Archive of Our Own

“The words I have never said, the words I might never be able to say again,” Jisung belted IU’s lyrics into his hairbrush-turned-mic, to the displeasure of his unwilling audience and roommate Changbin. “I like you, oppa, I’m in my dream!”

Jisung had put his favorite K-pop discographies on rotation since the morning, dancing to the eclectic pop beats blasting out of his laptop’s tinny speakers.

“Can’t you listen to that god-forsaken noise through your headphones?” Changbin complained from the couch as Jisung moonwalked across the living room.

“This is technically my room, so you can leave if you’re bothered. And I’m just a sad lonely boy finding happiness through song and dance. Don’t shame me for loving the tunes of our motherland.”

“Right, because this is out of patriotic duty rather than fantasizing over your idols.” Changbin made a point to glare at the poster of IU that hung above Jisung’s corner bed.

“Why not both?” Jisung said with a hip swivel.

A knock came from the door, and he rushed to shut off the music.

“That’s probably the neighbor complaining about the noise,” Changbin hissed.

Jisung stuck his tongue out at him as he opened the door, ushering in a draft from the hallway, and oddly enough, a whiff of Febreze. There Lee Minho stood in a puffer jacket, greeting Jisung with a peace sign.

“Sup, Minho hyung,” Jisung greeted back and stepped aside to let him in. Minho toed off his shoes and flopped down onto the couch, swinging his legs over Changbin’s lap.

Having been friends since their freshman year, the two elder boys were close enough that they barged into each other’s apartments with the confidence of siblings. Jisung, on the other hand, had known Minho only since last semester when the older moved into their building. Perhaps Jisung should have protested his unannounced visits, but Minho never intruded upon his personal space and always cleaned up after himself, so it hadn’t been an issue.

Jisung collapsed into the armchair and observed the other two. He was used to third-wheeling in their presence by now.

Minho fluffed up the throw pillow under his head and asked, “Binnie-yah, wanna go on a shopping date with me?”

Changin’s dark bangs swept across his brow as he shook his head. “No can do. I’m about to meet up with Chaeyoung and her friends, then I’ll be stuck all afternoon at the music lab. You’re not the only one with a senior project.”

“Rude.” Minho poked Changbin’s stomach with a foot which earned him a glare. “Do I not exist to you anymore?”

“I’m available only by appointment from now on.”

“Befriending you was a mistake.”

“Which conveniently reminds me,” Changbin said with a growing smirk, “I think I’ll cash in that favor now. Feel like making a trip to the coffee shop?”

Minho sat up and swung his feet back onto the floor with a grunt. “Fine. An honorable man repays his debts, blah blah.”

“I’ll have four large vanilla lattes, two red bean donuts, two almond croissants, and a slice of mocha cake, honorable sir.”

Jisung’s proverbial antenna flew up and practically vibrated at the mention of said desserts. “You’re going to Coffee Story across the street?” he asked Minho.

“Binnie paid the bill when we went out for grilled pork last weekend, since I forgot my wallet,” Minho explained as he put on his shoes. “So I’m paying him back with overpriced bean juice.”

“Can I come with? I’ve been craving iced Americano all day. And I’ll help you carry the stuff back here.”

Minho shrugged. “Be my guest.”

Jisung slipped into a hooded jacket and followed Minho out of the apartment.

The café was a perennial hot spot due to its proximity to the main campus, and today was no exception with the line nearly spilling into the sidewalk. Jisung and Minho stood together in a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, but they weren’t close enough friends to call it an easy one, either. They briefly touched upon their respective majors; Minho was in his senior year of nutrition and dietetics, and Jisung was a junior studying music tech. With spring semester just having started, they talked about what to expect in the months ahead.

When that topic dried out, they gave each other polite smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

“So,” Minho said as the line crept forward, “you’re a fan of IU?”

Jisung replied eagerly, “Yeah! How did you know?”

“The poster on your wall,” Minho said with a genuine smile forming now. “Just a wild guess.”

Jisung felt himself blush. “Oh, right.”

“You know she’s coming here for her U.S. tour this spring, right? Are you going?”

Jisung’s wallet cried at the mere mention despite how desperately he’d wanted to attend. “Oh man, I wish.”

“This man will,” Minho said, pointing to himself.

“Really?” Jisung pouted a little in envy. “Lucky. I heard tickets were sold out in like two seconds.”

On the bright side, at least he’d discovered a new shared interest on which to advance his friendship with Minho (and potentially bring agita to Changbin, always a delightful prospect).

They chatted about other Korean singers they were into, and Jisung felt a warm satisfaction to learn that much of their musical tastes aligned. Minho requested that Jisung belt out classic Park Hyo Shin ballads if they ever went to noraebang together.

“I’ll dedicate ’Wildflower’ to you,” Jisung said with a pinky promise.

As they approached the front of the line, they settled into a silence that felt much more comfortable this time around.

When they finally reached a barista, Minho rattled off Changbin’s order without missing a beat. He then asked Jisung, “Sorry, what did you want again? We can order together.”

“Um, iced Americano and—” Jisung skimmed the pastries laid out behind the glass display, but he could feel his wallet groan through the pocket of his jeans. “—that’s all. A small iced Americano.”

Minho turned to the barista to add, “One large iced Americano and a triple chocolate mousse cake, please.”

“Hyung—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Minho assured. “It’s my treat.”

“But—” Further attempts to object vanished in the face of Minho’s kind smile. Jisung ducked his head, feeling his cheeks color. “Thank you.”

Minho received the bag of desserts from the barista, and the pair stepped aside to await their drinks being prepared. Their arms had been lightly touching; Jisung felt Minho stiffen his posture.

“Oh god,” Minho said, as if he’d held his breath for too long. His relaxed presence from a moment ago was replaced by one of dread, his eyes going wide and jaw tensing.

“Are you okay?” Jisung whispered, his own brow tensing in concern.

Minho turned his head away from Jisung and like a coiled spring, darted back his gaze.

“He’s here,” he whispered.

“Who?”

“Inhyuk, my ex. He’s a few tables away from us.”

Jisung tilted his head to see past Minho’s face, and surely enough, an attractive Korean male about their age was seated not far from where they stood. Jisung recalled having spotted him with Minho a handful of times around campus last semester.

Minho angled his body away from his ex’s view, but it proved futile as Inhyuk was staring at the back of Minho’s figure for way too long until realization seemed to wash over his face. As soon as he stood up from the table, Jisung hid behind Minho.

“He’s coming,” Jisung warned under his breath.

The color drained from Minho’s face. “What?”

“Shh, he’s almost here—” Jisung popped his head up and blurted to mask the awkwardness of the situation, “Hello there!”

Inhyuk halted at the greeting.

Minho remained frozen where he stood, his wide eyes searching for reprieve. Through an instinct colored by sympathy, Jisung’s hand inched toward Minho’s until their fingers found each other in an awkward tangle. Minho’s muscles thawed enough that Jisung could shift his grasp until their palms were touching in a proper handhold.

Minho took a deep breath and turned around, his hand still clasping Jisung’s.

“Inhyuk, hi!” he greeted with a tentative smile.

“Hey Minho, how are you?” Inhyuk softly cleared his throat while Minho fumbled for words.

Jisung’s instinct kicked back in and he gently squeezed Minho’s hand in a gesture of support. Inhyuk’s eyes dropped to their interlocked hands, then flew up to Jisung’s face.

“Ah, you must be Minho’s boyfriend.”

Jisung’s eyes sprung wide open. “Well, I—”

He looked to Minho to set the record straight, but the latter merely cast his gaze to the ground. He wondered if Minho had missed what the other had said. When it became clear that Minho wouldn’t say anything, Jisung looked back at Inhyuk whose eyes grew impatient for an answer.

“I’m... Jisung.”

The words spilled from his mouth and scattered beyond his grasp before he could think to chase after them. He tried to console himself by reasoning that technically, he hadn’t lied because Jisung was his name, but he couldn’t find a way to tack on a disclaimer that he and Minho were very much not dating.

“Nice to meet you,” Inhyuk offered in a neutral tone.

“You too,” Jisung said in reflex.

Minho lifted his head and stared at Jisung but remained silent.

“Well, I should get going.” Inhyuk hiked a thumb toward the door and gazed upon Minho with an expression which Jisung could only guess as wistful. “It was good to see you. Maybe I’ll see you again at the KSC dinner on Friday?”

Minho swallowed and replied with a hoarse, “Sure.”

Jisung squeezed out a breath only after Inhyuk had exited the café and disappeared from view.

Minho started when the barista called out his name from the pick-up counter. The two boys collected their drinks secured in cardboard trays.

“What just happened,” Jisung said as they stepped out of the café. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, his limbs gone heavy from the gravity of the situation becoming clearer. “I’m so sorry, hyung. Did I fuck up?”

Minho worried his lower lip between his teeth. “No, it’s not your fault. I... god, this is embarrassing. What the hell’s wrong with me?” He tilted his head back and took a deep breath.

“What is it?”

“I, um. I may have told Inhyuk that I was seeing someone,” Minho hurried to say, punctuating his confession with a wince.

If this were a movie, the sound effect of a needle scratching a record would have played right then.

“You what?” The tray of drinks in Jisung’s grasp wobbled.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I ran into him last week at KSC—Korean Students Club I mean—and I don’t know, I hadn’t seen him since before winter break and I didn’t want him to think I was some pathetic lonely loser after he dumped me, ’cause he broke my freaking heart, you know? And I thought I was finally starting to get over him till I saw his stupid gorgeous face again—”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Jisung said, raising a hand up defensively. “We can talk more when we get back to the apartment.”

Minho nodded, somewhat resembling a kitten in distress.

“Took you guys long enough,” Changbin said upon their return. He was already bundled up in his coat, and he grabbed the offerings from Minho and uttered a hurried thanks.

Silence filled the room as soon as Changbin shut the door behind him. Jisung placed his drink and dessert on his desk, his appetite having been quashed by recent developments, and he fell face-down onto his bed.

“What am I gonna do,” Jisung mumbled into his pillow before turning over. He stared at the poster of IU above him on the wall as though the answer were hidden in her doe eyes.

Minho sat down at the end of Jisung’s bed and scooted back on the mattress until he was leaning against the wall with his legs stretched out, his thigh pressing against Jisung’s feet.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Minho said, staring down at his hands folded on his lap. “I’m sorry. I should have spoken up and told Inhyuk the truth. This is my mess, so it’s my responsibility to clean it up.”

“But I made it exponentially worse by lying by omission.”

Minho grew quiet for a moment before speaking, “The weird thing is, it kind of worked? The exchange today... It was the nicest he’s been since I broke up with him. Before, he’d acted like it pained him to look at me.”

“I thought he dumped you?” Jisung scrunched his nose.

Minho shot him a side glare. “Let’s not split hairs. Anyway, I have to tell him the truth regardless. Guess I’ll do it when I see him on Friday.” He groaned and dropped his head in his hands. “Or maybe I can just, you know, drop out of school and avoid him forever, which is sounding like the better option.”

Jisung continued to stare at the poster, and the lyrics of IU’s Friday surfaced in his mind, and her impatient love confession:

This Friday, how is this Friday?
I can’t wait until the weekend
I want to tell the clock to run faster
I can’t help but fall in love

And so why couldn’t Minho and his ex fall back in love? Minho was his friend and a kind-hearted one at that, who didn’t deserve the heartbreak he was going through. Perhaps his ex might be inclined to reconsider if—

He sat up on the bed and nudged Minho’s leg with a foot. “What if we kept it up?”

