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“What do you wanna eat tonight?”
Jisung has his phone pressed to his ear with the help of his shoulder, searching through bell peppers to find perfect ones and put them in the basket as he’s on the call with Minho.
“I’m in the store, so tell me what to get,” he adds.
There’s commotion on the other side of the line, something like bed sheets rustling and loud meowing. Jisung bites down on his lower lip to stop himself from smiling, though he finds it awfully endearing how Minho grumbles something to one of the cats, putting the phone away for a moment.
And then, when his attention is back on Jisung, he says, “I’ll cook, so don’t worry about that.”
Jisung somehow knew he’d say that—they’ve been through this a million times before—but he still lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re my guest, not the other way around,” he says, finally getting a proper hold of his phone after he finds the perfect bell peppers and secures them in his basket.
Minho snorts. “I practically own that kitchen,” he tells Jisung, and, damn, Jisung wishes he could disagree. “I’ll quickly send you some recipes and you can choose what you feel like eating, okay?”
“Oh, you’ll cook whatever I want?” Jisung asks as he continues his way down the aisle, a teasing lilt to his voice.
Minho huffs on the other side, as if offended. “No, who do you think I am?” he says, and Jisung can tell that he’s rolling his eyes—he can practically see it when he lets his eyes linger closed for a moment longer. “I’ll choose what I want to eat and then have you choose one dish out of them.”
Jisung knows better.
Minho will somehow choose exactly the kind of food Jisung is craving at the moment, as if he’s capable of taking a peek into his head, and he’ll pretend he’s the one that desperately wants to eat it. And Jisung will let him, because he’s a weak, weak man.
He smiles until his cheeks hurt and pretends that it’s just the strawberries on sale that make him very happy, even though Minho can’t see him right now. Thankfully.
“Okay, then, send me the recipes quickly,” Jisung tells him, but just as he’s about to open his mouth again and bid Minho goodbyes, the elder hangs up.
Jisung can shake his head in disapproval and annoyance all he wants, but the reflection he sees in one of the freezers tells him just how bright and fond his expression is.
✦
When Jisung opens the door for Minho just before six in the afternoon, he’s surprised to find the older man dressed up.
He’s wearing normal clothes—just some skinny black jeans and a loose button-up shirt—but he’s got a black cloak thrown over his shoulders, and when he smiles at Jisung exaggeratedly, his canines are sharper than usual (but it’s not like Jisung pays attention to his teeth—that would be ridiculous) and he realizes Minho put on fake fangs.
“What is this supposed to—?”
Jisung’s question is interrupted by a loud shout coming from the other end of the hallway, and then the sound of approaching footsteps against the hardwood floors.
Minho steps into the foyer just as Yeseul appears from around the corner, running towards him with a joyful shriek. He lowers his stance and swings the cape dramatically in the air, hiding the lower part of his face for show, and hisses.
Jisung closes the front door, taking the paper bag full of candy that Minho insisted on bringing, and shakes his head at the ridiculousness of it all. And yet, he doesn’t bother to fight the fond smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth when Minho drops his vampire act and picks Yeseul up, moving her so she’s sitting against his hip. She’s already too old for him to do it comfortably—six years old and counting—but he’s never stopped carrying her this way ever since she became big enough for him to hold her like this. (And he insists that this is his motivation to wake up early in the morning and go to gym—the prospect of carrying both Yeseul and his cats when they’re grown up.)
Jisung’s fond expression morphs into worry when Minho grimaces as they walk down the hallway and into the open-floor living room, clearly in discomfort if not pain. He quickly hides it under a scary vampire-impression that he directs towards Yeseul.
When he catches Jisung’s eye, he shakes his head, as if to say, Don’t say anything, I’m fine, and lets out an exaggerated gasp to draw Yeseul’s attention again.
“Why isn’t your dad dressed up?” Minho asks, setting her down on the kitchen island. “Why didn’t you make him dress up in a pretty costume?”
Jisung rolls his eyes as he fills up the kettle to brew them both coffee. “I’m dressed up as an exhausted father. It’s trendy these days.”
Minho reaches over the counter to pat his cheek, a smile lighting up his face when Jisung grimaces, swatting him away. “You’re cute,” he says, and then takes the paper bag that’s been hanging off his wrist to set it down on the counter, hopefully not noticing the insistent blush that creeps to Jisung’s neck.
