” Minho says, throat scratchy, fitting a hand under Jisung’s chin and tipping it up. 

The moan their first kiss produces is embarrassingly needy, Jisung’s body betraying him once more. He’s probably already halfway to orgasm, if his dream is anything to go by, and Minho doesn’t seem to be faring much better. 

They kiss, wet and messy, raw and heady. Jisung cants his hips down, searching for friction. 

“Fuck , Jisung… Baby… I want to fuck you,” Minho groans into his mouth, lips barely separated.

Jisung whines pathetically. “Please, Minho, please. I want you, ohmygod I need you,” he babbles, one hand groping at Minho’s erection, the other searching desperately for hold on the man’s back. It isn’t often that men reduce him to such a blabbering idiot at the prospect of sex. 

Minho growls, flipping them around so he’s above Jisung on the bed, making quick work of tugging off their clothes between kisses. Jisung feels like he’s floating, he imagines this is what stars feel like hanging in the sky. 

“Shit,” Minho mutters, thumbs digging into Jisung’s hip bones, eyes roving up and down his body. “Shit,” he repeats, this time more lucidly. 

“W-what?” Jisung chokes. “Did I do something wrong?” His entire body is quick to fill with dread. It wouldn’t be the first time a dream turned into a nightmare. 

“No!” Minho rushes, leaning down, hand wrapped protectively around his jaw, kissing him full of feeling. “God, no, baby, you’re perfect. But do we have lube? Or condoms?” 

Jisung falls to earth incredibly quickly. “Oh,” he laughs once. “No, I don’t think so.” His anxiety seeps onto the bed, leaking through his every pore.

Suddenly the situation becomes very funny. Hilarious even. He dissolves into giggles, Minho following suit as he collapses on the bed next to him. 

Jisung frames Minho’s face in his hands, holding him close, kisses him deep between spurts of laughter. 

“We could go ask Bin and Felix,” Minho suggests, pressing his hips forward to emphasize his point. 

“Oh god, I’d rather die,” Jisung pouts. Minho kisses it away. “But… we can still…” he thinks for a second before wetting his mouth as best he can and spitting into his hand. 

Minho watches him with rapt attention as he gets impossibly closer, lining them up and wrapping his spit-slick hand around both of them. Minho is quite a bit bigger than Jisung is… quite a bit bigger than any man he’s been with. It doesn’t make him feel any sort of way other than excited at the prospect of the man fucking him open at a later date. 

When he starts moving his hand, he whimpers and Minho swears. “Holy shit,” Minho’s pupils are blown wide. “Baby. You’re so fucking hot.” 

Jisung can’t keep up his pace for long, the feel of Minho’s cock against his unraveling him too much to properly focus, so Minho takes over, allowing Jisung to bury his hands into his hair and greedily drag him in, tongue pressing into his mouth. 

It doesn’t take much before he feels his stomach coil. “Min, I’m close,” he warns, nails digging into the older’s back.

“M’too, Sungie, fuck,” Minho mutters. He looks Jisung dead in the eye. All he can see is brown, he’s drowning in it. Minho says, “You’re so pretty like this, baby. So pretty for me.”

Jisung comes. Minho follows shortly after. The space between them an indiscernible mess of the both of them, chests heaving up and down. 

They kiss until it becomes unbearable to not clean up. Minho retrieves a rag from the bathroom, and wipes Jisung down with careful hands, kissing him once more before heading off to take a shower. 

Jisung waits until he can hear the water running before pulling himself out of bed, muscles lax, and forcing on whatever clothes are closest to him. 

He’s pretty sure he’s wearing Minho’s pants backwards and his shirt inside out when he stumbles down the hall, pushing through doors until he finds who he’s looking for. 

Changbin is in his bedroom, headphones on, pouring over a track on his open computer. 

The man jumps out of his skin when Jisung taps him on the shoulder, tearing his headphones off and looking up, wide-eyed. “Jesus, Sungie, you almost–”

“I had sex with Minho,” he blurts. 

“Good for you, Sung! You needed to get laid!” Oh, fuck. “All that lying wasn’t good for you.” 

Jisung cranks his neck around, face the absolute picture of horror. 

Chan is laying on the bed, legs crossed, arms pillowed behind his head, computer open on his lap. 

“Now…” he says, looking at his watch. “I hope no one has plans today, because we’re getting lunch. All three of us.” 

The smile Chan fixes him with is blood curdling, bone chilling, terrifying. 

“Fuck my life!” Jisung cries in the general direction of the sky.

Changbin laughs, loud and obnoxious.

The guys convince Jisung he needs to be in bed when Minho gets out of the shower so that the other doesn’t think he fled after their encounter.

Curse their logic. 

It’s worth it, though, when Minho comes out, wrapped only in a towel and leans down to kiss him on the forehead. “All yours,” he says cutely. 

Jisung just about dies.

Changbin comes to collect him around an hour later, saying Chan is already waiting in the car. 

“Did you tell him?” Jisung hisses when he locks eyes with Chan from across the driveway, one second from murdering Changbin in cold blood.

“No! Fuck you!” Changbin scowls.

“Fuck you!” he retorts, shoving Changbin’s shoulder. His friend turns on him and shoves him back, and then he shoves back, resulting in a childish wrestling match halfway to the car.

He’s just about to choke Changbin out when Chan intervenes, extracting Jisung with his hands solid around his waist like a fucking claw machine. Jisung whines, swinging lamely at Changbin once more before giving up. 

“Children, please,” Chan huffs, placing a warning hand on Jisung’s chest when he lets him down. 

“Wow, Chan, you’re nasty. Calling Changbin a child when you fucked him!” Jisung spits. It’s the lowest blow he can think of on the spot. Not even a good joke, not at all. But it does its job at getting Changbin riled up again. 

“Han Jisung, I am going to kill you!” Changbin roars, reaching for his neck. 

Chan puts himself between them, hands on Changbin’s shoulders. Jisung sticks his tongue out, just for Changbin to see, skittering over to the car and claiming the passenger seat before the older can. 

He smiles victoriously when Changbin climbs into the back seat, slamming the door behind him. 

“What normal, sane, super intelligent friends I have. So glad to be here with you guys,” Chan huffs, sliding into his seat and putting the keys in the ignition. 

The tension in the car blows out the windows almost as soon as they hit the road, Mitski blasting over the stereo, all of them singing along, hands out the window. 

This is something that never gets old. Going ten over, barrelling down the road with Chan driving, he and Changbin as his passenger princesses. It’s nostalgic, but also safe. Normal. Something he takes comfort in knowing will happen again and again. 

Chan takes them to the burger joint they’ve frequented forever, and they sit in the same booth they always do, right in the back corner. Chan pays, of course, and orders way too much food. He always complains that Jisung doesn’t eat enough. 

Jisung sits on one side of the booth, both of his friends facing him. He feels like he’s at some sort of twisted job interview. 

“Okay, Jisung,” Chan sighs. “Out with it.”

“How long did you know?” Jisung whines, dragging a french fry around in ketchup. “ How did you know?” 

Chan laughs. “I knew the second I saw you and Minho,” he cocks a brow, challenging. “C’mon, Sungie. I just knew. I know you.” 

“This has horrifying implications for me going forward,” he grumbles, looking down at his food like it’s highly interesting. 

“Drama queen,” Changbin coughs. 

Chan shoots him a warning glare, eyes softening as soon as they’re back on Jisung. The difference makes Jisung’s chest swell with pride. Stupid Changbin. 

“So what gives?” Chan continues, gently. “Why’d you have sex with your fake boyfriend?”

“I’m a masochist?” Jisung tries, smiling innocently at Chan. 

“Yeah right,” Changbin cuts in. “You’re way too sensitive.” 

“Am not!” 

“Are too. Remember when Chan and Haseul broke up and you cried for two weeks?” Changbin shoves a finger into his face. “He had to comfort you , Jisung. Their breakup was amicable!” 

Jisung frowns, crossing his arms. “So? I liked her. She was nice to me.”

“Right,” Changbin says. “Tell me again that you’re a masochist.”

Chan stares, open mouthed at their exchange, shakes his head a little bit like he’s clearing it. 

“Okay, fine, I’m not a masochist, I just hate myself. Is that what you want to hear?” 

Changbin shrugs. “Kind of, yeah.” 

Chan presses his fingers into his temples. “Can we… focus,” he pleads, turning directly to Jisung. “Jisung. Is it still fake?” 

“I dunno,” he mumbles, staring holes into the table. 

“Do you have feelings for him?” Chan presses.

