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If there’s one thing Jisung hates, it’s being the center of attention. And transferring colleges in the middle of sophomore year makes him feel like eyes are following him wherever he goes. He knows that that isn’t true, he knows that people are too wrapped up in their own lives to care about him, but he’s uncomfortable all the same.
His workload increases as he hurries to catch up with his classes, and that stress isn’t helped by his natural anxiety that makes him spend more time worrying than actually working. It causes him to lose sleep—both from overthinking, and from having to spend more time than he should completing assignments.
The only good thing about this school—besides the superb music program—is that his best friend of more than five years is a student as well. Felix is sweet and Jisung adores him, but he also adores the fact that Felix has an off-campus apartment. It’s the perfect place for studying—there are no interruptions and there are no other students around to put Jisung on edge.
Jisung has never put much thought into Felix’s roommate—after all, there are very few traces of another human living in that apartment aside from an extra pair of shoes by the doorway and a comfortable looking bed that can be seen where the bedroom door is left cracked open.
The only things he knows about Felix’s elusive roommate are as follows:
One, he’s majoring in dance and his minor is in education.
Two, he is a senior and will be graduating shortly.
Three, he is kind of antisocial and rarely can be found at parties or in places that house a lot of people.
Four, he’s apparently Very Pretty.
(Everything Jisung knows about Minho is told to him by Felix, so he has to assume that there’s been some embellishment.)
It’s been a solid month since the semester began and Minho still hasn’t shown, so Jisung has to assume that he either doesn’t exist, or sleeps somewhere else because Jisung has stayed the night before, only to find Minho’s room empty when he woke up, and everything in the living area unchanged.
He’s given up on Minho, and is inclined to think that they’ll never cross paths.
. . .
It turns out that Jisung was very, very wrong when he assumed that he and Minho would never meet, because here he is, standing on the welcome mat of Felix’s apartment at four in the afternoon on a Wednesday, locked in a staring contest with a Very Pretty boy.
As far as first impressions go, Jisung has completely botched his, given the blood dripping out of his nose, which is staining both his shirt and his hand which is cupped protectively around his nose.
“Who are you?” the Very Pretty boy finally asks, looking at Jisung with a mix of shock and horror.
“Han Jisung,” Jisung chokes out, his voice nasally. “Felix’s friend.”
Very Pretty boy is silent for a moment, and then, “You’re getting blood on the rug.”
“Can I please have a tissue?” Jisung asks, nearly begging. He just wants this to end—the bleeding, the pain in his nose, and this embarrassing interaction with who he assumes must be Lee Minho, the roommate.
Minho looks him over and then nods, stepping back to let Jisung into the apartment. Jisung immediately toes off his shoes and makes a run for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
When he looks in the mirror he nearly screams—Minho was right to be alarmed. Jisung looks properly unhinged, his black hair wild and his yellow sweatshirt turned red around the hem. And then there’s his nose, his bloody nose that is still bleeding, and has discolored the bottom half of his face.
As Jisung grabs a handful of tissues from the box on the counter, he wonders how a telephone pole managed to do so much damage, and how in the hell he’s going to explain this to Minho, who must think he’s properly out of his mind.
The bleeding slows and eventually stops after a few minutes and Jisung washes his face, wiping away the remnants of his accident. When he looks normal, not like he’d just lost a fist fight in some back alley, Jisung strips off his sweatshirt and tosses it in the hamper, then straightens the white shirt he’d worn underneath.
Facing Minho is terrifying. When Jisung manages to force himself to open the door he finds Minho on the couch, looking between a textbook that is propped on the coffee table and a notebook in his lap. When he notices Jisung he pauses, staring straight up at him with an eyebrow raised.
“It—I—There was a telephone poll,” Jisung stutters, trying to look anywhere but at Minho. “I, uh, didn’t see it. Obviously. Hence the bloody nose.”
“You ran into a telephone poll,” Minho summarizes, and though he mainly appears stoic, there’s a bit of amusement shining in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
Jisung nods, but the movement adds pressure to his nose and he hisses, a hand flying up to touch it. Minho sets his notebook down with a sigh and stands, walking off into the bathroom. He returns with something clutched in his hand but pays Jisung no mind and goes to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.
Finally, he focuses back on Jisung, and walks straight up to him. In one hand he’s holding two painkillers, and in the other he’s got the glass of water. He tilts his head, gesturing for Jisung to take them, and he does, whispering out a thank you.
Very unexpected, but sweet?
Not sweet, just kind.
But why is Jisung’s heart fluttering? Why does he feel like he’s just been gifted the world?
He’s being ridiculous.
Jisung swallows down the pills as Minho walks back to the couch and resumes studying, not looking up at Jisung again. But Jisung is saved from any awkwardness when Felix opens the front door, dropping his backpack beside the shoe rack with a sigh of exhaustion.
(Felix and Jisung disappear into his room, leaving Minho alone in the living room. When Jisung emerges a few hours later, Minho is nowhere to be found.)
. . .
Minho is sick.
Jisung learns this through Felix, who tells him over text that Minho has a fever and seems to be in a pretty awful state. The catch is that Felix has classes, and he’s wanting Jisung to come over and make sure Minho doesn’t collapse and die. Jisung thinks it’s maybe a bit much since he’s only met the guy once, but when Felix tells him that Minho’s friends are also in class, he gives in and heads over to the apartment.
“Felix? Did you forget something…” Minho trails off when he realizes Jisung is the one at the apartment door, and his eyebrows pull together. “Bloody nose boy?”
Jisung rolls his eyes as he kicks off his shoes and unzips his jacket, hanging it on the rack to the side of the door. “My name is Han Jisung, and I’d prefer to forget that incident.”
“Han Jisung…” Minho does sound terrible, the rasp of his voice curling around each word to turn it ever so slightly distorted. “Never got to ask how in the hell you managed to walk into a telephone poll.”
“I’m gifted in the art of klutziness,” Jisung says offhandedly as he steps closer to Minho and rests a hand against his forehead. Minho’s skin is burning, and Jisung instantly feels pity for the boy, who pulls away from him to flop down on the couch. “You definitely have a fever.”
“No shit,” Minho groans, shoving his face into the couch pillow.
Jisung stares at the boy, who is unmoving, and is strangely glad that he agreed to come over. They may not know each other well, but Jisung likes having the comfort of another person around when he’s sick, and maybe Minho does as well.
“Have you eaten anything?”
Minho shifts so he can blink up at Jisung with one eye, an eye that is narrowed in what Jisung sees as annoyance. “Felix made some soup earlier.”
