Archive of Our Own

August, 2016

Minho’s heading back towards the bench, their bench, an ice cream cone in either hand, taking little licks of Jisung’s when he thinks he’s not looking. Jisung punches him in the shoulder when he sits down before snatching the cone from him, glaring at the smug smile on Minho’s lips. 

It’s the last week of summer vacation, the last week that Minho and Jisung will have together until Jisung goes back to school and Minho goes off to university.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive two whole years by myself,” Jisung whines, kicking the rocks at his feet onto the dirt path in front of them. Minho had dragged him out here for the first time at the beginning of summer when it was just starting to get hot enough for Jisung to complain until Minho would go buy him ice cream, a secluded spot in the park near Jisung’s house that no one ever came to. It had quickly become their meeting place, secret only for them. 

“I know, Jisungie. It might be nice to make friends other than me, though,” Minho hums, grinning a little when Jisung juts his bottom lip out in protest. It’s not so much the being alone part that bothers him, but rather the millions of what ifs that he’s concocted in his head. The biggest of which being, what if Minho forgets about me?

“I don’t need any other friends, hyung.” 

Minho rolls his eyes as he looks over at him, “Jisungie, you can’t spend two whole years without any friends. Promise me you’ll make at least one friend?” 

Jisung huffs, childish but Minho never minds when he gets like this. “Fine but you have to promise me that you won’t make so many friends at university that you get too busy to hang out with me.” 

“You think I could forget about you, Jisung-ah? You’re my best friend, I’ll always have time for you.”

The reassurance fills Jisung with warmth, it’s the comfort that he was looking for as they go their separate ways for the first time. Minho has been his everything for years, the person he spends every single day with, the person he eats lunch with, the person he walks home with, the person he has sleepovers with every weekend. It’s scary to think that he only has two weeks left with him. 

“Who knows, you may even find yourself a boyfriend,” Minho wiggles his eyebrows, bumping his shoulder against Jisung, who flinches away from his touch in protest. It’s funny coming from Minho when Jisung had always thought that he would be his first boyfriend. 

It’s a strange thing, having an unrequited crush on your best friend. Minho had always been so cool, two years older, more mature, the prettiest person that Jisung had ever seen. Of course he wouldn’t like him back. It’s the reason that Jisung had never told him how he felt. 

“Everyone at school sucks, I’m going to be single forever,” Jisung sighs, bottom lip jutting out as he slumps against the back of the bench.

“That’s not true, Jisung-ah. You’ll find someone who will treat you right,” Minho coos as he pokes Jisung’s sides in an effort to get him to smile. Jisung manages to wiggle out of his grasp, sliding down to the edge of the bench and out of Minho’s reach.

“No one treats me as good as you do,” he mumbles under his breath, hoping that Minho doesn’t hear him. 

Of course, hope has never gotten him very far. Minho’s shuffling down until their sides are pressed together again, ducking his head down to meet Jisung’s eyes when he speaks. “What did you say, Jisungie?”

Jisung pauses for a moment, he contemplates lying but Minho’s always been good at calling his bluff. “I said no one treats me as good as you do so it’s pointless to look.”

Minho pulls back to look at him properly, bunny teeth on display as he lets Jisung’s words marinate, the younger squirming around uncomfortably under his gaze, shirt sticking to his back with the combination of the late summer sun and the knowledge that he’s just offered a small glimpse into how he really feels about his best friend. 

Minho hums as though he’s finished processing what he’s heard, and nods a couple of times before sticking his pinky out in front of Jisung. If it were any other day Jisung might tease him about his small fingers, but they’ve sort of belabored that one already with it being difficult to find a single flaw on the other boy and all. Instead, he simply blinks in confusion, brows knitted and eyes going slightly crossed as Minho brings his hand closer to Jisung’s face.

“Hyung, what?” 

“Let’s make a promise,” Minho is grinning, leaning back against the bench with complete nonchalance but Jisung can see the way that there’s a slight pink tinge at the tips of his ears. Different from the way his skin sometimes flushes from the heat, different from the way his neck blushes red when he wears the cheap matching chain that he bought with Jisung from some novelty shop in the back of the strip mall near their school. This is the blush that’s reserved for the rare times that Minho gets nervous. 

“If we’re both single by the time you turn twenty five, let’s get married.” Jisung hears the words as they come out of Minho’s mouth but he’s having trouble piecing together the sentence in his mind. He hears each syllable separately, thinks he’s said something about marriage, about them getting married, but surely that can’t be right. 

“Don’t tease me,” Jisung huffs, curling in on himself as he wraps his arms around his knees, resting his chin on the bony part to distract himself from what is surely a prank. Minho is weird, he’s always doing and saying things that no one else would ever think of, this must just be one of those moments.

“I’m not teasing you, Jisungie. Won’t you look at me?” It’s the gentle voice, the one he uses with Soonie, the one he uses when Jisung’s being a bit childish too. He lifts his chin up, meets Minho’s gaze once more and finds nothing there but sincerity. It does something funny to Jisung’s heart, something he can’t quite put a name on but it causes him to trip over his breath, inhaling sharply to make up for it when Minho continues.

“I’m being serious, let’s pinky promise so it’s real. You’ve got nine years to find someone or you’ll be stuck with me forever.” He’s still got his pinky extended, looking at Jisung expectantly as he waits for him to react. Could it really be that easy? Can he simply just reach out and take it? A promise to be with Minho forever. It seems too good to be true, surely there’s some sort of catch but he’s thinking the reward would outweigh the risk anyways. 

So he links Minho’s pinky with his, shaking it a little as if to confirm that it’s real. 

“There, it’s settled then. Wanna go back to yours and watch a movie?” It’s funny how quickly Minho can switch back to his causal nonchalance again, as though this moment was barely significant, meanwhile he’s blown up Jisung’s entire world. It’s silly, maybe a bit immature, but he thinks maybe someday when he looks back on his life it will be divided into before and after this moment. 

He feels like he’s living in a dream, floaty and happy as they make their way back to Jisung’s house. Minho’s yapping about something but Jisung’s brain is full of cotton, or full of Minho rather, but a single tether remains to the real world.

Minho’s pinky still joined with his, breaking only when Jisung has to fish his keys out of his pocket to open his front door. A shame really, he thinks about asking Minho to sit on the doorstep for a little while longer with him but he feels too embarrassed to bring it up. He feels happy, hopeful even, riding the high of a single moment.

But true as a shepherd to his flock, hope has never gotten Jisung very far.

They’re laying in Jisung’s bed, house silent save for the constant hum of the crickets that have made a home in his mom’s garden out back. It’s dark but Jisung can still make out Minho’s features from where he lies beside him, the light of the moon brushing a faint glow over the tip of his nose and dusting his deep brown eyes with stars. 

Jisung’s in that comfy spot right before falling asleep, everything’s hazy, a little blurry, soft and warm. It’s peaceful, made even better by the fact that Minho’s beside him, the end to the perfect summer day.

“Jisungie?” Minho whispers. It’s fuzzy, a gentle caress in Jisung’s mind. He thinks that maybe Minho hadn’t even said anything at all, that he’s finally being pulled down into a dream, and how lovely would it be to dream of Minho like this too. He’s smiling to himself as his eyes flutter shut, a small hum in response to the call that may or may not have been real. 

“Jisungie, are you still awake?” Minho tries again, reaching out to touch his pinky to Jisung’s, the same one that had connected them before. Warmth spreads through Jisung at the memory of their day, the words spoken between them on the bench, and the promise they made to each other. 

“‘M awake hyung,” he murmurs, mouth barely moving as he tries to rouse himself from the edge of sleep, blinking until his eyelids stop fighting him and stay open for more than a second.

“I need to tell you something.” That gets Jisung’s attention, his half lidded eyes snapping open to look up at Minho over the edge of his pillow, inhaling sharply as he turns so that they’re facing each other properly. 

Minho looks conflicted, bottom lip pulled between his teeth and brows pinched together. He’s got the corner of Jisung’s pillow between his fingers, picking at a loose thread there as though to distract himself. He refuses to meet Jisung’s eyes when he speaks next.

“I’m not going to SNU next year.”

Jisung isn’t sure what he’s implying when he says it. He’d spent all summer talking about going to SNU, had he been lying? Was he embarrassed because he hadn’t been accepted? Jisung would never judge him for that, so why wouldn’t he have told him?

“I’m going to Tokyo,” he continues, shattering Jisung’s world in four simple words. Tokyo. He won’t be a few subway stops away. Jisung won’t be able to stay in his dorm room on the weekends. He won’t be coming home for Sunday dinner with Jisung’s family every week. He’s going to a different country. 

“B-but,” Jisung stutters, choking on the word as his eyes go owlishly large, sitting up to look at Minho, hoping to see his signature smirk, the way his eyes sparkle when he’s clearly teasing.

But it’s not there. 

“We can still Facetime, and I’ll be home for winter break,” Minho tries to reassure him, but it’s no use. Minho’s moving to Tokyo. He’s leaving him. 

“When are you going?” he asks. He doesn’t want to hear the answer. Is there anything Minho could say that would soften the blow? Next week, next month, it wouldn’t matter. They’re spending borrowed time now, the silly list of things for them to do together that Jisung made at the beginning of summer seems so foolish now. He would have spent hours curating it had he known his friend was going to leave him at the end of it. 

Minho has inserted the knife into his fragile heart, hand gripping the hilt as he looks at Jisung with something that feels alarmingly like pity. He doesn’t want Minho’s pity, he wants his presence.

“Tomorrow.” He twists the knife. 

September, 2025

Living with Felix is an agreement to give up one’s privacy. He doesn’t bother shutting his door anymore, knowing that Felix will just open it anyways like a cat who doesn’t even want to be around their owner but can’t stand not having them in their line of sight. 

So, it’s no surprise to him when Felix bursts into his room waving a piece of paper and looking frantic. 

“Han Jisung, what the actual fuck? Look at what I found shoved in the door!” he practically screams, crawling onto Jisung’s bed to sit in front of him, holding the piece of paper up so close to his face that he goes cross eyed. 

Leaning his head back, Jisung tries to read the words on the page, Felix’s hand shaking so much that he can only catch a few words. Han Jisung. Lee Minho. Wedding. 

Wedding?

He snatches the paper out of Felix’s hand to take a proper look at what’s written there, a knot forming in his stomach as he finally takes it all in. 

Han Jisung and Lee Minho

Invite you to celebrate their wedding

Saturday, the fourth of October

At half past four o'clock

The Lee Residence

Black tie required

This is some sort of joke. It has to be, right? Lee Minho. Jisung had known a Lee Minho once, had loved a Lee Minho once. He chokes out a bitter laugh at the coincidence. This has to be some sort of promotional mail, some company that got his address and has put in the most generic name they could think of beside his. Lee Minho.

He remembers days under summer skies, nights whispering to each other in Jisung’s bed. Jisung following Minho around the halls of their high school like a lost puppy, how much it had broken him when Minho left. How long it took Felix to break his walls down that first year after Minho had gone to Japan. 

He expects to see an ad for some sort of printing service when he flips the paper over but all he’s met with is a close up photo of a bouquet of flowers. There’s no logos, no number to call. It’s bizarre, what kind of company would send out an ad without any way to get in touch with them?

“What is this?” he murmurs, flipping the paper back over to read the words on it once again to confirm they are still the same. Han Jisung and Lee Minho. 

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Felix hums, snatching the paper back from him. “You don’t think this is from your Minho, right?”

“My Minho?” Jisung sputters out, “I don’t have a Minho.” 

Felix rolls his eyes, knocking his foot against Jisung’s knee where they’re connected on his bed. “Oh come on, you know exactly who I mean.” 

Of course he does. Felix never met Minho back then, transferring to their school after Minho was already gone, but he knows all about him anyways. Jisung was always so obvious he often wonders how Minho never saw it. 

“I haven’t spoken to him in almost ten years. And besides, he would never do something as stupid as this, he was, like, sophisticated.” 

Felix shoves Jisung over so he can lay on the pillow beside him, throwing the invitation off the bed as both of them watch it flutter to the ground, the embossed gold lettering of Jisung and Minho’s names catching the light as it goes. “Sophisticated? He was a seventeen year old kid who fucked off to Japan and went no contact with his long term best friend. Doesn’t exactly scream sophisticated to me.” 

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” Jisung grumbles, trying to roll away from Felix, not getting very far before his friend wraps himself around him like a koala.

“No, I really don’t. Whatever though, now I get to be your best friend instead. And as your best friend, I get to pick your outfit for tonight.” 

It’s September 13th, a Saturday and the eve of Jisung’s birthday. He and Felix are having a joint party like always, at some bar that had just opened that Felix had seen all over Instagram. Jisung wanted something lowkey, but honestly, he’ll be twenty-five now and the opportunities to go out and have fun like this have been dwindling so he’d been willing to go with whatever Felix wanted. 

“Do you not think that I can dress myself?” Jisung sighs, his voice pitching higher from pain when Felix rolls over top of him and off the bed to rummage through his closet. 

“If I leave it up to you, you’ll show up in a hoodie and baggy pants,” Felix calls back from the closet, throwing a pair of leather pants onto the ground that he’d made Jisung buy last year. So that you’ll look hot on the rare occasions that I can get you to come out with me, he’d said at the time. 

The pants land just shy of the invitation and Jisung’s attention is transfixed on it once again. It’s so insignificant. A single piece of paper, yet it has Jisung’s brain going a mile a minute as he tries to piece together how such a thing could have possibly arrived at their doorstep. His eyes are trained on it, unblinking, until it’s covered up by a socked foot.

“Okay, so I’m thinking this one with the mesh panel on the side so it shows off your tattoo,” Felix says, dangling a shirt in front of Jisung. He simply nods, taking the shirt from Felix and setting it down beside himself, eyes trailing back down to the invitation under Felix’s foot. 

Felix tracks Jisung’s line of vision to the ground, side-stepping so he can pick up the invitation from the floor and place it on Jisung’s bedside table. “Ji, if you’re this hung up about the wedding invite, why don’t you reach out to Minho? You still follow him on Instagram right?”

“He’s not active.” In fact, the only photo on his entire feed is one of him and Jisung from 2015 when they’d gone to the aquarium together one day. Jisung had inundated him with silly fish facts and Minho had pretended to be interested in every single one of them because he always entertained Jisung’s little quirks, it’s part of why he’d been so enamored with him all those years ago. 

“Just because he doesn’t post doesn’t mean he’s not active. Does he look at your stories?” Felix asks, as though Jisung should know the answer to that question. 

“I don’t know, I don’t look at who views my stories.” Felix is looking at him like he’s just insulted his entire family, mouth wide open in shock at what is apparently an egregious revelation.  

“You are not real, Han Jisung. Get dressed, I’ll be back to do your makeup.” With that he leaves the room, door left wide open of course because it’s Felix and he’s seen Jisung naked more times than either of them would probably like at this point. 

Left alone, Jisung picks up the invitation one last time from the table, trailing his fingers over the lettering, Han Jisung and Lee Minho. He feels so stupid, he hasn’t spoken to Minho for so long but even the thought of him still stirs up butterflies in his stomach. His best friend, his first love, his first heartbreak, at one point Minho had been his everything. 

He takes out his phone and opens Instagram, scrolling through his following until he gets to Minho. His profile is so bare, not even a profile photo, just the same image of him and Jisung that’s always been there. His finger hovers over the message button for a minute, he’s feeling fear. Fear that he’ll respond to Jisung’s message, fear that he won’t. But if he doesn’t do it then he’ll always wonder. He opens the chat with Minho and types out one single word.

Hyung?

༻❁༺

The bar that Felix chooses is, admittedly, really nice. It’s not so busy that Jisung feels claustrophobic but packed enough that Felix will definitely drag him to the crowded dance floor later once he’s had a few drinks. 

“Let me see this mysterious invitation,” Hyunjin says from across the table, sticking his hand out towards Jisung. Felix had made him bring it along so that Hyunjin and Jeongin could see it, and Jisung has to wonder if it’s because the invitation is the most exciting thing that’s happened to him in recent memory.

“This is a wild marketing campaign,” Jeongin snorts, grabbing it out of Hyunjin’s hands and holding it up to the light. “I bet they’re gonna get sued.” 

“Oh my god, that’s gonna be your claim to fame!” Hyunjin slams his hands on the table, throwing his head back to laugh before snapping it forward and pointing at Jisung. “The single loser who gets swept up in a class action lawsuit when a bunch of couples end up divorcing because they think their partner is cheating on them with this elusive Lee Minho character.” 