Jisung clears his throat and peeks inside. “That’s too much,” he says, tilting his head to the side as Minho only grins, satisfied with the insane amount of sweets he bought for trick-and-treating and with how Yeseul’s eyes become big as saucers at the sight of them. “I don’t think we’ll even get enough kids here to give all of this away.”
“It’s okay,” Minho says, winking at Yeseul exaggeratedly with a mischievous smile threatening to curl up the corners of his mouth. Then, turning to Jisung, he adds, “I think I’ll qualify for a reimbursable denture in a few years. I can handle rotten teeth until then.”
Jisung can’t help but roll his eyes; Minho is ridiculous, and it’s been forever since they met—Jisung should’ve already gotten used to it, but he never did. He kind of likes the unpredictability, how he can wonder whether what leaves Minho’s mouth will have him bending in half from laughter or grimacing in embarrassment.
It’s his charm, something Jisung would never want to change about him. But then again, Jisung doesn’t think he’d ever want to change anything about Minho. Even his vampire costumes or his will to eat up what looks like three kilograms of candy.
“Can I get one?” Yeseul asks, successfully bringing Jisung back to reality, away from his thoughts (but the main character of those thoughts stands across from him, a gentle smile on his face, and Jisung still thinks, thinks, thinks ).
Minho hums, tapping his chin with his pointer finger and pretending he’s thinking it through. “If you dress up in your costume, then you’ll get one.”
Yeseul nods excitedly, already breaking into a run towards her room. Before she can disappear, though, Jisung calls after her. “Need help putting it on?”
“No!” she shouts back, and then runs off.
Jisung shakes his head, pouring water over the coffee and sliding Minho’s mug towards him over the countertop. “Right. She’s a big girl already.”
“You’re not having that, oh, my baby is leaving the nest crisis already, are you?” Minho teases. “She’s six! She hasn’t even gone over her rebel phase yet.”
Jisung snorts, wrapping both of his hands around the mug, seeking warmth. “I hope her rebel phase isn’t as bad as mine was,” he says. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle that.”
Minho lifts one corner of his mouth. “ I handled you back then, I think I’d manage to stop a teen girl from impulsively getting a tattoo that she’ll later have to cover up with a design more appropriate.”
Jisung groans. “My mom probably didn’t think I’d tattoo an ass on my body when she’d said I can only get a tattoo on my ass,” he mumbles, though the embarrassment from that escapade is long gone. “God, I hope Yeseul never does that.”
Lifting the cat-patterned mug to his lips, Minho tells him, “Better start praying, then,” and takes a sip of his coffee.
Maybe they shouldn’t have caffeine in the late afternoon, but Jisung thinks that at this point their bodies are immune to its effects—he could drink four cups and he’d fall asleep at a more reasonable hour than if he only had one or none. Strangely, Minho is the same.
Minho finds a seat on the stool by the island, warming up his hands around the hot mug as they wait for Yeseul to emerge from her room. When her footsteps aren’t heard for another moment, he jumps off and tells Jisung, “I’ll go help her. Maybe she got tangled up in all that tulle.”
Jisung chuckles fondly, watching him disappear in the hallway. He can hear their voices, Minho’s cheerful laughter, and then the footsteps as Yeseul runs towards the kitchen again.
Jisung remembers how they spent a whole afternoon trying to find a perfect costume after Sana extended the invitation to take Yeseul trick or treating. It didn’t look that promising when it came in the mail, but, unsurprisingly, Yeseul made it work.
(Of course she did; she’s got the best genes in the world.)
And when she steps into his field of view again, dressed as a ghost, with a grey tulle dress ripped at the bottom and the sleeves and plastic chains slung over her middle, she looks absolutely the cutest.
Still, Jisung can’t help but point out: “Aren’t you gonna be cold?” She grimaces, annoyed, and grabs the sleeve of her costume to pull it up and reveal a white turtleneck underneath. “You have to take a jacket, anyway,” Jisung insists “Aunt can keep it in her car for later.”
Yeseul grumbles something under her breath, but Jisung only exchanges knowing looks with Minho and lets her sulk. It doesn’t last long—just like he thought—because the screen of Minho’s phone lights up with a notification where it’s lying on the counter, the photo of his cats on full display on the lockscreen, and Yeseul whips around to face him with a grin on her face.
“I want to come and see them tomorrow!” she exclaims.