“Clearly,” Jisung says weakly. It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud.

Chan sits back, crumpling up his napkin and tossing it on his tray. “So what’s not to know?” 

“I don’t think he wants me the same way,” Jisung says, wincing. 

“But you had sex…” Changbin says.

“Yes.”

Changbin brings his hands up, motioning his pointer fingers together and apart, apart and together. “So… where’s the disconnect?” 

“This might be confusing for someone in a long term relationship, Binnie, but many people only want me for sex,” Jisung bites, still irritated with him. 

“Damn. Seungminnie really did a number on you, huh?” Chan looks concerned. His stupid concerned dad face. Jisung wants to go home. 

“Something like that,” he pushes away his food, too nauseous to finish eating. 

“Sung,” Chan continues, reaching out to take Jisung’s hand. “Binnie and I don’t know Minho well… but… he looks at you like there’s more.” 

Changbin nods in solemn agreement. 

Jisung blinks back the wetness coming up in his eyes. 

He really is sensitive, isn’t he? 

“But you don’t know him. And I also don’t know him in that way. So we don’t know for sure,” He swallows down the lump in his throat. “And just… logically… he’d never…” 

“Sung, what?” Chan looks confused, face scrunched up. 

“I’m full. Let’s go home,” Jisung concludes, standing up from the table and stalking away, right out the door, shoving his trash in the garbage on his way out. 

Fuck Chan and his stupid looks and stupid confused face and fuck Changbin and his annoying voice and annoying laugh and… 

Jisung stops by the car, realizing he can’t get in without Chan. He frowns, leans against the trunk with his arms tight to his chest. 

From here he can see Chan and Changbin inside, still sitting at the booth, slowly getting a move on, faces serious, talking back and forth. 

He hates that they’re talking about him. He wishes he were able to pause his existence, make himself so small that everyone forget he’s around for ten minutes. He’d get some peace from that.

Changbin waits until they’re almost home before he says, “By the way, I think Felix knows too.” 

Jisung doesn’t respond, just pressing his forehead to the cool window, wishing he could chuck himself out of the car. 

“He’s been asking me very pointed questions since your little slip up the other day. He keeps giving me that look he gives me when he knows something.” 

Jisung blows out a strangled breath, heat fogging up the window. 

—

It rains that night. 

It seems that whatever higher powers may exist are making fun of him.

Rain, on its own, would be a sick reflection of his piss poor mood. But it doesn’t just rain, it storms. 

Jisung has always been anxious, ever since he was a kid. 

Did he forget to turn his lights off? Did he make that person upset? Did he say something wrong? Will he fuck up every relationship he ever has? Will he be unlovable forever? Will he die alone?

He deals with it. He’s actively dealing with it. 

But he has certain triggers. 

Jisung hates storms. 

He hates the noises, the claps of thunder and the eerie whistling of the wind, he hates the darkness, the lack of control. He hates how embarrassingly afraid he gets during it all. 

Changbin suggests that they all hang out in the basement that night, to play video games and use the karaoke machine. Jisung knows it’s because he feels safer in basements when it’s storming. 

Changbin knows.

Jisung knows that Changbin knows.

It’s all very dramatic.

They’re loading up Mario Party, the other boys rowdy and loud, Chan shooting him annoyingly concerned looks, probably ready to jump in at any moment and sweep Jisung into his arms like a distressed damsel. 

Seungmin is also glancing at him out of the side of his eye every few minutes. 

Seungmin never knew how to handle Jisung’s anxiety. He’s too logical. He’s very, here’s the problem, here’s how I fix it. He doesn’t know how to look at something irrational and see it for what it is. He has to try to figure out a way to make it rational. 

Despite that, he knows. It makes Jisung feel small, stupid. The way they all know. The way they’re all watching him. 

He stays close to Minho’s side, the older holding him tightly. 

He must know too. 

He must know. 

Jisung is humiliated. 

When Jeongin shoves a controller in Minho’s face, he waves his hand, rejecting it. “Not tonight, Innie, we’re pretty sleepy.” 

He’s not sleepy. Minho isn’t either. 

Still, Minho waits for the game to begin, for all of them to focus on the TV instead of on sending Jisung looks before he says anything. It’s comforting. It’s exactly what Jisung needs. 

“You don’t like storms?” Minho murmurs into his hair, taking time to find Jisung’s hand, working it open and slotting their fingers together. Minho always takes the time with him. 

Jisung clears his throat. “No,” his voice comes small, shaky. His heart slams in his ribcage. 

“Mmm,” Minho hums, tugging Jisung even closer to him, letting his head rest on his chest. 

Jisung can hear the thrum of Minho’s heart, powerful and even. He tries to focus on that rather than the noises through the window. Minho squeezes his hand, presses a kiss to his head, starts carding a hand through his hair. 

Minho doesn’t try to rationalize anything, doesn’t try to tell him that the chance of lightning striking them is lower than him winning the lottery. He just hums softly into Jisung’s hair and lets him listen to his heart.

He focuses on the sound. Closes his eyes. Tries to ignore the whistling and the claps. 

Eventually they can’t wait any longer, it’s time for bed. Minho hasn’t let him go all night. Not once. 

Whatever steadiness Jisung had managed to wrangle around his heart is smashed when Jeongin clicks off the TV, his blood pressure spiking immediately. 

Minho doesn’t move, he keeps stroking Jisung’s hair, keeps humming softly. 

“You guys coming?” Chan asks. His worried looks have slowed in frequency since Minho started holding him tight. Chan is probably happy to pass off the duty of care to someone else. 

“I think we’ll sleep down here tonight,” Minho says. 

They will? 

Jisung blinks open his eyes. Chan looks down on him, smiling softly. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll have Binnie and Lix bring down some pillows and blankets,” he says, smile warm in his voice. He reaches out a hand, pats Jisung’s head. “Night, Sungie. Thank you, Minho.” 

A particularly loud clap of thunder sends a stake through Jisung’s middle. He squeezes his eyes tight, breath shaky. 

Minho whispers low reassurances, picks up the remote and turns on the TV, putting on something bland, but loud enough to drown out the worst of the noises. 

Changbin and Felix come eventually, dropping off whatever… Jisung doesn’t check. Minho readjusts so that he’s flat on his back, Jisung on top of him like a weighted blanket. Strong arms hold Jisung steady, his head still able to rest on Minho’s chest. 

“Y’know… I’m afraid of heights,” Minho murmurs, drawing into the expanse of Jisung’s back under the blanket he’s draped over them. 

“Yeah?” It’s the first word Jisung has said in hours. It comes out like a croak. 

“Mhm. Horrified,” Minho chuckles lightly. “I went to that big tower downtown with my parents when I was a kid. I freaked out so bad that they had to have security come to get me down.” 

Jisung listens intently, happy to be privy to any portion of Minho’s life. He wants to know everything about him, even the bad parts.

“Then I went again, last year. I figured I could try to make up for that first time…” 

Jisung lifts his head, resting his chin on Minho’s sternum. Big brown eyes look back at him. 

“It happened again,” Minho whispers, mouth curving up. 

A laugh escapes from Jisung’s chest. “You’re kidding.” 

“I’m not,” Minho assures, swiping the hair from Jisung’s eyes with a gentle hand. 

Jisung snuggles back down, tunes back into the hum of Minho’s heart. 

“Thank you,” he chokes, suddenly on the verge of tears. 

“Anything, Jisung. Anything at all,” Minho says. “Try to sleep, baby.” 

Positive: Jisung sleeps during a thunderstorm for the first time in his life.

Negative: He’s afraid he never will again.

—

Now it’s their last night, the last time they’re all together before going home. 

He and Minho went to feed the cats that afternoon, and they made out by the creek. Right on the spot where Chan first kissed him. 

He admitted to Minho then that he’s the best he’s ever had. 

Minho disappeared for the afternoon, gone into town with Hyunjin and Felix. Jisung keeps forgetting that they’re all friends at home. 

The group is having a bonfire, another tradition, a yearly mark of the end of their trip. 

Jisung isn’t drinking tonight, he’s been drunk enough for a lifetime on this trip, but he has been tasked with going inside to gather s’mores supplies for the rest of them. 

He sighs, shoving everything into a bag. He’s on his way out when Minho intercepts him, caging him against the wall. His breath hitches, back flat to the wood paneling. 

Minho looks at him with his pretty eyes, and it’s like he’s looking right through him again. 

The kiss tastes like the strawberries they ate for dessert, Minho’s tongue pressing into him in a way that makes him gasp. The bag falls from his fingers, smacking against the ground. 

