Archive of Our Own ^beta

 Not for the first time that night, Jisung tugged on the deathgrip that Hyunjin had around his wrist, steadily dragging him in the very direction that Jisung did not want to be going. “Hyunjin!” he yelled, desperate. However, the plea was lost on his best friend, whose face was set in determination. Still, Jisung was, if nothing else, endlessly stubborn, so he continued to try to pry Hyunjin’s fingers off him, all while rambling. “I said I changed my mind about this stupid party, I want to go home.”

 “I already did your hair,” Hyunjin said nonchalantly, not even loosening his grip. At this point in their friendship, nothing phased him. Especially not the dramatic changes in Jisung’s decisions and choices.

 Jisung was like that. He fluttered back and forth between many things–ice cream flavors, hair colors, fashion choices. Jisung could use all his savings to buy an expensive pair of shoes, just to decide that he didn’t like them a week later.

 However, none of that compared to how Jisung fluttered back and forth between crushes. It wasn’t rare for someone to catch Jisung’s eye, and each time he became infatuated with them, he swore it was the last. Jisung was always so, so easy to fall in love, but a lot harder to make stay.

 Though Hyunjin and Jisung had known each other for years–thanks to a rather rocky start due to their parents being long time family friends–everything else about this situation was new. Up until now, Jisung had been going to an entirely different college, halfway across the city, and had transferred to Hyunjin’s university last month. This university had been recommended to him by his favorite teacher as having better musical opportunity, and he’d been told he would thrive there. He didn’t think about the lasting effects on his social life, simply took the advice and applied, thrilled when he got in. He guessed he got lucky this time, not realizing that this happened to be the college that his long time friend attended.

 He was unlucky, however, in that he had decided–the week before he started at the new university–to dye his hair midnight blue. On top of that, his fashion choices of the week also happened to be dark clothes–including, but not limited to, ripped black skinny jeans and leather jackets. And, on top of all that, Jisung snuck away most nights to rap underground, which was the best place he could express himself through his passion.

 It was a small college, and rumors tended to travel quickly; within a week, Jisung had quickly gained the reputation of being a bad boy. Which would’ve been fine if it weren’t the farthest thing from the truth possible. It also meant that he was unapproachable–in an irresistible sort of way, apparently. The girls couldn’t stay away from them (which made him feel even more guilty, because he guessed it wasn’t entirely obvious that he liked boys) and the guys respectfully ignored him (in the way that basically suggested that if he started shit, they wouldn’t hesitate to annihilate him, however, until then, he didn’t exist). Jisung figured that things could, probably, be worse.

 But it was hard being the new kid. It was even harder being the new bad boy. Those were big shoes to fill, and Jisung just wasn’t...bad. On the contrary, actually. He liked cheesecake and Twice, and, before the obsession with dark clothing and leather jackets, his hear was honey blonde and he had basically lived in his pink sweatshirt. The bad boy aura that apparently surrounded him, was, evidently, alluring. Jisung was just afraid that he was rather disappointing when it came to his actual reputation.

 Which, of course, led to his current fears.

 “Hwang Hyunjin, if you don’t let me go I will gnaw through your hands,” Jisung huffed.

 “Go ahead.”

 Jisung planted his feet, but Hyunjin had always been stronger than him, easily continuing to pull him along. Which was embarrassing as his feet continued to skid across the concrete before he decided to give that bit up and stumble along after him. “Hyunjin,” he tried again. “We have to go back.”

 “Why?”

 “I forgot my wallet.”

 Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “I saw you slide it under your pillow before we left, it’s in my pocket.”

 Jisung groaned. “Seungmin texted me, he said I have to go to his house right away.”

 “Seungmin already told me you’d try that–he’s at home studying and, actually, he told me to keep you away from him.”

 Jisung panicked, desperate. “Kkami’s sick!”

 Hyunjin stopped, and Jisung momentarily celebrated his win, before Hyunjin smugly pulled out his phone, showing him a video of his dog, sleeping in his bed. Jisung leaned in to look at it closer, then narrowed his eyes at Hyunjin. “Is that a live video?”

 “Baby monitor,” Hyunjin explained, as if that was the only question Jisung had. “Stop trying to worm out of this, you’re going.”

 “Hyunjin!” Jisung whined, long and high pitched. “I really don’t want to go.”

 “You were so excited about this party a week ago. What happened?”

 Jisung sighed. “Lee Minho happened.”

 Hyunjin rolled his eyes again, a common action when his best friend was Han Jisung. “That’s the whole reason we were going to this party. You wanted to, and I quote, ‘meet my super hot and pretty dancing hyung.’”