“What do you mean?”

The gears in Jisung’s head started to turn, and he scooted closer to the other. “You said that Inhyuk finally noticed you at the café, right? Maybe seeing you with me got him thinking about what he gave up.”

Minho brought his knees to his chest and said cautiously, “You’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“It could work,” Jisung insisted, his mental gears kicking it up a notch. “I mean, you do want him back, right?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Look at this way. If the plan works out, you get your happy ending, and if it fails, at least you’ll know that he’s moved on and not worth pining over.”

Minho rested his chin on his knees as he silently weighed the options.

“We could end it anytime, right?” he said after a prolonged pause. “Since no feelings would be involved?”

Jisung gave a thumbs-up, feeling quite proud of himself for flipping an unfortunate situation to their advantage. “That’s the beauty of the plan. It’s like we’ll be acting out a play and making up the story as we go along, except it’s real life.”

“So basically... lying,” Minho raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t split hairs,” Jisung rolled his eyes. “None of this will matter once you reunite with Inhyuk in the end.” He leaned in closer to Minho. “So, what do you think?”

Minho stared at him, solemn and unblinking, until Jisung was beginning to question if they were engaged in a staring contest.

“I think it’s a genius plan if it works out,” Minho said quietly. “And that’s a big if.”

Jisung hopped to his feet on the bed and transferred a kiss by hand to IU on the wall.

“I swear on my love of brilliant and talented goddess Lee Ji Eun,” he said with one hand flat on the poster and the other over his heart, “that it will work out in the end.”

Minho squinted up at Jisung, the latter feeling his stomach constrict until the former’s eyes relaxed in a subtle smile. Minho held out his fist, and Jisung bumped it with his own.

Jisung was now locked into his new mission, and he vowed not to let his friend down. And if a small part of him looked forward to the prospect of spending more one-on-one time with Minho, with or without more hand-holding involved, then it would be the cherry on top to the goal of mending the older boy’s heart once and for all.

* * *

The following morning, Jisung met Minho at Coffee Story and the two began to elaborate the details of their plan. They camouflaged their voices among the bustle of caffeinated customers, keeping the decibel low.

“So our backstory is that we hit it off during winter break?” Minho parroted what Jisung had just said.

“Yup, it’s simple enough to remember and fits in with your timeline of events.”

“Good. Okay.” Minho nodded, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. He mumbled something that was lost to the buzzing of the crowd.

“Say that again?” Jisung angled his ear closer to him.

Minho placed a hand on Jisung’s shoulder and spoke directly into his ear, “I said you should come to Korean Students Club this Friday. They’re holding a fundraising dinner.”

“Depends. Are you gonna pay for my ticket?”

“I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, not your sugar daddy.”

Jisung balled up a piece of napkin and half-heartedly tossed it at Minho who easily deflected it.

“More importantly,” Minho said, “Inhyuk will be there. And yes of course, I’ll cover your ticket.”

“Cheers to my generous boyfriend.” Jisung solicited another fist bump from Minho.

The barista called out their order, and Minho quickly retrieved their drinks. Jisung lit up when an iced Americano was set down before him. He shuffled his feet back and forth as he took a long sip through the straw. Minho held a cup of regular Americano in his hands and dipped his head to take in the aroma.

“I never thanked you, by the way,” he glanced at Jisung, “for holding my hand to calm me down yesterday. When I saw Inhyuk I thought I was going to spiral into full-blown panic, but I didn’t, thanks to you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jisung replied. He took another sip of his drink, slower in thought this time. “Which leads me to ask: how should we handle PDA?”

Minho almost choked on his coffee; Jisung offered a napkin in apology.

“Um, I haven’t thought that far ahead.” Minho dabbed the napkin on his chin. “But I’m okay with holding hands pretty much any time... as long as you are, of course.” He paused to stare down at his drink. “But we should also pace ourselves, you know?”

“Right,” Jisung agreed with a nod, “to make it look natural. I don’t think me sticking my tongue down your throat would seem very convincing right now.” His cheeks flamed in realization of the implication and he added, “Not that I intend to do that to you in the future, either.”

Minho responded with a hollow chuckle. “Of course not.”

Perhaps it was better to not say anything for awhile, so Jisung focused on finishing his drink.

He had been slurping remnants of coffee around the ice cubes when Minho pushed his phone across the table toward Jisung. The screen showed a gray tabby cat posing with a filter of a bread loaf around its face.

“Ah, cute,” Jisung squeaked. “Your kitty?”

Minho nodded, unable to hide his delight behind his raised cup. “Her name’s Dori, one of my three from back home. She’s moody and kind of a brat, but I love her.”

“I respect a feline who keeps it real.” Jisung glanced at his own phone and noticed the time that had flown by faster than he’d anticipated. He reached for his backpack. “I have to go to my acoustics class now.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

After they tossed their empty cups in the trash, Jisung offered his fist again for a final bump. Minho balked and held out an open hand instead. Jisung couldn’t help but smile as he uncurled his fist to take the older boy’s hand, and they walked out of the café together.

The handhold lasted until they reached the end of the block, at which point the boys separated to walk in opposite directions. Minho’s hand was unusually soft for a guy’s, Jisung noted, curling his fingers into his palm to keep the warmth from escaping.

* * *

“I feel like I’m underdressed,” were the first words out of Jisung’s mouth when Minho stopped by to escort him to dinner.

Minho was dressed in a classy wool coat that was opened to reveal a sweater fitted over a collared shirt and tie, complemented by crisp dress pants and a pair of Oxfords. He rounded off the look with his hair styled to reveal more forehead than Jisung was used to seeing.

By contrast, Jisung wore a parka with skinny jeans fraying at the hem and a beanie over his head.

“Should I get changed?” he asked as he stared down at his scuffed-up Adidas.

“No no, you look nice,” Minho said softly, eyeing Jisung from head to toe.

Jisung’s ribs felt constricted in his jacket. “Oh. Thank you.”

A moment passed in which they wordlessly darted glances at each other through the doorway—interrupted by Changbin singing the instrumental of “Careless Whisper” in off-key falsetto.

Jisung whipped around with his best attempt at a snarl. He failed, going by how Changbin threw his head back and guffawed.

Minho offered his elbow, which Jisung quickly latched onto as he couldn’t get away from his roommate fast enough. He hooked his arm around Minho’s at the first hit of the cold night air. Instead of Febreze this time, Minho smelled of sandalwood-infused cologne that sparked a warmth in Jisung’s stomach.

“I assume Inhyuk has a sexy professor kink?” Jisung teased when he noticed the night lights reflecting off Minho’s polished shoes.

“Shut up,” Minho said mildly. He tried to shake off Jisung from his arm in retaliation, but the younger only laughed and clung on tighter.

When they arrived at the fundraiser dinner, guests were already packed into the conference hall that had been tastefully transformed into an evening venue. Minho spotted Inhyuk seated at a table and wasted no time settling into his role.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered after a deep breath. Jisung rubbed his back in encouragement.

The two approached Inhyuk’s table and seated themselves across from him; if Inhyuk had been taken by surprise, he didn’t show it. He and Minho exchanged cordial nods but upon seeing Jisung, the former’s face hardened by a degree.

That’s the reaction we’re aiming for, Jisung reminded himself to calm his growing nerves.

Minho went to retrieve dinner for them both, and while Jisung waited, two Korean students approached and chatted him up. He fell into friendly conversation thanks to the smell of delicious Korean cuisine that simultaneously brought down his guard and elevated his mood.

Soon Minho brought back two trays of ox bone soup, rice, and radish kimchi. When he asked Jisung what he had been talking about with the others, Jisung repeated that he and his family had immigrated to the States when he was thirteen and that he didn’t visit Korea as often as he’d liked.

“I’m planning to visit Gimpo later this year around the holidays,” Minho said. “Maybe we can go together?”

From the corner of his eye, Jisung saw Inhyuk raise his head at the words. He wondered if the question were genuine or a throwaway line to rile up his ex, but Minho’s steady gaze almost convinced him that the idea wasn’t so outlandish.

“That would be nice,” Jisung said, pretending to be engrossed in sprinkling chopped scallion into his soup.

In between spoonfuls of rice, he kept an eye on Inhyuk who was throwing less-than-surreptitious glances at Minho. So far the pieces of their plan were falling into place with such ease that he almost felt sorry for the guy.

Warmed by the steam rising from the broth, Jisung removed his beanie. His breath caught when Minho brought up a hand to tame wayward strands, his fingers carding through Jisung’s hair as though he’d done this a thousand times before. A shiver raced down Jisung’s spine and he fought the urge to lean into the touch.

He wished he could keep up with the conversation that followed, but the rest of the dinner was wrapped in fog, his scalp tingling from the ghost of Minho’s touch.

After they finished their post-meal drink of ginger cinnamon punch, Inhyuk excused himself for an early exit.

“Go follow him,” Jisung whispered to Minho, jerking his head toward the door.

Reluctance danced in Minho’s eyes. “It’s too soon for that. I think we’ve more than made our point for tonight.”

“Fine,” Jisung conceded. He slipped his beanie back on. “I guess we should get going too.”

As they both stood up, Minho grabbed Jisung’s parka and held it open for him. Jisung murmured a thanks as he slid his arms into the coat with Minho raising it over his shoulders.

When they arrived at their apartment building, Minho insisted that he walk Jisung to his unit despite being separated by a mere two floors.

Jisung unlocked the main entrance. “Hyung, it’s okay. You can drop the act now.”

“Consider it method acting. I’m still getting used to, you know, this thing we’re doing.”

“Whatever,” Jisung said with a mischievous twinkle. “You just like being around me as much as possible.”

He dramatically yelped at Minho’s playful smack to the arm which hadn’t hurt a bit. Minho offered his elbow again and together they walked up the flight of stairs with Jisung swaying into the older boy’s side every few steps.

“I really enjoyed dinner,” Jisung said when he reached his door. “It’s been forever since I had an authentic Korean meal.”

“You should come to KSC with me again next week.”

“Do I have a choice?” Jisung said with a smirk.

Minho’s hand reached out to his face, and a dozen what-if scenarios flashed through Jisung’s mind as he wondered just how far the other was willing to go in the name of romantic method acting.

Then everything went dark as his beanie was being pulled over his eyes.

“Good night,” Minho said over footsteps fading down the hallway.

* * *

Jisung awoke the next morning to the bell of an incoming text, cursing himself for forgetting to enable his phone’s do-not-disturb mode. He fumbled for his phone and blinked in bleary surprise to see it was Minho. This was the first time Minho had texted him out of the blue, and he would’ve thought it a nice gesture had it not been 9:02 a.m. on a goddamn weekend.

Lee Minho:
yo

Jisung typed out there had better be a life-threatening level of emergency to justify waking me up this early on a saturday!!!!!!!! before deleting it for a more civil response.

Han Jisung:
what

Lee Minho:
[image attached]

It was a photo of Minho posing with his mouth open over an orange tabby cat in a motion to eat its head. Jisung’s foul mood melted away at the cat’s hilarious look of dismay.

Han Jisung:
that is one adorable kitty ^3^

Lee Minho:
what about the guy holding her

Han Jisung:
i’d rate him 6/10 if i’m feeling generous

Lee Minho:
congrats, this was a test and you failed

Lee Minho:
now the cat shall be punished by getting her face devoured

Han Jisung:
i meant 600000/10

Lee Minho:
the cat lives for now

Jisung chuckled as he saved the photo to his gallery.