When he pulls away, Minho is smiling. “I got stuff when we went into town.” 

Jisung’s brain is covered in a thick haze of Minho, Minho, Minho. His face must show his confusion. 

“Condoms,” Minho whispers, placing another kiss on his lips, one that leaves Jisung reeling. “Lube.” Another kiss, more insistent this time. 

“Oh , shit,” Jisung says intelligently. His cock twitches in his jeans. Embarrassing.

Minho pulls away, smiling deviously. “Think you can hold out until after this fire?” Minho simpers, licking across his own lips.

Jisung tracks the movement with his eyes. “No,” he says honestly. 

One more peck before Minho lets up completely, pushing himself off the wall, mischievous grin in place. “Too bad,” he coos, and then he’s prancing out the door, laughing maniacally. 

Changbin finds him in the hallway, staring dumbly at the door an unknown amount of time later. 

“You good?” 

“When I die, Binnie… and I’m afraid it might happen soon…” Jisung swallows, his mouth feeling especially dry. “Bury me at make out creek.” 

Changbin gives him a funny look. “Okay, you fucking weirdo.” 

Jisung doesn’t like to play fair. 

When someone does to him, he does right back. It’s an instinct. 

Isn’t that how he and Minho ended up here together in the first place? 

When he finally gathers himself enough to walk outside, he stalks directly up to Minho and drops into his lap, right where he knows it will cause problems. 

“Hey, Sungie— oh fuck,” Minho’s greeting twists in the middle, turning choked when Jisung presses his ass down. 

“Hi jagi,” Jisung chirps, patting his face happily. 

He’s never paid less attention to an end of the summer bonfire than he does this one, completely enraptured by balancing on the line of rubbing his ass against Minho’s dick and not getting noticeably aroused himself. 

Minho’s hands are pressing into his hips, a desperate attempt to get him to stop moving. Jisung gets insurmountable pleasure in seeing this side of Minho. 

He waits a perfectly respectable amount of time, until the embers in the fire reach a low burn, logs almost turned completely to ash, before he rises up, careful to press his palm flat against Minho’s crotch when he stands. 

A surprised mix of a yelp and a moan falls from Minho’s lips, drawing the attention of all of their friends. Minho claps his hand over his mouth, cheeks burning bright. 

Jisung smiles, addressing everyone. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” 

“Me too!” Minho rushes, shooting up next to him. 

“Gross,” Jeongin howls, but Jisung doesn’t pay him any mind, too busy laughing as he and Minho knock shoulders, speed walking back to the house. 

Minho has him against the door the minute it’s closed, lips sucking and biting at his neck, only pausing for a moment to tear Jisung’s shirt over his head. “You are such a fucking tease, Han Jisung,” he growls. 

Jisung laughs breathily, cut short by a groan when Minho runs his teeth over his nipple. His hands come up to hook around Minho’s neck, one gripping tight in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Up,” Minho orders, tapping on his ass. Jisung obeys, eyes growing wide when Minho catches him, presses him against the door again with Jisung’s legs now latched around his waist. 

He ravishes Jisung right there for a life changing moment before turning them around, dropping him onto the bed. 

Jisung squeaks, laid out beneath him. 

Minho towers over, pulling off his shirt. “What?” he smirks, moving to unbutton his jeans. When he drops them he takes his underwear with. 

His cock is hard. Big. Oh my god, he’s so big, and he’s about to fuck Jisung. 

Jisung’s heart flutters in anticipation. 

“You’re so hot, I just…” he blanches, mouth opening and closing, fingers struggling to get a hold on his own jeans to unbutton them. “I can’t believe how hot you are.” 

Minho grins, saving him from his struggle and undoing his pants for him, wiggling them down his legs slowly. He lays a hand on Jisung’s still covered dick where it’s very obviously painfully hard, precum blooming a wet spot into his briefs. 

“Ah,” Jisung gasps. 

“So excited already, Sungie, what am I going to do with you?” Minho clicks his tongue. 

Another choked moan, then, “Fuck me, I hope.” 

Minho smiles his goofiest, happiest smile. Something unknown to Jisung flashes in his eyes. “Baby,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss over Jisung’s cock before ridding him of the last of his clothes. “You know me so well.” 

The passage of time is a funny thing. Sometimes Jisung feels like his life is going so fast, like he can’t catch a breath. Sometimes it goes so slow, dragging on and making the minutes unbearable. 

He thinks he nearly blacks out when Minho kisses him, when Minho keeps kissing him as he starts fingering him open, hand slick with lube. 

Time stretches, pushed to the brink of its limit, but he holds onto every second. Every whine and whimper pulled from his lips frozen between the minutes, every prod of Minho’s fingers, spreading him open. 

It feels like hours. 

Jisung wishes it would last a lifetime. 

“A-am I good for you?” he stutters, lips sticking to Minho’s when they pull apart between kisses. 

Minho looks at him like he’s lovely, like he’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. “You’re so beautiful for me, Jisung,” another open-mouthed kiss. “You’re unreal. So, so perfect for me, baby.” 

Jisung preens at the praise, arching up towards Minho needily. 

Sex with Seungmin was always spurred by big emotions. Anger or frustration or feral horniness. 

Jisung liked it, he likes sex like that too, but whatever he’s got with Minho right now… so soft and fueled by desire. Not for his own pleasure, but for need of Minho … he doesn’t know if anything will ever compare. 

He’s crying out, loud and unabashed when Minho fits one more in, brushing against his prostate. 

“You are a screamer, huh?” Minho sounds amazed. 

Jisung’s cheeks are already hot, he doubts they could get any darker. “Sorry,” he says, lungs collapsing when Minho removes his hand, leaving him completely empty.

Empty.

Minho notices his fractured expression, diving in to kiss him again, his clean hand soft at Jisung’s jaw. “Never apologize, Sung. I want to hear it. I want to hear what I do to you.” 

Jisung whines desperately when he pulls away again. He watches Minho roll on a condom, his body jerks in excitement. He’s never been so excited to fuck someone. For someone to fuck him. 

Minho runs a hand down his thigh, rubbing a thumb at the sensitive skin on the innermost part of his leg. “Jisungie, how do you want to do this? It might be easier if you turn over. I don’t want to hurt you…” 

No, no, no, no, no! Jisung’s brain screams out. 

“No, no, no,” he blubbers, head shaking. “I want to look at you. Please, Min, I want to see you.” 

A fond smile forms on Minho’s lips. He ducks in, kisses Jisung sweetly. “Okay, but we’re going to go slow,” he mumbles, low and heady. 

“Anything,” Jisung replies, hooking his feet behind Minho’s ass. 

The older man chuckles, leaning back just enough to line himself up properly. He holds Jisung’s cheek in his hand, locking their eyes when he pushes in. 

Time stretches again, slowly, slowly, ticking at a snail's pace with every inch Minho buries into Jisung. 

Their breaths mingle, indistinguishable in the heat of the moment. 

“Are you okay?” Minho asks, breathless, wiping Jisung’s slightly sweat damp hair from his eyes. 

“More than,” Jisung asserts, lips dropped open in a tiny o. “Fuck me, Minho.” 

The first movement of Minho’s hips starts time moving again. 

Hands, lips, eyes, it’s all happening at once. He’s sighing into Minho’s mouth as they kiss, unable to hold back. Minho’s hands roam over his skin, leaving a trail of flame in their wake. 

“I love your ass, Jisung,” he says, giving it a squeeze as he spreads it open a bit to push in further. “I haven’t been able to stop staring at it.” 

Jisung wonders if this is what drowning feels like. “Ah… What else?” he manages. 

“Shit , Sung, everything,” Minho grits, increasing his pace. His hands continue moving, sliding flat along Jisung’s stomach. “Your tiny little waist, fuck, baby, you have no idea what you do to me.” 

A pathetic whimper. Minho is so close to hitting him exactly where he needs. Jisung bites at his lower lip, trying to angle his body just so . 

“Needy baby,” Minho says. “I’ve got you, Sung.” His hands direct Jisung’s ankles over his shoulders, one of his hands flat on the small of Jisung’s back to help maintain the positioning. 

Minho is so strong and so powerful and so… everything he’s ever wanted. 

Jisung’s heart skips a beat.

He mewls as Minho fucks into him. He cries out when Minho finally, finally reaches as deep as Jisung needs. He’s breathless, noises coming faster with Minho’s thrusts. 

“Do you need me to touch you, baby?” Minho asks, also sounding short of breath. 

“No,” Jisung begs. “Just like this, ah, Min!” 