Jisung scowls at him, leans across the table to snatch the card back from Jeongin and shove it in his pocket. “Don’t call me a single loser on my birthday.”

“It’s not your birthday for another two hours, babe,” Hyunjin gives him a sloppy wink before hauling Jeongin up to go get another round of shots for the table. 

Felix is wrapped around him the minute their friends get up, cooing at him as he continues to pout at Hyunjin’s retreating form. He tucks Jisung’s hair behind his ear and leaves a wet kiss on his cheek, which Jisung wipes away with complaint.

“How come they don’t call you a single loser?” he whines, head lolling onto Felix’s shoulder. 

“Oh my sweet angel,” Felix shakes his shoulder until Jisung finally picks his head up, and he swiftly grabs both of Jisung’s cheeks in his hands. “It’s probably because I'm actually trying to look for a boyfriend.” 

Well. In Jisung’s defence, he’d had a very long series of terrible first dates and had finally given up on love a couple of years ago. He remembers coming home from a date with a guy who called him Jaehyun the entire time, swearing to Felix that he wasn’t going on dates with strangers anymore. 

“Also you are a bit of a loser. But, like, I’m saying that so fondly.” 

Jisung glares at him in response, taking a swig of his drink instead, feeling buzzed already but needing something a bit more for the inevitable request of dancing that will come from his best friend after they take another shot. 

He’s not quite there yet when Felix eventually pulls him away from his drink, but Jisung indulges him anyway because it may be his birthday, but it’s Felix’s birthday too. Hyunjin and Jeongin are engaged in a sloppy mid-dance makeout session beside them, and Felix is making heart eyes at some guy from between their heads, waving at him when Hyunjin breaks away for air at one point. Jisung scrolls through his phone when Felix side steps their friends to go talk to the guy, clicking on his Instagram and remembering Felix’s words. 

Does Minho look at his stories? He clicks the plus sign to add to his story, taking a quick picture of the dancefloor and tagging the location of the bar that they’re at before hitting post and tucking his phone back into his pocket. 

He retreats back to the table now that the rest of his friends are…otherwise occupied, relishing in the small moment alone. Maybe he is a single loser after all, he could be on the dance floor finding a cute guy to grind up against but instead he’s at their table in the back corner of the bar by himself. He’s not even sure if he would be receptive to an advance from a guy, not after the Jaehyun guy, or the one who made Jisung pay for his meal after he’d ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, or the one who said he wanted Jisung’s name tattooed on him after only one date. 

“Ji!” Felix pulls him out of his thoughts, tugging the guy from earlier along behind him. “Changbin is gonna give us a ride home.” 

This random man, Changbin, gives Jisung a nod from behind Felix as they both wait for Jisung to get up and join them. Jisung gives Felix a look and thankfully his friend isn’t inebriated enough to miss it, detaching himself from his new…friend and coming to sit beside him.

“Lix, are you sure we should be giving some random guy our address?”

“Okay, I hear you, but look at him.” Jisung’s looking. He’s still not sure about giving out their address to a total stranger. A very buff, totally Felix’s type, stranger. 

“We can use the money we save from not taking an Uber to order food instead,” Felix tries again. Jisung is annoyed that Felix knows him so well, appealing to his knowledge that Jisung always gets hungry when he drinks. 

“Fine, let’s go then,” he sighs, flinching away when Felix squeals and grabs at his arm to drag him back towards Changbin. 

His car is nice. Like, really nice. Expensive. Felix grabs Jisung’s wrist and squeezes it, an unspoken holy shit passing between them. Of course Felix would bag the richest guy in the bar, it’s just his luck. They both get in the back seat and while Felix climbs in and lays across the seat, Jisung is terrified to leave even a single scratch, sitting pin straight as he gingerly buckles his seatbelt. 

Felix and Changbin are talking, or rather Felix is yapping at him while he silently drives, arms slung over the seat as he plays idly with the collar of Chanbin’s shirt. Jisung pulls out his phone to scroll through the food delivery app instead, tuning Felix out as his stomach starts grumbling at the prospect of food. He remembers then, his Instagram story. 

He swipes up on his story, sees the usual names. Hyunjin, Jeongin, a few of his coworkers, some of his friends from university. But there’s one name that sticks out amongst the rest.

Lee Minho.

Jisung frantically taps on his messages, pulling up the one with Minho to see if he’s responded.

Seen.

“Felix!” Jisung tugs at the back of his shirt until he relents, letting himself be pulled back until he’s flush against Jisung’s side, annoyed look on his face that he’s been taken away from his one sided conversation with Changbin. “Minho read my message.”

“I told you he’s active,” Felix giggles. “So now what? Are you gonna try talking to him?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t even respond to my first message,” Jisung frowns, eyes trained on the single word at the bottom of the screen. Seen. Does that mean he doesn’t want to talk to him? Maybe all this time he’s forgotten he even had him on Instagram and Jisung will wake up tomorrow and be blocked. 

He sighs heavily and looks out the window to compose himself. The streetlights are dim, dimmer than usual, not the neon signs that they should be passing right now on the way to Jisung and Felix’s shitty apartment building. 

“Lix,” he whispers as low as he can possibly manage, lips pressed flush against Felix’s ear. He grips Felix’s arm when he tries to pull away, whining about how much it tickles. “I don’t think this guy is taking us home.” 

Felix’s head snaps up, taking in their surroundings for the first time. His eyes widen when he looks at the houses that they’re passing, each one getting bigger as they go by, but further and further apart. Isolated. In the middle of nowhere.

“Oh my god, Ji. I don’t think I even told him what our address is,” Felix cries. It’s loud. So loud. Changbin looks at them through the rearview mirror and Jisung assesses his options. The only thing either of them have on them that could even remotely be used as a weapon are the bobby pins in Felix’s hair and the key to their apartment building which they may never see again at this point. 

“What do we do?” Felix whines, urgency lacing his voice as he takes very obvious glances at Changbin that the driver definitely notices.

“I don’t know,” Jisung hisses, raking a hand through his hair as he tries to think of a way out of this. “You’re the one who got us into this mess!”

“Actually,” Changbin interjects, the sound of his voice scaring both of them as they huddle together in the backseat, “that would be you, Jisung-ssi.”

Huh?

The car pulls into a driveway longer than the entire street that Jisung and Felix live on, coming to a stop right in front of a mansion so big that Jisung can’t even see where it ends. Changbin gets out of the car and this is their chance.

Before Changbin’s door has even shut, Jisung is tugging on the handle of the door closest to him, grabbing Felix’s wrist to drag him along. He pushes on the handle, ready to tumble out of the car and make a mad dash to safety, but the door doesn’t open.

Locked. 

Changbin is around the car in seconds, opening the door and blocking the way so they can’t get past him.

“I told him this was a terrible idea,” he mutters, shaking his head as he takes in the terrified expressions plastered on both Jisung and Felix’s faces. “I’m not going to murder you, or whatever it is that you think is happening right now. If you could just come inside for a moment, this will all make sense.” 

“Okay, I’ve been convinced,” Felix says, crawling across Jisung and out of the car, making sure to press as much of his weight against Changbin as he can on his way out. 

“Felix, what the hell!” Jisung hisses, shuffling out of the car to grab Felix and put a bit of distance between him and their captor. 

“What? He’s hot, and he said he wasn’t going to kill us, so…” Felix explains, as though that is a reasonable excuse for just going along with whatever this random man says. For what it’s worth, Jisung also doesn’t really think that this guy is going to kill them, he’s had plenty of chances to do that already and has done nothing more than simply stand there, but he still would really, really like to go home to his own bed.

“If you’ll both follow me, I can get you home a lot faster,” Changbin says, letting Felix latch onto him as they begin walking. The house is nice, massive, with immaculate landscaping and several fancy cars parked out front. It’s a level of wealth that Jisung has never even dreamed of, never seen up close like this. He feels completely out of place. 

The feeling doesn’t get any better when they head inside and are met with expensive furniture and decorations, everything completely spotless and pristine. He slips his shoes off and feels immediately like his dirty socks aren’t even worthy of being on the marble floor.

Changbin leads them through the entryway and up the stairs to a room with wooden double doors, knocking gently before a muffled voice tells him to come in from the other side of the door. 

It’s when Changbin pushes the doors open that Jisung sees him. 

Minho. His Minho. 

He’s different, older of course, but it’s not just that. He’s in a suit, an expensive looking one, his hair combed neatly on top of his head, gold watch on his wrist. Jisung had thought he was sophisticated back then, but it’s nothing compared to how he looks now. Like he belongs here in this giant house, like he fits in here.

Minho’s scowling at Changbin, looking back and forth between Jisung and Felix like he can’t make sense of exactly what is happening. 

“Why are there two of them?” Minho asks, voice just as light and airy as it had been all those years ago. At least one thing hasn’t changed about him, Jisung thinks. A small confirmation that this really is his Minho. Or, well, not his. The same Minho that he used to be friends with, at least.

“Well,” Changbin starts, detaching Felix from his side and stepping away from him before clearing his throat. “There was some confusion.”

“Confusion? What was confusing?” Minho sighs, pinching the skin at the bridge of his nose like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I told you to bring me Jisung.”

“No,” Changbin counters. “You told me to bring you the birthday boy. Kindly look at exhibit A and exhibit B in front of you and tell me that you wouldn’t be confused.” 

Jisung looks at Felix, looks at where Changbin is pointing to the birthday sash hanging across his chest, remembering then that he’s got his own matching one, suddenly feeling even more self conscious that Minho is seeing him like this after so long. 

“I also showed you photos of Jisung,” Minho argues, not entertaining Changbin’s excuse.

“You showed me one photo of Jisung, from when he was twelve years old.” 

Minho glares, crossing his arms over his chest and straightening his spine. “And he looks the exact same as he did back then. Chubby hamster cheeks, cute bug eyes, I’m really struggling to see what was confusing about my request.” 

“Hyung.” The whine that Changbin emits is so unlike his previous demeanor that it startles Jisung a little. He turns towards him with a look of disbelief, seeing his bottom lip jutting out towards Minho. What the actual fuck is going on? 

“You know what I think, Seo Changbin? I think that this second one here,” Minho waves a hand casually in Felix’s general direction at that, “is exactly your type. I think that you are flirting with cute boys on company time.” 

“You say that as though you didn’t ask me to go pick up a cute boy on company time in the first place,” Changbin deadpans. 

If Jisung thought Minho had been glaring at Changbin before, it’s nothing compared to the look that passes over his features when Changbin calls him cute. His eyes darken, almost impossibly so, posture completely changing as he rolls his shoulders back like he’s a boxer standing in the corner of the ring before a fight. 

“Don’t call Jisungie cute,” Minho says to him. It really shouldn’t make Jisung’s stomach ignite with butterflies, not after all this time. Not after Minho literally sent someone to go pick Jisung up from a bar and bring him out to the middle of nowhere to some random house. 

It really sounds unhinged when Jisung lays it all out like that. Especially because Minho hasn’t spoken to him in years and now suddenly he’s here, looking like a chaebol of all things, calling him Jisungie like not a single day has passed. He’s had a bit to drink, but he definitely hasn’t had enough to drink to be hallucinating all of this, and if he’s dreaming it’s got to be the most realistic dream he’s ever had.

“Can we circle back to you referring to me as the second one,” Felix huffs beside him, “I do have a name, you know? And, for the record, I came on to Changbin, not the other way around.” 

That seems to please Changbin, a smug smirk forming on his lips as he looks back towards Minho. Jisung’s been completely silent through all of this. Listened to Changbin and Minho banter back and forth, totally entranced by Lee Minho even standing in front of him, but Felix’s interjection pulls him out of his daze and back to reality. The reality in which Minho has had him kidnapped to do…well, Jisung has no idea what he wants to do with him actually.

“Um, sorry, but why are we here?” he asks. Everyone’s focus shifts to him, turning in slow motion like they’ve somehow all forgotten that he was even there. Minho cocks his head to the side, narrowing his eyes a little like he’s taking in Jisung fully for the first time. He feels naked when Minho’s gaze travels down to his collarbones, over the planes of his chest, lingering on his side where his tattoo is visible through the see-through panel on his shirt. He clears his throat when his eyes travel a little lower to the leather pants that are feeling really, really tight right now.

“Changbin-ah can you take…” Minho’s eyes slide over to Felix, lip twitching briefly. “Thing Two to the sitting room while Jisung and I talk?”

Felix scoffs beside him, looks at Changbin like he expects him to do something. He whines in frustration when Changbin remains silent. “It’s Felix you chaebol bastard, what the hell is wrong with you?” 

He’s looking at Jisung now, anger in his eyes, and there’s really no reasoning with him when Felix gets this way so he simply blinks back at him and waits for whatever is about to come out of Felix’s mouth. “Can you please tell your psycho boyfriend that he doesn’t get to call someone Thing Two just because he’s rich?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jisung mumbles under his breath, watching in real time as Felix’s eye starts twitching. It’s semantics, most definitely the wrong thing to say at the moment but Minho saves him from Felix’s wrath when he interjects.

“That’s right, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s my fiancé.” 

Jisung’s jaw drops at the same time that Felix’s does, both of them looking at each other like they can’t believe what they’ve just heard. Felix mouths the word again, fiancé? , and all Jisung can do is shrug in response. Jisung has no idea what’s going on, why Lee Minho, childhood best friend who has been MIA for nine years, is suddenly claiming them to be engaged of all things. 

“Okay, if someone doesn’t tell us what’s going on, Felix and I are going to call a cab and leave,” Jisung huffs, reaching over and grabbing Felix’s hand in his. 

Minho gives Changbin a pointed look, motioning for him to leave the room. 

Changbin sighs heavily, mutters under his breath something that sounds very much like there’s no way that he actually thinks this is going to work, before giving Felix a sweet smile. “Do you want anything to drink, pretty?” 

Felix drops Jisung’s hand instantly, batting his eyelashes at Changbin and nodding his head. Jisung can’t believe his eyes. Clearly this is all for show so that he can get Felix out of the room but it’s like his best friend has completely forgotten the conversation that’s just gone on, falling back into Changbin’s orbit the second that he gives him even a shred of attention like a moth to a flame. Sometimes he wonders how Felix has even survived this long with his lack of awareness, rolling his eyes when his friend latches back on to Changbin like a koala.

“Don’t leave me in here,” Jisung whines when Changbin starts to tug Felix away in the direction of the door. 

“Sorry babes,” Felix makes a kissing sound in his direction. “Scream or something if your psycho boyfriend does anything weird and I’ll come save you.”

“Psycho fiancé,” Minho reminds him from across the room, and Jisung whips around to look at him in shock. Not helpful. Also, still incredibly confusing. 

He turns back around just in time for Felix to give him one last wave before Changbin pulls him out of the room and shuts the door behind them, leaving Jisung alone with Minho. It’s surreal, standing here now, just the two of them after so long apart. He has so many questions that he wants to ask, he doesn’t even know where to begin, instead just standing with his mouth opening and closing like a fish that’s just been plucked out of the water.

“Sit down Jisungie, you look like you’re about to either pass out or sprint out of the room.” Minho motions to the chair across from his desk, and Jisung’s always been so good at following his lead that he sinks down into the chair with barely a second thought.

“Hyung, what the fuck?” he murmurs, fingers splayed over his knees as his nails dig into the fabric of his leather pants. Can he even call Minho hyung anymore? After all this time? They’re perfect strangers now, but Minho-ssi would feel so wrong coming out of his mouth that he’s not even sure he could get it out. 

“I’m sorry for all this, by the way. I just thought that it would be better for us to talk on the same day that the wedding invitations went out so that you could be prepared once we start having to go to events and things,” Minho explains, like Jisung should just nod along, like this is all supposed to be making sense. He feels like he’s missed a chapter. Like he’s woken up out of a coma only to find that it’s several years in the future and he’s lived an entire other life that he doesn’t remember anymore.

“But…but Minho hyung. We aren’t engaged,” Jisung stresses, blinking owlishly at him. Minho does nothing more than blink back, his silly fast blinks that he does when he’s trying to process the information that he’s receiving.

“Of course we are, Jisung-ah. Don’t you remember the promise you made to me?” he asks, and Jisung sort of wants to scream at him right now. Promise? They haven’t even spoken in years, what promise could Jisung have possibly made to him.

And then it hits him.

Oh. 

If we’re both single by the time you turn twenty five, let’s get married.

Jisung knows now, that this must be some stupid joke. That Minho must have remembered the silly promise they made to each other as teenagers and had wanted a good laugh, summoning Jisung all the way out to the middle of nowhere just to mock him. He didn’t think Minho would be so cruel, but he doesn’t really know Minho anymore so maybe this is just the type of person he is now. Maybe Tokyo changed him? Jisung wouldn’t know.