Jisung raises an eyebrow, “But did you have any?”
They’re stuck in a battle of wills it seems, and Jisung is determined not to lose. He stares down Minho’s one eye with both of his, waiting for the answer. Eventually Minho looks away, coughs for a good half minute, and then sinks into the couch cushions in defeat. “Don’t feel like eating.”
“If you don’t feel like eating can I at least make you some tea?” Jisung is hopeful that he can be of some use, at least. “Meds? Have you taken cold medicine?”
“Did last night, so I can again,” Minho tells him. “And I guess tea sounds okay…”
Jisung, with new purpose, sets about giving Minho his medication and making him tea. Minho sits in a daze for the entire time Jisung is running around, clearly exhausted. Jisung notices that his eyes have dark circles underneath, and he all around seems gaunt and pale. This isn’t from the cold, he realizes, because this couldn’t have happened overnight. Does Minho not sleep well?
“Did you drug me?” Minho’s head is tilted against the back of the couch and he’s blinking sleepily at Jisung. He’s drunk nearly the entire cup of tea Jisung had supplied, which must make him feel a little bit better. “How much medicine did you give me? I feel loopy.”
“Double dose,” Jisung admits, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You’re pretty sick. I was worried.”
Minho hums, his eyelids flickering. He looks seconds away from falling face first onto the couch, so unthinkingly Jisung plops down beside him to keep him propped upright.
“Can’t believe you fucking drugged me, bloody nose boy,” Minho mumbles, and before Jisung can protest or apologize, he’s curling up on his side, his head coming to rest against Jisung’s thigh.
Jisung stiffens, his nerves going haywire as he registers that Lee Minho’s head is in his lap. In his lap. When he proves to be unmoving Minho squints up at him, a sad little pout on his lips.
Jisung decides his heart will never beat the same.
He forces himself to move, one of his hands raising so that he can slip his fingers into Minho’s hair. For the first moments he’s unsure of what exactly to do, and his hand remains stationary. But then Minho is pressing up against his hand and Jisung takes a steadying breath before beginning to run his fingers through Minho’s hair.
Minho’s reaction is instantaneous—he makes a soft noise and his body loses all tension as he goes lax against the cushions of the couch. His eyes have shut, and Jisung observes how his eyelashes brush against his skin, drawing shadows over the height of his cheek.
He’s so pretty, and Jisung is falling so fast.
It’s ridiculous for him to care so much already, he hardly knows this boy. And even if by some crazy, impossible twist of fate Minho did like Jisung in return, he’s graduating this year. Graduating and moving on with his life, a life far, far away from university. Minho is out of reach, out of his league, in every way, and Jisung knows that he has to dissolve this fast moving crush, and soon. It’s just a crush, after all. Just a jumble of fleeting feelings.
Just a crush.
With a creak Jisung hears the front door open, the noise ripping him away from his internal monologue. It seems that Felix is finally back from his class, and he tosses down his bag and takes off his shoes, all without noticing the two boys on the couch. When he does look up at Jisung and the boy who has drifted off to sleep in his lap, his mouth drops open in time with his eyes widening.
Jisung frowns, somewhat startled by Felix’s reaction, and tilts his head questioningly. Felix, in turn, backs away towards the door, still gaping at Jisung and Minho. Jisung wants to ask what the hell is happening as Felix tugs his shoes back on, but when he opens his mouth Felix waves his hands and shakes his head, instead holding up his phone and tapping the screen.
He’s out the door in a flash, leaving Jisung utterly confused.
A couple minutes pass and then Jisung’s phone screen lights up from where he’d set it face up on the couch beside him. He picks it up in his free hand, as he’s still combing through Minho’s hair with the other, and types in his password with a little difficulty.
lee felix
i don’t know what you did to get minho-hyung asleep
but don’t wake him up. please
i’ll be at hyunjin’s for now
Jisung stares at the message in confusion, and soon he types back a message of his own, though it takes him much longer with one hand.
han jisung
what do you mean?
i don’t understand
lee felix
hyung has insomnia
he hasn’t told me the specifics
but he did say that being in the same house with people
other than his family makes him anxious
even me and we’ve lived together for quite a while
Jisung’s lips part in shock, and his hand stills in Minho’s hair. Noticing the change, even if he’s asleep, Minho nudges against Minho’s hand while letting out a disgruntled noise. Jisung nearly smiles.
han jisung
why is he sleeping with me in the room, then?
how is he sleeping with his head in my lap???
what do i do????????
lee felix
jiji, don’t freak out, it’ll wake him up
just
i don’t know, pet his hair like you were?
you can leave if you want
but i don’t know if hyung will stay asleep
he hasn’t slept more than a few hours in the past week, ji
i don’t know how he functions
it’s up to you though, i’m sorry if i’ve been pushy
han jisung
it’s okay, lix
Jisung sets his phone down and turns his attention back to Minho. It’s obvious in his face alone that he hasn’t slept, and it sends a wave of distress through Jisung.
He’s torn. He wants to stay here, to keep Minho safe and prolong his sleep, but he’s also itching to leave. It feels wrong—as much as he’s growing to like the boy, they’ve only met once before and wouldn’t it be weird for Minho to sleep on him like this? Wouldn’t he freak out when he wakes up?
So Jisung does his best to slide out from under Minho, replacing his thigh with one of the throw pillows. Minho shifts, making a slight noise of displeasure, but then he stills and Jisung sighs in relief. He grabs his phone and is about to turn around and escape, but a hand closes around his wrist, tugging him back.
Jisung turns around, eyes wide with surprise, and is ready to be berated by Minho. That never happens, though, because Minho’s eyes are closed, and Jisung would have presumed he’s asleep, but then he whispers a request, so quietly that Jisung nearly misses it.
“Stay here.”
Jisung gapes at Minho, shocked, but at the same time something is tugging at his heart, and it leads him to sink to his knees beside the couch, his wrist still in Minho’s grasp.
“I’ll stay,” he whispers back, and deep down he knows he means it.
Jisung is jolted awake by a groan, followed by a harsh fit of coughing. His head snaps up and instantly tears prickle in his eyes from the pain from the terrible position he’d slept in—his head tilted at an awkward angle against the couch cushion.
He must let out some noise of distress because when Minho’s coughing stops, he stares down at Jisung in complete surprise. “Jisung-ssi?” Minho blinks in confusion. “What are you doing here? Why are you on the floor?”
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll leave now,” Jisung whispers, standing up and backing away. He feels incredibly embarrassed to be caught in that intimate position—he’d never meant to fall asleep. Minho is watching him with wide eyes, but the confusion is no longer clouding his vision.