Changbin, who’d been typing on his laptop in the living room, lifted a headphone from his ear. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Jisung yawned with a stretch. “Just Minho hyung being Minho hyung.”

“Why are you suddenly all buddy-buddy with him? First the dinner date last night and now this.”

“It’s not like you have exclusive rights to his friendship.”

Changbin pressed his hands to his cheeks in stark realization. “Oh god, it’s finally happening.”

Jisung sat up, letting the blanket pool around his waist. He absently scratched his bare chest. “What is?”

“You two combining forces to make my life a living hell.”

“I think you do that well enough on your own,” Jisung replied with another yawn, then dodged a flying throw pillow aimed at his head.

Their little spat was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Changbin-ah, are you ready?” Minho slowly opened the door and peeked inside.

“Yup, just gimme a sec.” Changbin shot up from the couch and scurried into his bedroom before emerging with a duffle bag in hand.

Minho, who carried a similar bag, stepped into the apartment and halted when his eyes fell on Jisung, the latter becoming keenly aware of his own shirtless state.

“Good morning,” Minho said and quickly looked away. He seemed to be absorbed by something on the ceiling.

Jisung scrambled to lift the blanket under his chin, his bare shoulders still exposed. The playfulness of their texts from a moment ago was nowhere to be found. “Morning, hyung.”

Changbin paused in the middle of the living room and looked back and forth between his friends.

“Oh my god,” he said, sounding more exasperated than a minute ago. “You two like each other?!”

“No!” Jisung and Minho objected in unison.

“We’re just friends, you asshat,” Minho said at the same time Jisung blurted, “We’re just pretending to date!”

Minho’s eyes widened at Jisung who slapped his hands over his own mouth. The blanket fell and left his torso exposed again, but he made no move to cover himself up as he had a bigger issue to deal with right now.

Changbin dropped his bag on the floor and knitted his brow, his confused gaze boring into Jisung. Perhaps this was a good time for Jisung to hide under the blanket after all.

“Pretending to date?” Changbin echoed incredulously.

Minho groaned. He leaned against the door and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Sorry Minho hyung,” Jisung said, hugging his knees to his chest.

Minho dragged out a breath. “No, it’s okay. This is my fault. I should have told him from the start since he would’ve found out sooner or later.” He turned to Changbin and shrugged in concession. “There, now you know.”

“I still don’t underst—why would you pretend to date each other?”

“I’ll explain everything on the way,” Minho sighed, opening the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

Changbin hiked up his duffle bag and shook his head. “I knew you two would be weird together, but not this weird.”

“Where are you guys off to?” Jisung asked now that the haze of sleep had lifted.

“The gym,” Changbin said. “Not that you’d be interested.”

As much as Jisung wished to protest the assumption, history had proven that Changbin was right. The older had asked him numerous times to join him for a workout, and he had steadfastly refused. But now that Minho was in the mix, his ego bruised at the notion of being left out.

“You don’t know that,” he sulked. “I would’ve gone with you this time.”

Changbin turned to Minho and pointed at Jisung. “Please console your pretend-boyfriend, otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it from him.”

Minho rubbed the back of his neck. “You, um, look like you’re in pretty good shape already,” he said, avoiding Jisung’s eyes. “But Binnie and I will be working out again tomorrow if you want to join us then.”

“Fine.” Jisung eyed the growing pile of clothes on the floor near the foot of his bed. “I guess I’ll... do laundry or whatever.”

“That’s a fantastic idea,” Changbin said. “Maybe change your moldy sheets too, while you’re at it?”

Minho snorted and excused himself from the room first. Jisung grabbed a rolled-up pair of socks from the laundry pile and flung it across the room, but Changbin had slipped away too quickly, leaving the projectile to bounce off the shut door.

* * *

Han Jisung:
hey so

Han Jisung:
can you send me a few selfies. like generic ones

Lee Minho:
why

Lee Minho:
???

Lee Minho:
so you can make it your phone background?

Lee Minho:
so you can creepily stare at my face while you fall asleep?

Han Jisung:
no and HELL NO

Han Jisung:
you weirdo

Han Jisung:
it’s for in case someone asks me about you. i’ll need proof of our relationship or wtv

Lee Minho:
yes i’m sure that’s totally the reason

Han Jisung:
just send me the damn photos. please

Lee Minho:
[image attached] [image attached] [image attached]

Lee Minho:
are these ok

Han Jisung:
yes. btw do you even have a bad angle... i’m annoyed

Lee Minho:
your turn~~~

Han Jisung:
[image attached] [image attached] [image attached]

Han Jisung:
no WAIT

Han Jisung:
I MADE A MISTAKE

Han Jisung:
IGNORE THE LAST ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lee Minho:
oh this is an interesting angle

Lee Minho:
nice lighting! i like how you can count each ab muscle

Han Jisung:
listen i went thru a tinder phase that lasted exactly 1 weekend

Lee Minho:
the wink is cute but the kissy face is a tad much

Lee Minho:
are those gold pants

Han Jisung:
let me live hyung

Han Jisung:
pls delete it from your phone and mind i beg

Lee Minho:
like you said, i’ll need proof of our relationship

Han Jisung:
as of this second, this relationship is OVER

Han Jisung:
TERMINATED. VOID. NULLIFIED

Lee Minho:
you say that like it wasn’t a sham to begin with xoxo

* * *

The aroma of kimchi-jjigae wafted through the apartment and lured Changbin out of his room where he’d been holed up most of the day.

For Jisung, living with Changbin was advantageous for many reasons, the main being that Jisung paid less than half the rent since he was relegated to the living room space while Changbin claimed the sole bedroom. But also, Changbin was easy to please with food, and Jisung only had to whip up his trusty kimchi-jjigae to get in his good graces. (Sometimes, he made it just because he was happy to be his friend, though he would die before admitting it aloud.)

Today, he aimed to pry out some details on Jung Inhyuk—harmless facts, really, to ensure that his experiment would go on without a hitch.

Changbin sat down at the kitchen counter and stared at his bowl of stew in reverence. “Seriously, what do you put in this to make it taste so good?”

“It’s a secret that I’ll take to my grave.” Jisung perched on the opposite stool.

“You and your secrets,” Changbin tutted. “So how’s the make-believe romance going with Minho? Is it a spectacular failure yet?”

Jisung was pleased that Changbin brought up the subject first.

“Ye of little faith. It’s going well, actually,” he said, and it was the truth. They were two weeks into their so-called relationship, and he and Minho were texting each other with enough frequency—sharing the highlights of their day as well as mundane stuff—that it had become part of Jisung’s daily rhythm. Despite the pretense under which they had come together, the progression of their friendship felt nothing but natural.

“I still don’t understand why you guys are doing it.”

“You don’t have to understand, just accept it.” Jisung paused before resuming as casually as he could, “Just curious, but how well do you know Inhyuk? Minho told me they dated for about a year but not much else.”

“I didn’t see much of him when they were together. But to be honest, I’m surprised that Minho wants to get back with him.”

Jisung leaned forward on his elbows on the countertop. “Really? Why?”

“Forget it,” Changbin said with a mouthful of food. “I’ve said too much already.”

“But is there a reason why—”

“Sung-ah, I’m not getting involved in your fake-dating nonsense.” Changbin pressed his mouth in a flat smile and cheekily batted his eyes.

“No one’s asking you to get involved. I’m just curious to know what could’ve happened between them. A year is a long time.”

“Then why don’t you ask Minho yourself?” Changbin’s stare was just shy of a challenge.

It was true that Jisung had considered doing exactly that, but he had held himself back, not knowing how fresh the wound was for Minho.

He had nothing to say to Changbin’s reasoning, so as a last resort he stuck out his lower lip in a puppy-dog pout and let out a whiny “hyung”.

Changbin shoveled a spoonful of rice into his mouth, immune to the younger’s charms. “If Minho wants to get back with his ex, then I respect his decision. The way he’s going about it, though, with you getting involved? No comment.”

“Boo,” Jisung jeered. “You’re no fun.”

* * *

Changbin had invited his gaming buddies over to the apartment (to play their XBoxStation games or whatever), so Jisung volunteered to go M.I.A. by spending a few hours at the library. He was hardly a social butterfly even in the best of moods; it was an unspoken understanding between them that Changbin could throw the occasional bro party as long as he didn’t rope Jisung into it.

He was hunched over his laptop and absorbed in a nature documentary on wild hamsters, when a flick to the back of his head roused him from his concentration. He turned around, readying an arsenal of profanity, but relaxed when he recognized the bespectacled boy standing over him.

“Seungmin!” Jisung said, removing his headphones. “I haven’t seen you in a minute. What’s been going on?”

Seungmin set down his backpack and slid into the empty chair across from him, folding his arms over the table. He replied with the confidence of a deflated balloon, “Nothing, literally. I’ve been wracking my brain while staring at my keyboard for the past two days trying to come up with a decent tune.”

“Honestly, music composition sounds brutal.”

“John Cage had the right idea.”

Jisung scowled. “Four and a half minutes of dead silence, and people applaud that shit like it’s some kind of art? I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I.” Seungmin leaned in, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and hushing his voice. “Speaking of things I don’t get—you and Minho? Is it true?”

Jisung could feel his face burning already. “Where did you hear that?”

“You know how gossip spreads faster than wildfire among the Koreans in this school,” Seungmin laughed weakly. “I heard it from Hyunjin who heard it from his friend who’s apparently friends with Inhyuk, Minho’s ex.”

The proverbial cat was officially out of the bag and had made its way through the grapevine, so there was no point in stalling. It was now on Jisung to peddle the lie with conviction.

“Yeah, we’re dating,” he pushed out the words.

Seungmin regarded him with eyes narrowed. “Seriously?”

Jisung knew from past experience that Seungmin was uncannily good at detecting bullshit, so he sunk lower into his seat and prayed that his friend’s radar would malfunction this one time.

“But judging by how you’re turning redder than a clown’s nose,” Seungmin said, “it seems like you’ve fallen pretty hard for him.”

Jisung released a careful breath. “Thanks?” He shifted in his seat, causing the chair to scrape in a stuttering rhythm against the floor.

Seungmin’s brows shot up and his jaw dropped open as if struck by an epiphany. “That’s it!” he whisper-shouted.

Jisung stared at him in confusion.

“The notes of the chair sound—that’s the intro I needed!” Seungmin pulled out a composition notebook from his bag and scribbled into it with fervor.

“Glad I could help,” Jisung said, able to relax again now that Seungmin’s attention was buried elsewhere.

* * *

Lee Minho:
look what i’ve got
[image attached]

Han Jisung:
k i get it, you’re seeing the goddess IU herself in person

Han Jisung:
no need to rub it in my face ㅠㅠ

Lee Minho:
look closer. how many tickets am i holding

Han Jisung:
wait what

Han Jisung:
does this mean.......

Lee Minho:
yup. looks like you’re stuck with me that night

Han Jisung:
aaaaaaaaaaaaa holy shit you’re the best hyung ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Han Jisung:
but i can’t just take the ticket from you... how much was it lemme pay you back

Lee Minho:
nonsense

Han Jisung:
please hyung i wanna pay you back

Lee Minho:
i won’t hear it. just make sure to look pretty for the concert ㅎㅎㅎ

Han Jisung:
ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ

Han Jisung:
I (LOVE) U

Lee Minho:
make one more pun and i rescind my offer

Han Jisung:
(^з^)~♡

* * *

It was still dark when Jisung stirred awake to murmuring voices weaving in and out of his ears.