 “That was before he talked to me,” Jisung complained.

 “He talked to you once, Jisung. All he said was that he liked your hair. And, if I remember correctly, you malfunctioned and didn’t respond,” Hyunjin sighed.

 “That’s the problem, Hyunjin!” Jisung groaned. “He liked my hair.”

 Hyunjin blinked, then got an exasperated look on his face. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but why is that a problem?”
 
 Jisung huffed, frustrated. Wasn’t it obvious? “Hyunjin, he was just interested because of this stupid bad boy persona the school created for me.”

 Hyunjin knitted his eyebrows, confused. “Pretty sure he just liked your hair, Jisung.”

 Jisung was hardly listening, too busy thinking, his mind suddenly going a mile a minute. He hadn’t even realized he was rambling, but the words were coming out of his mouth without permission. “How did I get this stupid reputation anyway? If anyone talked to me, I think it would be pretty easy to tell that I’m, like, the softest guy ever–”

 “Pretty sure it’s the underground rapping. And fight rumors.”

 “–and I even have their album–wait, fight rumors?”

 Hyunjin grimaced, but nodded. “There are a bunch of rumors that you get into fights, like, daily.”

 Jisung’s mouth dropped open. “Has anyone at this school met me?” he exclaimed. He hid his face in his hands, then ran his fingers through his hair, stressed, before he looked back at Hyunjin, trying to force a calm look. “You know what? It’s fine. I can play this stupid bad boy role. I’ve punched someone before.”

 Hyunjin blinked. “You punched me. And you cried afterwards.”

 “And it’s the reason we’re best friends, so, really, you should be thanking me,” Jisung said seriously, crossing his arms.

 “Fine,” Hyunjin said, entirely done with Jisung. “I don’t care who you go to the party as–Bad Boy Jisung or Soft-Ass Jisung–but you’re going.”

 Jisung bit his lip, thinking. If Minho really was interested in him because of his bad boy persona, could he effectively play that role? Or would he fall apart the second he saw the older boy–which tended to be a running theme with Jisung.

 He’d had many crushes, some of them lasting as long as a couple of hours, others months, but none of them had ever captured his heart so quickly or entirely. The first time he’d seen Minho was at Hyunjin’s dance showcase. The second he saw Minho dancing on that stage, he was sure the world stopped spinning, and he’d forgotten about everyone before–everyone who’d broken his heart, everyone who’d made it flutter. Suddenly, it was all about the dancer, and Jisung couldn’t get enough. Especially when the older passed him after the performance, all bright smiles and giggles. Jisung had shyly muttered out a “Congratulations”, and Minho had turned to him, eyes lit with curiosity when they settled on Jisung’s flushed face. And that’s where it all began.

 Hyunjin said it was obsessive and unhealthy, but Jisung was whipped.

 If he had a chance with Minho, Jisung thought he should take it. Even if that meant he had to play up the bad boy role, just a little bit. He could be his normal self after tonight. Anyways, Hyunjin had already done his hair, and, admittedly, he looked good.

 “Fine,” Jisung answered. “But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

 Hyunjin grinned, obviously relieved to finally be done with that conversation. “That’s the spirit!” he chirped, already pulling Jisung down the street again.

—

 It wasn’t like Jisung hadn’t been to parties before. Jisung had been to plenty of parties, just none of them that he was sure the love of his life was attending.

 Overdramatic, he reminded himself as he walked through the door, staying close behind Hyunjin, who greeted almost everyone he came across with a wide smile and some weird handshake or another that Jisung really didn’t understand.

 It was like that for about the first half an hour–Jisung all but clinging to Hyunjin’s shirt, shyly waving at people that Hyunjin excitedly introduced him to. Apparently, his nerves came across as nonchalance, and he wondered if that was another reason he’d adopted the bad boy persona. No one seemed to notice the slight panic in his features or the fact that he hadn’t left Hyunjin’s side since they walked in the door. He’d even received a few stares–some intrigued, some indignant. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, trying to make himself smaller, and he suddenly wished he hadn’t worn a white t-shirt, because he was almost certain he was sweating and he’d prefer his shirt not go transparent.

 After what felt to Jisung like years, Hyunjin leaned over to him, close enough to his ear that none of his other friends could hear, and muttered, “Minho’s over there, in the kitchen.”

 Jisung froze, standing on his tiptoes to glance over Hyunjin’s shoulder, and seeing exactly what Hyunjin had said. He gulped, giving Hyunjin a terrified look. “I don’t think I can do this.”