“This is a really elaborate prank to play on someone that you haven’t spoken to in almost a decade,” he hisses. 

“Prank? Jisungie do you really think I would do something like that to you?” Minho hums, lolling his head to the side to look at Jisung, eyebrow raised as though he’s daring him to say yes. 

“I don’t know, Minho. I don’t really know you anymore, do I?” Jisung responds, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from the man in front of him. He takes in the room around him, the bookshelves lining the walls that are filled with titles Jisung’s never heard of, the decor interspersed between them that looks like it all costs more than an entire year of Jisung and Felix’s rent. 

“Jagiya, come on,” Minho whines, and when Jisung looks back over at him he’s got a big pout on his face. Jagiya. That’s a new one. Jisung doesn’t want to feel heat flush over his face at the term of endearment. He doesn’t want to squirm in his seat under Minho’s gaze. He doesn’t want to giggle like he used to when Minho would give him attention all those years ago.

Regretfully, he is but a simple man. A simple man who never got over his childhood crush on his best friend, apparently.

“Can we cut the shit, Min? What’s really going on?” Jisung sighs, hoping that he doesn’t sound as affected as he feels. If Minho notices the blush dusting Jisung’s cheeks, he’s kind enough to not mention it. 

“So…” Minho starts, looking up as though he’s trying to roll his eyes back into his brain to try and find the words inside his own head. “I’ve found myself in need of a husband. And, well, you did promise.”

“When I was fifteen years old, I don’t think that really counts as a legally binding agreement.” 

Minho hums in agreement, leans forward in his chair and blinks at Jisung with wide eyes, like he’s trying to…is he trying to act cute so Jisung will go along with whatever it is that he’s doing?

“I don’t like it when you do that with your face,” Jisung frowns, leaning as far away from Minho as he can in the confines of his chair. “It’s unsettling.” 

Minho’s eyes narrow when he hears Jisung’s complaint, curling his top lip up into his gums like he used to when they were kids, his stupid flirting smile he used to call it. 

“This better?” he tries to say with his lip still flipped up. It’s dumb, so dumb. He’s clearly stalling, using the same tricks to make Jisung laugh that he used to when they were just silly teenagers. However, Jisung is annoyingly fond of him, and clearly a simp somehow after all these years, and so he can’t help the smile that inches its way onto his lips. 

“Stop,” he mumbles, giggling a little when Minho does nothing more than continue to blink at him. “Hyung, you need to tell me what’s going on. I’m being serious.”

Minho rolls his eyes playfully but he obliges Jisung’s request. “My family gave me an ultimatum. I have to get married by the end of the year or they’re going to set me up with someone. Some girl who’s the heiress to a canned fish company. And you know I love canned fish but she’s miserable to be around, Jisungie, like, her hobbies are listening to finance podcasts and tracking the stock market. I can’t get married to someone who keeps spreadsheets for fun. And that’s not even mentioning the fact that I’m gay.” 

“Wait, why does your family even care about you getting married? An ultimatum?” Jisung feels even more confused than he had when he got here. Every time Minho talks it’s like he’s speaking in riddles and Jisung’s being forced to piece it all together. It’s been a while since he took the last shot with Felix at the bar but he still feels way too drunk to be having to solve skill testing questions right now. 

“Um, well…” Minho trails off, scratching the back of his neck as he stalls yet again. “There’s something I never told you…about my family.” 

Jisung had met Minho’s parents a hundred times growing up, surely there’s nothing about his family that Jisung could possibly have left to know by now? 

“You know how we never had sleepovers at my house?” Minho asks. 

Jisung nods, remembering all the late nights they spent curled up in Jisung’s bed, always Jisung’s bed. “Of course. Because your mom is allergic to dogs and Bbama’s hair on my clothes always bothered her.” 

“Right, I did use that excuse back then didn’t I?” Minho lets out a single laugh, directed more at himself than Jisung. “That was a lie, my mom’s not allergic to dogs. The truth is, my family isn’t…normal.” 

“What the hell, hyung? Why would you lie about something like that? I used to wake up early whenever you slept over so I could lint roll all your clothes,” Jisung complains, frowning at Minho.

“Okay, what the fuck, really? I didn’t know you did that. That’s, like, the cutest shit ever.” 

“Shut up,” Jisung murmurs under his breath, the flush on his cheeks from earlier that had mercifully started going away, coming right back. Minho’s called him cute, called him jagiya, has been a little bit sweet all evening and it’s doing nothing to help Jisung’s racing heart and he really needs to calm down or he’s going to lunge over the table and crawl into Minho’s lap before his brain can catch up to his body.

“Anyways, I never let you come over because my family is…well, I guess you can sort of tell already from our location, but my family is quite...wealthy,” Minho explains, motioning to the room around them, the marble floors, the expensive wood furniture, the plush velvet chair that Jisung’s sunk into. 

Jisung takes a beat to soak in what Minho is really saying to him. His family is super wealthy. He needs to get married to avoid getting paired off to an heiress. So then does that mean that Minho himself is…

“Oh my god, are you a fucking chaebol?” he asks, mouth open wide in shock at the revelation. Felix had called him that earlier, totally clocked it, but he thought he was just being dramatic. Jisung would have never thought in a million years that his classmate, his best friend, weird, down to earth Lee Minho, would be a chaebol . “Wait, so you were just cosplaying as a normal kid all through school then?” 

“My parents thought it would be better for me to go to public school so that I didn’t grow up to be an entitled asshole.”

“That’s kinda fucked up, hyung, not gonna lie.” Jisung’s scowling, giving him the once over as he judges him, just a little bit. He wonders how much of it was all a ruse. Their friendship. How much of it was just Minho trying to see how normal people lived, observing Jisung like he was some little science experiment. He feels suddenly very self conscious, wanting desperately to just go home and crawl under his blankets and pretend like none of this had happened.

“I know. I would have told you if my parents didn’t threaten to pull me out of school if I let it slip. I wouldn’t have cared really, if not for you. I didn’t want them to separate me from you.” 

Jisung’s stupid heart perks up at that, blood flowing so quickly through his veins he feels like he’s just dropped from the top of a roller coaster. He shakes his head a couple of times like it will somehow clear his brain fog, which it doesn’t, but it does cause him to catch a glimpse of the piece of paper sticking out of his pocket. He grabs the wedding invitation, slapping it down onto the desk and sliding it towards Minho.

“So this was your doing then?” he asks, fingers brushing over the raised gold lettering, pausing briefly as he traces over Minho’s name. 

“It was. They look nice right? I wanted us to make it together but my mom scheduled a dinner with my wife-to-be on the weekend so I had to act faster than I wanted to,” Minho explains, seeming to remember something as he ducks down to rummage through one of the doors of his desk. 

He places a box on the table and shoves it towards Jisung. “This stack is for whoever you want to invite, I wasn’t sure so I didn’t want to send them out.” 

“Um, thanks?” Jisung is frowning when he takes the box from Minho and holds it in his lap, opening it to see dozens of the same invitation staring back up at him. “How did you even know my address anyways?” 

“Oh, Changbin can find anyone. He got your IP address from your Instagram and went from there.” Minho says it nonchalantly, like it’s not a big deal that he had one of his employees look Jisung up to find his address and have them come to his house. 

“That’s, like, very creepy and invasive?” He had never noticed a difference between them back then, a clear sign that they’d had a different upbringing. Now though? He thinks that maybe he can see it now because no normal person would think something like that was okay but rich people…who think everyone around them are just pawns in whatever game they’re playing…surely Minho hasn’t turned into someone like that, has he?

“Well, yes. But I’m your best friend so it’s fine.” 

Jisung feels a bit guilty when he looks at Minho, his big, dark brown eyes blinking back at him, innocent and filled with stars. “Hyung…no. Felix is my best friend.” 

Minho looks like a kicked puppy as Jisung’s words sink in, blinking rapidly a few times before casting his gaze down to his lap, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and biting down on the soft flesh. It’s silent between them, Jisung’s words hanging in the air, settling like a thick fog around them. 

“It’s just…we haven’t talked for almost ten years, so…” he tries to do damage control but it doesn’t seem to help. Minho nods his head a few times like he’s coming to terms with what Jisung is saying, sighing deeply through his nose before looking back up at him.

“Right, of course, yeah that makes sense,” Minho says, the words tumbling out of him so quickly that Jisung wouldn’t have even understood if he didn’t know him and his quirks so well. “Back to the issue at hand. Are you free next weekend for dinner with my family? They’d like to meet my fiancé.” 

Jisung tilts his head to the side, furrowing his brows in confusion. “They’ve already met me, though?”

“Well…I didn’t exactly tell them who I was engaged to. I thought we could hand deliver their wedding invitations together,” Minho suggests. 

Jisung thinks about it. About the many times he’d met Minho’s parents as his best friend. And now he’s meant to meet them as his…fake fiancé? He’s supposed to act like they’re together and in love and about to get married. He’s not sure if he could even keep up the ruse, not in front of people who already know him. It would be different if it was strangers but Minho’s mother had put bandages on his scraped knees as a kid, carted him and Minho around to the zoo and the aquarium, bought him candy when he would cry. 

“I haven’t even said yes to any of this yet,” he reminds Minho. All of this really does hinge on him accepting to fake date, or…fake marry him. If Jisung says no then Minho will be left to figure something else out entirely. Either marry the person his parents are trying to set him up with or find someone else to do this entire gimmick with. He thinks about it, about just getting up right now, telling Minho that he’s on his own. 

However…he can’t help but be a little intrigued by the whole thing. He has so many unanswered questions, so many things he’s been wanting to say to Minho for so many years. To have him back now only to lose him again, Jisung isn’t sure that he would ever be able to stop wondering what if. And so he considers it. This whole charade. Showing up to dinner with Minho’s family, having an engagement party, attending his own wedding. Would it really be so bad? The wedding is set for less than a month from now, surely he could help Minho out for that long? 

He’s drawn out of his own head when Minho stands up, shuffling around the desk and coming to stand in front of Jisung. It’s not until he sinks down onto one knee that Jisung starts panicking, scrambling to get up from the chair so he can try to pull Minho back up by the shoulders of his suit jacket.

“Hyung, get up off the floor,” he whines, tugging on the material of his jacket to no avail. “You’re getting your nice suit dirty.” 

“Sit down for just a second, Jisungie,” Minho huffs, swatting Jisung’s hands away. “Let me do this properly.” 

Jisung is a good listener, always for his Minho hyung, sinking back down into the chair as Minho reaches into his pocket to pull out a small black box. He flips it open to reveal the most stunning ring that Jisung has ever seen. It’s gold, a singular small diamond embedded into the metal, beautiful and understated and perfect for Jisung. 

“Han Jisung,” Minho says softly, looking up at Jisung with a hint of a smile on his face, ears so red now that Jisung thinks it must be at least a little uncomfortable. “Will you marry me?” 

He blooms then, like a sunflower in the middle of July, he feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be. He’s dreamt of Minho saying those four words to him before. Under the covers in his childhood bedroom, the only place where he would dare to let himself have such silly thoughts. Of Minho and him holding hands, of them living together some day, of Minho standing across from him at the altar on their wedding day. He’d let himself dream of this fantasy life, always nothing more than that. A fantasy.

And for just a minute he lets himself pretend like it’s all real. Like Minho has feelings for him, like he’s really proposing, like they’ll really spend the rest of their lives together. His hand is shaky when he reaches out towards Minho, spreading his fingers apart as he waits for the man in front of him to get the message.

“Shit, fuck, okay, I thought you were gonna say no,” Minho mumbles, grunting to himself when the ring doesn’t immediately come out of the box. He gets it out finally, looking up at Jisung one last time for confirmation and receiving a nod in return. 

The metal is cool against his skin when Minho slips the ring onto his finger. It fits perfectly somehow, like maybe Changbin had broken into their apartment in the middle of the night and taken Jisung’s ring size measurements in his sleep. Or maybe, maybe it’s just that Minho knows him better than almost anyone else even after all this time. 

“Okay can you get up now? It’s seriously stressing me out that you’re kneeling on the floor in a suit that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe.” 

Minho giggles lightly, standing up and brushing the dirt off his knee, both of them admiring the ring on Jisung’s finger for a minute. “We’re really doing this, huh?”

Jisung nods, inhaling sharply as he fully realizes what he’s just gotten himself into. “Yeah, I guess we are hyung.” 

“We’ve got a lot to figure out before dinner next weekend. We have to come up with a story that doesn’t sound completely made up.”

Right. A story. For how they got together. How they got engaged. Jisung’s head is spinning a little bit, trying to figure out exactly how this all happened. How Minho possibly could have remembered the stupid promise they made to each other all those years ago, how he’d come now to cash in on it, reappearing in Jisung’s life and acting like he’d never even left it. 

“Won’t your family be suspicious that I’ve just come out of nowhere and suddenly we’re engaged?” Jisung’s fiddling with the mesh on his shirt now, getting a little antsy, wanting to go home and sit alone in the dark and process everything that’s happened tonight, maybe wake up tomorrow and find that it had all been a dream.

“Oh, I was sort of banking on you saying yes. I’ve been talking about this guy I’ve been seeing for quite some time now to all of them,” Minho says, shrugging his shoulders like it’s no big deal. He takes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to Jisung, sitting open on the contact page. “I changed my number so…”

“Yeah, I know,” Jisung laughs bitterly. “I tried calling.” He snatches the phone from Minho and types his number in, naming his contact as fiancé before passing it back. Minho smiles to himself when he looks at his phone again, tucking it back in his pocket and leaning back against the desk.

“So, should we make it official with a kiss?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Jisung, smirk tugging on his lips. 

“U-uh, what?” Jisung sputters back, nails digging into his leather pants so hard that he fears he might tear a hole in them. His mind goes completely blank, the idea of kissing Minho taking up every ounce of brain power that he can muster. 

Minho throws his head back then, lets out a loud laugh and Jisung’s head is so full of cotton that he can really only focus on how attractive his neck looks when his head is back like that. “I’m just kidding Jisungie. Careful, you’ll make me think you actually like me.” 

He gives him a really poorly executed wink, one that Jisung rolls his eyes at, thankful for the distraction from his rapidly beating heart and flushed cheeks. He had come dangerously close to Minho finding out that yes, he really does in fact like him. Or did. Did like him. Definitely does not like him now after he completely ghosted him for close to a decade. Because that would be totally absurd. 

Ha.

“Shall we go share the good news?” Minho holds his hand out for Jisung to take, helping him up out of the chair. His skin is soft, warm, a familiar comfort, so comfortable that Jisung can’t bring himself to let go, letting Minho lead him out of the room and back into the common area. 

Felix is sitting on the couch beside Changbin, blinking up at him while he talks like he’s the most fascinating person in the world. And to drunk Felix, who has spent the better part of the evening ogling his muscles, he probably is. When he notices Jisung his eyes go wide, sparkly, and suddenly he’s vaulting himself over the back of the couch. The likely very, very expensive couch. Jisung winces, half expects his belt to get caught on the fabric and tear it wide open because that’s exactly the type of thing that would happen to Felix.

“Ji, Changbin was just telling me how he works out five times a week. He said I can go to the gym with him when he goes,” Felix squeals, lunging forward to grip Jisung’s arm in excitement.

“You’ve never worked out a day in your life,” Jisung points out, earning himself a subtle jab to the side from his friend who whispers a stern shut the fuck up under his breath. 

Minho’s been silently watching them all from Jisung’s other side but when Felix tries to continue yapping about Changbin he finally interjects.

“Jisungie and I are engaged.” He grabs Jisung’s hand and holds it in the air, shoving it towards Felix’s face. “I gave him a ring.” 

Felix snatches Jisung’s hand out of Minho’s grip, twisting it every way so he can get a good look at the ring. “Holy fucking shit.”

Changbin stands up and comes to look at the ring with Felix, shaking his head. “I can’t believe his stupid plan actually worked,” he mutters under his breath, looking back and forth between Jisung and Minho. “Maybe you two are meant for each other.”

“Bin, can you drive these two home?” Minho asks.

Felix drops Jisung’s hand like he’s been burned, and it’s like his best friend didn’t just get engaged at all, attention focused completely back on Changbin now. “Can I sit in the front with you?” 

He trails after Changbin to the front door, and Jisung hasn’t seen him blink in a concerningly long time, looking like a little duckling as he sways back and forth a bit, still clearly more intoxicated than Jisung is. 