“...come on, it’s not too cold out there.”

Even through the fog of slumber, Jisung recognized the lilt of Minho’s voice.

“I change my mind,” Changbin groaned. “Too dead. Can’t move.” He and Jisung had stayed up late marathoning a Korean drama, and Changbin had fallen asleep on the couch.

“It’s almost seven o’clock already,” Minho said.

Jisung pried open an eye to make out Minho crouched beside Changbin, the faint light from the window hitting the side of his sweatshirt-clad figure.

“Hyung?” Jisung croaked, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. A moment later, a weight dipped into the mattress and pressed warmly against his hip.

“Sung-ah, are you awake?”

“Am now. Kind of.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Jisung’s brain must have been fried because he couldn’t muster up an iota of vexation. “S’okay.”

A hand gently pushed his bangs from his forehead, fingertips slowly grazing his scalp in repeated strokes. Jisung could smell traces of soap mixed with flowery lotion.

“You smell nice,” Jisung whispered as he fought the pull of sleep.

“Wanna go on a run with me?” Minho asked. A giggle bubbled out of him, velvety with air. “You’re so cute when you’re sleepy.” He removed his hand from Jisung’s hair and ran a finger down the slope of his nose, and poked his cheek.

Jisung swatted him away. “And you’re annoying when you’re awake.”

“Are you sure you’re human and not mochi?” Minho said with a cheek pinch.

“S’too early for this,” Changbin grumbled as he lay face-down on the couch. “Please keep your flirting between the business hours of nine to five.”

Jisung blindly grabbed onto Minho’s arm and pulled himself into a sitting position. His body was telling him that an early morning run was out of the question, but even in near darkness he could see that Minho was giving him his best kitten eyes.

“Okay. Gimme a minute to get ready.”

After shuffling off to wash his face and brush his teeth (figuring the shower could wait until post-workout), Jisung put on a random sweatshirt that didn’t smell dank and grabbed his hooded jacket. He followed Minho out into the street, and they cut across several blocks until they reached the entrance of the park.

“Since when do you run?” Jisung asked as he mirrored Minho’s warm-up moves.

Minho balanced on one leg and flexed his opposite foot back and forth. “I used to run religiously in my freshman year, then I fell out of it thanks to my crappy sleeping schedule. So I’m trying to get back in the habit, even for short 20-minute runs here and there.” He paused to switch legs. “It’s the best stress reliever for me.”

“You feeling stressed these days? I mean, aside from the usual school stuff.”

Minho snorted but didn’t reply.

“Is it ’cause of me?” Jisung wasn’t sure how much of his question was in jest.

“Yah, Han Jisung. Despite what you might think, my life doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Weren’t you cooing over how cute I was and shit ten minutes ago?”

“Yeah exactly, that was ten minutes ago.” Minho raised his eyebrow a fraction. “My opinion has changed since then.”

Before Jisung could retort, Minho broke into a light jog down the park’s pedestrian path. Jisung raised the hood of his jacket and caught up next to him.

Minho began, “I suppose I should tell you that all of Inhyuk’s friends and their friends know about you now.”

“Great,” Jisung inwardly winced. “Let me know if I should hire a bodyguard.”

Minho chuckled. “Don’t worry, Inhyuk’s not going to put a hit out on you. He’s a sweet guy. He just gets jealous sometimes—a trait that enables this whole plan to work in the first place, mind you.”

Jisung couldn’t argue with the last point. The other point about Inhyuk being a sweet guy, though? Jisung bit back the question on the tip of his tongue, still hesitant to interrogate Minho on his past.

He was feeling good about his own endurance after the first mile, but as they approached the 20-minute mark, he fell behind Minho’s pace. Minho slowed to a walk to let him catch up. Jisung had already broken into a sweat beneath his clothes and huffed out clouds of breath in quick succession, while Minho’s only sign of exertion was the pink of his nose and ears painted by the cold. Which only made him look  cuter, to Jisung’s mild displeasure.

The walkway split in two up ahead, and instead of turning toward either, Minho veered straight ahead and onto an eroded trail that cut through the grass. Stamped down by like-minded souls that had come before, the path curved around a loose zigzag of trees.

“Did you know there’s a name for these worn-down footpaths?” Jisung said. “They’re called desire lines.”

Minho shot him a blank look, seemingly unimpressed by the offering, and kept walking.

Well, excuse me for trying to lighten the mood with a fun fact, Jisung thought. He couldn’t bother to act offended, though—not while his face was being thawed by the morning’s first light.

When they reached the edge of the grass that met concrete once more, Minho broke away jogging, and his figure diminished until Jisung lost hope of catching up. His muscles leaden with fatigue, Jisung lay down on a nearby bench. Despite the cold surface of the bench, he thought it would’ve been so easy to surrender himself to sleep. He closed his eyes.

Suddenly two arms were lifting him up, one curled under his back and the other under his knees, and his feet awkwardly found the ground.

“Just one more mile,” Minho said, tickling him in the stomach, and Jisung laughingly relented.

When Jisung returned to the apartment later with three miles under his belt and feeling sweaty and gross and a little exhilarated, Minho knocked on his door. He came bearing a mason jar full of a thick purple-ish liquid.

“It’s yogurt smoothie mixed with berries and oats,” he explained.

Jisung thanked him and waved goodbye at him down the hall.

From the kitchen, Changbin observed Jisung chug the smoothie. The older boy's eyes were imbued with a soft-edged concern that Jisung wasn’t used to seeing.

“What?” Jisung asked defensively.

Changbin seemed to debate on whether or not to answer before finally speaking. “It’s going to backfire, you know.”

Jisung looked down at his drink. “Oh. Right. No eating for 30 minutes after a run.”

Changbin shook his head and peered into the refrigerator. Jisung swallowed the question that rose to his throat and he pressed the jar to his face, letting the cold glass dissipate the heat that had bloomed across his cheeks.

* * *

To Jisung’s own surprise (and to Changbin’s utter shock), he carved himself a new habit of waking up at sunrise three days of the week to jog with Minho in the park. No matter how dead he felt when he set foot outside, his mind and body were alight with renewed vigor by the time he was nudging elbows with Minho down the path. After each workout, Minho would press a jarful of cold, delicious smoothie into his hands.

On some nights, when he needed to empty his cluttered mind, Jisung found himself roaming down the park’s dimly lit trail long after the sun had set. The shadow of Minho’s presence followed him in his solitary treks.

February bled into March, and midterms loomed ahead before he knew it. Still he made time to accompany Minho to Korean Students Club on Fridays, holding hands while doing his best to gaze at him in lovestruck admiration, and Inhyuk would throw the same hardened glare at Jisung.

And after each outing, Minho would walk Jisung to his apartment in the name of gentlemanly habit.

The week before midterms, they asked each other about their spring break plans. Minho lamented that he’d be spending most of his break at the food lab for his research project.

“What about you?” Minho slowed his jog to a walk. They ambled off the pedestrian path and onto the familiar desire line in the grass.

Changbin had invited Jisung to accompany him and Chaeyoung to visit his aunt upstate, where they also planned a ski trip. Jisung hadn’t yet told Changbin if he would go, but Minho’s answer decided for him.

“I’ll be staying here,” Jisung replied.

“Good. I’ll have company then.”

“You mean someone to bother.”

“Haven’t heard you complain yet.”

Minho ruffled his hair, and Jisung batted his hand away. He looked up in time to see golden sunbeams filter through the branches and hit Minho’s striking profile.

In the distance, Jisung spotted a familiar figure of a boy who was wildly waving an arm in their direction.

“Ah shit,” he muttered when he recognized the face. The boy was quickly approaching, and Jisung tugged on Minho’s hoodie sleeve. “Quick, give me a hug.”

“What? Why?”

“Just hug me!” Jisung wrapped himself around Minho’s torso, and Minho responded with an awkward one-armed embrace. Jisung shuffled sideways and dragged them both behind a tree.

“What the hell?” Minho whispered.

“Travis Shin,” Jisung explained. “He’s been obsessed with me since freshman year when we had the same Music Theory class. I’ve been swerving him ever since and he still doesn’t get the hint.”

Minho peeked from behind the tree. “He’s kinda cute. Want me to get his number for you?”

“Not funny!” Jisung hissed. He tightened his grip around Minho and braced himself for the encounter.

“Hi Jisung!”

Jisung jumped at the boy’s greeting and nodded in return.

“Wow, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you,” Travis said breathily. “You look good.”

Jisung plastered on a pained smile. “Thanks.”

The other boy’s eyes traveled to Minho and blinked. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hi,” Minho said cheerily. “I’m Minho, Jisung’s boyfriend. As in, we’re dating and madly in love.” He pulled in Jisung closer to his chest for emphasis. “Nice to meet you.”

That seemed to have done the trick, and Travis mumbled that he was happy for them before he bid farewell and trotted off.

Jisung shielded his eyes from the sun and watched Travis disappear down the park. Minho seemed amused by the ordeal as he leaned against a tree to stretch his legs.

“Do you think we should have a secret handshake for emergencies?” Jisung asked, almost as an afterthought. “Except less of a handshake and more like, a kiss?”

Minho paused. “What do you mean?”

“We could’ve avoided him altogether with a good old smack on the lips.”

Minho didn’t answer right away and resumed stretching.

Jisung continued, “You know in the movies where the main character is being chased by the enemy in a suspenseful action sequence? And they avoid being caught by pretending to kiss someone?”

“What are you, a secret agent?”

“Or we might be cornered into a spot where we have to prove our relationship.” It made perfect sense to him from an objective standpoint. What if they had to blend in with the crowd? What if someone grew suspicious of their relationship and they had to put those doubts to rest?

“You... watch too many movies,” Minho said, squinting at him in amusement.

A light bulb went off, and Jisung took Minho’s hand in his own. “Our secret signal can be this: I squeeze your hand twice to ask if I can kiss you, and you can respond with one squeeze for no, two for yes.”

“Fine, whatever,” Minho snorted, removing his hand. “But if you want to kiss me that badly, you could’ve just asked.”

He tickled Jisung under the chin before jogging off, leaving Jisung to sputter something about not being a cat.

* * *

Jisung was in the music lab and tinkering on the computer with a track he’d produced. His phone chimed with a text.

Lee Minho:
question

Han Jisung:
shoot

Lee Minho:
[image attached]

The attachment was a selfie of Minho looking into the camera with sleep-laden eyes and his bangs hanging over his forehead. Judging by the scoop neck shirt he was wearing, Jisung guessed he was in his pajamas.

Han Jisung:
did you just wake up and take this? it’s almost noon

Lee Minho:
whatever i had a late night

Han Jisung:
yes i get it, you’re pretty even when sleep deprived

Han Jisung:
is that the answer you’re looking for (-__-)

Lee Minho:
gross shut uppppp

Lee Minho:
MY QUESTION IS should i cut my hair

Han Jisung:
idk. how did Inhyuk like it

Lee Minho:
well i’m not asking him. i’m asking you

Jisung found himself stuck in buffering mode at the question. He scrolled back up to the selfie to consider Minho’s hair length. If he were being honest, Minho possessed the kind of unfair beauty to pull off virtually any hairstyle, but Jisung did have a thing for guys with longer hair. Not that he would have expressed it in such terms.