Minho’s eyes are weighty, Jisung can feel them on his skin. He looks like a starved man who’s finally gotten what he craves. Jisung is falling apart, his mind is fuzzing up, turning to static.

“Baby,” Minho urges. “Baby…”

Jisung manages to wrench his eyes open, lids heavy. He watches as Minho picks up one of his limp hands, leads it down his torso near where his dick hangs, swollen and aching. Minho presses Jisung’s hand into the muscles, keeping his own warm on top. 

He can feel Minho inside of him, through his stomach, pushing against his walls. 

The thought… the feeling… coupled with the brush of their hands against his cock sends Jisung over the edge just a few strokes later. A cry of Minho’s name, broken in the middle, ringing out as he does. 

Minho kisses him then, and brings his hand up to work Jisung through his orgasm, slows his hips to a languid drag before he comes too. Jisung wishes they didn’t use a condom. He wishes he could feel Minho, to his full extent, before this all goes away. 

“You did so good for me, Jisungie,” Minho murmurs against his cheek, laying wet kisses down everywhere he can reach. “You’re everything to me.” 

Jisung will blame the way time stretches, in and out, short and long, for his brain failing to latch onto those words. As soon as they’re spoken he can’t tell if they’re real. If Minho had actually said it, or if his brain supplied what he so desperately wanted to hear. 

They lay together, still connected, just kissing, for an extended moment in time. Heaven, Jisung thinks. 

Minho’s hands don’t leave him the rest of the night. Not when they shower, cleaning eachother off, not when they fall into bed, boneless and exhausted, not all night.

When they wake up, Minho’s hands are still on him. 

Minho’s hands are still on him, and Jisung kisses him awake, earning a sleepy, happy groan. 

Minho’s hands are on him, right at his waist, when they finish kissing, eyes knowing, smiles teasing, whispered questions asked and answered. When he climbs onto Minho’s lap, doing what needs to be done before he sinks onto his cock.

Minho’s hands are on him when they both come again. 

Worse, Minho’s eyes are on him afterwards, catching his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You know you’re gorgeous, right, Jisung?” 

Jisung just smiles. Accepts the kiss he’s given. Ignores the way Minho’s brow furrows when they break apart. It feels like saying goodbye.

Minho’s hand lays on his thigh the entire ride home, fingers stroking back and forth. 

They don’t kiss when they say goodbye out loud. 

Minho smiles at him, and his eyes look sad. They look about half as sad as Jisung feels. 

“Thanks for everything, Minho,” he says, his entire being held together by a thin, golden string. 

“Anything, Jisung.” 

It rains that night.

Jisung cries. 

He cries so hard that his chest aches and his eyes feel like they’re going to fall out of his head. 

He chokes, gasps, can’t take in any air. 

He cries until he can’t feel anything, until he empties his stomach into the toilet, and his body has nothing left to give. 

Positive: Jisung is capable of falling in love. He wasn’t sure that was something he could do. 

Negative: Everything else.

Chapter Text

“Okay, Jisung, this is seriously grim.” 

Changbin yanks open Jisung’s curtains, blasting wretched light into his cave. He hasn’t left his room since he got home a week ago and Changbin finally just returned home after spending the week at Felix’s apartment instead of theirs.

Jisung hisses, covering his eyes from the intrusion. “Where’s your boyfriend? I like him better than you.”

“Hi, Jisungie!” 

Jisung groans. He didn’t actually want to see Felix. “Aw man, Bin! You told him?” 

“He didn’t have to, love,” Felix says, rushing over to coddle him, taking a mysteriously produced hairbrush to his tangled hair. “I know you.” 

Apparently everyone does.

“Can’t you guys just leave me to rot and die, I’m not worth the trouble,” he whines, batting Felix’s hands away. 

“Ever the fucking drama queen, Sung.” He doesn't have to look at Changbin to know he’s got his eyes rolled back into his skull.

Jisung wails loudly, falling backwards to kick his feet and bang his fists on the bed like a child.

Changbin frowns, taking up residence on his other side, opposite Felix where the man is still trying to brush his hair despite Jisung laying flat on his back. 

“C’mon, kid,” Changbin snorts, nudging Jisung’s foot with his own. “Positive and negative.” 

“This is stupid,” Jisung argues.

“Negative,” Changbin repeats.

“I’m in love with Minho.” 

“Positive?”

“Don’t have any,” Jisung grumbles. 

“Positive,” Changbin says much more forcefully. Warning, even. 

“He hasn’t tried to call me.” 

“Oh, Sungie,” Felix sighs, his lip wobbling precariously, eyes filling with moisture. 

And Changbin says Jisung is the sensitive one… yeah right. 

“Don’t you think maybe your positive and negative are mixed up?” Changbin tries, hand solid on his shoulder.

“No.”

He hasn’t thought anything for the past week. 

“Are you sure there wasn’t a miscommunication, Sungie?” Felix asks, furiously wiping his tears out of his eyes. “I could have sworn Minho was into you!” 

“No! He gave me my answer. I told Binnie this over the phone already,” he mumbles, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “He didn’t kiss me goodbye. It was pretty much a clear cut sign that things ended when we left the cabin.”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Felix sniffles. “If you just give me permission to talk to him–”

“No!” Jisung yelps. “God, please don’t. I just want time and space to get over him, okay? I knew it was like this from the beginning, I just have to fucking cope now.” 

He doesn’t keep his eyes open for long. He hates the way his friends are looking at him. He curls in on himself, small, small, smaller. 

“Can you guys get out? I really want to be alone,” Jisung murmurs weakly. 

The bed shifts when it loses their weight. He hears Changbin speaking to Felix in a hushed voice, inaudible to him. 

“Sung,” Changbin speaks quietly, as if not to startle him. Footsteps sound, and then there’s a hand at Jisung’s shoulder again. “Think about reaching out.” Steps again, leaving him this time and a, “If you don’t get out of the house by the end of the weekend I’m calling Chan.” 

The door clicks behind him.

Only then does Jisung’s body shudder to life. He bites his blanket to muffle his sobs. 

He wishes once again that he could pause his existence. 

The thing is, Jisung doesn’t know why he’s so broken up over it. 

He knew Minho didn’t feel the same way. He knew it the whole time. He had been planning for the inevitable fall from the start. 

But then Minho made him feel different. Made him feel special, and precious. God damn it. Minho made him feel loved. For the first time in his life he felt loved in the way he wants to be loved. His body just hasn’t caught up to the notion that it was all pretend.

In elementary school there was a group of boys that would pick on him. They would pretend. Pretend to be friends with him, pretend they liked him. He’s always been bad at distinguishing pretend from real. 

Changbin beat those boys up. 

He doesn’t want Changbin to beat Minho up. 

But that’s the confusing part too, isn’t it? 

That he doesn’t hate Minho. Not at all. He just misses him. 

God, does he fucking miss him. He feels like there’s a hole in his chest. 

But Minho didn’t kiss him goodbye, and Minho hasn’t called. 

But Minho is haunting his dreams.

“You’re everything to me.” 

He only remembers to drink water when his tears run out, and he realizes his body is screaming for more. 

—

He got out of the house on Sunday, just like Changbin required him to, so he doesn’t understand why Chan is pounding on his door.

“Channie, why are you here,” he shouts, scrambling to answer it. “Changbin knows I left yest–” he stops short, door flung open to reveal not Chan.

“Hey, Jisung…” Hyunjin smiles, lopsided. “Do you want to go out to lunch?” 

They choose a table outside at the cute little bistro just down the street from Jisung’s apartment. 

Hyunjin looks pretty, he looks happy, his black hair is braided down the middle, just like it was the first time Jisung saw him. 

“How are you?” Hyunjin asks, cocking his head slightly. 

Jisung stills. It feels like Hyunjin might be looking through him in nearly the same way Minho could. He doesn’t really have reason to lie, if that’s the case. 

“I’ve been better,” he offers wryly, sipping on his iced tea. 

“Look, I’ll cut to the chase,” Hyunjin frowns, sets his hands on the table. His fingers are clasped together so hard that they’re turning white on the edges. “I don’t know what happened, but Minho has been so fucked up.” 

A cyanide pill, swallowed down. That’s what it feels like. 

“What?” he asks, voice small. 

Hyunjin nods. “He took a week off. Told us he was sick. But then he came back and he was just… God, Jisung. I’ve never seen him look like that before.” 

The condensation on Jisung’s glass runs down his fingers. It feels shockingly similar to the tears that have been spilling from his eyes every night. 