Jisung keeps his distance from them, putting his shoes on slowly after they’re already out the door. Minho’s followed him and is leaning against the pillar in the front entryway, not saying a word, simply observing Jisung. 

“I’ll text you, hyung,” he says, giving Minho a small wave before turning towards the door.

“Wait,” Minho surges forward, grabbing Jisung’s wrist and pulling him back. He leans forward, so close now that Jisung can smell his cologne, vanilla and musky and way too enticing. His lips brush against Jisung’s ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine, before they reach their destination, pressing gently against Jisung’s cheek. 

“Happy Birthday, baby,” he murmurs, the words ticking Jisung’s skin where Minho’s lips haven’t quite pulled away. His breath hitches, heart hammering in his chest as Minho separates from him, smirking like he can tell just how much he’s affecting him. He’s frozen in place, unable to do anything other than gape at Minho, and he thinks maybe his eye has started twitching actually. 

Time stands still, it could be hours, it could be minutes of staring into Minho’s deep, hypnotic eyes. He wants to say something, to ask what the fuck maybe. He’s saved from whatever embarrassment is sure to come out of his mouth when Changbin honks from outside, giving him a reason to simply turn around and dart out the door without a single word. He hears Minho laugh under his breath as the door clicks shut, Jisung finally able to breathe again. 

Felix is too preoccupied to pay much attention to him on the drive home, leaving him with nothing else to focus on other than baby. Other than the feeling of Minho’s lips on his cheek. 

He’s totally fucked.

༻❁༺

Jisungs spends the days following his…engagement doing little else except laying in bed staring up at the ceiling and wondering just how exactly something like this had happened to him. Minho’s been busy during his existential crisis, sending him texts about suit fittings and flower appointments and asking him what flavour of cake he wants. It’s a lot.

It makes it all that much more real, having all these impending appointments. They have to act fast, Minho hadn’t given him much of a grace period with the wedding being a little over two weeks away. Taking what is usually done over the span of an entire year and cramming it all into a few days. He’s lucky that they’re just going to have the ceremony at Minho’s house, no need to find some last minute venue, it’s at least one less thing he has to worry about.

He spends a lot of time thinking about what it’s going to look like, to feel like. To walk down the aisle and meet Minho at the other end. It’s something he had dreamt of so many times that it feels almost surreal now that it’s actually happening.

Felix had asked him the next morning, why he had said yes. Why he had given in so easily to Minho’s request after he’d up and left him all those years ago. And Jisung doesn’t really have a solid answer. It was a bunch of things, the desire to have Minho back in his life again even if it’s just because he needs his help, the fact that this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to him since the time he accidentally ended up on the news a couple of years ago during an impromptu trip to Lotte World, and maybe deep down, the fulfillment of his childhood dream to marry his best friend. 

It’s all silly, the plot of one of the kdramas that he stays up late to watch with Felix on the weekends, but it’s also exhilarating. Being thrust into this world that he never dreamed he would be part of, it’s…a nice break from the monotony that his life has become. 

And it’s not like he hates his life, far from it, but every day had become so similar, work on his music, hang out with Felix, lay in bed scrolling on his phone for a few hours, sleep. Rinse and repeat every single day. It had been fine. It’s just that…he had sort of been hoping for something like this to happen to him. Well, maybe not this exactly, but something interesting to shake things up. 

“So let me get this straight,” Hyunjin drawls from the other side of the table. “Your family is trying to marry you off to some other chaebol heiress and instead of taking that offer and being loaded for life, you instead have chosen to marry…Han Jisung?” 

They’re at the sushi restaurant near Felix and Jisung’s apartment. Felix had sent a photo of Jisung’s ring to their group chat, taken when he’d snuck into his room while he was sleeping, drooling face blurry in the background, and Hyunjin had demanded that he meet Minho the next day. And so now here they are, Jisung pressed into Minho’s side, sandwiched between him and Felix as Hyunjin and Jeongin sit on the other side of the table interrogating them. 

“Mhm,” Minho hums around a mouthful of sashimi. He looks over at Jisung, cheeks full as he tries to smile and Jisung is annoyingly fond. His interactions with Minho so far have been…cautious at best. He’s mad at him, and they haven’t even begun to broach the topic of why he left without a single word or why he didn’t seek Jisung out when he came back to Seoul. 

For Minho’s part, he’s been sort of pretending like nothing ever happened, going back to texting Jisung stupid cat memes in the middle of the night like he used to when they were in high school. It’s been confusing, sort of messing with Jisung’s head a little bit because he wants to be cold towards him, snap at him, respond with the middle finger emoji when he sends the tenth cat video of the night, but he just can’t bring himself to. So he’s settled for being as distant as he can with the person he’s meant to get married to in under a month.

“Why do you have to say my name like I’m a disease,” Jisung whines, pouting at Hyunjin across the table. 

“Oh baby, you know I love you more than anyone else in the world,” Hyunjin sighs, reaching over to grasp Jisung’s hands in his. “Except for Jeongin, of course.”

He leans over to plant a quick kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek before refocusing his attention on Jisung. “It’s just, you have this thing beside you, perhaps the hottest man I have ever seen.”

“Except for Jeongin of course,” Jisung parrots, earning a tight squeeze on the hand that Hyunjin still has in his grasp. “Ah, ah, okay I’m sorry!” 

Hyunjin lets up, glaring at him for a moment before continuing. “And it’s just…you’re just from such different worlds, I don’t know how this is really going to work.”

“Well,” Minho starts, slinging his arm over Jisung’s shoulder, and the stupid butterflies start fluttering in Jisung’s stomach at the blatant show of affection. “It never affected us before, I think we’ll be fine.” 

Jisung wants to roll his eyes at him, tell him I didn’t know that we were from different worlds before though, but he’s a bit distracted by the fact that more of his body is touching Minho than not at the moment. 

Felix leans into the table so he can see Minho over Jisung. He’s got his scheming smile on, the one that he uses when he’s about to ruin Jisung’s day, and honestly it’s a little frightening seeing it directed at someone else. “Speaking of before. Care to elaborate on where you’ve been for the past nine years?” 

Minho clears his throat, lets his arm slip off of Jisung’s shoulder and fall back into his own lap. “I only came back from Japan last year. I got my master’s degree and then jumped right into starting to take over the family business.” 

“And you were too busy to text the person you’d called your best friend for the majority of your life?” Felix muses, setting his hands on his chin to smile sweetly at Minho. It’s terrifying when it comes from Felix, so soft and gentle that you would never expect the knife until it was lodged in your side. He’s protective of Jisung, always has been, and now, sat in front of the person who Jisung built all his walls for in the first place, he can’t help but bare his teeth.

“Maybe this is a conversation that Jisung and Minho should have on their own?” Jeongin tries to diffuse the situation, always the most level headed one in their friend group.

“Um,” Jisung squeaks out, grabbing Felix’s thigh under the table in an effort to rein him in. “Yeah, Innie’s right. We can talk later, right Minho hyung?” 

Minho looks at him, grateful that he’s being saved from Jisung’s firing squad, and nods gently. The topic shifts back to the impending wedding after that, suggestions for the bouquet, who Jisung will choose as his groomsmen, the reception playlist. It all feels a little surreal. He’s surrounded by all the people that he had always known he wanted to be part of his wedding, he just never expected to be having these conversations so soon.

The five of them work together to fabricate a story as well, one where Minho comes back from Japan and happens to bump into Jisung on the street. They reconnect and their feelings for each other morph into something more than friendship, maybe it was always there between them, simmering under the surface. Hyunjin adds that touch, always a hopeless romantic, not realizing just how true it was on Jisung’s end. In this fantasy world they sneak time together between Minho’s endless queue of meetings, connecting in the middle of the night at Han River like they’re celebrities. That one comes from Felix and his obsession with keeping up with pop culture news. Minho proposes to him on the grounds of their old high school, where it all began. It’s cute, believable, all of it so bittersweet because Jisung wishes that it could be real, that he could have a life like that with someone he loves that isn’t just made up to trick an overbearing family. 

For now though, this will have to do. 

And so, armed with their ironclad story, Changbin picks him up on Saturday evening and drives him to the Lee residence. Minho had sent an outfit to him earlier in the week, one that was well above his budget, which he knows because he sat under the covers with Felix that night and found the price of every single piece on Naver. The silk shirt that showed off Jisung’s tattoo and accentuated his honeyed skin, the slacks that fit him better than any pair of pants he’s ever owned, the leather shoes, the gold watch and little hoop earrings that pull the whole look together. 

Felix had taken photos of him before he left like a mom taking photos of her daughter’s prom dress, sending them to Hyunjin and Jeongin for approval, both of them blowing up the group chat with comments about how hot Jisung looks.

He selfishly hopes Minho shares the same opinion. The outfit was his choice after all, surely he’s picked things that are to his own taste. Felix dusts a bit of makeup on him before he leaves and it’s not until he’s sitting in the car with Changbin, silent save for the music playing faintly from the radio up front, that he wonders if he’s doing entirely too much. 

This is all for show after all, a ruse, none of it with the intention for Minho to actually feel anything for him. By the time they pull up outside of Minho’s house he’s picked at his nail beds so badly that they’re red and angry looking, and all Jisung can hope is that the ring on his finger takes everyone’s attention away from how much of a hot mess he is under the fancy clothes. 

Minho’s outside waiting for him when they pull up and Jisung feels a bit like a contestant on the Bachelor when he steps out of the back of Changbin’s SUV, walking up to Minho with a smile on his face. Minho looks amazing, which of course is to be expected, but what Jisung doesn’t expect is for him to be wearing an outfit that completely compliments Jisung’s. They look good together, like a real couple. 

“I knew that shirt would look good on you,” Minho hums, taking a step back to give Jisung a once over. He blushes under the weight of Minho’s attention, hand clammy from nerves when Minho reaches forward to intertwine their fingers and lead him inside. 

“You’ll be fine,” Minho murmurs to him, squeezing his hand gently before they round the corner into the dining room, the last to arrive. He sees familiar faces in Minho’s parents, older now but they’re definitely the same people Jisung had grown up around. Knowing what he does now, Jisung feels silly that he never clocked Minho’s family as being wealthy back then. His parents just have this air about them, one that screams upper class. He was so focused on Minho though, he never paid enough attention to the people around them at the time to see little things like that.

“Han Jisung,” his mom says, standing up from the table with open arms and pulling Jisung into a light hug. “So lovely to see you after all these years.”

Jisung gets the distinct impression that it’s not lovely to see him, if Minho bristling beside him is anything to go off of. He leads Jisung to their seats with a gentle hand on his back, letting it linger as he introduces the other people at the table. His aunt and uncle, his cousins Seungmin and Chan. Jisung had heard of them before but they had lived in America back then so it’s his first time meeting them. It’s nice to put faces to names that Minho had always talked so fondly about, both of them greeting Jisung with a lot more warmth than Minho’s mom had.

“Well, go on, tell us how you two came to be engaged,” Minho’s mom urges as the first course is placed in front of them. Minho launches into the story, smiling at Jisung as he goes, really playing up the heart eyes for his family. 

Minho’s dad sighs from the other end of the table, quiet up until now. “After all that time we spent separating you from your silly high school friends only for fate to bring you back together. I guess it really can’t be helped.” 

Jisung blinks in confusion. Time spent separating them? So then…it hadn’t been Minho’s decision to stop contacting him after he left? He looks over at Minho and the confusion must be written clearly on his face because Minho leans over and whispers a quick we’ll talk later into his ear. 

“So, Jisung. What do you do for work?” It’s Seungmin who asks, and he’s honestly happy for a change in topic, something to draw the attention away from Jisung and Minho’s relationship before anyone can begin picking holes in their story.

“Oh, I’m self-employed. I’m a musician,” he says, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“What kind of music?” It’s Minho’s dad who breaks the silence, his tone so hesitant that Jisung wonders if he even wants to hear the answer. 

“Um, well I rap mostly.” He says it slowly, looks at Minho and knows it’s not a satisfactory answer when his eyes go wide at the revelation. Somehow Jisung’s work hadn’t come up in their conversations prior to tonight and he feels like maybe he should have said he works in finance or something boring so that no one would have asked any questions.

“Oh my god, Minho is engaged to a SoundCloud rapper,” Seungmin murmurs, a disbelieving smirk on his face. 

Okay, technically he does post his music on SoundCloud. It’s great for exposure, sue him! And he has almost ten thousand followers, so really, he’s practically a celebrity at this point. Not to mention the freelance work he does for other artists. 

“He’s not a…Jisung, tell them you’re not a SoundCloud rapper,” Minho urges, placing a hand on his shoulder and digging his fingers in. 

“Well…” he starts, cutting off his sentence as he tries to spin this in a way that’s favourable for the both of them.

“Jisung, honey,” Minho’s mom starts, dabbing her lips with a napkin before placing it gently on the table, wincing a little as she continues. “Are you a SoundCloud rapper?”

The whole table is looking at him now, anticipation in the air, almost like no one is breathing as they await his answer. “I do…post on SoundCloud sometimes.”

The table erupts into chaos, Minho’s mom is trying to get her son’s attention to try and reason with him, his dad is shaking his head and muttering something about the dangers of freewill under his breath. Jisung watches Minho’s aunt and uncle lean towards each other so they can whisper gossip back and forth. Seungmin’s got his head thrown back, pointing and laughing at Minho who is staring at the table in shock like he’s witnessing a Renaissance painting come to life. But through it all, there’s Chan.

“That’s awesome, Jisung,” Chan says, leaning towards him so he can hear him better. “I work at an entertainment company, I’d love to pass on some of your work to the producers if you’re interested?”

Jisung can’t believe what he’s hearing, does his best Minho impression as he blinks rapidly a few times, pointing at himself in disbelief. “Me? You want to pass my work onto professionals?” 

“Of course. You’re family now, after all,” Chan says, offering up a cheesy wink, and Jisung gets the distinct impression that he might know more than Minho or Jisung want him to. “It’s the least I can do.”

“That’s…I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Chan-ssi,” Jisung gets out, the words tumbling out of him awkwardly.

“Call me hyung. We can work out the details later, yeah?” He nods at Chan, smiling brightly as he looks over at Minho, gripping his thigh and squeezing it in excitement before he realizes what he’s doing and snatches his hand back to settle on his own lap. 

He refocuses on the scene around him, everyone seems to calm down a little bit, although the room feels a bit tense as they all continue to focus on Minho and Jisung.

“Minho, son, let’s be reasonable about this. We let you spend so much time with your commoner friends growing up, must you really choose to spend the rest of your life with one?” his dad asks, taking off his glasses and rubbing a hand over his face like he’s just experienced all the horrors of the world. 

Minho scoffs, grabs Jisung’s hand in his and slams both of them down on the table, hard enough that Jisung has to bite his tongue to not cry out in pain. Minho looks over at him and mouths a silent apology before facing his parents again. “Jisung and I are getting married. It’s final. I don’t care that he’s not wealthy, I don’t care that he is a starving musician.”

“I’m not starv-”

“The only thing I care about is that I love him. That’s all that matters to me.” When Minho looks back at Jisung he’s got stars in his eyes and Jisung allows himself a brief reprieve to map out the constellations he finds there, allows himself to believe the words that Minho’s saying because it sounded so real coming out of his mouth. 

“This is all slightly unorthodox but we will honour the deal we made with you,” his mom sighs before turning her attention to Jisung once again. “You’ll be accompanying us on our family trip to Paris next week, won’t you Jisung?” 

Paris? Next week? Jisung had never even left the country before, travelling to Jeju a few times as a kid but never any further. Now Minho’s family is inviting him to come with them all the way to Europe? He doesn’t understand how his life has shifted so drastically in such a short amount of time, nor how he could possibly accept such an offer.

“Oh, that’s nice of you to invite me but I can’t go to Paris,” he politely declines.

“No? Too busy at your nine to five? Can’t get the time off?” Seungmin asks from across the table, earning a stern glare from Minho, his hand squeezing Jisung’s tightly where they’re still connected on the table.

“Shut up, Seungmin,” he sneers, and Seungmin eats it up, a smirk growing on his face as Minho practically vibrates in his seat with annoyance. “Jisung will join us on the trip.”

Jisung’s head snaps towards Minho so quickly that he practically gives himself whiplash. Minho looks at him with a silent plea on his face and Jisung is a weak, weak man, folding instantly to the round eyes and pouty lips in front of him. 

“Um…okay, yeah I guess I will…if Minho hyung says so.”

Minho’s aunt rattles off an itinerary for their trip, full of places Jisung’s never heard of, sprinkling in enough French that Jisung has no idea what she’s even talking about. He nods politely because he feels like the whole conversation is happening for his benefit, but he’s completely lost by the end of it, knowing that Minho is going to have to tell him everything again later. 