“I...I was asleep?” Minho looks at Jisung with shock and amazement. Jisung nods slowly, and barely resists the urge to back up when Minho crosses the room, coming to stand just an arms length away. He’s looking at Jisung with an expression Jisung can’t place, and it makes him shiver. “Can I ask you for one more thing before you go?”
Jisung hesitates for a moment, but Minho is watching him, waiting, with such a heavy gaze that he nods, forcing himself not to go weak at the knees when Minho walks closer.
Now there’s no escape for Jisung. Not when Minho is so close that the fabric of his hoodie sleeve brushes Jisung’s forearm. Minho’s skin is tinged pink from the rampage of his fever and his eyes are rimmed with red, but he’s still so pretty and Jisung’s still so weak.
“Can I hug you?”
Jisung’s jaw drops, and he stares at Minho in complete bafflement. Minho is withdrawing already due to Jisung’s abrupt response, assuming the worst, but Jisung pushes all his thoughts aside and reaches for Minho, grabbing his hoodie with both hands and dragging him back. Before he puts any thought into it Jisung slips his arms around Minho’s waist, hugging him just as he’d requested.
When Minho recovers from the surprise and in turn wraps his arms around Jisung, Jisung knows he’s completely and utterly fucked.
. . .
lee minho
hi jisung-ssi
i got your number from felix
i’ve been wanting to thank you for everything
for taking care of me that day
anyways, yeah
thanks :)
han jisung
you don’t need to thank me, hyung
i’m just happy you’re feeling better!!
lee minho
you called me hyung
han jisung
sorry i didn’t realize
sorry
lee minho
keep calling me that
i don’t mind
. . .
Guilt has been building up in Jisung over the past week. Every time he thinks of that day, when he’d gone to Felix and Minho’s apartment, guilt stacks up in him like Legos. When he thinks back to the way Minho looked when he was curled up on the couch, resting his head on Jisung’s thigh, or the way Jisung had practically melted into a puddle when they hugged, the pleasure of the memories is pushed away by a feeling of shame. He’d given Minho the cough syrup. He’d let Minho lay on him when, if he wasn’t drugged, he wouldn’t have done. He definitely would never have asked to hug Jisung.
And so, Jisung has been drowning in a deep, deep well of self-hate.
It keeps him awake.
Jisung feels like he’s been through a war when he stumbles into the convenience store down the street from his dorm. He’s a frequent visitor, as he comes here several nights each week for the same products, so he heads without delay to the section where energy drinks are kept.
The store is unreasonably cold, and Jisung shivers in the thin sweater he’d tugged on before leaving his room. He had been studying—God, how he hates studying—in just a t-shirt and red plaid pajama pants, but then the corners of his vision had started to darken and he knew he had to grab something to keep him awake. He’s running out of time to study for this particular exam, and the anxiety of that makes his fingertips tingle.
Jisung grabs a few random drinks, not really caring about the brand, and turns to leave. But something—someone—slows him to a halt.
Lee Minho? Jisung squints, his vision a little fuzzy from lack of sleep.
And yes, it’s Minho, standing in front of the protein bars. He’s bundled up in a fluffy blue jacket, no doubt aware of the cold as much as Jisung, but quite obviously much more prepared.
“Hyung?” It’s the first time Jisung says it out loud, and he has to force down a shy grin when Minho’s attention is snapped towards him, pink lips parted and dark eyes wide as he takes in Jisung’s presence. “This is a coincidence.”
Minho steps closer to him, and Jisung can finally see how tired he looks. Beautiful, but exhausted all the same. The redness in his eyes hasn’t faded and the dark circles beneath are a stark contrast to his pale skin. “Jisung-ah? It’s past one, what are you doing here?”
“I…” Jisung shifts foot to foot, his arms tightening the slightest bit around the drinks clutched to his chest. “I have a new assignment, and I know that I’m bound to get behind on it, and I can’t afford to fuck this up.” He laughs, but it’s just as stale as the air of the store. “I don’t know. I guess I just couldn’t sleep because I was worrying, so I decided to work on it. I’m here for a boost,” he adds, and Minho’s eyes travel down to the energy drinks. Jisung feels a little self-conscious. “And you? Why are you here, hyung?”
“Was at the studio and got the munchies. This is the closest store,” Minho tells him.
Jisung nods, because he doesn’t know what else he can say.
There’s a heavy silence that falls over them, something so palpable that Jisung feels the silence as physical pressure. He notices that there’s music playing from above them—something classical—but the beauty of the track is butchered by the shitty sound system.
“Sorry,” Minho says, and the sudden noise makes Jisung jump. “I didn’t say this in my text and I need to. I’m sorry for how I acted last time we saw each other. For falling asleep on you, and the hug.” Minho looks like he wants to be anywhere but here with the way his eyes flit around, never once landing on Jisung.
Jisung’s heart kind of feels like it’s been tossed out onto an interstate and run over repeatedly until it’s nothing more than fine powder.
“You don’t have to apologize to me, hyung,” Jisung says, ignoring how shattered he feels. “I should apologize. You were sick, and didn’t realize what you were doing, right? I made you uncomfortable, and I’m so sorry.” By the end of his speech he feels winded, like he’s run five miles, and when he looks at Minho, the older boy is looking at him in what seems to be shock. So Jisung, caught up in his desperation to apologize, ducks into a deep bow.
He’s really been running on too much caffeine, because he’s bent over, staring at his shoes, probably looking like a complete fool.
He is a fool.
“Jisung.” Minho’s voice has gone kind of raspy, and when Jisung straightens up he’s burning red with embarrassment. Minho is staring at him, fully dumbstruck, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “Jisung,” he repeats, and the gruffness in his tone is still there. “Han Jisung, are you saying you took advantage of me? While I was under the influence of a double dose of cold medicine?”
Jisung can’t do anything but nod, because he hugged Minho. He let Minho put his head in his lap.
Minho blinks at him once, twice, then a third time. When he speaks, his voice is made up of a mix of shock, amusement, and what seems to be a bit of fondness.
“You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you.”
Jisung really doesn’t know what to say to that.
Jisung could not have predicted in his wildest dreams that his night would go like this. All he wanted was to get some drinks and then go back to his dorm room to panic over his assignment. But somehow he ran into Lee Minho, made a fool of himself in front of Lee Minho, was reassured by Lee Minho that he did not in fact use the overdose of cold medicine to take advantage of him, and now he’s sitting on the curb outside the convenience store right beside Lee Minho.
“Why did you choose to study music?” Minho asks before taking a bite of his protein bar.