Jisung scolds her with a disapproving look. “Yeseul-ah, you can’t just invite yourself—”
“Of course you can, princess,” Minho interrupts, briefly glancing at Jisung to let him know it’s okay, a smile on his lips as he unlocks his phone to pull up his gallery and a folder consisting of an infinity of pictures of his cats. “These are new. Scroll.”
Yeseul gasps and coos at the pictures, mumbling incoherently to herself as she swipes and swipes and swipes, tugging at Minho’s black cloak to get his attention a moment later. Jisung doesn’t even register what she’s asking about, mind too caught up in the adorable sight before him, but he catches the funny look Minho sends his way.
Jisung is still in awe at how his shy little kid is so comfortable around Minho, not thinking twice about asking him things and engaging in conversations about things Jisung himself sometimes doesn’t understand. It isn’t not a surprise, because Minho is good with people and good with making them feel at ease, but—
Still.
It makes Jisung feel warm at heart.
He finds it exceptionally adorable that Yeseul likes being over at Minho’s apartment, because of his cats that like her and have taken years to warm up to Jisung, and because Minho usually gives her some cool awesome super mega snacks like dinosaur-shaped potatoes and fruit gummies in other funky forms, and he has one cabinet filled with those fancy snacks that aren’t unhealthy, even though they cost a lot.
Jisung never understands why Minho is doing all of that, putting so much thought into a child just because she’s Jisung’s, but he appreciates it nonetheless. He appreciates it more than Minho could ever know.
The doorbell rings, echoing in the apartment, and Yeseul forgets about the phone and the cats, jumping off the stool to run to the foyer.
“Hey!” Minho calls after her, sliding off his chair to quickly follow her. “Don’t open the door. You don’t know if it’s Aunt Sana!”
Yeseul grumbles something from the hallway, but she doesn’t open the door until Minho gets there. It is Sana, Jisung hears and then sees when he moves over to the foyer, too. Her daughter, Rei, stands in front of her, dressed as a princess in a blue dress.
The girls greet each other excitedly, slurring words as they talk too fast for any of the adults to understand properly. Sana and Jisung exchange endeared looks.
Minho clicks his tongue and says, “I’ll be right back,” and then he walks away, Jisung’s eyes following him until he disappears down the hallway.
Sana is staring at him with raised brows and an amused smile curled on her lips when he turns to face her again. She ignores the confusion painted across his features and says, “We’ll be back late, so have fun, you two.”
Jisung blinks at her, but just as he opens his mouth to ask what the hell she means, Minho appears again, this time with that paper bag full of candy he’d left on the counter.
He grabs a handful of sweets and crouches in front of Rei to put them in her jack-o’-lantern-themed bag. “Sweets for Her Royal Highness—” he says, voice sweet and soft, and then he turns to Yeseul, who’s already opening her bag so he can give her candy, “Sweets for our Lady Ghost.”
Behind them, Jisung has to press a hand to his lips to stop himself from chuckling. Sana looks equally endeared next to him, smiling as she tells her daughter, “What do we say after someone gives us a gift?”
“Thank you,” Rei says, albeit shyly, and Yeseul quickly joins in, grinning up at Minho, who mirrors their smiles, satisfied, because he’s cute like that.
Sana quickly tells them that they should get going before all other kids steal their candy, making an exaggerated shocked face.
Jisung grabs a black jacket off the hanger and crouches down in front of Yeseul to tell her, “Have fun and be on your best behaviour tonight, okay?”
She nods and heads towards the door wasting no more time talking to Jisung, pulling Rei along by her hand. Sana laughs, pulling the handle for them, and they step out into the hallway.
“Don’t eat too many sweets or your teeth will fall out!” Minho shouts after them before the door closes.
Jisung turns towards him to smack him on the shoulder, a silly grin spreading across his face. “Now they’re gonna eat it all up ‘cause their teeth are falling out, anyway!”
✦
Devoid of the vampire cloak he threw over the back of the couch a few moments ago, Minho lifts a diced tomato from the white plate to Jisung’s mouth without even looking up. Jisung glances at him from where he’s standing with his hip leaning against the counter before taking hold of the dice, teeth barely grazing Minho’s fingers.
He keeps working with the knife after that, sometimes reaching out with a tomato already between his thumb and index, offered to Jisung silently.
“Do you need me to help you?” Jisung asks a moment later, after Minho puts the knife down for a moment to check on the boiling water, because he kind of feels useless when he’s just standing there and ogling Minho as he works, preparing their spaghetti aglio e olio.