He feels fortunate that Felix had urged him to get his passport last year when they had discussed going on a trip to Australia to visit Felix’s family that had never actually panned out. He still feels a little out of it, in a state of disbelief, as they continue through dinner and he manages to make it to dessert without the conversation falling back onto him and his average existence. 

“That went well, I think,” Minho says to him when he walks him out to Changbin’s car after they say goodbye to the rest of Minho’s family. 

“Are you serious about Paris? I can…I can pay for my plane ticket, or my hotel, anything really. I just have to work something out with Felix for rent and I think I could make it work.” Jisung frowns, thinking about the balance in his bank account and how Minho’s family has likely gone with a hotel that’s well beyond that. 

“I think it will really help with making our story more convincing. You can change your mind at any time if you decide you don’t want to come, but…I would really like you there,” Minho offers a shy smile, ears tinged pink as he says it. “And there’s no need for you to pay for anything, Jisungie. I’ve got it all covered, you just need to look pretty by my side.” 

Jisung swallows, throat gone dry at Minho’s words. He keeps just saying all these things, calling Jisung pretty, saying he loves him, telling him he wants him around. It’s doing insane things to Jisung’s head, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality to the point that Jisung fears he soon won’t be able to distinguish between the two. But despite it all, he’s having fun. Minho is older now, their relationship clearly strained, but he’s still his goofy self, he still knows how to make Jisung laugh with nothing more than a look. He’s still him. After all this time. 

“Okay, hyung. I’ll come,” he murmurs. They’re close, he doesn’t have to talk very loudly for Minho to hear him thankfully because he’s not really sure he trusts his voice to sound normal when Minho’s looking at him with such a sweet smile on his face.

“Jisung-ah, I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you yet. For doing all of this for me. I know you didn’t have to, that you don’t owe me anything after I left you so suddenly, but you’ve pretty much saved my life, you know?” Minho whispers it, doesn’t need to raise his voice any further because somehow they’ve gotten even closer together. Jisung’s breath stills in his lungs as he stares up at Minho.

“Is it true, what your dad said? That they forced you to stop talking to me?” It’s something that’s been in the back of Jisung’s mind since he heard it at dinner. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Minho had promised to stay in touch, only for his number to be disconnected the first time that Jisung had tried to call him after he went to Japan.

“Ah. Yeah, once I turned eighteen they sort of…made me lock in on preparing to take over the family business. They took my phone away and stuff, it was sort of miserable for a while,” Minho laughs under his breath.

“And when you came back to Seoul?” It comes out breathy, all that Jisung can muster as Minho’s cologne clouds the air around him, settles deep in his lungs like it belongs there. 

“I can’t blame my parents for that,” he replies, frowning and pinching his brows together. “I saw that you had all these new friends.”  

Jisung can’t help but laugh despite the seriousness of their conversation. “Hyung, were you stalking me?” 

“Instagram stalking! Not…I wasn’t like, following you around, oh my god. Even I have boundaries, you know.” Minho has the audacity to look offended like he hadn’t admitted to Changbin finding out his IP address and coming to his house only a few days prior. It’s cute though, they way Minho’s cheeks puff up with annoyance as he tries to defend himself. His face has gotten leaner over the years, all sharp angles and feline features, but like this he looks just like he did when he left. Like they’re teenagers again, just the two of them in their own little world. 

“You’re annoying, Han Jisung,” he huffs, fake glaring at him briefly. “Changbin will have my head if I don’t get you into the car in the next five minutes. I’ll send you the flight details later, okay? And remember, you can change your mind, I won’t be offended if you decide you don’t want to go.”

“I want to go, hyung.” With you, is left unspoken.

༻❁༺

Felix is understandably upset about the news of Jisung going to Paris with Minho. 

“That should be me,” he whines, rolling around on Jisung’s bed, narrowly missing elbowing Jisung in the face. “You don’t even know anything about France.”

“What? That’s not true, I love French culture,” Jisung argues. 

Felix sits up to stare at him, eyes narrowing slightly as he considers Jisung’s words. “What do you love about French culture?”

Jisung blinks once, twice, inhales before he says, “croissants.”

“I can’t be around you right now,” Felix mutters, swinging his legs off the bed and shuffling out of Jisung’s room before he even has a chance to respond. Jisung was going to ask Felix if he would help him pack but he figures he might have to fly solo on that.

All is forgotten though when Changbin shows up at their apartment to take Jisung to the airport the next day, Felix practically wrestling him to get out the front door first so he can cling onto Changbin for a few minutes before it’s time to leave.

The ride to the airport is quiet, Changbin hums along to whatever is playing on the radio and Jisung sits picking at the skin of his nails thinking about how he’s possibly going to spend a week with Minho’s family knowing that they’re rich rich. He already knows these people but he finds himself incredibly concerned with making a good impression on them. 

He expects Changbin to drop him off at the departures gate of Incheon Airport, ready to meet Minho and go through check in together, maybe buy some snacks for the flight. And so it’s confusing when he scans a pass and heads through a gate around the back of the airport, coming to a stop outside of a large hangar, right on the tarmac.

“Um? I know we already went through this once but if you’re planning on kidnapping me is there anything I could do to make you reconsider?” Jisung leans forward to say to Changbin over the centre console. 

“See that plane over there?” Changbin sighs, pointing at a large plane that’s sitting out on the runway with a carpet laid out in front of the stairs up to the cabin. It’s fancy, looks like the planes he would always see on TV that the president would emerge from and wave to the cameras. “That’s your plane.”

“The Lee’s are onboard already, come on, I’ll take your suitcase for you.” Changbin gets out of the car, opening the trunk to grab Jisung’s bag and wheel it over to the plane. He keeps watching, thinking Changbin will turn around and tell him this is all a joke but he’s halfway up the stairs now and if he was going to prank him surely he would have done it by now?

Jisung clambers out of the car, following after Changbin and up the stairs into the plane. He’s greeted by a flight attendant who says hello to him by name, a bizarre occurrence given that he’s not even presented his passport to anyone yet. 

The plane is nice, leather seats, pristine interiors, and nobody else in sight except for Minho’s family. 

“Hey baby,” Minho murmurs to him, getting out of his seat to give him a quick hug. Jisung’s confused, yes, but his skin still tingles when Minho presses against him, his mind repeating baby, baby, baby over and over.

“Hyung, is this a private jet?” Jisung whispers, gripping onto the fabric of Minho’s sweater, not letting go as Minho guides them over to their seats. 

“Ah, yeah. It’s just easier this way. Long flight and all, you know?” No, he definitely doesn’t know. It’s one of the many things that Minho has been nonchalant about since he’s come back into Jisung’s life that would send a normal person into a spiral. When he would go “camping” with his family when they were in school, Jisung wonders if he was really sitting here on a private jet on his way to Europe.

His parents are both glued to their phones, looking up at Jisung as he comes in and giving him a polite nod but nothing more. He wants to win them over but the whole SoundCloud rapper thing is proving to be a big hurdle to overcome. 

Chan and Seungmin are far more inviting, chatting with him until it’s finally time for take off, something that Jisung has been dreading. He hasn’t flown many times before but he’s gotten anxious during take off every time that he has, gripping his mom’s hand tightly each time until they’re safely in the air.

“Nervous?” Minho leans over and murmurs into his ear, eliciting a shiver as his breath tickles the skin of Jisung’s neck. 

“I’m not the best when it comes to flying,” Jisung admits, squirming in his seat. Minho hums, nodding at him before reaching over to pluck one of Jisung’s hands from his lap and threading their fingers together. His hand is warm, calming, just what Jisung needs as the plane jerks to life and begins making its way down the runway. 

He can’t help how hard he squeezes Minho’s hand when the plane picks up speed, holding his breath when they finally get up off the ground, Minho giggling gently beside him when he shuts his eyes tightly.

“Cute,” Minho mumbles under his breath and Jisung can’t tell if the swooping feeling in his stomach is because of the bumpy ascent or because of the man beside him. His hand is so soft against Jisung’s that he doesn’t want to let go, even though they’re safely in the air now, and it seems like Minho is content to let their hands stay connected as well, smiling gently at him and shifting into a more comfortable position as he delves into an argument with Seungmin about why cats are superior to dogs.

Jisung falls asleep at some point, hand still joined with Minho’s, waking up when it’s dark outside the window. It’s quiet, save for the mechanical hum of the plane, and the majority of the lights are off, most of the reason that Jisung can see at all is because of Seungmin watching something on his iPad across from him. 

He’d let go of Minho’s hand in his sleep but it’s like his body couldn’t stand to be separated from him entirely. He blinks his eyes a few times only to realize that his head is resting gently on Minho’s shoulder. He takes a sharp inhale, it’s not a new position for them, Jisung used to always fall asleep and use Minho as a pillow on their lunch breaks at school but that was before Minho turned into the hottest man that Jisung had ever laid eyes on. 

It feels different now. Intimate. Even more so because it’s all happening under the guise of them being engaged. He sits up a little too quickly, feeling a bit dizzy as something falls off his shoulders into his lap. He looks down to see Minho’s sweater draped across his legs and his heartbeat instantly kicks up. Minho must have put it on him before he had also fallen asleep. Jisung isn’t sure how to feel. It’s nice, something he would have done back then too, always protecting Jisung any way he could, but that knowledge doesn’t stop Jisung from hugging the fabric to his chest and letting a blush dust over his cheeks. 

“He’s disgustingly in love with you.” Jisung jumps at the sudden noise, looking over at Seungmin who had put his iPad down at some point to stare at Jisung. 

“Oh…uh, really?” Jisung stumbles over his words, gnawing at the inside of his cheek until he tastes the faintest tinge of iron on his tongue. 

“Is that surprising to you?” Seungmin cocks his head to the side, raising a questioning brow. “Why wouldn’t he be in love with you if you two are engaged?”

Shit. Time to do damage control, Jisung thinks. “Oh! N-no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that…Minho hyung doesn’t really show his affection, you know? So-so I just was surprised to hear you say that.”

Jisung can’t tell if Seungmin believes him or not, his face staying perfectly neutral through Jisung’s whole explanation. “I would normally agree, but he’s got some weird soft spot for you specifically. I visited him in Japan once and he had this entire corner of his room blocked off, the whole thing was just gifts that he’d bought specifically for you.”

Something blooms inside him, preening at the knowledge that even though they couldn’t communicate, Minho was still thinking of him. He wonders what happened to all of the things Minho had bought for him, if he’d given them to other people, maybe donated them. 

“But I guess you already know that,” Seungmin continues, narrowing his eyes like he figures he’s onto something. “Since he must have given you all of the gifts when he came back to Seoul.”

“T-that’s right,” Jisung hums in agreement, picking at a loose thread on Minho’s sweater instead of making eye contact with a very intimidating Seungmin in front of him. 

“There was this other time when he didn’t talk to anyone for an entire week because he lost this stupid little squirrel keychain that he used to carry around on his bag. He said it reminded him of you, he was devastated when it finally fell off. I think he spent, like, days trying to retrace his steps,” Seungmin rolls his eyes, smirking a little bit as he recounts the memory.

 Jisung’s burning up now with all of this new information. With the knowledge that Minho hadn’t just gone to Japan and forgotten about him, that maybe their friendship had been precious to him after all. Jisung had spent years resenting Minho, thinking that he had been played, that their bond meant nothing at all. He let Felix in only because he was so persistent that it felt like he might never give up. 

But Hyunjin and Jeongin? It had taken years of them coming around to Felix and Jisung’s apartment before he’d finally accepted them as his friends. Minho had made him jaded, made him assume the worst in people, and it had taken his friends ages to chip away at the wall that he had built around himself. 

It makes it hard to reconcile the way he’s feeling now. Hopeful. That this was all a misunderstanding, that Minho never stopped viewing Jisung as his best friend. He wants to pick up exactly where they left off but so much has changed. Minho had this secret double life that he never told him about, he has people surrounding him that Jisung doesn’t know, people that work for him. His Minho still exists of course, but this Minho? Jisung is still getting to know this Minho.

And if he’s harbouring a crush on this new Minho, well, that’s for him to sort out later. 

He doesn’t realize that his gaze has fallen onto Minho’s sleeping form until he hears Seungmin laugh under his breath, muttering a low lovesick idiots before picking his iPad back up and shoving his headphones back over his ears.

Jisung thinks it might be okay, here in the dark confines of the private jet, for him to indulge himself a little bit. And so, draping Minho’s sweater back over his shoulders, he curls his arm around Minho’s and lets his head fall back onto Minho’s shoulder, pressing his face into him as much as he can until he falls back asleep with the scent of vanilla surrounding him.

Jisung dreams of Minho, of course, how could he not? They’re in Tokyo, hand in hand as Minho shows him around all his favourite places. It’s when they get to Tokyo Tower that Minho pulls him in close, pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss. His eyes are full of love when he pulls back, smiling softly and tucking a piece of hair behind Jisung’s ear.

“Jagiya,” he murmurs, in his sweet, high voice. But then he shakes Jisung’s shoulders and the sky around them starts swirling, pink and green, and why isn’t Minho concerned at all that the buildings around them start curling in on themselves? 

“Jagiya,” he tries again and this time it works. Jisung blinks a few times until Tokyo dissolves around him and he’s back in the airplane, head resting on Minho’s shoulder. “Baby, we’re almost there, they’ll make you put on your seatbelt soon.” 

Jisung realizes the position he’s in as Minho talks, the way he’s curled around him like a dragon hoarding its gold, the way he has drool all over his chin and…oh.

“Oh my god, I drooled all over your shirt!” he panics, trying to dab at the fabric to dry it as much as he can. 

“It’s okay, Jisungie,” Minho giggles at the scene in front of him, grabbing Jisung’s hand to stop him from fussing with the shirt.

“It’s not okay! Is this…oh my god, is this Gucci ?” He leans back to look at the logo printed across Minho’s chest, a small whimper escaping his mouth when he thinks about how expensive it must be and now it’s covered in his spit. 

“It’ll come out in the wash, stop panicking silly,” Minho pokes his cheek. “We’ll be starting our descent soon, take my hand?” 

Jisung sinks down in his seat, refusing to look at Minho and the giant wet spot on his shirt as he grabs his hand and plays with his fingers idly. Minho coos at him, tucks his hair behind his ear just like he had in the dream, but he doesn’t lean over to kiss him like dream Minho had. A shame, really.

“I hate couples,” Seungmin sighs from his seat, looking at the display in front of him with his lip curled up in disgust. Jisung wants to laugh at him, at how blind he must be to think that they’re together, that they’re in love. Isn’t it obvious that Minho’s just playing it all up because they’re putting on a performance right now? 

“Nobody’s allowed to hate my Jisungie,” Minho bites back, tugging at Jisung’s hand until he’s practically on top of him. Jisung recovers quickly, scrambling back to his own seat with a whiny hyung , ducking his head down to save a little shred of dignity and not have anyone see his reddened cheeks. 

Seungmin and Minho bicker after that but Jisung’s tuned it out, focused on something much more important. 

My Jisungie. 

༻❁༺

Paris is everything that the movies make it out to be. It’s beautiful, romantic, a new museum to discover on every street corner. Jisung is completely enamored with everything, eyes wide as he stares out the window of the car that Minho’s family had ordered for them. 

He’s getting fingerprints on the glass, knows he’s not being very demure, not living up to the high class lifestyle that he’s been thrust into but he’s in Europe and everything is so pretty and he really doesn’t care right now. 

Minho points things out to him as they drive, landmarks, and some of his favourite restaurants. He leans over into his space every time, placing a hand on Jisung’s thigh and he points out the window, the weight of his hand heavy and warm through the fabric of Jisung’s pants. He can’t help the way his leg bounces up and down under Minho’s touch, breath hitching when Minho’s hand trails down to press gently on his knee until he stops moving.

Minho’s attention is pulled away by Chan in the front seat, leaning forward to talk to him, hand remaining on Jisung’s thigh and playing with the seam of his pants idly. It feels domestic and despite the air conditioning blasting in the car, Jisung feels like he’s completely burning up, eyes focused on Minho’s hand now that’s somehow more important than the historical landmarks outside. 

They pull up outside the hotel at some point during Jisung’s hyperfixation on each individual tendon in Minho’s hand. It’s predictably fancy, all marble and gold and staff doting on them as they check in. Someone takes Jisung’s suitcase from him and wheels it off, to put it in the room for us, Minho tells him when he looks confused, never having been to a hotel nice enough to have his luggage carted around for him. 