Jisung’s head is still spinning. How is he here, having an actual conversation with Lee Minho? He eats the bar Minho had bought him mindlessly, almost robotically.
“Jisung-ah?”
“I,” Jisung tries to focus, but his throat feels a little tight. At the same time Jisung starts to feel a tingling sensation stemming from his neck and he rubs at the skin, annoyed at the feeling. Minho glances over at him and to Jisung’s surprise, his eyes go wide with alarm and he grabs Jisung’s hand, pulling it away from his irritated skin.
“Jisung, you’re breaking out,” he says, and there’s the slightest bit of panic in his voice.
“I’m what?” Jisung croaks, and pulls out his phone. He turns on the camera and flips the image so he’s looking at himself and nearly gasps—even in the poor lighting he can see the ugly red hives blooming on his skin. They start somewhere beneath the hem of his sweater and have travelled all the way up to the underside of his jaw.
This can only be caused by one thing.
Looking down at the protein bar in his hand, Jisung flips it over to read the ingredient list. Sure enough, peanuts are listed as a product used.
“Are you having an allergic reaction?” Minho asks, catching on quickly. Jisung nods, his embarrassment mixing with how painful the hives are becoming.
Minho’s panic deepens and he snatches the bar from Jisung and tucks both away in his jacket pocket. “Hospital, yeah? You need to get to the hospital.”
Jisung feels tired as Minho drags him to his feet, and he really just wants to collapse and sleep away this nightmare, because what a nightmare this is. But Minho is right—he doesn’t have his EpiPen on him, so he’s fucked unless he gets to the clinic.
“Does your throat hurt?” Minho’s eyes are so big and sparkly, and Jisung thinks he could just fall into them.
Minho takes his silence as confirmation and holds Jisung against him as he scans the street for a taxi. “They normally don’t run this late,” Jisung mumbles, his words barely surfacing.
The panic has been building up in Minho, Jisung can tell, but he’s controlled it well. “We aren’t that far from the university hospital,” Minho reasons. “Can you get on my back? I’ll run there.”
Jisung blinks at him. “‘m heavy.”
Minho doesn’t seem to take that factor into consideration, and soon Jisung is wrapping his arms around Minho’s neck, barely resisting the urge to scratch his skin raw.
Minho does run, and Jisung has to assume that it’s from the adrenaline fear gives him.
Unfortunately, Jisung doesn’t remember much aside from Minho’s heavy breathing and worried expression when Jisung is pulled away from him when they arrive. There are long moments of darkness between the seconds of clarity, but through everything, through medicine being administered as he lays on a hospital bed and the uncomfortable scratchiness of his throat and the burning of his skin, Jisung can feel a hand holding his.
Grounding him. Telling him to come back.
Jisung sleeps.
“I can’t believe you,” Minho says, and though his words come off a little harsh, Jisung can see in Minho’s ever-expressive eyes that he’s speaking from a place of worry, and maybe a little fondness. “Han Jisung, I thought I’d killed you.”
“Sorry, hyung.” Jisung rubs the sleep from his eyes with his free hand, as the other is still being held captive by Minho. “It was my fault, I didn’t read the packaging.”
“Shh,” Minho hushes him, squeezing Jisung’s hand once. “Don’t hurt your throat by talking. Just rest.”
Jisung shifts from his back onto his side, facing Minho. He’s just realizing how exhausted he actually is, and though he’d prefer to stay awake and talk to Minho, sleep is dragging him down. Minho smiles oh so softly at him and squeezes his hand one more time, leaving Jisung to piece together the meaning behind his actions and smiles.
It’s okay. You’re safe. Sleep.
And fuck, Jisung is so gone for this man.
He holds eye contact with Minho until the heavy fog of sleep fills his sight and he’s pulled away to dreamland.
When Jisung wakes up the sun still hasn’t risen, as the windows are still dark. He turns his head, checking out his surroundings, and spots Lee Minho who is still in the chair beside him.
He’s stayed.
Jisung’s heart does a funny pitter-patter.
“Hyung?” Jisung sounds wretched, his voice scratchy and raw as he calls for Minho. But Minho is quick to look up from his phone, and to return Jisung’s small smile.
“You’re awake, how do you feel?” He places a hand on Jisung’s forehead, just like Jisung had when Minho was sick.
“Like hell,” Jisung admits, and Minho’s smile turns into a tight frown. “But better than before.”
Jisung can tell Minho is aching to apologize, but he holds back, and instead helps Jisung sit up. “What are you thinking?” he asks, and unconsciously his hand grips Jisung’s.
“I want to go home,” Jisung admits. “Can—Can we?”
“You’ve finished your IV bag so yes,” Minho tells him. “We can go home.”
“I don’t want to wake up my roommate, though,” Jisung murmurs. “Maybe I should stay here.” He really would prefer not to, as the sterile environment is not at all comforting. The only comforting thing here is Minho.
He barely gets the words out before Minho is straightening up, a new determination in his eyes. “Come back to the apartment. You can stay with Felix or you can have my bed, whatever you’d like. You’d be comfortable there, right?” When Jisung hesitantly nods, he smiles. “I’ll go get you checked out then.”
Minho goes to leave but Jisung doesn’t let go of his hand, and instead pulls him back. “Hyung,” Jisung starts, staring up at Minho and hoping that he can convey everything that he’s feeling. “Hyung, thank you.”
“Of course, Jisung-ah.” Minho’s hand raises and pats the top of Jisung’s head just twice, and then he’s gone.
Jisung sags back onto his pillows, pressing a palm over his rapidly beating heart.
They call a taxi to take them home, as the buses aren’t running at almost four in the morning. Minho has been silent since they sat down, and Jisung can tell he’s waging a war inside his head.
“It’s not your fault, hyung. You didn’t know.” Jisung hits the nail square on the head when Minho flinches and looks down. He wants to take Minho’s hand in his, to reassure him in whatever way he can, but he knows that he’d be crossing a line. They’re no longer in that bubble of security they had back at the hospital. They’re back to being Han Jisung and Lee Minho, two people who hardly know anything about each other.
Minho smiles sadly at him, “I’m sorry anyways.”
Jisung wants to counter his apology, but exhaustion is hitting him again, like a punch to the gut, and he yawns.
“Are you okay?” Minho is still attentive, and it makes Jisung’s poor, pathetic heart stir.
“Mm, just sleepy,” Jisung mutters, his eyes already slipping shut. He hears Minho sigh, but then a hand is cradling his face to tip his head onto Minho’s shoulder. This catches him by surprise, giving him a burst of energy that fades before Jisung can do more than open his eyes. “Hyung?”