Han Jisung:
i think you should grow it out but it’s up to you

Lee Minho:
really? to what length

Han Jisung:
till you feel like you’re ready to break hearts by day and mend them by night

Lee Minho:
wtf does that mean

Lee Minho:
how am i supposed to interpret that

Han Jisung:
however you want, minhomie

Lee Minho:
........

Lee Minho:
never speak to me again

Han Jisung:
too bad you love me xoxo

* * *

“So what’s the plan for KSC tonight?” Jisung asked as he clicked his seat belt on. It was his last day of midterms and officially the start of spring break, and he was more than ready to shake the leftover stress from his system.

Minho started the car engine. “Three words: no-rae-bang. ”

“Sweet!” Jisung gestured to high five the other. Minho stared at him in faux disdain, leaving him hanging in favor of maneuvering out of the parking lot.

“Damn, that was cold.” Jisung lowered his hand to rub the back of his neck, but his enthusiasm didn’t waver. “Really though, I could use a fun night out after the shitty week I’ve had.”

“Were midterms that bad? Changbin tells me you always whine about failing exams but end up acing them anyway.”

“Yeah well, it’s still stressful as hell!”

“Ugh,” Minho complained. “So you’re the secret genius type who can procrastinate his way through everything.”

Jisung grinned and hoped he looked as irritating as he sounded. “I know. I’m the worst.”

They listened to bursts of traffic noises for several minutes before Minho changed the subject.

“It’s funny that you think I should grow out my hair. Inhyuk used to be so picky about me keeping it a certain length. He liked it shorter and would always nag me to get it cut.”

Perhaps the relative darkness of night tricked him into feeling brave, but Jisung couldn’t stop the honesty from spilling from his lips. “Not that you need me to tell you this, but you know you’re annoyingly good-looking, right? Regardless of hairstyle? You could shave your head bald and still look pretty.”

“Are you saying that you’re fake-dating me only for my beauty?” Minho teased as he stopped at a red light.

“It’s definitely not your brains,” Jisung deadpanned. Minho looked to him with an equal deadpan, but a smile cracked the facade, causing him to avert his gaze. Jisung’s chest swelled in triumph to give the older boy a taste of his own medicine.

When they arrived at the karaoke den, a student was reaching for the ridiculous high notes of So Chan Whee’s “Tears” and falling comically short, causing laughter to ripple throughout the room. Colorful disco lights dappled the walls in near-blinding fashion.

“Jisung! Minho!” a female voice hollered from across the room. Jisung scanned the crowd of about a dozen and recognized Chaeyoung sitting in the corner and waving to him. Her hair had grown slightly past chin-length since the last time he’d seen her. She shifted over on the U-shaped couch to let Jisung sit next to her.

“Noona!” Jisung smiled wide. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw the club notice for free snacks and soda.” She munched on a shrimp cracker, holding up a bagful of it to prove her point. “Hey, Minho.”

Jisung realized that Minho was hovering awkwardly over them since there was nowhere else to sit other than the opposite side of the room.

“That’s no way to treat your boyfriend,” Chaeyoung said. “At least offer him a seat on your lap.”

“That’s okay,” Minho said in a rush. “I’ll just go over there.” He settled himself at the other end of the couch. Jisung knew Chaeyoung had been joking of course, but a small part of him cringed at the swift rejection.

Chaeyoung’s eyes flickered bemusedly. “So you and Minho are together, huh?”

Despite his previous confidence in his fake-dating scheme, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to Chaeyoung’s face. She had always worn a sincerity on her sleeve that he wanted to honor from the day Changbin had introduced her with stars shooting out of his eyes.

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” were the words he settled for. He jumped at an eruption of cheers; someone had scored a 95 on the screen.

“I think you guys are a good match,” she dodged the question. Her measured smile made him wonder if she knew. Had Changbin told her? “But ultimately, it’s not my place to judge. As long as you two are happy.”

Cryptic yet diplomatic to the end—no wonder she and Changbin were perfect for each other.

Jisung’s thoughts scattered to the edges of his mind when Inhyuk walked into the room. Broad-shouldered and donning a blazer, with hair neatly coiffed, he looked like the lead from a Korean drama. He made the bold move of sitting next to Minho—who blinked at him in surprise—and they exchanged polite greetings.

Jisung swept his gaze back to the karaoke screen and followed along with the lyrics.

It didn’t escape him that Inhyuk inched closer to Minho at the end of each song. Minho looked downward, a shy smile dancing on his lips when Inhyuk cupped his hand over Minho’s ear to speak over the din.

Chaeyoung tapped the back of Jisung’s head. “Our turn!”

He made a confused noise as she grabbed the remote control and started typing. Soon the jazzy intro of “Soulmate” began to play, and she pulled him up by the arm and passed him a microphone.

Despite his flustered state, he jumped into the first verse without missing a beat, and he clicked into a sweet spot of the rhythm as he spat Zico’s lyrics, alternating with ease between singing and rapping. Chaeyoung covered IU’s parts while rapping along flawlessly with Jisung.

“You’ve waited a long time,” Jisung crooned the final chorus, “hello, my soulmate.” He caught Minho eyeing him with an amused glint, and Jisung threw him a wink in return. No doubt his embarrassing action would catch up to him later, but it mattered little in that moment as he watched disco lights flit across the plane of Minho’s laughing face.

Jisung and Chaeyoung shared a high five over their score of 97.

“That’s my baby,” Minho whooped.

Jisung’s heart dropped at the pet name, forgetting for a second the roles they were playing. Minho motioned for Jisung to sit beside him and sidled closer to Inhyuk to make room on the couch. Jisung swallowed his hesitation and squeezed in. Minho circled his arm around his waist to press their bodies flush together shoulder to thigh.

“Sung-ah! I’m impressed. I didn’t know you could rap.” Minho leaned in close, his thumb stroking Jisung's waist, keeping the words between them.

Before Jisung could reply, Inhyuk was shoving the remote control into Minho’s space.

“You choose, and I’ll sing it,” Inhyuk said with a brash smile.

Minho looked to Jisung for a reaction, but when the younger fell silent, Minho began to type his selection.

The familiar melody of an instrumental intro drifted out of the speakers. Jisung froze when Inhyuk sang the first words to “Wildflower”. He reached into his memory and replayed the pinky promise that he’d made to Minho nearly two months ago on that fateful day at the café.

I’ll dedicate “Wildflower” to you.

His face burned, not from the usual timidity or shame—from what, then? He couldn’t trace the source of the resentment that rattled up to his throat, but it intensified with each note that Inhyuk belted. Jisung knew he was overreacting; his so-called promise had been a throwaway comment, after all, and Inhyuk vying for Minho’s attention was a sign that their plan was working. This was a good thing.

An explosion of cheers filled the room at Inhyuk’s score: a perfect 100.

“Hyung—” Jisung reached out to grab Minho’s hand. Without thinking, he squeezed once, then stopped himself before he could do something stupid and drastic in the heat of the moment. “I think I’m gonna go home.”

Minho’s thumb stroked Jisung’s knuckle, and he released a breath as if he, too, found relief. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“It’s okay, stay and have fun. I’ll take a cab.”

“I won’t leave my boyfriend to go home alone.” Minho’s words were unexpectedly tender.

They said their goodbyes to Chaeyoung before making their exit. The drive back to their apartment was quiet, save for Minho humming the chorus of “Wildflower” as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

Minho finally spoke when he pulled into the apartment parking lot. “Inhyuk said he missed me. Back at the noraebang, I mean.”

He turned off the engine, but neither made a move to exit the car.

“Okay,” Jisung said, then repeated a bit louder as a means to convince himself more than anything. “Okay. That’s good, I’m glad. Did you say anything back?”

“No. I was too surprised to do anything. But our plan is working. Like, actually working.” Awe colored the edge of Minho’s voice.

“Of course it is. I’m offended that you doubted it for a second.”

“You are a secret genius, after all.”

“Yup, that’s me.” Jisung’s words tasted metallic as they rolled off his tongue. “Han Jisung, fixer of other people’s goddamn love lives.”

Minho blinked at his clipped tone. “Something wrong?”

Jisung willed the line of his mouth into a smile. “I’m just tired.”

Minho let out a weak chuckle and poked his cheek. Jisung wasn’t in the mood for playful antics, however, so he unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car.

“Thank you for the night out,” Jisung said, dropping his smile.

“Sleep tight,” Minho said right before Jisung shut the car door.

Jisung replied with, “You too,” though not loudly enough for Minho to hear. He marched into the apartment building without looking back.

* * *

The next morning, Jisung met Changbin at Coffee Story and treated him to iced latte and strawberry shortcake before the older would head off for spring break vacation. Jisung ordered hot chocolate for himself.

“You never buy me food,” Changbin said as he dove into his cake. “What’s going on? You need something?”

Jisung threw him a glare that fizzled into a pout. “Can’t I spend some quality time with my roommate before he abandons my ass for the week?”

“You’re the one who wanted to stay here.”

Jisung couldn’t refute that, so he switched the subject.

“Does Chaeyoung noona know about Minho hyung and me? I mean... the truth.”

“No. Why would she?” Changbin scowled at his implication. “And no, of course I didn’t tell her. I haven’t mentioned either of you to anyone since the whole thing began.”

“Just making sure.” Jisung blew into his hot chocolate, scattering wisps of steam in the air. “But when I talked to her, it was like she somehow knew.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she caught on eventually. Not much gets past her.”

“I bet. Especially when it comes to you.”

Jisung laughed while fending off Changbin’s playful smacks to the arm.

“My bigger concern is that you’ve been keeping this up for almost two months,” Changbin confessed. “When are you going to end it?”

It was a fair question, and one that Jisung wished he had an answer to. The problem was that he’d avoided it in hopes that this ongoing improvised play would wrap up in a neat bow by itself, but something told him it wouldn’t be that easy.

“We’re still playing it by ear,” he vaguely replied.

Changbin tossed him a pointed look—the kind that implored him to give him a break—but he dwelled on it no further. They talked about the music they were working on instead, and when the ice in Changbin’s otherwise empty cup began to melt, he said his goodbye.

Minho wasn’t exaggerating when he said he’d be tied up for most of spring break week. By Wednesday, they still hadn’t met or even run into each other by chance in their building. Jisung wasn’t sure how much awkwardness had carried over from last week’s karaoke situation, but he chanced it and shot him a text.

Han Jisung:
hi hyung
[image attached]

Han Jisung:
saw this lil guy in the park this morning

Lee Minho:
is it a baby squirrel? or a baby han jisung?

Lee Minho:
this is a trick question, isn’t it

Han Jisung:
(-__-)

Han Jisung:
anyway. i know you’re super busy and will be for the whole week but if you need a caffeinated pick-me-up, it’s on me

Lee Minho:
my hero. are you free to meet at coffee story now?

Han Jisung:
of course. always have time 4 u

Lee Minho:
wow you really do love me huh

Han Jisung:
unfortunately </3

* * *

“You don’t have to keep escorting me,” Jisung said to Minho as they walked to a screening of a Korean film organized by KSC. They didn’t need to whisper in the streets that were dark and empty, but they kept their volume low. “We could’ve met at the auditorium.”

“You never who we’ll run into.” Minho crossed his arms and looked down. His hair was getting longer, and his bangs covered his eyes almost completely at this angle. His hair had also grown longer in the back and clung to his nape in a slight curl at the ends. He rarely styled it nowadays in favor of letting the strands fall where they may, and Jisung found it more than a little distracting at times (such as now).