 “Oh, no you don’t,” Hyunjin laughed. “You’re definitely going to do this. Just go up to him and say hi, Jisung, it won’t kill you.”

 “It might,” Jisung said flatly, glaring.

 “If you don’t go up to him now, then I swear I won’t talk to you for the rest of the night. Which also means I won’t walk you home, and I know you have a terrible sense of direction.”

 Jisung gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

 Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, challenging. “Oh, wouldn’t I?” Hyunjin turned to one of the boys he’d been talking to earlier, a teasing smile playing on his face. “Anyways, Felix, what were you saying about going to practice after this–?”

 The boy–Felix–looked entirely confused, but Jisung didn’t notice that in the panic that suddenly took over him. “Fine, fine!” he said, his voice raising. “I give in, I’ll go talk to him.”

 Hyunjin grinned innocently, wiping pretend tears. “I’m so proud of you.”

 “I swear to God, Hwang Hyunjin, I really hate you sometimes,” Jisung mumbled.

 “I think I’ll live. Go get ‘em, Sungie!” Hyunjin called after him as Jisung began to walk away, cheeks ablaze. Behind him, Jisung heard Hyunjin speak, loud enough for him to catch it. “They grow up so fast.” He heard the other boy–Felix–laugh loudly, and he forced himself to keep walking, deciding to plan Hyunjin’s untimely demise later.

 Unfortunately for Jisung, Minho saw him before he made it all the way to the kitchen, that same curious sparkle to his eyes, accompanied with something that Jisung thought was amusement. The eye contact made it endlessly awkward, because now it was like Minho was calculating just how long until Jisung made it to him, and he would see if the latter decided to chicken out. Which is exactly what he was thinking of doing.

 How did bad boys even act, anyway? Like they liked you one minute, then couldn’t care less the next? Jisung didn’t understand it, and he was pretty certain that he was going to crash and burn. Still, he smiled at Minho as calmly as he could when he finally stood in front of him, and said, as eloquently as possible, “Hey.”
 
 For some reason, this elicited a giggle from Minho, who reached up and swiped his bangs from his face. Jisung noticed that it was a few shades lighter than it’d been when he first saw it, and he couldn’t help but think just how good he looked. “Hey yourself,” Minho responded easily. He leaned back against the countertop, staring Jisung down through impossibly long lashes, and Jisung was sure that his heart was going to stop any minute.

 Jisung swallowed heavily, eyes flitting around the room to look at anything but the beautiful boy in front of him as he desperately searched for something to say. “I–uh, nice party,” he said, then internally groaned at how dumb he sounded, even to himself. This was off to a really rocky start.

 Minho raised an eyebrow, then looked across the room. He shrugged. “Could be better,” he said. “A little dull, honestly.”
 
 Jisung had to agree, but probably not for the same reasons that Minho was implying. Jisung just tended to dislike parties in general, and he figured he probably wouldn’t ever have fun at one. He bit his lip, trying to think of what a bad boy would say in this situation. “We could make it fun,” he said suddenly, without thinking. He cringed at the words the second they left his mouth. He hated himself, those were the greasiest–

 His thoughts were cut off by Minho’s laugh, bright and loud next to him, and Jisung’s eyes widened. He loved that sound, and he never wanted to stop hearing it. Never wanted to stop causing it. Minho, still smiling, shook his head, then used his pointer finger to raise Jisung’s chin so he was looking into his eyes. “I think we should,” he replied, his voice lowering seductively.

 Jisung grinned at that, suddenly gaining confidence. Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought it would. “I’m Jisung,” he said cooly, eyeing Minho in the most painfully obvious way possible.

 Minho raised an eyebrow, moving back again to slide onto the countertop. Jisung could swear the older was teasing him, pushing as close as possible, then pulling back just far enough to let Jisung breathe before he was right back. Not that Jisung was complaining. “I know,” he replied simply, fluttering his eyes flirtatiously.

 “You do?” Jisung asked, smirking a little. He placed a hand on either side of Minho’s waist on the counter, heart pounding when Minho giggled again, constantly pulling him in. Jisung leaned closer to him, until they were centimeters apart. He wasn’t sure where the confidence was from, but he figured it was a mix of the persona he’d decided to play and the way Minho made everything so easy. His smile was so bright, so welcoming, Jisung could fall into it forever.

 Minho hummed, tilting his head to the side and loosely linking his hands behind Jisung’s neck to pull him that much closer. “How could I not?” he asked. “A new guy shows up with dark blue hair and he raps underground? Han Jisung, you’re almost irresistible.”