He blinks. He’s glad he hadn’t had much water today, because he’s afraid his eyes would be wet if he had. 

“He looks like a zombie,” Hyunjin continues. “I would have bought the sickness excuse… chalked it up to the flu or something… but then I walked in on him crying in a practice room.”

Jisung’s heart splits open, peeling back on either side, withering in the heat. 

“I’ve known Minho for three years and I’ve never seen him cry.” 

“Well… um,” Jisung looks anywhere but Hyunjin’s eyes. 

“I don’t even really know why I’m telling you… but I just… had a feeling I should,” Hyunjin says. “You helped me and Seungmin out so much, I just… I’m really sorry if this is out of line.” The man’s shoulders slump. 

“Well,” Jisung breathes, reaching his hand out to lay it on top of Hyunjin’s. “I did promise you the worst seat at our wedding… so you have skin in the game.” 

Hyunjin breaks into a beautiful smile. Jisung pushes down the worst of his pain in order to return it. 

Later, he tells himself. He’ll deal with it later. 

“How are you and Seungmin?” he asks, determined to have a nice lunch with a man he’d like to be friends with.

They have a perfectly lovely time after that opening hiccup. 

Hyunjin hugs him when they part. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, okay?” he says, cold nose pressed into Jisung’s neck.

That night Jisung stares at his phone screen, Minho’s contact pulled up.

He could call. He could just call. 

It would be nice to hear Minho’s voice. 

He misses Minho’s voice. 

His hands shake. 

His phone screen dims, idle for too long. 

He hurriedly taps it, trying to prevent it from going to sleep, but the jerky movement causes him to click Minho’s number. 

Calling Lee Minho…

Jisung freezes, his fingers stop working. Maybe he’s stalling, though. 

Maybe he wants to know if Minho will…

The line picks up after a single ring. Jisung slams his finger onto the screen, hanging up. 

He’s shaking much harder than before when he blocks Minho’s number. 

The thought of Minho calling back is too much to bear. 

He tiptoes into Changbin’s room. It’s late, he knows the man will be sleeping. He climbs into his bed, scoots as close as possible to his friend.

“‘Sung?” Changbin grovels, voice heavy with sleep.

“Binnie,” Jisung chokes on a sob. “I hurt so bad.” 

“Oh, darling,” Changbin sighs, opening his arms to give Jisung a place to land. “I know. I know.” 

—

Jisung and Felix’s birthdays are one day apart.

They’ve always celebrated together, it’s tradition. 

This year Jisung insists that he doesn’t want to be celebrated. But Felix insists that he won’t do it without him. 

They compromise on holding the party at Felix’s apartment instead of his and Changbin’s. 

He and Changbin pregamed at home, both sufficiently tipsy when they show up, and the apartment is already crawling with people. Felix shoves a drink in his hand as soon as he’s inside. 

The first person he sees when he faces the room is perhaps the last person he’s expecting to see. 

“Haseul?” he splutters, afraid if he blinks she’ll disappear. 

“Sungie!” she automatically wraps him into a tight hug, her bobbed hair swinging. “Happy birthday, little one!” 

Something he’s always loved about Haseul is the way her smile lights up the room. She has the most calming energy he’s ever felt vibrate off another person. 

He will never forgive Chan for breaking up with her. He stands by crying over them. 

If he’s cursed for people he doesn’t expect to show up at birthday parties, he’d much rather it be Haseul than anyone else.

“Why are you here?” he asks, hoping his words don’t come off wrong. 

She laughs, tugging them out of the thickest part of the crowd to find a quieter spot to talk. Felix knows way too many people. 

“It’s funny, really,” she says when they sit on a couch. “Channie called me up out of the blue last week, said we should get lunch…” she looks up, eyeing Chan across the room. His eyes flick over to them like he has a sixth sense. 

If Haseul’s smile made the room warm, Chan’s sets it on fire. 

“Oh god, you guys are disgusting,” Jisung teases. 

She jostles his shoulder, eyes crescents under the force of her smile. “Fate knows when two people are meant to meet again, Jisungie.” 

He sighs, gaze drifting up lazily. 

“Oh fuck me,” he coughs, choking on his drink. 

Lee Minho meets his eyes from across the room. 

Jisung blinks, hoping he’ll disappear. 

He doesn’t. 

“Sung? Are you–” he doesn’t hear the rest of Haseul’s sentence, already shoving his way through the crowd to where he knows Felix is. 

“How could you do this to me!?” he cries, hands buried in the fabric of Felix’s shirt, lungs painfully constricting, air becoming harder to take in.

“Jisung, what?” Felix’s eyes widen, he looks confused, scared. 

Jisung aches. Then come the tears, pressing at the backs of his eyes, threatening to break free. 

“Why did you invite Minho?” his vision becomes spotty, ears ringing. 

Felix’s face contorts into sadness. “You can’t avoid this forever, Jisungie.” 

When Jisung lifts a hand to his cheek, it comes away wet. He’s crying. His chest clenches, and then everything is black.

It’s impossible to say what’s happening. He hears pieces of what’s going on, feels his body being moved without his permission. 

“Oh my god!”

“Jesus Christ…” that’s Changbin. “ Channie ! Can you please help me!” Why is he so loud? 

“Is he okay? Fuck. Oh my god,” the voice cracks, it sounds pained. 

“Minho… I think you should go…” Changbin again. “I’ll have Lix text you updates, okay?” 

Jisung’s brain screams at him to wake up. To protest against Changbin’s words. Which words exactly, he’s not sure. 

“Fucking hell, Jisung!” Chan has arrived. Goody. 

He manages to pry his eyes open when he’s placed into a bed. Felix’s, he presumes. 

Chan and Changbin hover above him, eyes comically wide. 

“Sorry,” he croaks. “I was feeling dramatic.” 

Changbin curses, socks him on the shoulder. “Jackass.”

“You scared us, Jisung,” Chan says, putting on his dad voice, shoving a glass of water into his hand. 

He hates disappointing Chan. 

“Just a teeny tiny hyperventilation moment, dad. No big!” Jisung realizes his head is definitely still swimming with alcohol, warping his sense of urgency. It’s impossible for him to match his friend’s energy. 

“Han Jisung,” Chan bites, stern.

Jisung can’t stop the giggle that bubbles out of him, can’t stop the ones that follow either.

He feels a little bad when Chan’s face crumbles, completely undone. 

“Can someone just take me home? I just want to go to sleep,” he mutters after his laughter subsides, avoiding eye contact. 

“Hell no, Jisung,” Changbin butts in. “Neither of us can take you and we don’t trust you to get home by yourself.” 

“There has to be someone at this party you trust to take me home!” he whines. 

His friends stare down at him. 

“Or else I’ll just call a cab! I’m a grown man, damn it!” 

Chan bites his lip, looks over to Changbin. 

Changbin sighs, runs a hand over his face. “Okay… please hold…” and then he’s disappearing into the apartment. 

“How is it possible that you’re the only sober mother fucker at this party,” Jisung groans, dragging his feet along the pavement in the parking lot, frown etched into his face.

“God I wish I knew,” Kim Seungmin commiserates, swinging the car keys around his finger. 

“Mmph,” Jisung pouts, shoving himself into the passenger seat of Chan’s car. 

The night is still. Quiet. The last remnants of summer melting out of the air into cool nights. 

Seungmin cracks the windows as they drive, city lights twinkling around them. 

“You know how you told me you don’t think you’re a good person, Seungminnie?” Jisung whispers, barely audible, forehead pressed to the glass window. 

“Yeah,” Seungmin murmurs, equally quietly. 

“I don’t think I’m a good person either,” Jisung admits, watching the fog from his breath fade away under the breeze from the window. 

“Jisung,” Seungmin sighs. “You’re not a bad person, you’re just fragile.” 

Jisung sniffles. “Do you really mean it or are you just repeating me?” 

Seungmin doesn’t hesitate, “Both.”

Their conversation lapses, Jisung watches the city whiz by. His brain feels hotwired, his body feels numb.

“Did Minho ever tell you why we hate each other?” Seungmin asks. Jisung whips his head around just in time to catch his eyes before he looks back at the road. They sparkle. 

“No. But you didn’t either. I thought it was something neither of you wanted to talk about.” 

Seungmin laughs, takes a second to gather himself. “Minho and I went to the same elementary school.” 

Jisung nods, trying and failing to convey indifference. 

“He beat me in the fifth grade spelling bee.” 

“Sorry?” Jisung coughs, choking on nothing.