They walked down the block in silence with their jacket sleeves brushing every so often.

Jisung slowed his steps to collect his thoughts. His tongue felt as heavy as the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Hyung, should we...”

Minho softly hummed to let him know he was listening.

Should we end this?

It was such a simple question, but one he couldn’t push out. So he mumbled a “nevermind” and leaned into Minho’s side. It was a beautiful evening, just chilly enough to warrant the sweaters they wore under their jackets, and Minho smelled of his usual sandalwood cologne.

Jisung didn’t know if he was ready to give this up yet.

“We haven’t held hands in awhile,” Jisung said. He held out his hand palm-up toward Minho. “Give it here, boyfriend.”

Minho slotted their hands together and swung their arms a few times, the carefree motions a contrast to the rigid set of his mouth.

“Is something wrong?” Jisung asked.

Minho scowled at the skyline ahead but said nothing.

“C’mon, hyung. You can tell me. What’s on your mind?”

“Just something stupid I heard,” Minho said under his breath.

“Sharing stupid stuff is what we do. It’s our brand.”

Minho offered a wry smile but struggled to hold his gaze to Jisung’s. “It might upset you.”

So it was unsavory gossip about him. Jisung considered his options: remain blissfully ignorant and face the possibility of being blindsided by it later, or take his lumps now and get it over with.

“Please tell me,” Jisung said, focusing on the ground for composure. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Minho gingerly pulled back Jisung on the curb to let a car pass before they crossed the street. He tightened their handhold and waited a few more beats to speak. “Apparently Inhyuk thinks that you and I are... mismatched.”

The words smarted, but Jisung glossed over it by gently bumping his shoulder to Minho’s.

“You mean he thinks you’re out of my league? Well, duh. That’s obvious to anyone.”

Minho furrowed his brow and returned the shoulder bump. “Don’t put yourself down like that.”

“It’s not an insult if it’s true.”

“Well, it’s not true. He’s wrong.” Minho swung their arms again for emphasis. “I’m only going to say this once, okay? You’re... really pretty. Objectively speaking, I mean. Your cheeks are adorable and your eyes are—” His words seemed to have become lodged in his throat. It was difficult to tell in the dark, but Jisung could’ve sworn Minho had blinked several times in a moment of fluster.

“Go on, continue flattering me,” Jisung teased quietly.

“Whatever. You get my point.”

“Actually, I don’t.” Jisung stopped as they were nearing a lamp post. He stepped in front of Minho and inched forward until their faces were a mere breath apart. The corners of Minho’s mouth quirked in surprise, but he didn’t back away.

“Tell me about my eyes,” Jisung insisted, batting his lashes innocently. “Tell me, baby.”

Minho looked through his own long lashes, his gaze steely and beautiful in the face of Jisung’s challenge. He tipped Jisung’s chin up slightly with his free hand. “Close your eyes and I’ll tell you.”

With his heart speeding up for no reason, Jisung was but helpless to obey as Minho’s thumb slid up slowly past the curve of his chin.

He then felt Minho retract both hands, and footfalls were diminishing in a sprint down the sidewalk. Jisung opened his eyes to the betrayal and shouted after him, “Yah! I’m breaking up with you!”

“Yah, I’m breaking up with you,” Minho spun around and repeated in a whiny and petulant tone.

Jisung chased after him (despite knowing it was futile) through a handful of blocks before reaching his destination.

When he entered the auditorium, Minho was seated near the front and holding a bag of popcorn and a drink in his lap. Jisung plopped down beside him. Minho flashed a bright smile as though he hadn’t just abandoned his fake boyfriend in the streets.

Shameless.

The biting one-liner that Jisung had prepared melted away; he hated how Minho caught him off-guard at the most inopportune times.

The lights dimmed and the film projected onto a large screen in front. Jisung dipped his hand into Minho’s popcorn bag.

“Hey, get your own,” Minho lightly admonished. “The food and drink stand is in the back.”

“I won’t steal any more, I swear,” Jisung said as he stuffed his mouth with a handful of popcorn.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Minho said. “Catch!” He tossed a popcorn piece into Jisung’s open mouth, and the latter shimmied in victory.

A minute later, someone was shuffling into a seat in the row behind them. Jisung didn’t need to turn all the way around to know it was Inhyuk who had arrived with a friend of his own.

As the opening scenes of Sunny unfolded, Minho’s profile was illuminated by moving lights and colors, and his eyes—flickering into translucent bronze—danced across the screen by fractions. Jisung realized he'd been staring only when the older boy reached over to deposit a popcorn piece between Jisung's slightly parted lips.

In the span of the first hour, the popcorn bag migrated back and forth until it settled permanently in Jisung’s lap. Minho didn’t seem to mind and made no effort to reclaim it.

During a quieter scene, the sound of lips smacking could be heard from behind. Jisung’s suspicions were confirmed when he peeked sideways and caught Inhyuk making out with his guest with no attempt to be subtle about it. Jisung hazarded to check Minho’s reaction. Minho's jaw muscle twitched the slightest, and he looked ahead with eyes unfocused instead of up at the screen.

Jisung bowed his head to Minho’s and whispered, “I’m sorry he’s being gross. Do you want to leave?”

Minho attempted a smile and shook his head. Jisung slid his hand over Minho’s own resting on his thigh so that their palms were touching in a tentative grip.

“I can give you a kiss on the cheek if you want,” Jisung said half-jokingly to cheer him up, except maybe he’d failed to convey a joking tone because Minho was already nodding his head.

Oh. Okay then.

No big deal.

Jisung unclasped their hands so that he could brush the hair away from Minho’s temple, and he leaned in and pressed his lips to the vulnerable spot. Ah, but this was supposed to be a cheek kiss; so he landed his lips on the jut of Minho’s cheekbone. Then he pecked his lower cheek, and farther down along the curve of his jawline in a flurry of light kisses. With a final peck he froze, wondering if he’d gone overboard, but the soft giggle that flittered out of Minho soothed his embarrassment.

Minho reached for Jisung’s hand, this time lacing their fingers together in a firm grip and placing their hands back onto his own thigh. They watched the rest of the movie without turning around.

As the final scene faded into rolling credits, Jisung was sunken in his chair, spent by the film's roller coaster of emotions. He hid his face behind his hand but was hopeless to stop the tears from slipping through his fingers.

“Sung-ah, are you crying?”

Jisung sniffed, “No.”

Minho half-hugged him to pull him to his feet, and an arm draped over his shoulders to guide him out of the auditorium. The night air chilled his tear-streaked face; he probably looked a mess with reddened eyes and nose. He mentally thanked Minho for not pointing it out.

“I’m sorry that Inhyuk was acting like a dick,” Jisung said, and he meant it. He refrained from adding other unflattering adjectives about him. “But... he was just trying to get your attention, right? So it’s a good thing?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

The corner of Minho’s mouth twitched upward in a failed smile, and Jisung wanted to ask if either of them truly believed it.

Again Jisung protested when Minho offered to walk him back to his apartment (but never strongly enough to dissuade him), and again Minho insisted that it was for the sake of method acting.

“Are you alright?” Minho asked when they reached Jisung’s floor.

His eyes felt a bit puffy, and his cheeks were dried out from tear streaks, but Jisung nodded yes. He looked downward when he arrived at his door. “Sorry for looking hideous right now.”

“You don’t look hideous.”

“I sure feel like it.”

Jisung turned the key to his apartment, and before he could enter, Minho’s hand landed on his shoulder. He spoke so quietly that Jisung barely caught his words.

“Do you want me to tell you about your eyes?”

Jisung stifled a smirk at that. So it seemed Minho wanted to prank him again. Fine, Jisung could be a good sport, why not humor him. “Sure.”

Minho inched closer and lowered his gaze. “Close your eyes.”

“Gee, I wonder what will happen now,” Jisung snarked, but he played along and let his eyes flutter shut anyway.

A hand tilted his chin up, same as before, and he waited for the punchline—for the sound of footsteps running away.

Instead, he felt a fleeting brush of lips upon one eyelid, then on the other. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he discerned was the swoop of Minho’s lashes, the older boy’s face hovering so close that his delicate features bordered on abstraction. The hand on Jisung’s chin unfurled to slide onto the side of his neck. Jisung tilted ever so slightly into the touch, his senses slipping away, and his only thread to reality was Minho’s gentle breath fanning his cheek.

He was anchored back into the moment by the growing heat where their skin met, so Jisung was the first to break away. A knot formed in his chest as though his lungs were burning up oxygen quicker than he could breathe it in.

He stepped back and slipped into his apartment. “Good night, hyung.”

“Good night,” Minho said, his words sounding more like a question.

As Jisung washed up and changed into his pajamas, his body went through the motions on autopilot while his mind was stuck in the moment in which Minho had walked him to his door. Something had shifted; he felt it in his bones like a fault line that had formed somewhere under his skin.

Jisung lay awake in bed that night knowing it was useless to chase after sleep when every time his eyes closed, he felt the same warmth on his lids that sent his pulse racing, each stuttering beat tangling the knot in his chest.

So he sat on the couch with his laptop and turned on a Korean drama episode that he stared at more than understood.

It was nearing 3 a.m. when Changbin padded out of his room and stopped halfway to the kitchen.

“Jisung?” he said, his voice sleep-drenched. “Why are you still up?”

Jisung closed his laptop, extinguishing the sole light in the room, and he rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. “Dunno.”

After retrieving a water bottle from the kitchen, Changbin plopped down next to Jisung on the couch. He twisted open the bottle and held it to Jisung who shook his head.

Changbin took a swig and gulped audibly, and he spoke when the bottle was half-empty. “I heard you and Minho saw a movie last night. Was it any good?”

“Yeah.” Exhaustion sank Jisung deeper into the couch. “It kind of blindsided me, though. I thought it would be a light-hearted comedy, but...”

“You didn’t expect to feel other emotions.” Changbin met him with a knowing gaze.

Jisung hated how easily Changbin saw through him sometimes, but sitting in the darkness of their cramped apartment, he was grateful that he didn’t have to explain a thing.

In an effort to keep the dam from bursting, he shifted subjects and asked about how the other’s family was doing back home. Changbin shared that his older sister’s birthday was coming up and that Chaeyoung was helping him with gift ideas.

“You know,” Changbin continued, his words tinged with a drowsy slur, “being the maknae of the family, I always wanted a little brother. I’d imagine all the cool stuff we could do together, but I never thought of how I’d react if he was sad, or if something was hurting him.”

Jisung chewed the inside of his cheek, feeling tears prick his eyes. “Probably give him a hug or something.”

“Yeah, probably.” Changbin placed the water bottle on the table and reached out to gather Jisung in his arms. Jisung screwed his eyes shut at the first contact of warm embrace, and he buried his face in the older boy’s shirt. If a tear or two escaped, Changbin didn’t make a fuss over it.

They watched another episode of the Korean drama together. Changbin struggled to keep his eyes open by the end, so he returned to his room upon Jisung’s insistence. Having given up on sleep for the night, Jisung reached for his headphones and poured himself into working on another track.

Minho texted him just before sunrise and asked if he wanted to join him for a run. Jisung declined, citing that he didn’t feel well.

After Changbin had left, Jisung was alone in the apartment trying to catch some shut-eye. A knock came at the door, and he looked through the peephole to find Minho on the other side holding a thermos—presumably containing ginger chicken soup, something he’d made for Jisung the last time he’d gotten sick.