Minho gets the key to their room, guiding him to the elevator with a hand on his back. They’re on the top floor, promised a view of the Eiffel Tower, and Jisung is so excited that he doesn’t even notice the glaring issue when he bounds into the room to look out the window. It’s not until he turns around to see Minho setting his backpack down on the bed that he notices.

The bed. Just one bed.

“Hyung…there’s only one bed?” Jisung’s voice raises an octave as he looks at the bed, a queen maybe but it looks tiny. He thinks about Minho pressed against him, an arm snaked around his waist, breath on the back of his neck. He shivers at the thought, willing himself to dissolve the images forming in his head so he doesn’t embarrass himself.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, this was supposed to be just my room and there weren’t any more rooms available. It’ll be fine though, won’t it? We used to share a bed all the time,” Minho reasons. He’s not wrong of course, but that was when they were just kids, best friends having a sleepover. 

Now Minho is twenty-six and he has muscles and he’s hot and Jisung is very, very gay. This is not even remotely close to sleeping in his Pokemon pajamas in Jisung’s childhood bedroom. This is the two of them alone together in the city of love with Minho’s engagement ring heavy on Jisung’s finger. 

“Yeah, it’ll be okay,” he says instead of flopping down on the bed and screaming into a pillow like he really wants to. 

By the time they have to go back downstairs and meet Minho’s family for dinner he’s almost convinced himself that it will actually be okay. Minho’s touchy as they make their way through the busy streets towards the restaurant, claiming that the hand permanently stuck to his waist is just to make sure that Jisung doesn’t get pickpocketed. 

The restaurant is…probably the nicest place Jisung has ever been inside of. Minho’s mom mentions something about a Michelin Star and some magazine that the restaurant had been featured in but Jisung’s only half listening because Minho’s hand is still pressed against him despite the threat of pickpockets being completely gone. 

He finally relents when they sit down, a small mercy because their chairs are so close together that he rests his arm over the back of Jisung’s chair instead. Seungmin’s been complaining about their lovey-dovey display as he had called it, but all that seems to do is make Minho turn it up a notch. Jisung isn’t sure he can handle any more notches past this one.

“Min,” he whispers when he opens the menu, frowning as he leans close to him so no one else can hear. “I…it’s all in french, I don’t know what anything is.” 

“Don’t worry, jagiya,” Minho hums, tickling Jisung under his chin and Jisung is very normal about that. “Hyung knows what you like, I’ll order for you.”

Chan, who is the closest to them as they whisper back and forth, laughs at Jisung’s rosy cheeks when Minho pulls away from him. “You two are really still in the honeymoon phase, huh? Minho never shuts up about you, Jisung. I’m happy we get to all hang out over the next few days before the wedding.” 

Minho groans from beside him as Jisung ducks his head to hide the smile that’s appeared from Chan’s words. “He never shuts up about me, hmm?” 

He lolls his head to the side, batting his eyes at Minho, laughing at the way his mouth twists into a grimace. It lasts only a moment before he gets a mischievous glint in his eye, the hand wrapped around the back of Jisung’s chair creeping over his shoulder to grip lightly around the side of his neck. 

Jisung’s breath hitches, the sensitive skin of his neck instantly flushing red under Minho’s fingers. It’s his weak spot, there’s no way for Minho to know that of course, but he crumples under the pressure just the same. He slumps forward, leans a little towards Minho and does everything in his power to suppress the whine that’s threatening to bubble up out of his throat. Minho raises an eyebrow at his reaction, pressing tentatively harder into Jisung’s skin like he’s trying to test out what will happen.

“Jisung and Minho are engaging in foreplay at the dinner table,” Seungmin states from across the table, pointing at them like a little kid tattling on their sibling. 

Jisung expects Minho to remove his fingers when everyone’s attention turns to them but he simply loosens his hold, letting his fingers trail up and down the column of Jisung’s neck lightly. He shifts in his seat, trying his best to think of something else because he absolutely refuses to pop a boner at a Michelin Star restaurant in front of Minho’s entire family.

“Minho please have some decorum,” his mom sighs, giving him a pointed look over her menu. He sighs in response, mercifully removing his hand and returning it to its perch on the back of Jisung’s chair. He feels like perhaps he might owe Seungmin his life, or his dignity at least, for he’s not quite sure exactly what lengths Minho would have been willing to go to to fluster him. 

“Jisung started it,” Minho says from beside him, completely monotone. Jisung looks over at him but he’s looking at the table with his polite cat smile, refusing to acknowledge Jisung’s accusatory glare. 

“Well then my comment goes for both of you.” Jisung bows his head to Minho’s mom, completely embarrassed now and Minho is being absolutely no help, seeming to enjoy the way that Jisung’s cheek flush a dark red. 

He spends the rest of their dinner sulking, letting Minho order for him like he had promised and enjoying every single thing because of course Minho still knows exactly what he likes. And when they finally are freed from the confines of the restaurant and make their way back to the hotel, Minho snakes his arm around Jisung’s waist again like nothing has happened. 

With a quick goodbye to the rest of his family they make their way up to the hotel room and suddenly there’s nothing left standing between Jisung and the one singular bed in the room. That he’ll be sharing. With Minho. He gets ready for bed first, willing himself to somehow fall asleep in the ten minutes that Minho spends in the bathroom but of course he wouldn’t be so lucky.

He really wishes however, that he wouldn’t have opened his eyes when Minho steps out of the bathroom in nothing but his boxers. The whimper that he managed to hold in at dinner escapes him now and it’s so silent in the room that the sound ripples throughout it, hanging in the air between them.

“See something you like, Jisungie?” Minho laughs, smirking when Jisung brings the comforter up to hide the bottom half of his face. 

“No,” he grumbles, the sound muffled by the blanket. He’s able to bite back the next sound that threatens to come out of his mouth when Minho sinks down onto the bed beside him, turned away from him and wrapped up in the blankets as though that’s going to save him somehow.

“You can ogle me if you want jagi, I don’t mind,” Minho hums, shuffling closer to him on the bed until he’s pressed against Jisung’s back, wrapping a hand across his waist over the covers. 

“Shut up. And back up you freak,” Jisung whines, trying his best to wiggle away from Minho but he’s already practically hanging off the side of the bed as it is. 

“Be careful how much you’re moving around,” Minho whispers in his ear and his body immediately goes rigid, his hips stilling. Is he…is he implying- Jisung doesn’t even want to think about it, not when he’s about two seconds away from getting hard with absolutely nowhere to run to. 

“Goodnight,” he squeaks out, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore Minho’s weight against him. 

“Night, jagiya.” The words tickle the back of his neck, an involuntary shiver wracking through his body, Minho taking it as a sign to press a little closer. It’s silent after that, nothing but the sound of their breathing to focus on and Jisung thinks that Minho’s just biding his time until he can fuck with him again but his breath eventually evens out as he falls asleep behind him.

Jisung doesn’t fall asleep for a long time after that, too pent up to even think about drifting off. He gets there eventually, sometime past two in the morning, groggy when Minho shakes him awake in the morning. He’s got clothes on this time, a small victory considering the events of last night. 

“Come on, we’re going shopping,” Minho says, grabbing his hand and hauling him up until the blankets fall around his waist. He grumbles in protest as the cold air of the room hits him, shivering and trying to lift the blanket back up but Minho doesn’t let him. “I already let you sleep in, Jisungie, time to get up.”

He whines as he shuffles out of bed to the bathroom, hair a complete mess and drool crusted on the side of his mouth. Great. He knows Minho’s seen him like this a hundred times but he feels embarrassed now, wiping his mouth and fussing with his hair until it lays flat again. 

They meet up with Chan and Seungmin to head to the shops, every store they enter having price tags that make Jisung’s head spin. Minho pulls out his credit card like it’s no big deal, dropping more on a single pair of shoes at one point than Jisung’s entire wardrobe is worth.

He’s feeling overwhelmed by it all, by this new duality of the person he’d alway known, the one who wore the same Adidas jacket every day for three years, the one who would count change to see if he had enough to buy Jisung an ice cream. This new Minho holds a black card and doesn’t look at the price of anything before he buys it. It’s…hard to reconcile. 

“There’s a shop across the street that sells little homemade gifts,” Seungmin leans down to tell him after he’d been staring at the price tag of a leather jacket for the better part of five minutes. “I’ll tell Minho you’re over there.” 

He feels grateful that Seungmin’s recognized how overwhelmed he is by all of this, thanking him before ducking out the entrance and heading over to the gift shop. It’s instantly so much more relaxing, calming music playing and dim lights, he feels at home in the shop. His eyes roam over the various random items in the store until he focuses on a display with little felt animal keychains, zeroing in on one in particular.

A little squirrel keychain. He thinks back to what Seungmin had said to him on the plane, about the keychain Minho had bought that reminded him of Jisung and how upset he had been when he lost it. It’s an easy purchase, the shopkeeper wrapping it up in paper for him before he tucks it into his bag and goes to rejoin Minho. 

“Find anything?” Minho asks when he returns to his side, wrapping a casual arm around Jisung’s shoulders. He’s gotten so liberal with his casual touching, always seeming to have at least one hand on him at all times, and yet Jisung reacts the same way every time with flushed cheeks and a shy smile. 

He knows of course that Minho is playing it all up for his family, that he has no feelings for him. He’s never had feelings, not like Jisung had. Back then Jisung was just some kid to him, and now…he’s a resource, maybe it’s nice that they’re rekindling their friendship but that’s all it will ever be to him, won’t it? He gets in his own head as they make their way back to the hotel after a long day of shopping, feet hurting and exhaustion taking over. Was he stupid to play along with this game of Minho’s? It had seemed so promising, getting to have Minho back in his life, but he didn’t anticipate all of his feelings resurfacing like this. 

“You okay? You were quiet on the way back,” Minho asks him when they get back to the hotel room, dropping all his bags on the floor and going to sit on the bed. Jisung joins him hesitantly, sitting on the corner of the bed, hand closing over the gift that’s wrapped up in his pocket.

“I got you a gift,” he says cautiously, shuffling a little closer so he can hold it out to Minho. 

His eyes go wide as he looks at Jisung’s outstretched hand, starry and cute and it’s bad for Jisung’s mental health to keep looking at him when he looks like this so he casts his gaze downward to his own lap instead. He can hear the paper rustling as Minho unwraps it, the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment. What if he doesn’t like it? What if he thinks it’s stupid?

“You got this for me?” Minho whispers instead. Jisung’s eyes snap up to see Minho’s cheeks are flushed as he holds the squirrel keychain in his hand. 

“Seungmin said you had one like this but you lost it. I thought, well, it’s probably not as nice-”

“It’s perfect,” Minho cuts him off, his face getting more flushed the longer that Jisung looks at him. He sets the keychain on the bedside table before scooting closer to Jisung to wrap him in a tight hug. Jisung inhales sharply at the sudden contact, the way that Minho’s strong arms wrap around him, how comfortable and easy it feels.

“Thank you, jagiya,” he murmurs as he pulls back to look into Jisung’s eyes again. There’s something there, something Jisung can’t name, can’t place, but it has his heart beating practically out of his chest as they continue staring at each other. 

Minho acts first, tucking Jisung’s hair behind his ear, knuckles trailing across his cheek. Jisung’s skin tingles where Minho touches him, his breath shallow and shaky as he continues to run fingers across Jisung’s face. “You’re so beautiful, Jisung-ah.” 

“Hyung,” he whispers. Minho’s so close that he can see his own reflection in his eyes, can see the hand that rests idly on his cheek now. “Don’t say things like that.” 

“Why not?” Minho presses, fingers trailing down to brush against the sensitive skin of his neck. Jisung chokes out a breath, tilting his head slightly to give Minho more room. “I’m just stating a fact, jagi. You’re so pretty I can’t believe sometimes that you’re the same kid that used to sniff glue in art class.” 

Jisung’s laugh is airy, the most he can manage with Minho this close to him. He feels like he’s floating, Minho’s cologne making him dizzy and it would be so easy to just lean forward a little, to close the distance between them, to let himself take for just a moment. His ring is heavy on his finger, a reminder that none of this is real. He blinks a few times, trying to clear the fuzziness in his mind before pulling back a little bit.

“Hyung, can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Minho hums.

“Why didn’t you reach out when you came back to Seoul?” It comes out shaky, nervousness taking over as Minho’s hand drops from his neck back into his own lap. He frowns, brows pinches together, and suddenly Jisung isn’t sure he really wants to hear the answer at all. He’d started to ask the same question after dinner at his house before but had chickened out on pressing Minho, quick to turn the conversation into a joke at the time. There’s no room for laughter now though.

“Ah,” Minho inhales sharply, taking a pause before continuing. “I saw your Instagram and you had…all these people surrounding you. In all your photos you were so happy and doing all these things and I thought, wow, Jisungie really grew up well. He really doesn’t need me anymore. I thought it would be awkward to reach out, that you might resent me anyways and I didn’t want to do anything to mess up the life you had created for yourself.”

Jisung blinks at him, “you’re so stupid, hyung. You thought I wouldn’t want to see you?”

“I…yeah, I thought you wouldn’t be able to ever forgive me for going to Japan. But it was so hard being back, knowing that you were in the same city as me. The whole wedding thing, I could have paid someone to do it honestly, but it felt like my last chance to get you back in my life.”

“I would have forgiven you if you just told me what happened, you know,” Jisung sighs, giving Minho a gentle smile. 

“I’m sorry, Jisungie. For leaving like I did and not coming to find you when I got back. And for dragging you into this whole wedding mess.”

“You didn’t force me to do anything, it was my choice. I was being selfish when I said yes, I wanted you back in my life too,” Jisung admits, and both of them are blushing so bad now that they must look ridiculous. 

Minho looks up at him, eyes glassy but he’s smiling now when he reaches forward to hook his pinky finger with Jisung’s. It’s just like that day on the bench all those years ago, where it all began. Jisung feels the same butterflies now as he had back then, his feelings for Minho remaining unchanged. 

“I thought about you every single day. What you were doing, if you were dating anyone. I missed knowing everything about you.”

Jisung scoffs at that, rolling his eyes at the mention of his dating life. “You didn’t have to concern yourself with that, I haven’t been very lucky in the romance department.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Minho starts and Jisung’s about to glare at him, maybe punch him, but he continues. “No one’s good enough for my Jisungie.” 

“Hyung, shut up,” he whines, bringing his hand up to cover his face. Minho’s causing irreparable damage to his fragile heart with all these compliments and his gentle affection. Doesn’t he realize how much he’s ruining Jisung for anyone else, how badly Jisung wishes that any of this was real?

“You don’t want to hear me tell you about how perfect you are?” Minho murmurs and when Jisung removes his hands from his face he’s shocked to see that Minho has moved close to him again. His breath hitches as Minho detaches their pinkies to bring a hand up to cup his jaw. “What if I show you instead?” 

The fingers on his chin tighten, tiling his head up a little so that Jisung has no choice but to look into Minho’s eyes, wide and full of an emotion that Jisung doesn’t want to name because if he’s wrong about what Minho’s asking he fears he might never recover. He tries to swallow but his mouth has gone dry, every nerve ending in his body alight with Minho’s touch.

“Please,” he breathes out and that’s all it takes for Minho to surge forward and close the distance between them. The moment their lips press together everything else disappears. All the doubt, the anger he’d felt towards Minho, the sadness, it doesn’t matter now when it’s just the two of them here together. 

Minho’s lips are soft against his, plush upper lip slotting perfectly against his bottom one. It’s already the best kiss he’s ever had, nothing else even coming close to comparing. He can’t help the moan that crawls up his throat when Minho’s tongue swipes against his lip, granting him access that Minho takes with urgency. 

Minho’s shirt is soft under his fingers when he reaches forward to grip the fabric, needing something to hold onto to ground himself before he falls completely into Minho’s orbit. Though it wouldn’t be so bad, would it? To let Minho take complete control, to be at his mercy. 

Jisung has been pent up since they got here, on the brink of getting hard for the past twenty four hours and so he really doesn’t have it in himself to feel embarrassed when he feels himself sporting a half chub from nothing more than a little kissing. It’s Minho after all, it really can’t be helped. 

“Come here, Jisung-ah,” Minho breathes into his mouth, trailing hands down his side before coming to rest on his hips, pressing into the skin there to try and get Jisung to shuffle closer to him. They’re already practically pressed together as is, the only way for them to get closer would be for Jisung to crawl into Minho’s lap and oh, he’s not sure if he can handle that. Minho’s insistent though and so he crawls forward, whining at the friction of his pants brushing against his hardening cock, swinging his legs over Minho’s thighs and sinking down.