 Jisung’s heart fluttered at the words, trying to ignore what they were insinuating. Was he only irresistible because of what everyone thought he was? Either way, he pushed that thought away, choosing to play along instead. He raised his eyebrows at Minho. “Almost?”

 Minho nodded. “Almost,” he repeated. “I asked Hyunjin about you, actually.”

 Jisung froze for a split second, hoping the older boy didn’t notice the sudden change in his mood. Hyunjin could’ve told him anything–and most of it had peek embarrassing potential. He shot a look over his shoulder at his friend, realizing that he was watching them intently. When he realized that Jisung was looking, he gave him a bright smile and shot him a thumbs up. Jisung was going to kill him.

 Minho touched lightly at his cheek, leading his attention back to him carefully. He tilted his head a little, frowning. “Are you okay?”

 Jisung blinked. “I’m fine, why?”

 “You have this angry smoulder thing going on. It’s kind of hot.”

 Jisung almost choked, completely taken aback. “I’m–”

 Minho cut him off by sliding off the counter, causing them to end up chest to chest. Minho flashed him a blinding smile. “Do you want to dance?” he asked.

 Jisung’s heart stuttered, and all of his breath left his body. Stiffly, he nodded, before he frowned. “I’m not very good, though. And I’ve seen you dance...” he trailed off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt some of his confidence melting away, and he avoided Minho’s eyes, trying to think of what to do next.

 “It’s easy!” Minho exclaimed happily, grabbing his hand. “I’ll teach you!”

 Right before they reached the dance floor, however, Minho stopped them, and he looked at Jisung a little mischievously. He tugged on the sleeve of his leather jacket. “You won’t be needing this,” he said teasingly, and Jisung stood still, shocked, as Minho slid the jacket off his shoulders, fingers dancing flirtatiously along his arms.

 “Wha–” Jisung stuttered.

 Minho only giggled again. “Don’t worry, it’s in good hands,” he told him, before he slid Jisung’s jacket over his own shoulders, hands getting lost in the sleeves. He grinned at Jisung cheekily, a knowing smile crossing his face. “How do I look?”

 Jisung blinked at him, once again at a loss for words. He finally understood why people liked to see their significant others in their clothes–because right now, Jisung was entirely certain that there was no better sight than Minho staring at him through his lashes, beginning to sway his hips to the beat of the song, all while wearing Jisung’s jacket. His breath hitched, and he nodded a little. “You look–” he swallowed, “–good. Really, really good.”

 Minho grinned happily, even though Jisung was pretty sure he’d already known how good he looked.

 Jisung took a deep breath, trying to summon his confidence again. He reminded himself that he was supposed to be some kind of sexy bad boy and placed his hands low on Minho’s waist, tugging him in close. The latter looked delightedly surprised, but also like Jisung had proposed a challenge he didn’t want to lose. Minho reached up to weave his fingers into the hair at Jisung’s neck, playing with it lightly. Jisung was sure he was a little in love.

 “You said you’d teach me,” Jisung said softly, teasing.
 
 “I believe in learning by doing,” Minho replied easily. There was a devilish glint to his eyes as he got closer to Jisung, until they were flush together, chest to chest, hips to hips, and Minho began to move slowly, to the deep beat of the song.

 Jisung wondered how the hell he was supposed to survive the night. If Minho kept doing stuff like this, he was definitely going to die. Maybe he was already dead, and this was heaven. Jisung matched Minho’s movements, and, even though he obviously wasn’t as good of a dancer as the older boy, he was able to keep up with him. Something told him that Minho was going easy on him, though.

 “So why did you transfer colleges?” Minho asked, looking genuinely interested.

 “The music program here is the best. Honestly, I’d looked into this college before, but I’ve always thought it was too expensive. Still is. I’m only here on a scholarship thanks to a recommendation from an old teacher,” Jisung replied honestly.

 Minho raised his eyebrows, a little shocked. “You’re here on a scholarship?” he said, awed.

 Jisung nodded, a little shy. “I really love music. I’ve been trying to get better and work hard. I don’t want to lose the scholarship.”
 
 “I really admire that,” Minho said, before frowning. They were still dancing, but the air around them became tense for other reasons. “A lot of people only think I’m here because of my parents’ money,” he said, voice soft and vulnerable as if he was ashamed.

 Jisung brought one hand up to brush a finger over Minho’s cheek, encouraging him to look up at him. “You’re really talented, Minho. I’ve seen you dance. I don’t think I’ve seen anything so...” he trailed off. He didn’t think he had words to describe it, and he was a lyricist.

 Minho peered at him, curious and unsure. “So?”

 Jisung looked him dead in the eyes, serious. “Mesmerizing. Entrancing. Tantalizing. Beautiful.”