“I was so mad,” Seungmin sighs, throwing the car into park. Jisung didn’t even realize they were close to their destination. “I wasn’t even supposed to be in the fifth grade spelling bee, I was a fourth grader, but they bumped me up because I was just… so good.” His face reveals a teasing smirk. 

Jisung’s hands grope at his seatbelt, pulling him tighter to the seat as if it will stop him from floating away.

“But he beat me, and it made me so mad, and I said something nasty to him. I don't even remember what…” Seungmin laughs, skull bumping against the headrest. “But he returned it, you know. He said, ‘I hate you, Kim Seungmin!’ and that was that. We’re both stubborn as hell.” 

Desperate to not let his lungs cease functioning for the second time tonight, Jisung focuses on his breathing. 

In. Out. In. 

“God,” Jisung forces himself to laugh. “I thought you guys had a bad breakup or something.” 

Seungmin’s lip curls up. “Ew. Minho isn’t even my type.” 

“Watch it, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about,” Jisung grumbles, glare poisonous. 

“Get out of my car, Han,” Seungmin ribs back. 

Jisung does.

Out. In. Out. 

“Not your car! It’s Chan’s!” he howls, hands cupped over his mouth as Seungmin peels away. 

He sees an extended middle finger waving out the window. He’s smiling, he knows Seungmin is too. 

He calls Changbin to assure him that he’s made it home. 

He texts Chan to tell him the same thing. 

He calls Felix and profusely apologizes for ruining their joint birthday.

He texts Chan and tells him he’ll gouge his eyes out if he ruins things with Haseul again.

He unblocks Lee Minho’s number.

Only then does he give himself space to feel. 

His brain is a mess, tangled and emotional and scary. 

He’s always been someone who has big feelings, big emotions. 

His mother always told him that it wasn’t a bad thing, that he should be happy that he feels so much when some others can’t feel at all. 

It didn’t feel like a good thing when he was bullied in school, or when his grandparents died, or when his first boyfriend broke up with him. Nor when his fourth told him he was, “only worth the lay.” 

It didn’t feel like a good thing, so he learned to make himself small. To quell. 

If he goes into everything assuming that he is unlovable and broken and imperfect, then he can’t be hurt the biggest feelings when everything blows up in his face. Because another thing Jisung has learned is that thinking he’s worth nothing at all is much easier to deal with than his big, big feelings when someone leaves. 

But Lee Minho had to fuck it all up, didn’t he. 

Because Lee Minho is different and special and everything he’s ever needed, even if he didn’t want it.

But he did want it. 

He told Hyunjin he’s a hopeless romantic. He didn’t lie. It’s just that Hyunjin is the first person he’s ever admitted it to. 

Jisung thought that if he threw up all his defenses, made himself small and self-hating and nothing that no one would ever be able to make him feel big feelings. But Lee Minho walked in and made him feel bigger feelings than he ever had before. Despite it all. 

Minho didn’t make him feel because of his defense mechanisms, but in spite of them. 

That’s why it’s different. 

That’s why Jisung had hyperventilated at his own birthday party. 

Because he knew that if he laid eyes on Lee Minho again, if Lee Minho laid eyes on him, that he didn’t stand a chance. 

And maybe Haseul was right about fate. Or maybe fate be damned. Because he was always going to run into Minho again. They share friends. They share a city. 

He knows that whenever he were to see Minho again, be it tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that, that he would be implicitly doomed.

Implicitly doomed to come face to face with the biggest love he’s ever felt, one that made him realize that he wants to try. 

He deserves to try.  

Positive: He is going to tell Lee Minho that he loves him.

Negative: He is much too drunk to do anything about it right now.

Positive: It’s only nine PM.

He sleeps restlessly, tossing and turning, dreaming of long brown hair and big brown eyes and the warmth of the sun. 

He’s jolted awake around three in the morning with a gasp, sitting upright in bed. His head pounds. He swallows down some painkillers, already waiting at his bedside. 

He’s not drunk anymore. The last drink he had was around eight last night. 

He picks up his phone and dials, just like he’d planned it out in his head. 

“Jisung? W’tha fuck?” a sleepy, grumbling voice fuzzes through the line.

“Was it true, Seungmin?” he asks, urgent.

“What the fuck are you…” his voice sounds farther away for a moment. “It’s three in the morning, Jisung—”

“Seungmin,” he snips, impatient. “Was what you told me about Minho true?”

“Obviously,” Seungmin groans. “Why would I lie?” 

“Cool. Great. Awesome,” Jisung clicks him onto speaker, starts frantically moving around his room to throw clothes on. “Is Hyunjin there?” 

“Yeah?” Seungmin sounds so dumb when he’s sleepy.

“Put him on,” Jisung orders, pulling a shirt over his head. 

Seungmin sighs, “He’s asleep, Jisung, I–”

“Kim Seungmin, you owe me,” he cuts in. 

Seungmin goes silent for a moment, grumbles, and then Jisung hears rustling over the line. Pieces of conversation, Hyunjin’s sleepy voice saying ‘wha?’ Seungmin explaining the situation. 

Jisung pulls on a sweatshirt, the first one he can see on the ground. It’s Minho’s, annoyingly enough, the one he’d practically claimed as his own during vacation. 

“Jisungie, are you alright?” Hyunjin asks, sounding much more concerned than his useless boyfriend. 

“Hyunjin, lovely boy, light of my life, my star,” Jisung praises, rushing over to grab his phone. “Remember when you said to call you if there’s anything you can do to help?”

“Yeah?”

Jisung shoves his feet into his shoes, locking the apartment behind him. “I need you to text me Minho’s address, like, right now.” 

“Okay,” Hyunjin says easily.

“Okay?” Jisung tries not to sound too giddy.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll do that now,” he confirms. Sure enough, Jisung’s phone lights up with a text in the next few seconds. 

“Jinnie, I love you,” he blurts. “I’ll move you into the wedding party, alright? Seungmin is still going to have to sit at the back, though.” 

Hyunjin laughs, airy and light, it turns into a yawn halfway through. “Alright.” 

“I’d say bye to Seungmin but I know he’s already asleep again.”

“You know us too well,” Hyunjin sighs dreamily. “Good luck, Jisung.”

—

Minho lives in a cute little apartment building just a few train stops away from him. 

Jisung walks, quickly, desperate to get out some of his jittery energy before he arrives, but he regrets that decision when he sees himself in the reflection of the elevator, hair out of sorts and cheeks stained a splotchy red. 

Whatever. 

He triple checks the apartment number Hyunjin sent, just to be certain he’s banging on the right door in the middle of the night, but then he lets loose, fist unleashing a flurry of knocks. 

He’s expecting Minho to be dead asleep, hence the ferocity of his pounding, but the door swings open after only one round of hits. 

Jisung had prepared. He prepared his opening line and what he would say, how he would get the point across quickly and fully. 

But Minho opens the door and he’s wearing glasses, and his hair is light and fluffy, and he looks softer than Jisung has ever seen him, and his every thought flies out the window. 

“Sungie?” Minho whispers. He’s confused, sad, maybe a tiny bit hopeful. Jisung can see it in his eyes.

The gears in Jisung’s head stick. His lines are lost. “Why are you awake?” is what he comes up with. 

“Um,” Minho looks as surprised by the question as Jisung is to have asked it. “I haven’t been sleeping well.” 

“Oh,” Jisung says lamely. “Me either.”

Minho seems conflicted for a second. “Look, Sung…”

“Can we talk?” he blurts before Minho can send him away. 

Minho visibly swallows, blinks a few times. “Yeah. Yeah, of course we can,” he says so softly Jisung would cry if he hadn’t already used up all his tears. “But you have to come in, because the cats are ten seconds from waking up and realizing I’m holding the door open.” 

Jisung lights up. He totally forgot about the prospect of cats being here. Minho smiles fondly at his reaction. It fills Jisung with a fatal dose of hope.

He’s sitting on the couch with a lap full of purring cat, next to Minho but far enough away that they are very much not touching. The space is agonizing. 

“He’s usually a lot less quick to warm up to people,” Minho comments, looking intently at the baby curled up on Jisung’s legs.

Jisung smiles, strokes Soonie to calm his nerves. “Me too,” he says. It’s a confession, in a way.

When Minho looks up at him his eyes hold the entire world. Jisung is sure of it. 

“Why did you agree to play pretend with me, Minho?” he asks gently. 

Minho shifts, faces him more fully. “To get back at Kim Seungmin,” he replies, but his weak smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Seungmin told me about you two, Minho. Please, tell me the truth, I need to know,” he pleads. 