“There you are, pretty,” Minho hums before reconnecting their lips. The room is cold but Jisung feels entirely too hot right now, like he might burn up from the inside if he doesn’t get out of his clothes. But they’re just kissing, and Minho is-

Grinding on him. 

Oh. 

He’s just as hard as Jisung is. The knowledge that Minho is equally as affected by this as Jisung spurs him on and he disconnects their lips, breath heaving, to rip his hoodie off. Minho gives an appreciative hum when he realizes what’s happening, letting his fingers slip under the hem of Jisung’s shirt to trail along the skin just above the waistband of his pants. Jisung’s panting into Minho’s mouth now, nipping at the soft skin of his lip and relishing in the sound that he’s rewarded with.

“Jisung,” Minho pants, disconnecting their lips to trail kisses down his jaw, tilting his head up with a gentle push to the bottom of his chin so that he can press kisses into his neck. Jisung whines, craning his neck now to allow Minho better access, moaning when Minho latches onto a particular sensitive spot to suck a bruise into the skin there. 

He wants to tell Minho not to leave marks, that his family will definitely judge them, but something stirs inside him at the idea of everyone knowing who he belongs to. He suddenly yearns for Minho to leave marks all over his body, leave no doubts in anyone’s mind that they’re together.

Though, they aren’t together, are they?

Jisung whimpers, closing his eyes shut to will away the doubt that’s trying to creep into his mind and simply focus on the way that Minho’s teeth feel as they scrape across his skin before pulling away. When he comes up for air he looks positively fucked out, eyes blown wide and chest heaving despite doing nothing physically demanding. 

“Wanna see your tattoos,” he manages to punch out, tugging at the hem of Jisung’s shirt. All Jisung can do is nod in response and lift his arms up to help Minho pull the shirt up and over his head. His hands are immediately on Jisung’s chest, eyes trained on the ink there. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as he thumbs over Jisung’s collarbone, swallowing audibly when Jisung flexes his muscle. 

“You’re so hot, holy shit,” Minho babbles, shifting his focus to the tattoo along his ribs. He groans when he realizes that the lettering dips down past the waistband of Jisung’s jeans, nail dragging over the exposed band of his boxers. “Let me see the rest of this one?”

It’s Jisung’s turn to suck a breath in, because holy shit Lee Minho just asked him to take his fucking pants off for him and Jisung is such a good boy, he’ll do whatever Minho asks him to. He unbuttons his pants, pushing them down as far as he can with the position he’s in in Minho’s lap. The growl that leaves Minho’s lips when he pushes his boxers down is downright predatory, awakening something primal in Jisung as he rocks his hips down into Minho’s hard cock. 

“Fuck baby,” Minho groans, throwing his head back and squeezing the exposed skin at Jisung’s waist. “Don’t do that, it makes me want to fuck you.”

Heat pools in Jisung’s belly at Minho’s words and god he wants . So much. He grinds his hips down once more, relishing in the way Minho hisses at the friction. “Y-you can, hyung. You can fuck me. I have condoms and lube.”

Minho pulls back to raise a questioning brow at him, a smirk washing over his face. “Just what exactly did you think was going to happen on this trip, hmm?” he teases, flicking a thumb over one of Jisung’s nipples and giggling when he cries out at the feeling. 

“Ah,” he whines into the touch, “Felix made me pack them.” 

“I’ll be sure to give Thing Two my thanks the next time I see him,” Minho comments, leaning forward to flick his tongue over the nipple next, and Jisung is so weak to his touch, arching his back to press closer to him. He thinks he could come just from this, from Minho’s teeth dragging over the bud, friction just enough where his cock is pressed against Minho’s pants that it’s leaking through his boxers now.

Minho pulls off and gives his ass one little slap, looking up at Jisung in shock when a small moan escapes his mouth at the sensation. “I’ll remember that for later. Up, jagiya. Go get your lube, pervert.”

He wishes so much that Minho’s teasing didn’t make his cock visibly twitch, but Minho’s looking down, sees it clear as day and the little incredulous laugh he lets out is enough to make Jisung red with shame that only serves to make him impossibly harder. His pants are hanging low on his hips now with the zipper undone and it’s easy to just let them fall to the floor as he rummages around in his suitcase, hearing Minho mutter some unknown expletive under his breath.

“You’re wearing entirely too much clothing,” Jisung complains as he makes his way back to the bed. Minho looks down at himself, grinning at the fact that he’s fully clothed while Jisung stands in nothing except his boxers.

“Come help me rectify that, then,” he challenges and Jisung doesn’t need to be told twice, hopping back onto the bed and heading straight for the button of Minho’s pants. He’s seen his chest already, the shirt can wait, he wants to see all of Minho, practically drooling already when Minho lifts his hips up to help Jisung pull his pants and boxers down in one go.

He lets out a choked sob at the sight in front of him, Minho’s dick red and leaking as it slaps against his stomach. “Hyung, you’re so big.” Jisung needs to taste. Needs to feel the weight of it on his tongue, the tip of it at the back of his throat. 

He trails a single finger up the length of Minho’s cock, watching the way the veins in his neck strain when he moans at the feeling. Jisung crawls forward to hover directly over him, breath hot as he practically pants with anticipation.

“Wanna taste,” he hums, looking up at Minho with round, pleading eyes. “Can I, hyung?”

“Jesus, fuck,” Minho replies, carding a hand through Jisung’s hair. “Yeah, Jisung, you can fucking taste, holy shit.” 

It’s all the confirmation that he needs, wrapping a hand around the base and licking a stripe up the underside of Minho’s cock, a guttural moan forcing its way out of Minho’s mouth as his fingers tighten in Jisung’s hair. He’s obsessed already, spit pooling behind his teeth as he takes the head between his lips, humming at the feeling of it in his mouth. 

He wants to be good for Minho, wants to show him how much he can take and so he sinks down until he feels the press of Minho’s tip at the back of his throat, breathing through his nose and trying to open his throat up so he doesn’t choke on it. He blinks up at Minho when he takes in as much as he can, practically begging for any bit of praise that he’s willing to give him.

Minho understands his silent plea, hands leaving his hair to trail over his stuffed cheek, pressing down until he can feel the indent of his own cock there. “You’re doing so good, baby. Taking me so well.” 

Jisung preens at the compliment, motivated to sink a little bit further, to bob his head a little bit faster. He’s good yes, but he can be the best. He can ruin this for anyone else that ever gets to see Minho like this, he can make sure that Minho never even wants anyone other than Jisung. 

“Shit,” Minho hisses, hand back in his hair as he tugs Jisung up, up, up, until he’s popping off him with a loud smack. Jisung whines in confusion but Minho’s already maneuvering them so that he’s out from between his legs and onto his back. “Gonna come if you keep that up.”

“Can’t come twice, hyungie?” Jisung teases, grinning up at him when Minho gives him a pointed look. 

“Behave,” he warns, gripping Jisung’s jaw in his hand briefly before letting him go in favour of tugging his shirt up and over his head. The small show of authority has no business being so hot but Jisung’s so horny right now and Minho’s so hot and he has visions of being man-handled into various positions, whatever Minho wants, and he really needs him to hurry up and fuck him, like, immediately before he combusts. 

“On your tummy,” Minho instructs when he’s rid himself of the rest of his clothes. “Gonna prep you, okay?” 

It’s music to Jisung’s ears, scrambling to slide his boxers down and kicking them off the bed before flipping over and presenting himself for his hyung. He bites his tongue to stop himself from begging, because he’s good, Minho said so, and waits patiently while Minho pours lube over his fingers.

“Ready, jagiya?” He presses a gentle kiss into Jisung’s shoulder as his clean hand grips the skin of Jisung’s ass, pulling gently at the skin to open him up. He must look so indecent right now, spread apart like this, hole twitching with anticipation as he feels the gentle press of Minho’s finger against his rim.

“Please,” he chokes on the word, crying out when Minho’s finger slips inside, the stretch so heavenly that he can’t help but whine and press himself back into the feeling. 

“Patience, baby. I don’t want to hurt you,” Minho chastises him and his hips still immediately because he needs to hear Minho praise him again, needs to be told that he’s perfect and taking his fingers so well and-

All his thoughts turn into white noise when Minho’s finger brushes against his prostate, his hips bucking forward without his consent as Minho continues to tease the little bundle of nerves.

“Another one, hyung, I can take it.” He barely gets the words out, stuttering over every syllable but Minho knows him so well, knows exactly what he needs, slipping a second finger in and laughing under his breath when Jisung cries out at the feeling. 

He feels so full, overwhelmed by Minho’s words as he whispers praises into the skin of his back, gentle kisses following every good, jagi, and baby that comes out of his mouth. It’s so fucking hot in the room now, sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he sinks his teeth into the skin of his forearm to stop himself from babbling nonsense, already slipping into a euphoric headspace from nothing more than a few of Minho’s fingers.

“Ready hyung,” he manages when Minho’s worked three fingers inside him, relentless with his abuse of Jisung’s prostate. He doesn’t want to come like this, not when he’s got the promise of Minho’s cock waiting for him, and so he shuffles his knees forward until Minho’s fingers slip out of him, hole twitching uselessly around nothing. 

“Shit, okay, okay baby, give me a minute to put the condom on,” Minho’s words are rushed as he uses his teeth to rip open the package and roll the rubber over himself. He pours a generous amount of lube over his cock, both of them well aware at how big he is, before he’s moving back towards Jisung.

“Not like this,” Jisung protests, using all his energy to flop over onto his back. “Wanna see you.”

Jisung’s not prepared to see Minho like this, eyes hazy with lust, fond smile on his face when he reaches up to cup Jisung’s face in his hand. He can pretend for a moment when they’re like this, panting, sweaty, inextricably connected, that this all means something. When Minho looks at him like he carries the entire world in his eyes, he can imagine a life in which they’re together for real, where this isn’t a lust induced hook up. 

“So beautiful, you’re so beautiful Han Jisung.” His voice is soft, much too soft in fact for what they’re about to do. It makes Jisung’s heart ache, makes him want to feel Minho take him slow and gently, but that’s not what’s on the bill for tonight. He whines, arches his back until his chest presses flush against Minho’s, urgency laced in his every move. 

And Minho always takes care of him, always knows what he needs, knocking Jisung’s knees open with his thighs as he settles between his legs, brushing his tip against Jisung’s rim. The stretch when he finally pushes inside is euphoric. It’s a tight fit, but he knew it would be, every inch of him filled with Minho, Minho, Minho.  

They both still when he settles fully inside, locking glassy eyes and moaning in tandem at the stretch. Minho’s panting and he hasn’t even done anything yet, and Jisung’s grip on the sheets underneath him is so strong that if they were at a normal hotel with normal thread count sheets he fears he would have ripped a hole in them by now. 

“You can move, hyung.” The words practically tumble out of him, fast and high pitched because he punches them out in one single breath, taking a giant gulp of air when Minho pulls back only to press back in slowly. He appreciates the hesitation, the careful way that Minho moves his hips in an effort to make sure he’s comfortable but he doesn’t want comfortable, he wants-

“Faster.” The word barely leaves his lips before Minho slams into him, a loud cry being forced out of his mouth as Minho sets a brutal pace. He drops down onto an elbow so he can take Jisung’s lips between his, nipping gently at the skin and it’s all a bit too much, every single part of him existing only for Minho in this moment. The kiss turns into something that’s more panting into each other’s mouths than anything and Jisung has to close his eyes because the look on Minho’s face when he pulls back is one that will be ingrained in his mind for the rest of his life.

“So perfect,” Minho groans, pressing his forehead against Jisung’s, the proximity causing Jisung’s mind to go blank. “You’re taking me so well.” 

He likes to think himself an evolved man, but the simple praises that Minho offers to him are making him go dumb with want and all he can do is beg for more, babbling please and hyung under his breath as Minho’s movements get faster. 

He blames the fact that he’s been in close proximity to Minho with no relief over the past two days when he feels himself on the brink of orgasm already. He whines high in the back of his throat, gripping Minho’s arms and pressing his nails into the skin hard enough to leave small crescent shaped imprints there. He selfishly hopes that they’ll stick, that Minho will wear a short sleeve shirt tomorrow so that everyone can see what Jisung’s done to him. The idea causes a wave of pleasure to ripple through him at the same time that Minho thrusts right into his prostate.

“Shit,” he hisses, throwing his head back in ecstasy. “I’m gonna come, Min.” 

“I’m close too,” Minho hums from above him, “come for me, baby.”

The command is all Jisung’s body needs, tipping over the edge and spilling all over his stomach. His vision goes white for a minute, the force of his orgasm making his ears ring as Minho continues his brutal pace into overstimulation. He can’t tell if he wants to squirm away from the feeling or push himself closer but he doesn’t have time to decide before Minho stills inside him, crying out as he empties into the condom, his brows pinched together as both of them ride out the final bit of their highs with slow, languid thrusts. 

Minho collapses on top of him with one final groan, the sweat of their bodies causing their skin to stick together. He feels like he’s overheating now with the weight of Minho pressed against him, wiggling in complaint until Minho pulls out of him and flops down beside him on the bed. 

“Holy shit,” he says as his head hits the pillow. “Holy shit.” 

“Good holy shit?” Jisung asks, a little self conscious as he watches Minho’s chest heave up and down, his gaze not on Jisung but on the ceiling like he can’t believe that just happened.

“Great holy shit,” he confirms, lolling his head to finally look at him, hand moving around on the sheets until he knocks into Jisung’s, finding his pinky and hooking them together. “The best holy shit.” 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, both of them catching their breath and coming down from what was the most intense high of Jisung’s entire life. He whines when Minho eventually gets up, sinking back down into the pillow only once Minho shushes him and tells him that he’s just grabbing a towel to clean them both up. He’s gentle with his caresses when he returns, the towel warm enough that it feels nice against his tingling skin. 

Minho pulls the blanket over them when he’s done, wrapping an arm around Jisung’s waist and pulling him close. He doesn’t resist tonight, letting Minho position them how he wants, sleep overtaking him almost instantly after Minho presses a gentle kiss to the back of his neck.

“Night baby.” He hears right before sleep consumes him, a smile on his face as he slips under, completely sated. 

When he wakes up, Minho’s gone. 

The room is completely still around him, like Minho’s been gone for a while. His phone says it’s just past eight in the morning, sun peeking through the window and casting the entire room in bright oranges and yellows. It would have been perfect, waking up to Minho like this. To see the way the light danced over his skin, the way his lashes fluttered against his cheeks. He would have looked so beautiful like that.

But he’s not here. 

Jisung can’t help the pang of rejection that sits in his chest, the doubt that creeps in and makes its home there. He thinks back to their night together, how perfect everything had felt. Had Jisung just imagined that? Was it terrible? By the time the lock buzzes open on the door an hour later, Jisung’s worked himself into an anxiety ridden spiral. 

“Hey,” Minho says when he enters the room, looking at Jisung who’s sitting on the bed with his knees hugged tightly into his chest. Jisung wants to scream at him, to yell where have you been? But he’s not someone to Minho that has the right to be angry at him for leaving him here alone in their hotel room. He’s wearing workout clothes, hair matted to the back of his neck and Jisung can put two and two together when he ducks into the bathroom to have a shower but he’s still not happy about it, about waking up alone after bearing his entire soul to Minho the night before.

He yearns for some sort of validation, for Minho to tell him that last night was good, that he doesn’t regret it.

But it never comes.

Minho spends the day glued to Seungmin’s side, casting only small glances at Jisung, talking to him only when he has to. He feels like he’s on the verge of tears, trailing after Minho all day like a lost puppy, begging for him to just look at him. 

They’re standing outside of a museum, Minho at the front of the line and Jisung hanging back, trying to give Minho the space that he’s so obviously trying to create between them. He should be excited today, this is a museum that he had really wanted to visit, but all he can focus on is Minho’s pouty lips as Seungmin tries to talk to him.

“Trouble in paradise?” Jisung jumps at the sudden voice beside him, tearing his gaze away from Minho to look at Chan. 

Jisung doesn’t really know how to respond, opening and closing his mouth as he searches for something to say that won’t incriminate either of them. He doesn’t have to flounder for long though before Chan continues.

“Look, I know the engagement is fake but anyone can see how much Minho loves you.”

Jisung whips his head up to stare at him, eyes wide as he realizes what Chan is saying. “Fake? I…don’t know what you’re talking about?” It’s a weak attempt at a protest, sounding non-committal even to his own ears and his heart rate picks up as his eyes slide back over to Minho, not knowing how to save their little charade. 