 Minho stopped dancing for a moment, eyes wide as he stared up at Jisung, who then blushed deeply, turning his head away. “What?” he muttered.

 “I just–” Minho cut himself off, looking at Jisung with an unreadable expression. “Thank you,” he said finally.

 Jisung shook his head. “It’s true,” he said quietly, not quite meeting Minho’s eyes. “Ask Hyunjin. When I saw you dance, I had to know who you were. I think I was a little bit in love.” Jisung meant for the words to come out as a joke, but he scared even himself a little bit when they came out too serious. Minho wasn’t laughing, and Jisung’s heart constricted a little too much.

 “Han Jisung,” Minho said, in the way that you would say a word that you’ve just learned the meaning to.

 Jisung winced. He’d definitely gone way too far with that last comment. It wasn’t like that–he wasn’t actually in love with Lee Minho, he’d only known him for a week, if that. Jisung knew that, he wasn’t naive. But he knew there was the potential to be in love with Minho, which was so much more terrifying, knowing that he was most likely destined to be broken hearted and in love with this boy–who probably thinks he’s crazy now. “I’m sorry,” Jisung said. “I’ll just–”

 He pulled his hands from Minho’s waist, ready to leave and never turn around out of embarrassment, when Minho caught his hand again, turning him around again dramatically. Jisung didn’t even have time to think before Minho’s lips were on his own and he was frozen. Minho was kissing him. Minho liked him.

 Jisung’s hands shot up to hold him, as Minho’s hands held either side of his face, keeping him in place. Minho’s lips were desperate, and Jisung grinned into the kiss, ecstatic, before he took control, slowing it down. Minho whined at that, trying to tug Jisung impossibly closer, pressing into his mouth with all he had. Jisung bit gently at his lip, and, taking the hint, Minho opened his mouth wider, allowing Jisung to slip his tongue in.

 When Minho groaned at that, Jisung became too aware that they were still in the middle of a party, and while it wasn’t out of place for people to make out at parties, he didn’t like the idea of anyone else seeing Minho like this or interrupting.

 He pulled back, heart fluttering at the short sound of annoyance that Minho made as he tried to reconnect their lips, and grabbed his hand, leading him away from the crowded space until he found a quiet hallway. He pressed Minho into the wall as quickly as possible, eager to get back to what they’d started, but he stopped before he kissed him again.

 Minho’s hair was a little messed up, eyes wide, lips red. He looked small, crowded against the wall and drowning in Jisung’s leather jacket, and Jisung couldn’t help but think that he wanted to see that image for the rest of his life. If he could take a picture, he would. Instead, he cleared his mind, leaning down to kiss him again, speaking in between presses of lips. “You–are so–fucking–beautiful,” he knew he sounded breathless, but he felt hurried, trying to convey all of his admiration and adoration for the boy into his words and kisses.

 “Stop talking,” Minho breathed, tugging him down by the back of his neck.

 Jisung pressed closer, pushing his thigh in between Minho’s legs, causing the older boy’s breath to hitch. Jisung smirked, kissing him deeper. Jisung kept one hand glued to Minho’s waist, trying to control the slow movement of his hips.

 After a while, he broke away, trying to catch his breath, and opting to press kisses along Minho’s jaw then down his neck. He sucked lightly at the skin there until he found a sensitive spot, grinning when he did. He glanced up at Minho, the latter’s head tilted back against the wall and his eyes shut tightly. “Can I?” Jisung asked, his breath ghosting over Minho’s neck.

 Minho nodded hurriedly, and Jisung grinned to himself. He nipped harshly at the skin on his neck, which elicited a rather positive reaction out of Minho, if the breathless moan and the stutter of his hips was anything to go by. This only boosted his confidence, and Jisung continued to suck at his neck, stilling Minho’s hips with one hand.

 When he pulled back again, there was a deep purple spot on Minho’s otherwise unblemished skin, and he looked at it proudly, about to dip down and give him another one. Before he could, however, Minho growled, then flipped them over.

 Jisung squeaked at the sudden action, then stared up at Minho, wide-eyed, as he was pressed back into the wall. With mischievous eyes and a teasing smile, he crowded as close to Jisung as possible, putting them in the exact same position they’d been in seconds before, but now Jisung was entirely at the older’s mercy.

 Jisung couldn’t suppress a small whimper, all of his confidence and dominance from only moments before completely diminished.

 Minho hummed, hovering over Jisung’s lips for a second, and Jisung reached for them desperately, but Minho pulled back. His attitude changed so fast, Jisung had to wonder how he didn’t get whiplash. His eyes had darkened, and he was staring down at Jisung almost hungrily, and the younger boy shivered.