Minho blinks. Wets his lips. “Because of you, Jisung.” 

Jisung extends his hand across the cushion, laying it in the middle of the space between them. “What about me?” 

Minho takes the offer. His hands are warm, solid, just as Jisung remembers them. 

“Because you’re cute and funny and I’ve been wanting to get to know you since Felix started talking up his boyfriend’s best friend.” 

“I thought you weren’t the type to date,” Jisung asks, his bravery wearing thin, insecurities creeping back up through the cracks in his facade. 

Minho frowns. “I told you. I just hadn’t found anyone worth my effort.” 

“What about now?” Jisung winces. He worries he’s asking for too much… Too much reassurance. 

“What do you think those two weeks were, Jisung?” Minho asks, exasperated. 

“Pretend?” he squeaks.

Minho screws his eyes shut, brow pinched. “Ask me how much of it was real, Jisung.”

“I–”

“Please.”

And he’s never heard Minho sound so desperate. “How much?” his voice crackles, throat running dry.

“Everything.” 

Jisung stares at their intertwined hands. Fire, starting from the tips of his fingers, burning up his arm, down his chest. “Me too. It was all real for me too.”

Minho’s face cracks open. He looks painfully vulnerable, more raw than Jisung has ever seen him before. “Then why did you do it, Jisung? You left like I meant nothing to you. You didn’t even ask me how I felt! You just left!” 

“Because…” Jisung’s mouth opens and shuts, no sound coming out but fractured stutters of different shitty reasoning for his brokenness. “I’m fragile,” he says eventually. 

“How,” Minho asks, despairingly. “How could you not know how much I care for you?” 

“Because I care about you so much and myself so little,” Jisung blurts, finally remembering his fucking script. He turns, Soonie jumping off his lap with an annoyed meow, grabbing Minho’s other hand, scooching over until his folded knees press to Minho’s thigh. “Minho, I was so fucking stupid, like… I was so far into my insecurities that my brain couldn’t even comprehend the idea that someone as beautiful, and wonderful, and fucking amazing as you would ever want me.”

“Sung…” Minho’s face softens.

“Let me finish, okay? Because I meant to lead with this but you looked too pretty and I got distracted and now I finally got it back,” Jisung babbles.

Minho laughs. It’s the nicest sound Jisung has ever heard. 

“And my brain was so twisted up that I thought everything you were doing was just you being a really good actor, or that it was just for those two weeks, no matter how irrational and stupid it is… my anxieties aren’t rational,” he blows out a long, tight breath. “But the thing is, Min… God. I’ve never been in love before. Not even close. I also didn’t think anyone would ever be able to make me feel like I deserve to be loved. I thought I was broken… incapable, and I never thought that the beautiful boy that wanted to get back at Kim Seungmin would be able to prove me wrong.” 

“And?” Minho murmurs, smile already playing on his lips. “What’s the verdict?” 

“I’m so in love with you it hurts, Lee Minho.” 

Minho’s smile is dazzling, wide and strong, and pushing his cheeks into his eyes. “You did just pass out at your birthday party because of me… that seems pretty dire…” 

Jisung barks out a short laugh, whacking Minho on the shoulder. “Oh my god, shut up and tell me if you like me too so I can decide whether to kiss you or run away again,” he complains.

Minho moves his hands to Jisung’s waist, applying enough pressure for Jisung to get the idea to move, led straight into Minho’s lap, knees bracketing the older man’s hips. 

Minho cups his face, runs his thumbs along Jisung’s cheekbones, he holds him like he’s the most wonderful thing in the world, and for once, Jisung believes him. “Han Jisung,” Minho says firmly. “I am so in love with you back.” 

He blooms under Minho’s attention, his sun, his everything. 

Their kiss is mismatched, messy, a consequence of the stupid grins they’re both sporting. Still, it’s better than any kiss they’ve shared before, and it gets even better when they try again and Minho runs his tongue over the seam of Jisung’s lips and splits him open, like he’s become so good at doing. 

Before he forgets… before Minho’s lips crack him apart and make him entirely unravel… 

“Minho…” And Minho kisses his neck. “Jagi,” Jisung gasps, hands tight in his hair. “Will you be my boyfriend for real?” And Minho sucks a mark into his skin, right above his collarbone. 

When Minho pulls away he’s grinning. “What, did you think this was all pretend?” 

“Good,” Jisung smiles right back, pressing a thumb into Minho’s plush bottom lip, reveling in the way it feels. “Because I promised Hyunjin a spot in our wedding party.” 

“Thank god,” Minho drops his head back on the couch dramatically. “Because I told Jeongin he could officiate.”

Laughter rings off the walls. 

“Okay,” Jisung drops another kiss onto his boyfriend’s lips. “We got the marriage thing covered… should we start trying for babies?” 

“Oh my god,” Minho sputters. “If I didn’t miss your ass so bad I would absolutely refuse to fuck you right now because you asked like that.” But he picks them up, his mouth watering thighs doing the heavy lifting. 

“But?” Jisung preens, squealing with laughter when Minho swings them towards what he assumes is the bedroom.

“But… I missed your ass so bad.” 

Later, when they’re basking in the glow of what they’ve both decided was each of their first time making love rather than having sex (an incredibly lame distinction, but, Jisung can admit that he’s an incurable hopeless romantic), a stitch of insecurity makes a home in Jisung’s stomach again. 

“Is it, like… too early to say we love each other?” he mumbles into Minho’s bare chest. 

Minho hums. “Maybe it’s not conventional… but we’re not conventional.” Jisung relaxes into the feeling of Minho’s fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Yeah… you are pretty weird,” Jisung sighs, squishing his cheek closer to Minho’s heartbeat. 

“Ya! Brat,” Minho chides. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t marry me tomorrow if I asked.” 

Jisung sighs again, louder. “Yeah. I would.” 

“That’s what I thought.”

Negative: He’s going to have to admit to Chan and Changbin that they were right.

Positive: Everything else.

—

(Scenes From the Last Two Weeks of August- One Year Later)

“I literally can’t believe I’m the only single one now. Thanks a lot, Chan,” Jeongin grumbles, arms crossed, pouting. 

“Aw, Innie,” Chan ruffles the younger’s hair, dropping down next to Haseul and throwing his arm around her. “Seul has a younger brother you might be interested in.” 

When he looks at his girlfriend his face shines, smile wide. This is exactly why Jisung cried when he broke up with her the first time, for the fucking record. 

Jeongin wheezes, tossing himself further back in the sofa dramatically. “Why is this town so annoyingly small? There’s not even any gay people!” 

“That’s not true,” Jisung protests, finger wagging. “I know for a fact there is a gay man that works at the drive in.” 

Minho scoffs from his place at Jisung’s side. “I second that.” 

Jeongin scrunches his face up at the way Jisung looks at Minho, completely adoring. “Are you talking about Jungsu?” 

Jisung racks his brain. “Uh, maybe? I think that was his name… tall guy… longish hair… I dunno, dude, it's been a year.” 

Jeongin rolls his eyes. “I already fucked him last summer, Jisung. Keep up!” He throws his hands in the air, pout fixed on his face as he goes to sulk in the kitchen. 

No one tells him that Seungmin and Hyunjin are making out just through the doorway. 

Jeongin screams.

Everyone else laughs.

—

Seungmin is standing on the back of the pontoon boat, hand over his eyes, watching Hyunjin and Minho wrestle in the water. 

Jisung sidles up to him. 

“Hey,” the younger man greets, eyes still fixed downward, smiling goofily at his boyfriend. 

“Hey,” Jisung returns. But that’s not really why he’s here. “I’ve decided I forgive you.”

Seungmin’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head the way he reacts, turning to Jisung with his jaw slack. “Really?” 

Jisung sighs, puts a hand on his hip. “Yeah… kind of sick of having your guilty conscience hanging over me. It’s really heavy and super ugly.” 

“Whatever,” Seungmin laughs, but the air between them feels lighter.

“Also…” Jisung says, drawing out the word like he’s unsure.

Seungmin turns to him expectantly, question in his eyes. 

Jisung makes eye contact with Minho in the water, the man flashing him his mischievous smile, the one he uses when he’s fucking around. 

“Nah, that’s it,” Jisung says sweetly. 

And then he shoves Seungmin into the water.

—

Jisung’s back is pressed to the trunk of a tree. 

It could be the very same tree that Minho kissed him against the first time, but he’s having a hard time focusing. 

“A-ah , shit,” he groans intelligently, Minho’s tongue sliding up the length of his dick. He looks down at his boyfriend where his hands are clenched in the older’s hair. 