“It’s okay, Min told me everything,” Chan assures him, seeing how his eyes have gone wide in shock. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but he does love you. He’s just…bad at showing it.”

“N-nothing happened,” he mumbles, casting his gaze to the floor and chewing on his lip. 

“Well, whatever is going on, I’m sure he’ll get over it soon. He wouldn’t give you up that easily,” Chan assures him, clapping a hand over Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung hears the words but he’s not so sure he believes them. It seems like he’s already given up, like he’s willing to continue this ruse as perfect strangers from this point on. 

He barely looks at the artwork on the walls as he walks around the museum, too stuck on Minho and the impossibly vast space between them. Is this how it’s going to be? Is he going to walk down the aisle at his own wedding with no resolution? He wants so desperately for Minho to just tell him what’s wrong, to tell him what he had done because surely it’s his fault. 

The distance seems to only grow throughout the day, Jisung spending the majority of his time with Chan who has taken pity on him in the wake of Minho’s freeze out. It’s nice, Chan’s nice, but he isn’t Minho. He finds himself missing the gentle touches to his waist, the feeling of Minho’s hands entangled with him, the way he throws out a casual jagi or baby when he wants his attention.

To have everything that he’s been wanting, only to have it ripped away from him…it feels like he’s mourning a relationship that he was never even in. 

Back at the hotel there’s no more buffer however. No Seungmin, no Chan, no artwork for Jisung to stare at until his eyes go out of focus. It’s just them and all the unsaid words lingering in the air. Minho’s quiet as he gets ready for bed, moving around the room like a ghost as Jisung just stands by the door staring dumbly at him.

“Sung-ah?” Minho calls out to him when he comes back from the bathroom to see Jisung standing in the exact same spot that he’d been since they got back. He cocks his head to the side, pinching his brows in confusion at Jisung’s frozen state.

“What did I do wrong?” he murmurs, so quietly that he’s not actually sure Minho can even hear him. He’s backed into the corner like this, a scared animal waiting for Minho to devour him, maybe rip him apart and leave nothing but the bones. He thinks he might welcome it, if it was Minho’s teeth sinking into his skin. 

“Oh honey,” Minho replies, stepping towards Jisung and placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder. “You did nothing wrong.” 

“B-but,” he chokes, surprised to feel the beginning of tears welling in the corner of his eyes. He blinks them away quickly, not wanting to look like a petulant child who’s throwing a temper tantrum for not getting attention. “All day you didn’t speak to me.”

“Oh, no Jisungie, it’s not because you did anything wrong. I’m sorry…I just have been in my own head,” he explains, squeezing Jisung’s shoulder before dropping his hand. It’s nice to get confirmation but everything still feels…off. Awkward. He had thought last night had changed things for the better, but they’ve taken three steps back now, closer to strangers than best friends like this.

“Let’s sleep, yeah? We’ve got to be at the airport early tomorrow morning.” And just like that, Minho cuts the conversation off, closing the door for any further questions that Jisung might have. And he has so many questions. So much he wants to say to him, but he curls up next to him silently in the bed instead. 

“Hyung?” he whispers when Minho turns off the lights and settles down beside him. Minho hums in response and Jisung takes a deep breath before continuing, preparing himself to be rejected. “Will you hold me while we sleep?”

Minho inhales sharply, letting silence settle between them for so long that Jisung fears he might just not respond at all. He jumps when he feels Minho’s arm snake around him, pulling him in close enough that he can feel Minho’s breath on the back of his neck.

“Yeah Jisungie, hyung will hold you,” he murmurs into the skin of the back of his neck, and Jisung can close his eyes when they’re like this and pretend like nothing is wrong, like this is normal. And so he does, shuffles back until he’s flush against Minho and drifts off to sleep with thoughts of Minho’s lips pressed against his. 

༻❁༺

It’s October first. There’s three days left until their wedding and Minho hasn’t spoken to him since they got back from Paris, filtering any requests or appointments through Changbin instead. He’s not even sending his silly cat videos anymore, doesn’t respond when Jisung tries to reach out and send him some of his own. He reads all the messages, almost immediately too, but he never responds. 

“I think I really fucked up,” Jisung sighs, head resting in Felix’s lap on their couch. He’s brushing his hand through Jisung’s hair, listening to him complain about Minho and everything that had happened in Paris.

“If I had known a little bottle of lube would cause this much drama I wouldn’t have even bothered trying to get your practically celibate ass laid,” Felix comments, poking Jisung’s cheek until he moves his head to the side in an attempt to bite the end of it. Felix pulls back, flicking him lightly on the forehead before settling his hand back into his hair. 

“I hate you,” Jisung grumbles.

“You love me, but continue.”

“It’s not the lube, we would have done whatever we could if we didn’t have it. I…I thought maybe he wanted me even half as much as I wanted him. I feel like such an idiot,” Jisung frowns, thinking back to how cold Minho had been to him after he gave him everything. 

“Oh Sungie, don’t think like that. Maybe this was all for the best? You finally got closure on everything with him, right? Why he never contacted you when he left and all that. That has to be worth something at least.”

Felix is right. He’s grateful that he finally knows after so long. That Minho didn’t just abandon him, that he didn’t secretly hate him the entire time that they were friends. It’s been a small comfort throughout everything, that he at least has their old memories to look back on fondly. He can almost forget that this new era ever happened, can simply preserve the happiness of being fifteen years old, eating ice cream and basking in the sweet summer heat together. 

Felix continues to dote on him, turning on his favourite documentary and wrapping him up in a fluffy blanket until he feels himself starting to drift off with the comfort of it all.

Until his phone buzzes beside him. 

He sits up so quickly that he makes himself dizzy when he sees Minho’s name on the screen. Finally a modicum of interaction coming from his end. He doesn’t even care what the text message says at this point, he’s just happy that Minho’s acknowledging his existence. 

We need to talk. Can you meet me at our bench?

“Oh shit,” he hisses, turning the phone so Felix can read the message too, both of them looking at each other with confusion.

“You gonna go? What do you think he wants?”

“I think I have to,” Jisung sighs, reading Minho’s message over and over. He types out his response, telling him he’ll be there soon. 

His apartment isn’t too far from the park, but it’s far enough that his mind has conjured up every horrible scenario on the planet by the time he finally gets there. Minho’s sitting at the end of the bench, eyes downcast until he hears the sound of leaves crunching under Jisung’s feet, signalling his arrival. 

He sits down cautiously on the other side of the bench, leaving a wide berth between them as though that’s going to provide him some sort of protection from whatever Minho’s going to say. 

“Hi hyung,” he says when Minho doesn’t make any move to begin talking. “What’s going on?”

He looks at Jisung finally and his eyes are a little red, like he hasn’t been sleeping. Jisung had been terrified to come here but now he’s just concerned for Minho. Is he sick? Has something happened? He wants to reach forward and entwine their hands but he settles for shuffling just a little closer instead.

“I’m calling off the wedding.”

Of all the things Jisung was expecting him to say, that was not one of them. He can’t help the way his jaw drops open as he blinks at Minho. He can’t. The whole point of all of this was to save himself from an arranged marriage…how could he possibly call it off.

“Hyung… what?” Jisung sputters out, thinking that maybe he’s just heard him wrong.

“I can’t marry you, Jisung,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

So that’s it then. He’d promised him in Paris that this cold war between them wasn’t his fault but clearly that was all a lie. Had he really been that disgusted by him? Had the sex been that bad? So horrible that he can’t even stand to go through with a fake marriage. So unforgivable that he would rather subject himself to a lifetime with some boring chaebol heiress than a year with Jisung before their agreed upon divorce. 

“Do you hate me that much?” he bites out, eyes stinging as he feels the sick twist of rejection in his gut. He thought he’d been wrong about Minho, that he wasn’t cruel, that he was exactly who he had always been, loving and his best fucking friend. 

He can’t believe he’d been so stupid. 

“Hate you? I don’t hate you, what the fuck? I’ve been thinking about this since Paris and I just can’t go through with it. I can’t, in good conscience, put my best friend through that,” Minho continues. 

Jisung leans away from him like he’s been burned, malice in his eyes when he looks at Minho with a shake of his head. “We’re not best friends.”

“Right, you said that once already,” Minho mumbles and he has the audacity to look sad. Jisung’s fuming, vision going red with the anger that’s bubbling in his veins. 

“So this is goodbye then?” Jisung confirms, crossing his arms over his chest and biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from lashing out any further.

“Goodbye? Why would this be goodbye?” 

Jisung can’t tell if he’s being ignorant on purpose, even mocking him maybe. Maybe that’s who Minho really is now, someone who takes pleasure in fucking around with people like this. He’s practically vibrating now, barely able to get his next words out.

“I’m so disgusting to you that you can’t even fake marry me. I’m sorry but I can’t be around you knowing that that’s how you feel,” Jisung scoffs, wondering how Minho could possibly be so obtuse. 

“Fuck,” Minho grits out, teeth clenched as he looks to the sky to try and compose himself. “I’ve said this completely wrong. I really should have led with this. Han Jisung I cannot possibly fake marry you when I have incredibly real feelings for you.” 

He-what? He has feelings? For him? Jisung’s mind short circuits at the idea of Minho feeling the same way as him. Surely he’s misunderstanding what he’s saying, right? He doesn’t mean romantic feelings. He can’t mean that.

“I know this might fuck up our friendship. I…I won’t hold it against you if you don’t want to see me again, but I hope that you can look past my feelings. I really don’t want to lose you again,” Minho continues, rambling when Jisung makes no move to say anything in response to his first statement. 

“You…have feelings for me?” he parrots, the words sounding foreign as they come out of his mouth. “Like-”

“Like romantic feelings,” Minho cuts him off, confirming what he was about to ask before he could even get there, always so in tune to Jisung’s thoughts and feelings. “I don’t know, I think…I think maybe I’ve always been at least a little in love with you. I was just too stupid to see my feelings for what they were until now.”

“Hyung…hyung what?” Jisung can’t process what he’s hearing now. Always? Even back then? When they were teenagers, when Minho was Jisung’s entire world. When he thought that there was no way someone as cool and pretty as his hyung could ever feel the same way about him.

“God, I’m making this worse, aren’t I? I know you don’t feel the same way, that’s why I was so…distant after that night in Paris. I felt so guilty that I’d taken advantage of you like that when you didn’t know how much that night meant to me. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, Sungie,” Minho says, looking at him with pleading eyes like he’s begging for Jisung to forgive him, to not leave him.

He’s so stupid. 

“How could you not know?” Jisung huffs, a bitter laugh on his tongue as he smiles to himself. “Hyung, you were, like, my gay awakening. I had the biggest crush on you back then. I still have the biggest crush on you.” 

“You…” Minho trails off and it’s Jisung’s turn to finish his sentence now.

“I’m saying that I like you too, Lee Minho,” he confirms. He’d been so close to getting up and leaving just a moment ago, so close to not getting to hear the sweet words come out of Minho’s mouth, to not being able to see the lovely flush that creeps up his chest all the way to the tips of his ears. He’s so fond. So obsessed with him. He can’t believe that someone like Minho could even think of liking someone like him.

“Can I kiss you, Jisungie?” Minho asks, hesitating slightly like he’s still unsure.

“Yeah, hyung. You can kiss me,” Jisung chuckles, scooting closer on the bench so he can wrap his arms around Minho’s neck. It can barely even be considered a kiss when their lips brush, both of them smiling so big that their teeth knock together gently. 

Minho noses his cheek when they pull apart, all of it so domestic that Jisung feels like his heart is about to explode. He pulls back to look at Minho properly, brushing his hair out of his eyes so he can see him properly. The look in his eyes almost takes his breath away, so full of love and adoration and happiness that Jisung can’t believe he didn’t see it before. 

“So, is the wedding still off?” he jokes, smirking when Minho groans and leans forward to press his forehead into Jisung’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I think it would be even more fucked up to go through with it now. Shame it’s so close to the date though, I wasn’t able to get any refunds for the stuff we booked,” Minho grumbles into his shoulder and Jisung can’t help but roll his eyes. Surely he’s not really lamenting about money when he has more than he could ever possibly use. 

“We could still have a party?” Jisung offers, thinking about how fun it would be to get everyone together, for Minho to finally meet Hyunjin and Jeongin. “It would be a shame for all that stuff to go to waste.” 

“Sure baby,” Minho hums, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “We can do whatever you want.” 

He pulls Minho back towards him, slotting their lips together again, absolutely delighted with the fact that he can do this whenever he wants now. 

Or-wait, can he do this whenever he wants?

“Hyung, wait,” he mumbles into Minho’s mouth when the older tries to deepen the kiss, pushing lightly against his chest until he finally backs up with a protesting whine. “We’re dating right?” 

“Yeah, jagiya, we’re definitely dating. You’re officially stuck with me,” Minho teases, wasting no time as he pulls Jisung’s lips back onto his. 

“No place I’d rather be,” he replies between kisses, not believing that any of this is real. That Minho is officially his. He feels whole again, finally, after so many years of feeling like a part of him was missing he’s finally found it. 

They’re back where they started except everything’s different now. Better. Perfect. 

༻❁༺

“I can’t believe you bagged a sugar daddy by doing literally nothing.” Jeongin raises his glass to him like he’s impressed with his work, not caring when Jisung doesn’t return the action, taking a sip of his drink anyways.

“He’s not my sugar daddy, he’s my boyfriend,” Jisung sighs, rolling his eyes when Jeongin shrugs, wrapping a hand around Hyunjin and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Jisung used to find his friends' public displays of affection to be over the top but now that he has his own clingy boyfriend he feels like he can finally understand them for not being able to keep their hands to themselves for more than five seconds.

“Right, and Felix isn’t going to fuck the driver by the end of the night,” Hyunjin giggles, looking over to where Felix is currently sitting practically in Changbin’s lap. Jisung has to respect his persistence at this point, and it seems like whatever he’s been doing is finally working as Changbin wraps an arm around his waist to bring him closer.

Jisung’s gaze slides from the indecent display to where Minho’s parents are standing, chatting with Minho’s aunt. He excuses himself from Hyunjin and Jeongin, knowing that he’d wanted to talk to them both tonight since he hadn’t seen them since Paris.

They seem a bit shocked to see him walking up to them without Minho by his side, but nod their heads in greeting to him nonetheless. “Um, hi Mr. and Mrs. Lee.”

“Han Jisung, lovely to see you here at our home on the night of your wedding,” Minho’s mom smiles at him. It’s got sarcasm in it, but something else too, a bit of humour that gives Jisung hope that maybe they don’t hate him for what he and Minho had tried to pull.

“I wanted to apologize for…the whole fake marriage thing,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“No need, Minho told us all about how the whole thing was his idea. I hear you two are dating now?” his mom asks. 

“We are, yeah,” he can’t help the smile that blossoms onto his face at the mention of Minho. “I sort of have you to thank for that, in a roundabout way? I don’t think Minho hyung would have ever reconnected with me if not for the ultimatum you gave him.”

His boyfriend’s ears must have been ringing, because he comes up beside Jisung in that moment to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him in close to his side. “You two aren’t being too hard on my Jisungie, are you?”

“Of course not, son,” his mom laughs, “he was just thanking us actually for trying to marry you off to the Kim’s daughter.” 

Minho looks at him with a raised brow and a smirk on his lips. “Was he now?” 

“Wait, n-no,” Jisung scrambles to clarify. “I was just saying that it gave you a reason to talk to me.” 

Minho places a sweet kiss to the crown of his head, giggling under his breath at how flustered Jisung is as he tries to explain himself. “I guess you’re right. Thanks eomma, appa. If you’ll excuse us, I want to show Jisung the garden.” 

Jisung bows to his parents as Minho tugs him away, letting their hands tangle together as Minho leads him out of the main room towards the back of the house. It’s quiet out here, just the two of them in their own little bubble. 

“You know, jagiya,” Minho hums, turning to face Jisung and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “Technically you have me to thank as well. It was my proposal for us to get married if you were single by twenty five that led to this idea in the first place.” 

“Hmm, you’re right hyung. What do you want me to give you as a reward?” Jisung asks, stepping closer so that he can wrap his hands around Minho’s waist. 

“I want you to marry me for real some day,” Minho whispers to him, eyes holding every star, every constellation in the known universe.

“Okay, hyung. I’ll marry you,” Jisung affirms, grinning up at him with the most loving smile he can muster.

“Promise?” Minho drops the hand that was on Jisung’s cheek, putting it between them with his pinky extended.

Locking his pinky with Minho’s comes naturally, just like the next words that leave his mouth. 

“Yeah, hyung. I promise.”