“Sit down and don’t disturb me,” Minho tells him pointedly, grabbing Jisung by the shoulders to stop him from moving to the other side of the counter and walking him backwards to push him onto the stool.
Jisung juts his lower lip out in a pout, but Minho swiftly turns towards the cabinets to avoid looking at him and giving in to his puppy eyes. “You’re being mean now,” he grumbles exaggeratedly, propping his chin up on his palm.
When Minho turns back around, this time with a packet of pasta in his hands, Jisung strikes again, looking at him pleadingly, even though it’s his kitchen and Minho is theoretically his guest.
It’s been too many times when Minho took the reign here, though, preparing food for both Jisung and Yeseul, that Jisung can only ask if there’s something he can do, at this point.
“Ugh.” Minho rolls his eyes, though Jisung can tell that he’s trying hard to force away the smile tugging at his lips. “Okay, you can peel garlic and chop the onion, I guess.”
“Oh, Mr. Vampire, are you afraid of garlic now?”
Jisung barely manages to dodge the whole head of garlic Minho hauls at him.
He breaks into a grin, anyway, shifting on the stool by the island to reach for the cutting board and a knife. Once Minho properly hands him the onion, Jisung swiftly gets to work, though he can see Minho glancing at him from where he’s cutting tomatoes, as though he’s expecting Jisung to slip and accidentally cut off his fingers.
No chance, Jisung thinks. He honestly isn’t that bad in the kitchen, he can prepare some dishes and prepare them well, but Minho is all into teasing the living out of him and acting like Jisung isn’t capable of preparing something as simple as pasta.
Though, Jisung shamelessly admits to himself that he catches himself on purposefully struggling with things just so Minho can let out that overly-irritated sigh and move over to the other side of the counter to help him. It’s so silly and Minho must know, because Jisung always grins at him in satisfaction, asks, “Like this?” and watches as the tips of Minho’s ears redden when Jisung tells him something awfully cheesy like, “What would I do without my Chef Lee?”
It’s perfect.
But tonight, before Jisung even gets a chance to pull some trick to fluster Minho, the doorbell rings and he remembers that it’s not just his daughter trick-or-treating, but other kids that will eventually stumble into their apartment building and to the door with a jack-o’-lantern pumpkin stuck to the surface.
“I’ll go,” he says, and Minho lets out a soft ‘mhm’ in response, turning around to finally put pasta in the pot.
The sight that greets Jisung once he opens the door is a short boy dressed as a zombie (or a beaten-up guy, but Jisung would lean towards the first option), who can’t be older than Yeseul. He hopes his guardian is somewhere close.
“Trick or treat?” the boy asks with a toothy grin.
Jisung taps his chin as he crouches down to be on his eye-level, pretending he’s thinking it through, and then sticks out the hand he’d been hiding behind his back, full of candy that he drops in the boy’s plastic pumpkin-shaped container.
“Thank you!” he calls, bowing adorably, his smile widening, as the voice of some older woman bounces off the walls of the hallway, supposedly the boy’s name, because he turns towards the noise, and when Jisung sticks his head out to make sure, there’s someone heading towards them with a smile.
What’s surprising is that Jisung’s previous suspicions are confirmed when the boy suddenly asks, “Yeseul’s home is here. You look like her. You’re her dad?”
Jisung smiles, tilting his head to the side. “You’re her friend?”
The boy nods. “I thought the other dancer man was Yeseul’s dad,” he says, frowning. Jisung doesn’t get to ask what he means by that, because the woman—his mom, as he addresses her—stops by the door and the boy asks her with a pout, “Why does Yeseul have two dads and I just have one?”
Trying to cross his arms over his chest, he swings his pumpkin container a little too much and some of the candy spills out onto the floor. He scrambles to pick it up, and Jisung helps him, though the commotion only makes him want to laugh more.
In the end, he gives the kid some more sweets, exchanges endeared looks with his mother, and closes the door with a smile on his face. And yet, his stomach feels funny.
He can’t stop thinking about it throughout the entire evening.
✦
The pasta Minho cooked (with Jisung’s help!) is just so fucking delicious.
When Jisung tells him as much, Minho snorts out an overly confident, “Obviously,” but he breaks into that bashful smile and ducks his head, anyway.
Jisung thought that by now, after years and counting, he’d be immune, but Minho is awfully adorable and Jisung is barely holding himself together, barely holding himself back from letting all those silly, juvenile words out into the open to see Minho even more flustered.