“Rest, Jisung-ah.” Minho’s voice is sweet and so soft. “Don’t think, just sleep.”
Jisung must follow Minho’s instructions because the next time he opens his eyes he groggily realizes that they’ve reached their stop, and Minho is gently tugging at his arm, coaxing him up with that same soft voice.
He follows Minho blindly into the apartment, Minho acting like his crutch the entire way. He’s only left alone when Minho leads him into his bedroom and hands him a change of clothes.
When he lays down, Jisung finds that Minho’s bed is so soft, a thousand times more soft than the hospital bed. Jisung is halfway to slumber when the door creaks open, and he doesn’t bother to open his eyes as footsteps draw close. He knows who this is. There’s a minute of silence and then fingers brush along his cheek, careful not to put any pressure on his skin that had been burning with hives not long ago.
He must think Jisung is asleep.
So his breath audibly catches when Jisung reaches for his sleeve before he can pull away.
Jisung barely remembers whispering for Minho to stay.
He barely remembers that he does.
(Felix frowns when he finds Jisung’s shoes in the hallway, sloppily thrown down, alongside Minho’s. It’s odd, because Minho usually keeps everything in strict order, and even stranger that there is a sign that Jisung is here. Felix creeps towards his roommate’s door, gently pushing on it just enough to see in. What he sees makes him gasp.
There, tangled up in Minho’s sheets, are his roommate and his best friend. Felix can count on one hand how many times he’s seen Minho sleep, and Jisung so rarely does as well. But somehow here they are, both peacefully asleep. Minho is lying on his back while Jisung has cuddled up to him, his head tucked under the dancer’s chin. One of Minho’s arms is thrown around Jisung’s waist, keeping him in place, while Jisung’s fingers have tangled into the front of Minho’s shirt.
After standing in stunned silence for several long minutes, a grin spreads across Felix’s face, and backs away, careful to make no noise to wake the pair.
He doesn’t know how, but Jisung has somehow gotten Minho to sleep around him twice now, and Minho in turn has stopped Jisung from worrying to the point of insomnia.
Felix doesn’t know how he missed their potential chemistry, but he’s not about to let them tear themselves apart.)
. . .
Jisung wakes up feeling warm. He sighs, nuzzling into the source of the heat below him, but when his cheek brushes skin—skin that isn’t his own—he freezes, eyes blinking open as any chance of sleep is stolen from him.
Minho is below him. Minho, who had taken him to the hospital in the middle of the night. Minho, who had held his hand and taken care of him.
Jisung almost wants to bend down and kiss his pretty pink lips—
What?
As if the turmoil inside Jisung’s head can be heard, Minho shifts, his arm dropping from where it had been resting on Jisung’s hip. Jisung watches in part horror and part fascination as Minho’s eyes flutter open, his gaze hazy as he blinks a few times to dispel the cloak of sleep from his mind.
Jisung stays frozen as he watches Minho register the room, and then finally looks up at him. There’s surprise in his eyes, then a startling flash of worry, before his gaze turns soft and harmless—though the way in which he’s looking at Jisung with such fondness is one of the most painful things Jisung has ever felt.
“You’re here?” Minho’s honey-sweet voice is deepened by sleep, and Jisung shivers unconsciously. “How are you feeling?”
Jisung parts his lips to answer, but then he realizes that he’d been so preoccupied with the fact he’d woken up cuddling Minho that he hadn’t had a chance to think much about the night prior and his condition.
“I feel better,” Jisung says, keeping his voice quiet because for some reason, it feels like a bubble has formed around them and if he’s too loud, it’ll break. “I’m sorry for causing trouble.”
“Don’t say that.” Minho pushes himself up into a sitting position so that they’re face to face. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Minho’s dark hair has fallen to shade his eyes and Jisung wants to reach forward and push the locks to the side, but he doesn’t. Because who is he to touch Lee Minho? He’s...a chaotic music production major who more often than not has stale pizza rolls for breakfast and has a severely fucked up circadian rhythm.
(Then again, so does Minho. But that’s beside the point.)
Minho, on the other hand, is cool. Owns a leather jacket and a pair of Doc Martens type of cool. Intelligent and intimidating and really fucking pretty, everything Jisung could only dream of being. There are leagues here, and Minho is so very far above his own.
“I’m glad that you got some sleep,” Jisung counters, and this time he can’t stop himself from reaching for Minho and running his first finger over the darkened skin under one of Minho’s eyes. He still looks exhausted, but there’s new energy in him, Jisung can tell.
Jisung tries to retract his hand, realizing how forward the action had been, but Minho catches it and holds on, not letting go. “I…” he starts, unsure. “I don’t know exactly why, but I slept for hours here with you. And you did too—you didn’t poison yourself with all those drinks.” Jisung scrunches up his nose, about to retort, but Minho beats him to it. “Jisung-ah, will you sleep with me?”
Jisung chokes on his own spit, his eyes bulging as he spends a good minute hacking up his lungs. Minho is quick to realize his choice of words and he turns bright red in the face, the color even creeping down his neck. “I meant sleep. Actually sleep.”
“Hyung,” Jisung pants, still wide eyed. “Do you know what you’re saying?”
“Think of it as a sleepover,” Minho says, and Jisung can tell that he’s close to begging. That stings, and Jisung finally realizes the hope that Minho must have right now. Hope that Jisung can be enough to get him to sleep and keep him asleep. Jisung doesn’t know exactly how long Minho has suffered with insomnia, but given his complexion, it’s been a good while.
If he does take Minho up on this crazy idea, Jisung would be losing out on a lot of time he uses to work. But when he glances at Minho to see the dancer staring at him, his eyes turning sad, Jisung bites his bottom lip, teeth digging into the reddening flesh. Maybe he can schedule his time better? After all, if he somehow figured out how to reduce the amount of worrying that takes up his day, he’d have the time.
“I’ll do it,” Jisung says, and Minho’s eyes widen, as if in disbelief of what he’s hearing. Had he expected Jisung to refuse? “But you have to help me manage my time better, because right now a lot of my homework is done at night.”
Minho lights up, his smile turning so large that it shows his teeth, and Jisung finds himself almost cooing at his excitement. “Promise,” Minho says, holding up his hand, all his fingers held down aside from his pinkie.
Jisung smiles, though it’s much more reserved, and links his own pinkie with Minho’s. “I promise.”
There’s a moment of silence, and that’s when it hits.
He’ll be sleeping in the same bed as Doc Marten-owning Lee Minho, who he undoubtedly has a massive, doomed-to-fail crush on.