 Minho placed one kiss on his lips. “I think this is much better, don’t you?” he murmured.

 Jisung huffed, turning his head to avoid embarrassment. He didn’t know what game Minho was playing. He tried to be the dominant bad boy that he thought Minho had wanted–and he’d seemed to like that. A lot. But now, the other boy had done a complete one-eighty, and Jisung was just left confused, and really turned on. “Just fucking kiss me, Minho,” Jisung whined, trying to get his lips on him again.

 Minho shook his head, angling himself far enough out of his reach that he was barely touching Jisung now. “Nuh uh, baby,” he said, teasing. “You have to admit that you like this more first.”

 Jisung’s face flushed, turning dark red, but he didn’t say anything, just stubbornly kept looking away.

 Minho frowned at him, pretending to look disappointed, but Jisung saw there was still a devilish glint in his eyes. He pulled away until they weren’t touching at all, and Jisung bit back another whine, suddenly feeling really small and vulnerable. “Minho,” he whined.

 The older just laughed, and Jisung relaxed a little bit when he grabbed one of his hands and traced the lines with his fingers to calm him down. “Come on, Jisungie. Isn’t there something you want to tell me?”

 Jisung glared at him, opening his mouth to say something, when someone else came around the corner. They jumped apart, even though they weren’t really doing anything other than holding hands, but Jisung couldn’t really decide if that was better or worse, but he still flushed even darker when his eyes met the freckled boys’ from earlier.

 Felix cleared his throat awkwardly, obviously trying to look anywhere but at them. “Hi, uh, I’m Felix–we met earlier. You–you know that. Right. Anyways, your friend is really drunk,” he said, deep voice raising a couple of pitches as he squeaked out the words uncomfortably. “I thought you might want to take him home, but we can probably–”

 “No, it’s okay,” Jisung said. “I’ll take him home.”

 Jisung turned to look at Minho, about to apologize for the interruption and tell him he had to leave, but he was met with Minho’s already soft gaze. He smiled at him. “I’ll walk you out?” he offered.

 Jisung nodded. “I’d like that,” he said.

 Felix was right, Hyunjin was very drunk. When Felix all but dumped his friend into his arms, Hyunjin was giggling like a maniac, looking up at Jisung with wide eyes and, without any warning, bopping his nose. “Boop!”

 “Hwang Hyunjin, you will be the absolute death of me,” Jisung said bluntly.

 “I love you, too!” he replied enthusiastically.

 Jisung rolled his eyes. “Let’s go home,” he said.

 Felix gave him a hesitant look. “Will you be able to get home okay?” he asked carefully.

 Jisung was confused for a minute before he remembered what Hyunjin had said about him being awful with directions at the beginning of the party. He laughed loudly, but nodded. “We’ll be fine. Our apartment isn’t actually that far from here. Thank you, though,” he said.

 Felix nodded in response. “Tell his dumbass to text me when he’s sober,” he said with a laugh, nodding to Hyunjin, who was busy having a very serious conversation with his shoes.
 
 “Don’t worry, I will,” Jisung said, adjusting his friend’s weight so he was leaning against one shoulder, arm wrapped around him.

 “I’ll get the door,” Minho offered, leading them to the door and opening it carefully.

 Jisung turned once they were on the porch, still trying to support a giggling Hyunjin. “I’m really sorry about this,” he said, looking at the ground shyly.

 “Jisung, it’s fine,” Minho laughed.

 Jisung nodded quickly. “Right,” he said, not really wanting to leave yet, but knowing that Hyunjin should probably get to sleep.

 “Wait! Your jacket!” Minho exclaimed, apparently shocked that he almost forgot about it.

 He began to slide the fabric off his shoulders, and Jisung watched it come off one arm sadly. “Keep it for now,” he told him, the words coming out faster than he could think them through. “Give it back to me later. It will give me an excuse to see you again.” He grinned at Minho, adoring the surprised, but soft expression that appeared on his face.

 “Okay,” he whispered.

 “Goodnight, Minho,” Jisung called, turning around and tugging Hyunjin along with him.

 “Goodnight, Jisung.”

 “Hey, Jisung, how did it go with your crush? My dancing hyung that you thought was so hot? I told you you should talk to him!” Hyunjin babbled, still giggling.

 “Hwang Hyunjin if you don’t shut up right now, I will leave your ass on the sidewalk,” Jisung hissed, but it was too late, Minho’s bright laughter followed them out of the driveway of the house, and Jisung’s cheek were bright red.