A second knock, followed by a third, then footsteps fading away.

Jisung trudged back to bed. He stared up at his IU poster, thinking back to that innocent day almost three months ago when he had vowed to mend Minho’s broken heart, and he wondered where it had all gone pear-shaped.

* * *

Jisung avoided seeing Minho the entire week that followed (his excuses ranging from being buried in course work to general malaise), and it wasn’t until late Sunday morning that they finally met. Minho had invited him up to his apartment with the promise of cold brew coffee, a new venture he’d taken up, and he asked Jisung to be his guinea pig. He sweetened the deal by claiming there was cheesecake waiting for him in the fridge.

Minho pressed a glass of iced coffee into Jisung’s hands and sat down next to him on the couch. And as promised, he laid out a container of cheesecake for Jisung on the coffee table.

“This is... pretty good actually,” Jisung said after the first careful sip. The taste was smooth and less bitter than regular drip coffee. He went on to further describe the taste in detail so as to not think about how in his casually seated position, Minho’s shorts had ridden up to expose half of his muscular thighs. (God, as if he weren’t distracting enough fully clothed.)

“So it’s a success?” Minho asked.

“I’d say so.”

“Better than iced Americano?”

Jisung snorted lightly. “Let’s not get too crazy.”

He had avoided eye contact the entire morning—the entire week, for that matter—and he knew that it hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other.

“Jisung-ah,” Minho’s voice was soft, “you know you’re my good friend, right? And you can tell me whatever’s on your mind? Good or bad.”

Jisung took a long sip of the coffee and nodded. Minho sat with his back against the arm of the couch, splaying his legs out casually in front of him. Jisung placed his glass on the table and scooted farther to the other end to sit cross-legged. A large white teddy bear was leaning against the couch, and Jisung picked it up and hugged it to his stomach as if it could shield him from any awkwardness.

“By the way, I bumped into Inhyuk a few days ago," Minho said. "He apologized for how he acted during the movie last time.”

Jisung nodded once in acknowledgement, his voice flat. “That’s good. I’m happy to hear it.”

“Are you happy these days?”

Jisung turned to Minho at the pivot in topic, and their eyes finally met.

“I dunno,” Jisung replied honestly. He bit his lip and turned the question around. “What about you, hyung—when are you happiest?”

Minho leaned an elbow into the back couch cushion and hummed in thought.

Jisung shared the first truth that came to mind. “For me it’s when I'm eating good food, probably.”

“Yeah. It’s always the little things, right? Like waking up before your alarm goes off and you realize you have a lot longer to sleep.”

“Definitely,” Jisung agreed with a small smile despite himself. “Or when someone does something nice for you without expecting anything in return.”

“Like making you delicious cold brew coffee on a Sunday morning?”

Jisung rolled his eyes at Minho’s cheeky smile.

“These days,” Minho said quietly, “I think I’m happiest when I spend time with someone I care about. Even if it’s for a few minutes.”

Jisung didn’t know how to respond to that, so he squeezed the bear in his arms and burrowed his cheek into the soft fur.

Minho stared at the squished bear, and a smile spread across his face, his eyes crinkling into crescents.

Jisung couldn’t quell his curiosity. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s—I was just thinking about when Inhyuk and I went to the carnival. He won me the teddy bear that day.” Minho amusedly eyed the very one that Jisung was clinging to. “He made such a big deal out of it, even though it was a total fluke. He was so bad at games that it became one of his charming points.”

And just like that, the knot in Jisung’s rib cage twisted on itself.

Minho’s foot nudged Jisung’s leg. “So are you excited to see the IU with me this week?”

Jisung suddenly felt bone-tired; tired of keeping up their charade that had gone on for too long, tired of skirting the edges of a hope that even he couldn’t fully comprehend. He looked up at Minho and caught the expectant glimmer in his eyes. He felt the knot tighten further, its gnarled roots snaking into the pit of his stomach.

He set the bear down on the ground next to the couch.

“Hyung,” his voice was steady despite his faltering heart, “something came up for Thursday. I have a meeting for my group project.”

“Oh. Okay?”

“So... I don’t think I can go to the concert. I’m sorry.”

Jisung let his words settle between them because it wasn’t a lie. He did have a project meeting on the evening of the concert, but he had informed his groupmates that he’d be absent and catch up the following day. It would be simple enough to adjust his plans; it was in everyone’s best interests, really.

A slight crease formed between Minho’s eyebrows. “Are you sure? You were so excited for it.”

“I was. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you offered me the ticket. The timing just wasn’t right.” He repositioned himself so that his feet were on the ground. He continued, failing to inject cheer in his tone, “You should ask Inhyuk to go with you. Sounds like it could be a fun date night.”

Several beats passed, and the crease in Minho’s brow deepened. “Are you upset that I brought him up?”

Jisung snapped his gaze to Minho with a frown, his pulse picking up. “What? No. What kind of a question is that?”

“Then why are you mad all of a sudden? If I said something wrong—”

“I’m not,” Jisung said curtly, “and you didn’t.”

Minho grabbed the throw pillow next to him and hugged it to his chest. He spoke softly, as if he were afraid to pierce the heavy air that had settled around them. “Sung-ah, maybe we should talk.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know, but clearly something is bothering you.”

It was by no means a malicious accusation, but Jisung bristled at the words nonetheless. His fingers dug into the edge of the couch cushion he was seated on.

“Please don’t make this a bigger issue than it is,” he began, his voice low and slanted with an edge. “Everything is fine. I’m fine. And you, hyung—sounds like Inhyuk is ready to run back into your arms any minute. Clearly you gave the ticket to the wrong person.”

“How can you say that?” Minho asked, disbelief seeping into his words.

“C’mon, hyung,” Jisung’s lips twisted into a bitter imitation of a smile. “Inhyuk was right about us being mismatched. You probably ruined your reputation by hanging around me for this long.”

Minho stared at Jisung, his large eyes swimming with a confounded hurt. “I gave you the ticket because I wanted you to come. Because you’re my friend.”

“Then treat me like one, hyung, and respect that I have my own shit to deal with.” Jisung felt his throat constrict, and he forced the next words out before it could clamp shut. “Contrary to what you might believe, not everything is about you and what you want.”

Minho opened his mouth to speak, then closed it quickly, tension etched in the set of his jaw and his eyes glossy. The unfamiliarity of his expression sunk Jisung’s heart to his stomach while he rose to his feet.

“Thank you for the coffee,” he said, no louder than a whisper. He made toward the door and slipped on his shoes.

Minho remained sitting on the couch but didn’t turn around. “Don’t forget your cake.”

Jisung held his tongue and walked out of the apartment empty-handed.

* * *

“When are you coming out of there?” Changbin boomed impatiently from the other side of the door.

Jisung had just finished what was probably the longest shower of his life. He hadn’t meant to take so long, but he’d been functioning on a severe sleep deficit since Sunday, and before he knew it, the steady stream of hot water hitting his body had lulled him into a state of half-consciousness, his thoughts evaporating with the rising steam.

“Gimme a minute,” Jisung replied as he dried himself in the mirror. His thick wet hair lay limp against his forehead, nearly covering his eyes. He possessed the deflated dignity of a wet dog, if he were being honest.

“Yah, my bladder’s about to burst!”

Jisung wrapped a towel around his waist before stepping out, and he jumped back with a small shriek when he nearly crashed into Chaeyoung who was standing near the doorway. She was holding a large empty tupperware bowl in one hand while waving at him with the other, her fingers clad in multiple shiny rings.

“Noona?” he said when he regained his bearings.

“Sorry, Sung, I forgot to mention she’d be here for the evening.” Changbin whooshed past them into the bathroom.

Chaeyoung winced apologetically. “Sorry to swoop in, but my roommates are hosting a party and I needed to finish my paper in peace.” She continued when Jisung eyed the tupperware she was holding, “Oh, and Minho made me soup when I got sick last week, so I’m dropping this off too.”

“Plus you missed seeing my handsome face,” came Changbin’s muffled voice from the bathroom, earning an eye roll from Chaeyoung.

“It’s fine,” Jisung said, running a smaller towel over his hair. “I’ll be out for a... thing until late, anyway.”

“Date night with the boyfriend?” she asked, arching a brow.

Jisung’s lungs constricted, and he left her question hanging for a few beats to steady his breaths.

“Minho and I aren’t seeing each other anymore,” he said. He had again managed to avoid outright lying to her since it was technically true that he hadn’t seen Minho since four days ago (and didn’t plan to going forward, if he could help it).

“Really? Shit, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. We’re still friends.” Jisung wasn’t sure how much truth there was in that statement.

He pressed his mouth into a flat smile while gripping the towel around his waist, shifting on his feet and awaiting her to turn away so that he could get dressed.

“Oh!” she snorted in realization. She shuffled off to Changbin’s room. “Don’t mind me, I’ll be over there.”

Jisung sighed in relief and pulled out his boxer briefs from the wardrobe closet drawer. Shortly after, Changbin stepped out of the bathroom and threw a confused look at Jisung.

“You and Minho broke up?” he whispered as Jisung shimmied into a pair of skinny black jeans.

“You mean pretend-broke up. But yeah, pretty much.”

“What happened? I thought you guys were working it out.”

Jisung pulled down a shirt over his head and said, “Have you forgotten the pretend part of our relationship? Anyway, it looks like Minho’s getting back with Inhyuk soon. Happy ending and all.”

He hoped he had sounded nonchalant, but the pointed look on Changbin’s face wasn’t encouraging.

“Listen, I know I said I wouldn’t get involved in whatever you two are doing,” Changbin began, huddling closer to the younger, “but I think he’s making a huge mistake.”

Jisung scowled at the weariness that seeped back in his bones. God, he wished he could crawl into bed and sleep it off for the next month or so. “Then tell Minho hyung that. I’m officially done with meddling in other people’s love lives.”

An earnestness unfurled in Changbin’s face, his eyes softening despite the worry etched in his brow. “But I’m invested now, dammit. I think you and Minho should try to make it work, for real this time.”

“I agree,” Chaeyoung piped up from behind, to which Jisung and Changbin yelped in surprise while clutching each other’s arms, cowering at her in unison.

“Thanks for the heart attack,” Changbin exhaled as he slumped forward.

“You’re welcome. By the way, you guys do know that the walls here are literally paper-thin?”

Jisung collapsed onto his bed and ran a hand through his damp locks. “So you heard all of that?” he said, already resigned to the fact.

Chaeyoung crossed her arms with a shrug. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” 

Jisung wasn’t worried, as he implicitly trusted her with just about anything. He could’ve done without the embarrassment of her finding out like this, though.

Before he could further marinate in a stew of self-pity, he glanced at his phone and pushed himself to his feet. He was running late for his meeting at the library, so he left his hair in its damp state and grabbed a long-sleeved shirt off the floor along with his backpack.

“Wait.” Changbin grabbed the denim jacket that was slung over the armchair and tossed it to Jisung. “It’s chilly outside, you can borrow this.” 

Jisung fought off a smile at the thoughtful act. “Thanks, dad.”

“I—I just don’t want you to catch a cold and pass it on to me,” Changbin sputtered.

Jisung shrugged on the jacket in a rush, but he was stopped by Chaeyoung’s voice when he had one foot out the door.

“Could you drop this off at Minho’s on your way out?”