Minho peers up at him through his pretty lashes like the cat who got the cream, placing a teasing kiss to the head of his cock.

“Fucking hell, Minho, you’re going to be the death of me,” he whines, running a hand down Minho’s face, thumbing over the hinge of his jaw. 

“I always thought this would be a nice place to be buried,” Minho muses, wasting no time before fully taking him in, all the way, until Jisung hits the back of his throat. 

Jisung’s hand smacks over his mouth to attempt to muffle the moan he releases, the other gripping tighter at Minho’s hair. The man hums in pleasure, setting the perfect pace. 

Was he supposed to keep watch? He can’t remember. Minho’s touch makes him lose all functionality in his stupidly lovestruck brain. 

“ Jesus fucking Christ ! It’s called ‘make out creek’ not ‘blow job creek!’” 

Jisung’s eyes shoot open. Minho lifts off his cock, sitting back on his haunches, openly pouting.

Chan stands across the clearing, his hand clasped over Haseul’s eyes. 

“Jesus, Chan, I’ve seen a dick before, I literally sucked you off this morning,” she argues, trying to pull his hand out of her face. 

“Can you guys go away, I was just getting to the good part,” Minho complains, wiping a lewd string of spit from his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Jisung fails to hold back a snort, earning a happy little smile from Minho. 

“Seriously, Chan, you’re killing my boner,” Jisung whines. 

Chan’s face burns furiously, eyes looking anywhere but the two of them. Haseul manages to duck out of his hold while he’s distracted with a victorious, ‘hah!’ 

She sends them a cheeky thumbs up as she drags her boyfriend in the direction they came. They can hear her cackling all the way back through the woods. 

Minho gets to the good part soon after.

—

“Why is Chan fishing with us?” Jisung asks, smushed between the two of them, three fold out chairs fitting much less nicely on the dock than two do. “He hates fishing more than I do.”

Chan nods solemnly, sipping on his gas station coffee he insisted they pick up before going to the lake. 

“Because this is important, I need to talk to you guys about something,” Changbin says, verging on whiny. 

“Aw, Binnie, did you finally decide to invest into that leg lengthening surgery?” 

Chan laughs loudly, probably scaring away all the fish. “Yeah, that, or his mom finally found the stash of porn he has hidden under his bed.”

Jisung laughs louder. “Or–”

“I’m going to ask Felix to marry me!” Changbin blurts, cutting their laughter short, the three of them falling into eerie silence. 

Jisung’s eyes widen. He blinks. Blinks again, and again. His lip shakes. 

“Oh my god, Jisung, don’t cry,” Changbin says.

Jisung hears a sniffle from behind him.

“Jesus Christ, not you too, Channie!” 

He and Chan dissolve into full fledged wailing, tackling Changbin off his chair with the force of their hugs. 

They probably would have fallen into the water if Chan hadn’t used his arm strength to divert the pile of them at the last second. 

“I…” Jisung sobs, gasping hiccups interrupting him between every word. “Love… You… So… Much… Chang… Bin…”

“Right, so is it better if I ask you both to be my best men now , or should we have a separate breakdown on a later date?” 

They do fall into the water then.

—

“This is a schedule,” Chan explains like he’s talking to a room full of toddlers. He points his expo marker at the different color coded and segmented time slots and dates on his, admittedly impressive, chart. “If you want to use make out creek, you have to schedule it, on the schedule . That way, no one has to walk in on their son with his dick down someone’s throat ever again!” 

Chan’s smile is sugary sweet, but his eyes hold the trauma of a man scorned. 

Everyone just stares at him. 

“Woo! Good job, babe!” Haseul calls, pumping her fist in the air. It must be hard to be a mother to eight. 

“Chan, I’ll be honest with you,” Minho deadpans. “None of us are going to fucking use that.” 

—

“Do you wanna get married tomorrow?” Minho asks when he’s balls deep in Jisung’s ass, their lips grazing, breaths short.

“Just like I say every time you ask,” Jisung pants. A string of moaned expletives slipping out before he can finish his thought. “I’m just waiting for you to take me to the courthouse.” 

Minho grins. “What if I mean it this time?” 

Jisung can’t tell if the way his heart swells is from the sincerity in Minho’s words or his rapidly building orgasm. “Then I’d tell you we should do it today,” he breathes. “I don’t want to wait. Might get cold feet.” His teeth catch Minho’s bottom lip, sucking lightly to hide his smile. 

“Then hurry up and come faster. I’m impatient to make you mine,” Minho complains, upping the snap of his hips to a breakneck pace.

"I've always been yours, Lee Minho."

The peak is just as good as the very first time.

—

“Who wants to see our wedding photos?” Minho calls into the cabin the second they walk through the door.

“Minho,” Jisung hisses, smacking his arm. “I thought we were going to keep it a secret!” 

Minho shrugs.

Felix is the first to appear, Hyunjin hot on his heels. “What!?” they gasp in unison. 

Jisung can’t hold back his smile, giving into the squealing and jumping and hugging that the boys start engaging in. 

“What did you do,” Changbin asks cautiously, the rest of their friends trickling in. 

“Married him,” Jisung says cooly, throwing a thumb towards Minho. 

Chan’s jaw drops, he looks back and forth between them. “Oh, Jisung, please tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope. Didn’t need my dad’s signature down at the courthouse, so…” he only feels a little bad for the way Chan’s face crumbles, Haseul smiling brightly at Jisung as she comforts him. 

“Awwwww, you got married in Minho’s team sweatshirt?” Felix coos. “That’s so cute!” He and Hyunjin swipe through the photos on Minho’s phone, Minho watching over their shoulders like a proud dad.

Jisung is so in love with him.

“Congrats, man,” Seungmin goes to clap him on the back but Jisung takes the chance to dive in for a hug, enjoying the sound and proximity of Seungmin’s dry laugh in his ear. 

He and Minho make their way around the room, accepting hugs and congratulations, and Changbin whispering in Jisung’s ear that hes, “Going to fucking kill him,” for, “Stealing his wedding thunder.” 

Jisung goes to Chan last. 

“Channie?” he tries, poking the man in the shoulder where he sits, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. 

His eyes are wet and red when he looks up. 

“Oh, Channie,” Jisung frowns, dropping into his lap and throwing his arms around his neck. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” 

Chan returns his hug, wet cheeks pressing into Jisung’s neck. “No, Sung. I’m not upset…” he mumbles. “I just always imagined I’d be there.” He pulls away, offers Jisung a pathetic smile. “I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“Channie…” Jisung says, smile forming. “If we recreate the wedding right now, in the house… will you give me away?” 

That breaks the dam, Chan falling into broken sobs, gasps interrupting each of his words, “Of… Course… I… Will… I… Love… You… So… Much… Jisung…” 

So they get married again, right there in the living room, couches shoved out of the way so they can properly stage it. 

Felix rushes outside, tying a hasty daisy chain to drape on Jisung’s hair, and Chan walks him down the … aisle? 

Hyunjin is to his right, and Seungmin’s sitting at the very top of the stairs, barely visible to him, but Jisung can tell he’s smiling. 

“Do you swear to tell the whole truth?” Jeongin asks, one eyebrow raised, holding open a book that is definitely not the bible.

“Wrong type of courtroom, Innie,” Minho whispers, his eyes not leaving Jisung once. 

Jeongin sighs. “Minho, do you love Jisung?”

“Absolutely.”

“Jisung, do you love Minho?” 

“Completely,” Jisung says, happiness rolling over into a slight tremor in his legs.

“Do you both promise to be gay and disgusting together forever?”

“We do,” they say in unison. 

“Okay,” Jeongin smirks. “Minho, you may kiss the bride.”

“Hey-” Jisung’s complaint is swallowed by Minho’s lips, kissing him deep and passionately, humming happily into his mouth. 

The room erupts into cheers, but he only stops kissing his husband when Changbin starts pointedly chucking dry rice straight into their faces, his hand dipping directly into the box.

Minho smiles, bright and pretty, all for Jisung. 

His eyes are still glued to Jisung’s face when he shouts, “We call the next four make out creek time slots, so don’t get any ideas!”

—

When they get home Minho insists on carrying him through the door of their apartment bridal style.

“This is so stupid, Minho,” Jisung laughs, enjoying every fucking second. 

Minho ignores him, crooning some embarrassingly loud rendition of a wedding march. 

“Now,” he announces when he throws Jisung onto their bed. 

Jisung waits, eyebrows raised, cheeks aching from so much smiling.

“Now we can start trying for babies.”