—

 Jisung was in full panic mode for about a couple of days. His mind kept betraying him–replaying the events of the party. Everything from when they’d decided to dance to when Felix found them. His heart fluttered at it, but something in his stomach turned every time he let himself drift a bit more, thinking about the way it felt when Minho had flipped them, so he was in control. Jisung always knew he’d preferred it that way, but how could Minho know that? He’d tried so hard to play the role that he thought Minho would want him to be, and now he didn’t know who to be anymore.

 “You’re being stupid,” Hyunjin said, after Jisung voiced these thoughts to him.

 “You don’t get it, Hyunjin. I think he really likes me, just...” Jisung hesitated, unsure. “I think he likes the dangerous bad boy that the school thinks I am, and I’m just...”

 “Not,” Hyunjin finished for him. “You’re not that person, Jisung.”

 “I know! That’s the problem,” Jisung said, pouting.

 Hyunjin frowned. “That’s not a problem, you’re just being dramatic.” When Jisung looked at him doubtfully, he sighed. “Jisung, I don’t want to sound like a lame Disney movie, but just be yourself.”

 “You might as well have started singing, Hyunjin,” Jisung said bluntly. “And I want to! But what if he doesn’t like me for... me?”

 Hyunjin stared at him in disbelief. “Jisung, do I really need to tell you what to do if he doesn’t like you for who you are?”

 Jisung stared down at his hands, crossed and fiddling in his lap. “No,” he muttered.

 Hyunjin reached over to pat his head lightly before he stood up from their table, going to put his dishes in the sink. “It’s going to be okay, Jisung. I promise.”

—

 After a week of Jisung not being able to get into contact with Minho, Hyunjin finally decided to intervene and give the older Jisung’s phone number at their weekly dance practice. Jisung had to remember to both thank him and cancel any murder plans (or, at least, put them on a hiatus, until the next time Hyunjin embarrased him).

 The morning after Minho got his number, Jisung’s heart leapt when he got a call from an unknown number, immediately going into overdrive as he answered the phone. “Hello?” he said, trying to steady his voice.

 “Hi, Jisung? This is Minho,” the voice said from the other side of the phone.
 
 “Hi, yeah it’s me,” Jisung said, a little breathless. “What’s up?” Internally, he cringed. What’s up? That was the most cliche thing he could’ve said, and also made him sound like an uninterested frat boy named Chad. A voice in his head that sounded a lot like Hyunjin’s reminded him that he was overthinking again.

 “I was wondering if you wanted to meet me for coffee?” Minho said, sounding strangely nervous, like they hadn’t been making out not even a week ago. But Jisung could understand that–why was this so much scarier? “I mean–I still have your jacket,” he added, sounding a little rushed.

 “Oh–yeah, of course!” Jisung said, hating the way his voice cracked slightly. “When?”

 “Tomorrow? Around ten? Would that work for you?” Minho asked.

 Jisung didn’t exactly feel like telling Minho that he was rarely awake before afternoon, so he nodded dumbly, then realized Minho couldn’t see that. “I–yes! That sounds amazing. Good! That sounds–good,” he stuttered out, then winced at his own awkwardness.

 Well, if Minho didn’t know he wasn’t the image of confidence and danger before, he sure as hell does now.

 Still, Minho giggled on the other side. “Alright. I’ll text you the address. See you soon, Jisungie.”

 The line went dead, and Jisung sat there for a while, heart just beating. In a daze, he lifted his phone back to his ear, dialing a different number. “Hey, Hyunjin? Can you come to the store with me. There’s something I have to do.”

—

 Jisung was a mess in the morning, and he kind of wished he’d asked for a later time, because he stumbled into the café about ten minutes late, eyelids heavy and hair a fluffy mess. Still, he easily saw Minho sitting in the corner of the café, two coffees already in front of him.

 Minho looked a little worried, but his eyes widened when they fell on Jisung. He looked shocked for a second, before he flashed him the brightest smile, waving him over. Jisung lifted his hand awkwardly as a greeting, jogging to his seat. “I’m so sorry, I swear I’m usually good at being on time, I just–”

 Minho shook his head, looking happier and lighter than Jisung thought he’d ever seen him. “It’s just ten minutes, Jisung. I promise it’s okay.”

 Jisung nodded stiffly, reaching towards the coffee in front of him to warm his hands. He pushed his sweater away from his fingers to hold it better.

 Minho was staring at him with that same look when Jisung chanced a glance at him, shy. The older’s eyes were shining. “Your hair.”

 Jisung flushed, trying to hide behind his hands.