So Jisung runs, because he’s suddenly very aware that he’s still next to Minho in bed, and fuck, is he wearing his clothes? “I—I’m running late, sorry hyung,” Jisung gushes out, scrambling off the side of the bed. But his escape fails terribly, as his foot gets tangled up in the sheet and he is sent tumbling to the floor.
“Jisung?” Minho crouches down beside him, and with his cheek smushed against the cold floor Jisung has a clear view of the amusement in the dancer’s eyes.
Jisung has never wanted to disappear more in his life.
“Classes,” Jisung whispers, and rolls over onto his back so that he can reach up and untangle his foot. When he’s free, he jumps to his feet, ignoring the slight pain in his ankle, and hobbles out of the room as fast as he can.
He hears Minho following behind him but he doesn’t once turn around as he tugs on his shoes, and his only goodbye as he leaves the apartment is a call of thanks thrown over his shoulder.
(When Jisung gets to class, a good twenty minutes late, he realizes that in his haste to grab his bag from the dorm and get to class he hadn’t changed. It’s not rare for students to look like they’ve just crawled out of hibernation, but Jisung is suddenly extremely conscious of his appearance. Because he’s wearing Lee Minho’s clothes. He’s dressed in what he assumes to be a sweatshirt from one of Minho’s dance teams, because when he peers over his shoulder at his back, he finds that Lee Minho’s name is printed across his shoulder blades.
Jisung’s forehead meets the top of his desk as he shudders in horror. Of everything Minho could have given him, why did he choose something with his name?)
. . .
Jisung shows up at the apartment at eight that night, and when he knocks on the door he’s greeted by Felix.
“I can’t believe that you’re actually staying with him,” he whispers when Jisung is toeing off his shoes. “Are you sure about this?”
Jisung shrugs, voiceless, and clutches his MIDI keyboard case to his chest. Felix purses his lips, clearly concerned, but gives in to Jisung’s choice. “He’s in his room.”
When Jisung comes face to face with Minho’s door he freezes, suddenly hit by a heavy wave of nervousness. The previous night he’d only slept in the same bed because he was out of his mind from exhaustion. Why had he ever agreed to this?
But he committed, he promised to do this, so Jisung raises his hand and knocks.
He hears a faint ‘come in’ from inside the room, so he opens the door and steps inside. Instantly, Jisung’s eyes are drawn to Minho who is on the bed, leaning up against the headboard. He looks tired—but when does he not—and he’s listening to something through a set of earbuds plugged into his phone. Jisung, as quietly as he can, sets down his computer bag and backpack next to Minho’s desk before walking closer.
Minho is watching him, and Jisung notices that his eyes have lost some of the redness that usually rim them—most likely due to the sleep he got last night. It leaves his eyes looking darker and deeper than ever, and Jisung’s knees feel a bit weak.
“You came,” is what Minho says.
“I promised,” Jisung returns.
Minho smiles.
It’s silent for the most part as Jisung takes over Minho’s desk with his laptop and keyboard. At first it’s a bit uncomfortable to have his back to an unfamiliar room—to Minho—but soon he gets lost in the track he’s working on, his headphones cancelling out all other sounds.
Eventually Jisung’s phone vibrates in his pocket, a timer he’d set so that he wouldn’t overwork himself. He sighs, taking off his headphones, and glances over his shoulder to check on Minho. To his utter shock, Minho is staring at him, his attention on nothing else but Jisung.
“How—How long have you been watching me?” Jisung asks, his cheeks heating up.
“For a while,” Minho admits. “It was interesting to see you work.”
Jisung is silent for a long minute, simply watching Minho. Then he takes his headphones off from around his neck and holds them out towards the dancer. “Do you want to hear?”
Minho blinks at him in surprise but then he’s nodding and climbing off the bed to take the headphones. Jisung stands up and lets Minho have the chair, and once he’s put the headphones on Jisung leans over his shoulder to press play.
The two minutes and thirty-seven seconds it takes for Minho to listen to the track are the scariest moments of Jisung’s life. What if Minho doesn’t like it? What if he’s somehow figured out how Jisung’s written it with him in mind, and how badly he wants him to dance to it—
“Jisung?”
Minho is looking up at him with no emotion that Jisung can pick out. “Hyung?” Jisung whispers, terrified.
“Can I listen to it again?”
Jisung fumbles with the mouse as he clicks play again, surprise making him uncoordinated. He hadn’t expected Minho to want to hear his music again.
This time, when the track ends, Minho takes off the headphones and shifts in the chair to face Jisung. Jisung gulps, wrapping his arms around himself protectively, completely lost to what Minho is thinking.
“That was incredible.”
Well he certainly never had hope of hearing that from Lee Minho.
“I want to dance to it.”
Jisung’s hands drop to his sides and he stares at Minho like he’s grown another head. Minho is smiling now, not a big smile, but one that makes something like hope bloom in Jisung’s heart. He stands up, coming face to face with Jisung, and for a second Jisung swears he can see a flash of longing in his eyes. But then Minho is gone, going back to collapse onto the bed. “Go get changed, Jisung-ah.”
Jisung finds his sleep clothes in his backpack and makes his way to the bathroom robotically, too caught up in whatever had just happened to pay attention to anything else.
He changes and is just about to retreat to Minho’s room when his eyes catch on his reflection in the mirror above the sink.
Jisung looks like himself—black hair, dark eyes. But he also looks tired. It makes him wonder if this deal with Minho really will work. For both of them.
Minho is playing something on his phone when Jisung comes back, and he glances up with a smile when he sees the younger boy. Jisung’s heart burns.
Instead of letting his mind get swept away with thoughts of Minho, Jisung digs through his backpack until he finds his contact lens case. Usually he’d just sleep with them in, much to Felix’s displeasure, because he never knows when he’ll pass out. But tonight…
Tonight he might actually sleep normally.
After taking out his contacts Jisung finds his glasses case and puts them on, and everything comes back into focus. When he turns around Minho is watching him, phone on the bedside table. The attention makes Jisung shiver, and he wonders how he’ll manage to get through this night. Taking a deep breath, he clambers onto the foot of the bed and scoots up the mattress to sit beside Minho. He’s trapped—on one side is the wall and on his other side is Minho. He just wishes Minho would smile, and then maybe he wouldn’t feel quite so nervous. But no, Minho keeps looking at him with an expression Jisung can’t read.
He bites down on his bottom lip to try and pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to make himself smaller.
“Don’t do that,” Minho says after a long, dreadfully quiet moment.
Jisung furrows his eyebrows. “What?”
“Don’t bite your lip,” Minho mutters, and he won’t look at Jisung.