It’s not often that he gets to see it; Minho, contrary to him, is insanely good at keeping himself together. It only makes Jisung appreciate those moments—moments for his eyes only—a little bit more.
Those warm moments also allow him to appreciate all the gentleness Minho has to offer; how he knows that Jisung always gets heavy after food and how Minho does, too, so they lean against each other, legs tangled together, cuddling on the couch as the most idiotic movie in the world continues playing.
It’s supposed to be a horror, but it’s not even funny. It’s downright bad, but they manage to get through it—only because they busy themselves with each other, talking over all the noise.
They almost fight over who gets to leave the room and hand out candy every time the doorbell rings, and Minho insists that he needs to stretch his legs or he’ll decay right there on Jisung’s couch.
Jisung lets him, because he’s got a weak spot for this guy and he kind of doesn’t feel like moving, anyway.
It gets a little bit better when the credits roll and Minho grabs the remote to pull up Zootopia . It’s a classic, one that they both first saw with Yeseul and then somehow ended up watching a few times on their own, though Jisung can’t think back to how exactly they managed to repeatedly choose Zootopia instead of other movies, probably more appropriate for their age.
Minho suddenly pats Jisung’s thigh to draw his attention away from the screen of the television. “They should make more animated horror movies for adults,” he tells him.
He doesn’t take the hand away, instead letting his fingers purposelessly roam over Jisung’s knee, tracing shapes as Minho himself keeps his eyes fixed on the screen.
Jisung hums in agreement. “They rely on suspension of disbelief, so, like—imagine all the possibilities that making horrors animated could give you,” he says. “You can play around so much when it comes to animation and do things you wouldn’t be able to do with real humans on set. The world-building could be insane.”
“Dang,” Minho lets out, making Jisung lift his head from where it’s been resting on his shoulder, one eyebrow quirked up. “I didn’t think you’d get so into it.”
Jisung grins at him. “What? Is it sexy that I’m an adult that wants to watch crazy horror animations?”
Minho rolls his eyes with an incredulous scoff, but the way he slightly turns his head away is enough of an answer, even when he sarcastically insists, “Sure, it is.”
✦
Minho, unusually talkative this evening, clears his throat as Jisung is scrolling through Netflix on his phone to find something they could watch next.
Jisung hums to let him know he’s listening, even though he admittedly isn’t good at multitasking, so he has to put his phone away to focus on Minho properly.
Jisung finds Minho’s eyes widening and mouth parting when he looks up, as though he hasn’t prepared for Jisung to actually stare at him as he talks. It’s just a little bit strange.
“You know, a few days ago… one of Yeseul’s teachers actually asked me if I was her ‘other dad,’” he says quietly, eyes sweeping over Jisung’s features before he quickly drops them to his hands that he’s playing with in his lap.
Jisung doesn’t know what to do with the fact that this revelation doesn’t really surprise him; definitely not after what the kid from earlier this evening said.
Not getting any answer that he doesn’t even seem to be waiting for, Minho continues, “Apparently, she talks about having two dads and a mom a lot and, since I pick her up after school often, the teacher asked if I wanted to come for a Career Day, or… something. They just… assumed it was me.”
This also doesn’t surprise him—Jisung knows that Yeseul runs her mouth to people she feels comfortable with, and that she shares the things she likes. And Jisung is well aware just how many times Yeseul has told people about Minho’s dancing.
His work schedule is more flexible than Jisung’s, so—out of convenience—he’s often the person who picks Yeseul up from school, if Sol can’t do that. He often takes her back to the dance studio, where she plays around, dances, and has lots of fun, until Jisung either picks her up, or Minho finishes work and calls Jisung to check where they should head next.
It’s no wonder that Yeseul’s teachers know, since it probably came up once they asked the kids about the Career Day, and Jisung honestly feels proud of Minho and feels warm at the notion of his daughter adoring Minho’s profession just as much as he does.
Minho looks up again, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “I wanted to let you know in case it bothers you or Sol and you… wanted to talk to Yeseul about this.”
Jisung blinks at him. “Does it bother you?”
“No—No, it doesn’t.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Jisung tells him then. “And I don’t think Sol would have a problem with that, either.”
Considering just how much she teases him about Minho, she’ll be delighted to hear that their kid approves of… whatever it is between them. She hasn’t missed the chance to point out how he’s always over when she comes to pick Yeseul up, or to ask over and over how things are progressing, but… they’re not progressing.