 “Your sweater.”

 Jisung’s face turned darker and he buried it in the sleeves of his sweater.

 After the call with Minho the day before, Jisung and Hyunjin had gone out and bought a box of hair dye, then bleached his hair blonde again. Admittedly, Jisung was a little sad to see the blue go–it had given him several good memories–but when he’d looked at the blonde strands in the mirror, he felt himself again.

 And in his hurry to get ready this morning, he found the first thing he could to throw on as he was running out the door. Which meant that now, Han Jisung, the school’s resident bad boy, was sitting in front of Lee Minho, his hopeless crush, with soft, fluffy golden hair, and an oversized baby pink sweatshirt that had been untouched in his closet for a while.

 “Cute,” Minho commented, taking a sip of his coffee.

 Jisung groaned. “I’m–” he cut himself off, not knowing how to explain that he wasn’t really what everyone thought he was, and he wasn’t anywhere near the confident boy that Minho had met the week before. “I–” he tried again, obviously struggling. “I own a Twice album,” he said dumbly, trying to force something, anything out of his mouth.

 Minho blinked at him, taken aback.

 “More than one, actually. I think I have all of their albums. And a poster hanging in my room. I know the whole choreography to Dance the Night Away and I am not a bad boy, not in the slightest. Actually, the opposite. One time I punched Hyunjin and cried. But I thought that you liked the bad boy persona so I kind of played it up, I guess? Even though I wasn’t good at it and had no idea what I was doing. I’m really sorry. If you’re not interested anymore, I understand,” Jisung said, all in one breath, which left him panting.

 Minho was frozen for a long minute, just blinking at him, and Jisung thought he’d messed up royally, until he started laughing. His laughter filled the café, and Jisung flushed, sinking down into his seat when a couple people gave them curious glances.

 “Minho,” he whined.

 Minho raised his eyebrows, teasing. “Now where have I heard that before?” he said.

 Jisung kicked him under the table, glaring as his cheeks grew darker. “What’s so funny?” he hissed.

 Minho shook his head. “Jisung, I knew you were soft as hell ever since I complimented your hair and you shut down and couldn’t do anything except splutter. You’re so cute when you blush.”

 “You knew this whole time!” Jisung hissed indignantly.

 Minho continued to laugh, but there was a friendly and welcoming tone to it, one that didn’t make Jisung feel like he was laughing at him. “Yeah,” he said. “But it was so fun to tease you and see how far you’d take it.”

 Jisung scoffed. “I can’t believe you. I was really worried that you’d only like some bad boy that the college thinks I am.”

 Minho sobered up, reaching for his hand across the table, and, even though he was still pouting, Jisung happily complied as he laced their fingers together, his heart beating heavily. “You almost had me, for a second,” Minho said thoughtfully. “When you pressed me up to the wall, I really thought that I might’ve been wrong.”

 Jisung hid his face with his free hand, trying not to think about that night, but Minho wouldn’t let him, continuing with a little smirk, “But then you practically melted when we switched. That was your biggest giveaway. I’ve never seen someone–”

 “Okay, you can stop now,” Jisung cut him off, panicked.

 Minho cooed, stroking his hand with a thumb. “Aw, are you shy? You weren’t this shy when–”

 “Minho!” Jisung hissed.

 “Alright, alright,” Minho chuckled. He looked at Jisung thoughtfully for a second, playing with his fingers almost absentmindedly. “But I think I really knew when you talked about my dancing. I–your face lit up?” he said, almost shyly. “No one’s ever looked at me like that. I think that’s when I knew just how gone I was for you, too.”

 Jisung almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It almost sounded too good to be true, and he smiled up at Minho as brightly as he could, trying to convey all of his happiness in that one action.

  Minho blushed just the slightest bit, but Jisung still felt proud of himself. The older boy then seemed to remember something, and he reached down into the booth next to him, picking up Jisung’s leather jacket. “Here.”

 Jisung eyed it with a small smile. “You keep it. For good,” Jisung said. “I think it fits you better.”

 Minho furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “Actually it’s a little big on me–” he said, but then blinked in realization when Jising rolled his eyes. “Oh, right. You meant–got it.”

 They sat their for a while, holding hands across the table, before Jisung spoke up again. “I think I really like you,” he admitted, staring determinedly at their hands. “I really, really like you.”

 Minho tilted Jisung’s head towards him with a finger, smiling fondly at him. “I think I really, really like you, too, Jisungie. No matter who you are.”

 Jisung smiled back at him widely, Minho’s eyes twinkling at him in complete interest and adoration, and Jisung was a little bit in love.