“Why?”
Minho glances at him and then away, and is he blushing? “Just don’t.”
Jisung shrugs the interaction off and instead shimmies underneath the covers. It takes Minho a moment before he does the same, but then he’s turned off the lights and is face to face with Jisung, illuminated only by what streetlight sneaks in past the blinds.
“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, and I’ll go lay on the couch,” Minho whispers, because they’re so close that anything but a whisper would shatter the moment.
But Jisung isn’t uncomfortable, so he tells Minho exactly that and is rewarded with a smile.
“That day when you were sick, I was playing with your hair when you fell asleep,” Jisung murmurs. “Do you think...Should I do that again?”
Minho nods and Jisung raises a suddenly shaky hand to the side of Minho’s head. In the dark his brown hair looks nearly as black as Jisung’s, and the eyes that Jisung can’t make himself look away from have caught what little light there is in the room and they’re shining.
As beautiful as Minho’s eyes are, Jisung wants them to close. So he plays with Minho’s hair and hums the melody of a song one of his classmates had sent him to look over.
Jisung watches everything—from the moment when Minho’s eyes turn glassy with the pull of sleep, to the exact second his eyes close. Minho lets out a small sigh and presses closer, until Jisung feels his nose brush his neck. Carefully, as to not disturb him, Jisung takes off his glasses and stretches across Minho to slide them onto the table. But Minho feels the slight movement and grips Jisung’s hoodie, right at the side of his waist.
Jisung lays completely still for a moment, his arm still outstretched, but then he lowers it until he has his arm around Minho.
Luckily, Jisung doesn’t have a chance to overthink before Minho’s warmth, his comfort, is submerging Jisung in slumber.
. . .
It’s been just over a week since Jisung started staying over at the apartment, and he has to admit that it’s going well. There has only been one night where they struggled to get to sleep, but other than that it’s been smooth sailing. Jisung has also felt calmer as of late, and it helps him control his thoughts when he’s working.
So yes, they’re doing well.
The only worrying thing is that Minho won’t leave Jisung’s mind, however hard he tries. He gets caught up in thoughts of Minho’s smile and Minho’s laugh, and other simple things like the way he curls up on the couch to read and drink his morning cup of coffee. They’re all terribly domestic thoughts, and Jisung would cringe if it was any other person, but it’s Minho, and Minho is…
What is he? What can he possibly be to Jisung?
Today is no different from the others—it’s a Saturday and Jisung had taken a bus into the city to visit a music store his classmate Changbin had recommended. But as he walks through the rows of cds and sheet music and records, all he can think about is Minho.
He’s bombarded with thoughts of ‘would Minho like this?’ and ‘is he interested in this genre?’ and try as he might, Jisung can’t stop the internal questions.
Jisung shakes his head and turns into a new aisle, only to come face to face with the one person who has been haunting him.
“Jisung?”
“Hyung,” Jisung breathes, too startled to say much else.
“I didn’t expect to find you here,” Minho says, but he’s smiling. “Have you come here before?”
Glad that Minho has taken lead of the conversation, Jisung focuses on being engaging. “No, a classmate recommended it to me. Have you come here before?”
“It’s my first time too,” Minho admits. “I was actually about to leave, but I’ll stick around if you’d like to go together.”
Jisung feels so fond.
They leave a few minutes later, and chatter away as they walk to the bus stop. “Find us a seat,” is what Minho whispers to Jisung when their bus arrives, and gestures for him to get on first.
Jisung chooses seats towards the back and slides in first. He looks out the window and at the buildings as they begin to roll by, keenly aware of the boy sitting next to him. He’s looking for any distraction because right now their thighs are touching and though they sleep in the same bed, nighttime is very different from daytime. In the daytime everything feels so real, whereas when they’re tucked away in Minho’s room it feels as though they’re in a totally different world, a dreamworld, perhaps.
Jisung is so busy trying to not think about Minho that the sudden weight that lands on his shoulder makes him jump. Minho is resting his head on Jisung’s shoulder, and Jisung is frozen in place, eyes wide with shock.
“Just want to rest a little,” Minho breathes, and Jisung can tell that he’s close to sleep. “Just for a bit.”
He’s out almost as soon as he stops talking.
It’s a simple gesture—falling asleep on someone’s shoulder. But it isn’t for Minho, and it makes Jisung feel giddy because this, Minho falling asleep in public, is a sign that he truly is special in some way to the dancer.
Light flickers over Minho’s face and Jisung raises a hand to shield him from the sun. Minho looks so peaceful like this, and though his arm begins to hurt almost instantly, Jisung continues to keep the sun off of Minho’s face.
It’s then that he is forced to face the feelings he’s pushed aside for so long. He does like Minho. So much. But Jisung knows that if he says anything he’ll have to leave the apartment, because he could never recover from that rejection. So he promises himself that he’ll stay quiet, and never mention his feelings.
But that can’t stop him from adoring Minho with all his heart.
. . .
Minho’s bed has become somewhat of a refuge for Jisung. He’s been sleeping in the same bed as Minho for what must be weeks now, and they rarely have bad nights when they can’t sleep. When that does happen they sit together and talk, or Jisung studies while Minho reads. Most of the time they listen to music, one earbud for each of them, and Jisung loves making playlists of songs he thinks Minho would like.
(Jisung hums along to songs, and sometimes he taps out beats on Minho’s thigh. He does it completely unconsciously, and Minho adores it.)
Today is one of the bad nights, when even Jisung singing and playing with Minho’s hair hasn’t put him to sleep. Jisung is tired, it’s been a long day, but he wants to make sure Minho sleeps. He always does.
They’re laying on their sides, facing each other, and Jisung so badly wants to wrap his arms around Minho’s middle and hold him. But it’s rare that they go to sleep cuddling—yet somehow they always wake up tangled together.
“Jisung-ah.” Their fingers brush, but never touch for too long. Jisung doesn’t know if it’s him or Minho who keeps pulling away. “I always fall asleep first.”
“Mhm,” Jisung murmurs, unsure of where Minho is going with this.
“You should sleep first. I want to see if I can fall asleep beside you like that.” Minho’s gaze is soft and hopeful as he waits for Jisung’s answer. “I can tell you’re tired.”
“But how will I know if you sleep?” Jisung asks.
Their fingers brush, but this time they don’t pull away, letting their hands press together. “Trust me,” Minho whispers. “It’ll be okay.”
And so Jisung finds himself drifting off, Minho’s fingers threading through his hair this time around. The last thing he sees before sleep takes him is their hands that are clasped together.