Jisung shut his eyes for a few seconds to let the initial wave of panic pass through his system. It was quite obvious what she was trying to do, but he had neither the time nor will to argue. So he obliged her with a perfunctory smile, and Chaeyoung handed him the empty container with a peck on his cheek.

Two flights of stairs up and a knock on the door later, Jisung stood before Minho’s apartment and prayed that he wasn’t inside. When no answer came after a second knock, he wondered if Minho had already left for the concert. Perhaps he could get away with leaving the tupperware in front of the door along with a polite note and scramming. Before he could decide, the door swung open.

Jisung started, sending the container wobbling out of his grasp. He lunged forward and caught it before it hit the ground. As he stood up straight to regain his balance, he beheld Minho standing in the doorway in all his radiant glory, looking more beautiful than any K-pop idol Jisung had known. He wore a crimson silk dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and a black choker necklace that broke up the stretch of exposed skin. His shirt was tucked into fitted black jeans that hugged his thighs in a way that—well, if Jisung were in church, he would’ve been sweating bullets trying to cleanse his thoughts. (This was so not the time, he mentally kicked himself.)

Minho’s hair draped softly over his eyes that looked even more stunning than usual, if that were possible, enhanced with a dash of eyeliner and eyeshadow, and Jisung worried he might actually dissolve on the spot if he spent another second under his gaze.

“Chaeyoung noona wanted me to drop this off,” he blurted without so much as a greeting.

Minho blinked, taken aback by the tupperware suddenly shoved into his hand. Before he could utter a word, Jisung was zooming off down the hallway, the backpack he had carelessly slung over his shoulder rustling with each hurried step.

* * *

Seo Changbin:
hey is it ok if chaeng stays for the night? the party in her apt is still going

Seo Changbin:
i promise we’ll keep it pg rated lol

Han Jisung:
sure hyung i don’t mind

Jisung slotted his phone back in his pocket. It was nearing half past eleven by the time he walked down the street toward his apartment building.

He had counted on the project meeting to be the distraction he needed, but he was beleaguered by the memory of sandalwood all night, no doubt his addled brain playing tricks on his senses and seeking the comforts of simpler times when he fell in stride so easily alongside Minho.

But addlebrained or not, there was no escaping the fact that Jisung owed Minho an apology—for so many things, really. For unfairly taking his insecurities out on him and throwing his gift back in his face like an inconsiderate brat. For imposing himself on the older boy’s life in the first place and complicating the shit out of everything.

And he had to come clean to his own conscience and admit that somewhere along the way, he had looked Minho in the eyes to project his own naive notions of romance, swept up in the small moments that he thought could be added up to mean the real thing.

He didn’t know if he’d be able to fix everything, but he had to start somewhere.

He rounded the corner onto the street opposite his apartment complex. Before he could cross the street, a car pulled up to the front of the building. Inhyuk climbed out of the driver’s side while Minho emerged from the passenger’s side.

Jisung stepped backward from the curb to cloak himself in shadow away from the street light, and he watched Inhyuk approach Minho who was standing near the entrance. They exchanged quiet words. Inhyuk took both of Minho’s hands in his and leaned in close.

The tightening knot in Jisung’s chest told him that he’d intruded upon an intimacy, so he turned around and retreated farther into the shadows.

He kept walking, trusting nothing but the motion of putting one foot in front of the other. He could’ve kept going until the pavement burned through the soles of his shoes. Instead, his feet guided him to the entrance of the park, a refuge in a night such as this.

He followed the pedestrian path that was lit by lamp posts as he’d done many times before. The emptiness of the park at this hour should have been unsettling, but it sparked a comfort in the way cold water was a salve to a scald.

He sat down on a bench as his backpack was dumped on the seat with a sad thud, and over the next few minutes his phone buzzed with multiple incoming texts. He silenced his phone without checking them. There he stayed unmoving until his back was sore from pressing onto the hard bench, and he had lost grasp of time except that it was well past midnight by now.

A crimson-clad figure emerged from farther down the path. “Jisung?”

He sprang up from the bench at Minho’s voice, dreading the thought of facing the older boy. Caught up in flight mode, he abandoned his backpack to briskly follow the trail of lights, and he broke into a run until his lungs gave out. He then came upon the familiar split in the path and walked onto the grassy footpath in the middle, leaving behind the safety of concrete and hushed lights for the line of trees glowering in the dark.

With his fists balled up at his side, he hated how easily tears threatened to prick his eyes, how quickly his heart leapt to his throat at the sound of Minho calling his name. Footfalls in the grass rang distant in his mind even as he knew Minho was drawing nearer from behind. He didn’t stop until a gentle hand curled around his shoulder.

With nowhere to escape to, he took a deep breath and faced Minho with an unsteady heart. “Hey, hyung.”

“It’s late. What are you doing out here?”

Minho was a plane of soft reflections in the dark: the luster of his eyes, the glint of his earrings, and the moonlight shaping the folds of his silk shirt.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jisung said, his throat dry.

“I stopped by your apartment to look for you. Changbin mentioned that you might be here.” Minho paused as if to let the worry drain from his voice. “In fact, he told me not to come back until I found you safe and sound.”

So much for Changbin not getting involved. Jisung wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or irritated by his roommate’s concerned meddling. He knew he would later open up his phone to a string of his worried texts.

“Well, here I am,” Jisung conceded.

“And you’re wearing my jacket.”

Jisung glanced down at the oversized denim jacket he donned, feeling a heat bloom from his neck to his face. So his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him after all; the faint scent of Minho’s cologne had been woven into the fabric.

“Sorry, didn’t know it was yours.” Jisung motioned to take the jacket off. “Here, you can have it back—”

“Keep it,” Minho said with a small smile, stilling Jisung with his words. “Binnie borrowed it from me, but it looks better on you.”

Blasted Seo Changbin strikes again. Changbin knew exactly what he was doing when he had tossed the jacket to the younger.

Jisung shrugged it back on. The heat in his face subsided to a soothing warmth. Per usual, he didn’t know how to object to Minho’s kindness, so he answered with a quiet thank you.

Minho stood in stillness; the only movement came from the night breeze stirring wisps of hair across his eyes. It was enough to send Jisung’s heart pulsing recklessly through the tangle in his rib cage.

I am so fucked, he thought, resigning himself to the loss. But that was his problem to deal with, and he made a silent promise that he wouldn't trouble the older boy any longer.

He pulled the jacket tighter around his body. “Hyung? The things I said to you last time... I’m so sorry. I acted like an insecure jerk, and—”

“You're forgiven.” Minho tickled him under the chin, and Jisung weakly swatted him away.

Despite the giggle that escaped him at the playful gesture, Jisung’s eyes welled up with tears. Minho’s gaze on him was palpable in the darkness, and Jisung looked away, fearing he’d give away everything the second he met the other’s eyes.

“How was the concert?” Jisung asked as a means of distraction.

“Pretty great. She sang all the classics. Would’ve been better if you were there, though.”

Jisung smiled wryly. “Wish I could’ve gone. But I kept my promise, didn’t I? That’s what matters.”

“Your promise?”

“That it would all work out in the end. I said it on the day we started this...” Jisung gestured vaguely with his hands, “...whole thing.”

Minho tilted his head slightly. “And how would you know if it worked out for me or not?”

“Hyung,” Jisung glanced at him reluctantly, “I saw you and Inhyuk holding hands back there.”

“But I—you saw that?”

Jisung shrugged in confirmation, and he stared downward as he toed the grass with his shoe.

Minho continued, “If you had stuck around for two more seconds, you would’ve seen that I told him to leave.”

Jisung’s head snapped back up, a confused frown settling onto his face. “You did? But why?”

Minho gave a small shrug back and bit his lower lip. He looked past Jisung toward the meandering line of trees before sweeping his gaze back to the other, his open expression anchored in a vulnerability. “He asked if you and I were happy together, and I said yes. But then he tried to talk me out of it, saying that... that you didn’t deserve me. So I told him to get lost.”

Jisung said nothing as he struggled to process the words.

“If anything, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you,” Minho said, his mouth drawn in a sad smile.

Jisung’s breaths turned shallow, his lungs short of air again. “Hyung? What are you trying to say?”

Minho slowly reached out to take Jisung’s hand in his own. His voice dipped lower, wavering at the edges. “What I’m trying to say is—I won’t let anyone talk about my boyfriend like that.”

Minho looked down at their entwined hands, and he squeezed twice.

And with that everything in and around Jisung stopped: the concept of time, the world’s spin on its axis, his heart. And his brain too, apparently, as he suddenly couldn’t remember the secret code to answer back. Was it one squeeze or two? Maybe three?

Jisung mentally threw it out the window in favor of a word tried-and-true:

“Yes.”

Bodies surged to meet in the middle, and lips collided.

Desperation overrode any semblance of finesse at first, their noses brushing awkwardly as they tried to find the right angle. When Jisung’s mouth slid easily against the other’s, he slowed his movements and surrendered himself to instinct. Minho relaxed into the kiss as he cupped both sides of Jisung’s face.

Jisung didn’t realize there were tear tracks on his face until Minho was gently wiping his cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Jisung closed his eyes, wet lashes splaying over his cheeks, and Minho kissed each eyelid with a delicate pressure.

The tangled knot in Jisung’s chest unraveled, slipping through his ribs like water and leaving not a trace behind. A part of him still couldn’t believe this new reality in which Minho wanted him and Minho wanted Jisung to want him. He questioned if he deserved such a gift, but perhaps it wasn’t about worthiness as much as it was accepting the gift with a humble heart and honoring the giver’s intention.

And Jisung vowed to do just that, for as long as he would be allowed.

With a grateful sigh he dove into the kiss once more. He kept up with Minho at a soothing pace, their lips meeting and parting in perfect sync until the rhythm was no longer enough, and Jisung nipped Minho’s lower lip in a fond burst of impatience. Minho smiled against his mouth. Jisung’s hands traveled up Minho’s chest, fingers instinctively clutching the silken fabric at the first press of Minho’s tongue against his, and releasing it when the kiss ebbed into softer waves of lips sweeping across each other.

Jisung released a tiny whimper when Minho broke away first.

“We should head back before we’re cited for public indecency,” Minho teased breathlessly.

Jisung looped his arms around Minho’s waist and leaned forward as Minho’s hands caressed circles onto the younger's back. Jisung rested his chin on Minho’s shoulder and whined into the crook of his neck, his lips grazing the edge of the choker necklace. “What if I don’t want to go back? I’d just be third-wheeling to Changbin hyung and Chaeyoung noona.”

“Then you can stay at my place tonight,” Minho offered. He drew in a flustered breath and amended, “I mean, just to sleep. We don’t have to do anything of course. Unless you want to—but really, there’s no pressure to—not that I don’t want—”

Jisung brushed his cheek across Minho’s to reconnect their lips. The rest of Minho’s words were swallowed by another kiss, slow and searing.

“I know, hyung,” Jisung whispered when he pulled away. “But I’d rather not overthink it. Let’s get back to your place and see what happens.” He pecked Minho’s lips a few times in assurance.

“Okay,” Minho said, his hushed voice matching the fondness brimming in his eyes. He gently brushed the hair from Jisung’s face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s go.”

Jisung slotted his hand into Minho’s, and together they retraced their steps along the desire line toward the glow of lamp posts up ahead. Jisung could pretend that the lights were giant fireflies if he squinted at them just so. As nice as the thought was, however, he’d done enough pretending for one night, so he squeezed Minho’s warm hand as a reminder of what was good and beautiful and, above all, real.