At least, Jisung doesn’t see that.
“Actually,” he starts, reaching out to slip his hand into Minho’s cold one and sending him an amused smile at the memory he’s recalling. “The first kid that came over for the candy today asked me if I was the other dad.”
“Oh,” Minho lets out, uncharacteristically shy, before a wide grin takes over his features and he ducks his head down, again. “God, that’s insane.”
Jisung squeezes his hand, hopefully in a comforting gesture. The way Minho squeezes right back tells him his plan is working.
“It’s really not,” he argues with a rush of butterflies taking flight in his stomach. “You’ve always been in Yeseul’s life and you’re… important to her. And to me. You’re important to me.”
Minho has always been the man of few words between the two of them, so it comes off as no surprise that he only lets out an acknowledging—though clearly embarrassed—hum and twists his body to face the television again, head falling to rest on Jisung’s shoulder.
“You’re taking too much time choosing,” he says with a teasing edge to his tone. “I’ll play something.”
Jisung doesn’t even have it in himself to argue, not actually invested in the movies or particularly eager to be the one to choose something to watch, instead busying himself with enjoying the time he gets to spend with Minho without the rush of tomorrow’s responsibilities looming over the both of them.
He thinks, because of course he does, and among all the things rushing through his mind, like whether Yeseul is doing okay and if she isn’t puking right now because she sneakily ate too many sweets, or how Minho keeps playing with his fingers, there’s something standing out in the highlight of their conversation.
The thing about Yeseul’s mother is that the things between her and Jisung have been doomed for failure since day one; Jisung just couldn’t see it.
Almost two years into their relationship—sparked after a one-night stand that got them Yeseul—Jisung came home to find Sol crying her eyes out. After that, after he managed to help her calm down and got her to talk, she came out to him as a lesbian.
It was… shocking, to say the least, but after the initial confusion as to why and when and how, Jisung stopped making it about himself. It hurt as hell, though he had to admit to himself that he had a hunch something between them was wrong and that the spark that initiated it all just wasn’t there anymore.
In the end, Jisung is just glad she found herself and didn’t keep forcing herself to be someone else just to please others. And she’s a great mother, too; she takes good care of Yeseul and loves her to death, and Jisung honestly wouldn’t have it any other way—he’s just relieved they’re all happier.
Minho was the person who helped him when Jisung was struggling in the beginning—both with taking care of Yeseul and balancing his job when he and Sol made it work before, but also with dealing with Sol and her bomb.
Admittedly, that only brought back those embarrassingly warm and mushy feelings that Minho had been the cause of before Jisung even got together with Sol. And now, years later, Jisung still feels like a lovesick teenager.
He can’t really tell why Minho hasn’t made a move on him yet; he knows Minho must feel something for him, if the lingering touches and flirting banter and the love Minho holds for Jisung are anything to go by.
The two of them getting together after years of toeing the line between friends and lovers would probably make little difference with how things are now. Minho is an important figure in Yeseul’s life, and even more important in Jisung’s; their conversation about the other dad only further proves it.
At this point, because of the fights and arguments and borderline awful things they’ve been through together, Jisung doesn’t think there’s anything in the world that could make him lose Minho.
For once, he isn’t scared.
✦
They’re halfway into a bottle of wine when Jisung decides he can’t take any more of the sight of Minho’s lips without actually kissing him.
He’s closer with Minho than with anyone else in the entire universe and he’s getting a feeling that when it comes to this, they’re on the same page, too, but that—strangely—doesn’t make the conversation he wants to start any easier.
Even with Minho’s arm thrown around him and his face squished against Minho’s shoulder, Jisung’s heart still feels like it’s about to pound out of his chest when he says, “I love you.”
To someone else, it might sound like nothing grave, and the historians would definitely say they are just good friends, but Jisung knows that Minho knows exactly what he means.
A moment of silence passes before he realizes Minho hasn’t actually responded. Jisung slowly lifts his head off Minho’s shoulder then, feeling an uncharacteristical heat at the back of his neck as he looks up, just to find Minho already staring.
His heart leaps to his throat.
“Jisung, you—you know I’ve been in love with you since you pushed that kid off a swing for calling me a freak in kindergarten?”
Jisung tries to pretend the words don’t make his stomach twist and turn, heart jump happily in his chest, thoughts run focused around the I’ve been in love with you. Some part of his brain lets out a scream. The other is breakdancing to that One Direction Best Song Ever song that keeps playing on the radio even though it’s been years and years since the release. Yet another part of him chooses to focus solely on Minho, and how fondly he’s looking at Jisung now, the smile that spreads across his lips so undeniably endeared.