Minho is asleep.
Jisung sighs, relief pouring from him. He’d been nervous to conduct this experiment, but he’d trusted in Minho and here they are. The bed is bathed in early morning light and resting on his chest is Minho’s head. The boy is fast asleep, curled up into a ball beside Jisung.
Smiling down at him, Jisung can’t help but trace his features. Minho is so beautiful, and he’s lost the signs of sleep deprivation that had clung to him for so long. He’s healthy, and Jisung without a doubt knows he made the right choice to stay here.
Minutes later Minho is stirring, and when his hazy eyes meet Jisung’s and he smiles that sweet smile, Jisung feels a sharp pang of adoration strike him.
He cares so much about this boy.
“You slept,” he whispers, stroking Minho’s hair.
“You trusted me,” Minho replies, staring up at him.
There’s a moment where Jisung feels as though he could say anything he wanted. Anything that’s been burning in his heart because Minho is everything to him. But Jisung lets that moment slip by, because he’s scared.
He wonders if he’s imagining the disappointment that crosses Minho’s face.
. . .
MinhoMinhoMinho—
Jisung is going insane, and it’s all Lee Minho’s fault. He’s just one guy, he can’t handle consistently falling asleep and waking up next to his crush. His heart can’t hold up much longer, not when Minho is constantly looking at him, constantly brushing their hands together, constantly side hugging him and laughing into his hair when Felix says something funny.
Jisung generally is weak, and he’s particularly weak in regards to Minho, and there have been so many moments where he’s almost slipped up and said how pretty he thinks Minho is, or how talented he is. He’s practically turned into a roommate at this point, but how can a weak person like him live in the same apartment and sleep in the same bed as his crush?
(If Jisung were honest with himself he’d admit that that time he’d kicked the room door in annoyance at a professor and it had hit the wall, only to bounce right back and smack him in the face, and Minho had laughed so hard that he cried was the tipping point. He knew right then, when Minho was gasping for air with the biggest smile on his face, that Minho is it for him.
Just after, when Minho was sitting on his desk chair with Jisung on the bed as Minho tended his second bloody nose since they met, and he touched Jisung with such care and looked at him like he was everything, was the moment Jisung realized he’s in love.)
So, in a way it’s inevitable that Jisung will snap. Because as much as he loves loving Minho in silence, being around Minho every single day and not being able to show that love is crushing.
It happens in the kitchen. Jisung wakes up alone in bed, which throws him for a second before he realizes the spot beside him is still warm. He grabs his glasses from the bedside table and clambers out of bed, determined to find Minho.
He isn’t hard to look for, not at all. Minho is in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
(Jisung notices the second mug right beside Minho’s, and he can’t help but smile.)
“Hyung?”
Minho turns around, coffee pot in hand. His gaze softens when he spots Jisung, and the corners of his lips tug up into a familiar smile.
(Felix calls it the Jisung Smile.)
“You’re awake? I didn’t wake you, did I?”
Jisung shakes his head, “No, hyung.”
He thinks about walking forward and taking the pot from Minho so he can finish pouring their drinks, but it feels like he’s been glued in place. Minho must also find it odd because he doesn’t go back to what he’d been doing. He just watches Jisung, waiting.
“Hyung, why is it that you can sleep around me?” Jisung finally forces the question out, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. “You can’t sleep around Felix, who you’ve known longer, but around me…?”
Minho sets the coffee pot down, freeing his hands which flutter nervously at his sides. He isn’t looking at Jisung, just down at his fluffy red socks. Jisung wonders what he should be feeling—he’s anxious, incredibly so, but he doesn’t feel tension between them.
There’s an answer, and it may be that they both already know it.
“Felix told me early on that you can’t sleep around people you don’t know well or in places besides your home. So why me? What’s special about me?” Jisung finds he can’t look away from Minho. “I...I’m not very physically strong so the reason being me keeping you safe is not valid, and—”
“You make my heart feel safe.”
Well you make my heart stop. And palpitate way too quickly.
Minho is finally looking at him, and Jisung feels as though he’s flown too close to the sun and is on fire with the intensity that he’s looking at him. “I trust you,” Minho continues, and Jisung begins to turn to ash. “And you trust me too, or you’d have never agreed to sleeping in the same bed as me.”
“Hyung…”
“Every time we’ve met it’s been through coincidence.” Minho touches the back of his neck like he does when he’s nervous, and Jisung wants to reach out and hold his hand, to reassure him. “I want to plan something and take you out—I want to stop the coincidences by exchanging them with purpose.”
“Do you mean...?”
“Go out with me, Han Jisung.” Minho gulps, fear of rejection evident in his eyes. Jisung faintly wonders if Minho’s heart is beating as wildly as his. “If you have any interest in me, because I really like you.”
“You like me?” Jisung may have had his suspicions at certain moments, but his conclusion overall has always been that he is a friend, a close friend. Because allowing himself the slightest bit of hope can only result in pain.
“You’re so dense,” Minho says, but there’s no hurt in the words, not when they’re so heavily coated in fondness. “Jisung, I’ve liked you from the start.”
“The start, you mean when I was bleeding everywhere?”
Minho nods.
Jisung blinks at him, face on fire from a heavy blush and mind spinning. “How? I was all bloody and must have seemed out of my mind.”
“You were cute, with how you kept stuttering.” Minho is blushing, his healthy complexion glowing pink. “But later on when you said you took advantage of me when I was sick I knew you were different from anyone I’d ever met.” He cracks a smile when Jisung groans, burying his face in his hands.
“That was so embarrassing,” Jisung mutters, his voice muffled by his hands.
Minho laughs, too short and so sweet. “Jisung-ah,” he calls, waiting until Jisung peeks out from between his fingers. “Jisung, will you be my boyfriend?”
“I—” Jisung panics, the question sending his heart into overdrive and causing his mind to swirl with thoughts and worries. “Um…” He edges back towards Minho’s room, and then he’s running inside, slamming the door behind him with a shout of “Give me a second” over his shoulder.
He throws himself down onto the bed and screams into a pillow, giddiness building up inside him. And he realizes that that’s all that he feels—the turbulent emotions that had crashed around within him are gone, and he’s left swimming in pure happiness because Lee Minho likes him back.
Feeling like he’s going to burst from joy, Jisung pushes himself up off the bed and runs to the door, pulling it open. There, standing on the other side with his hand raised as if he was about to knock, is Minho.
Jisung flings himself at Minho, hugging him tighter than he ever has before. Minho is hugging him back in seconds, but Jisung knows there’s one last answer to give Minho before he can feel fully complete.
“Yes.”