Jisung takes a sharp breath. “Yeah. I’m the only person who’s allowed to call you that,” he says dumbly, but his voice is quieter, softer.
It’s no surprise that Minho pulls a face, grimacing exaggeratedly and pushing Jisung away. Jisung clings to him still, laughter spilling from his lips, because this is exactly what he expected; after those years they’ve spent together, he likes to think he’s got Minho quite figured out.
If he doesn’t… Well, there’s still a whole lot of time for Jisung to learn.
Minho uses his assets well, jutting his lower lip out in a childish pout as he grumbles, “I’m trying to actually tell you how I feel for the first time… ever, and you’re being... you.”
“And yet you still love me,” Jisung points out, unable to stop himself from breaking into a foolish grin. “You love me.”
Minho sighs, rolling his eyes, but in that moment, when Jisung sneaks his arm around him to grip and squeeze his side, a bright smile makes its way over to his face; he lights up.
Resting his hand over Jisung’s, Minho slides his fingers in between his, when in normal circumstances, he would be ripping Jisung’s hand off his skin to crush it.
God, Jisung is so in love with him.
He stares at Minho shamelessly like all those times before, lets his eyes linger a moment longer on the curve of Minho’s mouth, allows them to meet Minho’s brown eyes, and wonders why it took him so much time to say it, simultaneously knowing that there would never be a day more perfect to lay his heart bare in front of him.
Minho lets go of Jisung’s hand, but instead of leaving his skin, it slides from his arm up to his neck, and gently curls around the nape, thumb just barely brushing over the line of Jisung’s jaw.
Jisung’s heart is in his throat. He begs his brain to work well despite the late hour and the wine he’d just drunk, so that Jisung can remember this in the smallest details. He wants to remember, go back to the memory of this night and relive it.
Minho leans in, tilting his head to the side, and when Jisung’s eyes flit down to his lips, he’s smiling; even if he didn’t look down, he’d know that—he would be able to point out the exact smile Minho is wearing just from the gentle glint in his eyes.
The front door swings open just when their lips are about to touch, the sound of small footsteps echoing through the walls of the apartment. Then, a quieter voice comes, something Jisung can’t make out over the static ringing in his ears, but he knows it’s Sana.
Leaning forward to rest his forehead against Minho’s shoulder as the older man snorts a laugh, Jisung sighs. He presses a ghost of a kiss to the junction between Minho’s neck and his shoulder, where his loose shirt rides down to expose a bit of skin, though he can’t tell if Minho even feels it.
Then, Jisung pulls away with an apologetic smile.
Minho is already looking at him, seemingly amused with how they were interrupted. His hand slips from the side of Jisung’s neck, but not without a gentle brush of his fingers over the skin there.
Jisung bites down on his lower lip and finally stands up from the couch, just as Yeseul steps into the living room, pouty and tired. He crouches in front of her with a soft smile and, carding his fingers through her tangled hair, he asks, “How was it? Did you have fun?”
Yeseul nods, but a yawn stops her from responding properly. Minho chuckles from where he’s watching them, his arm slung over the back of the sofa, and Sana grins when she emerges from the hallway.
“We stumbled into some of their school friends and we joined their group, so I think they had lots of fun,” she says with a smile, playing with the car keys hooked on one of her fingers. “Yeseul-ah is so polite and well-behaved, she’s probably the most positive influence on Rei. You should’ve dressed her as an angel instead.”
Jisung scoffs fondly. “An angel?”
He feigns disbelief, just so Yeseul can cling to him and say, “I’m an angel, dad!” suddenly full of energy.
“Rei is sleeping in the car, so I have to go, but…” Sana starts, eyes flitting over to Minho, “Hope you two had fun, too.”
“We would have more fun, if only you came back two minutes later,” he says, and Jisung doesn’t even have to turn towards him to hear the smirk in his voice.
Sana, on the other hand, lets out a surprised gasp. “Oh my. I shouldn’t have taken that shortcut,” she whispers, more to herself than to either of them, but Minho and Jisung still laugh. “Yeseul-ah is very tired, aren’t you, baby? You two can… resume, or something.”
Jisung stands up, resting his hands on Yeseul’s shoulders, and glances towards Minho, who tries to wink at him—he closes both of his eyes instead. Jisung almost dies.
Sana clears her throat with a knowing smile. “I’ll get going.”
“Thank you for taking care of Yeseul tonight,” Jisung tells her, scooping up his daughter into his arms and resting a hand on her back as he walks Sana to the door. “I really appreciate it.”
“It’s seriously no problem,” she says, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. “If you two need some… you know, time alone together, Yeseul can always come over to our place. Rei will be happy to see her.”
Jisung scrunches his nose in embarrassment, but sends Sana a grateful smile.
When she leaves, Jisung locks the door and lets out a content sigh, patting Yeseul on the back. With her face pressed into his neck, she seems to be sleeping, but Jisung knows her well enough to suspect that she’s only pretending just so he carries her to bed.
And he will, because he’s weak like that.
He steps into the living room again, and the sight that greets him isn’t anything new—Minho has already made a place for himself in Jisung’s home—but it makes his heart jump happily all the same.
“I’m gonna put her in bed, I’ll be back soon,” Jisung tells Minho in a whisper. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I’m not planning on moving an inch,” Minho says, then, and Jisung has to press his lips together to stop himself from giggling like a teenager.
He feels so… happy.
He was content with how things were between them before, just the right amount of friendship and romance, and now that everything is out and clear, Jisung doesn’t necessarily feel different. His heart is still having a little trouble going back to a normal, steady rate, but that’s not something unusual when it comes to Minho, either.
But things are changing.
Jisung smiles to himself as he pushes the door to Yeseul’s room open. “Come on,” he whispers, digging a finger into her side to make her squirm. “You don’t have to pretend you’re sleeping, I won’t make you wash up.”
She instantly lifts her head off his shoulder, though, despite doing this to avoid having to take a bath, she’s clearly sleepy.
He helps her out of the ghost costume and into her pajamas and ties her hair so it doesn’t bother her when she’s sleeping. Covering her with a blanket once she slips into bed, he finally asks, “Want me to leave the night light on?”
Yeseul nods. “I saw many big monsters.”
“Ah, you know they can’t come into our home,” Jisung tells her, a soft smile on his lips. “And even if they could, you know Minho and I would kick their butts. Hm? Nothing to be afraid of.”
“Okay,” Yeseul mumbles sleepily, and then she’s turning onto her stomach and pressing her face against the pillow. “Night.”
Jisung fixes the blanket for her, pulling it up her shoulders, and pats her on the back. “Goodnight, princess.”
✦
Jisung is unable to hold back the stupidly wide smile that spreads across his face when he comes back to the living room and finds Minho scrolling through his phone; the thing that makes him chuckle is when Minho glances towards the hallway like he’s impatiently waiting for Jisung to return, and his lips curl up when their eyes meet.
Jisung doesn’t waste time—he strides towards the couch and plops down, pressing himself against Minho’s side, seeking the familiar warmth of his body. When Jisung looks up at him, he’s met with the softest smile he’s ever seen on Minho—and he’s seen a lot of them; he could probably categorize them all. Seeing him so gentle kind of throws Jisung’s heartbeat off rhythm.
Minho presses a kiss to Jisung’s forehead, lips lingering there for a second longer than they probably should; his fingers quickly find home in Jisung’s dark hair, carding through the strands exactly like he knows Jisung loves it.
Some movie is playing in the background, something Minho must’ve pulled up while Jisung was gone, serving as white noise in the quiet of the night. Neither of them pay attention to what’s happening on the screen.
Instead, Minho holds out his hand, palm up, and presses another soft kiss to Jisung’s cheek. Jisung joins their palms together, intertwines their fingers, and although they’ve held hands numerous times before, this feels different. Right—but different.
“Minho,” Jisung whispers; it’s for their ears only. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”
He’s delighted to find Minho trying to hide his flushed face by pressing his cheek against Jisung’s head, and feels warmth blooming in his chest at the sight of the bright smile he’s sporting. Jisung kind of wants to kiss it off him, but instead he pulls back and watches Minho try to conceal how happy he is, probably not imagining just how much Jisung loves it when he’s all flustered and embarrassed.
Minho rolls his eyes and grabs the remote with his free hand, deciding to busy himself with choosing a different movie.
While he insistently keeps his eyes on the screen of the television, Jisung keeps staring at him.
It’s perfect—and the fact that they’ve got so many more days and nights and weeks and months and years to make perfect leaves Jisung smiling like a fool.