Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jisung needs to get laid, plain and simple.

It should be that simple. Right? It should be easy. 

College is crawling with desperate, horny young adults, and Jisung is a handsome guy. He’s a little short, a little scrawny, but otherwise he’s a catch, isn’t he? He can sing, rap, play the guitar, and has a fantastic sense of humor. He’s been told he’s nice and charming―by more people than just his mom, thank you very much.

Still, up until now in his second year of college, no one has ever seemed to have any semblance of interest in him unless they’re drunk at a party or he has last minute homework answers to offer in return for their brief, glorious attention and validation. Maybe he isn’t as handsome as he thinks, or maybe his awkward demeanor and poor social skills are more than just a little off-putting.

In high school, Jisung kept to himself. He did his work, got good grades, had a total of two people he actually considered friends. He was like that for a long time, fairly reclusive, afraid to step out of his bubble of comfort to meet new people and try new things. Because of this, Jisung feels like he’s missed out on a lot of things that most people his age have experienced. 

He never had a girlfriend or boyfriend in highschool; he was too shy to ask anyone out, too afraid of rejection. No one approached him. He never went out to parties to smoke and drink. Luckily, he’s long since crossed that off the list since it isn’t a hard feat to accomplish in college when he has older, more extroverted friends who drag him to such gatherings and cheer him on as he gets wasted.

Most notably (and most detrimentally, in Jisung’s humble opinion), he’s never even had a significant other. He’s hardly had a proper, sober kiss. And he certainly has never slept with anyone.

Sure, deep down he knows there’s plenty more to life than that, and he shouldn’t feel rushed to lose his virginity or find someone to dedicate his time and his heart to, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting that close connection so much.

Nearly twenty, Jisung already feels like he’s going through his midlife crisis, struggling with the crushing reality of adulthood, finishing up his core classes and constantly doubting himself regarding his major and career path, still adjusting to college a whole year in and struggling with meeting new people. The list goes on, and to top it all off, he is pathetically lonely and craves someone’s undivided attention and affection like a drug. 

Plus, Jisung is a guy, and as such, he is a horny bastard. His right hand can only do so much.

"You can’t expect to meet someone if you don’t leave your bed, dude," his friend Chan tells him, exasperated. 

Chan is a wonderful, supportive friend who endures the brunt of Jisung’s incessant ranting about his lack of a love life. So really, Jisung can’t blame him for being fed up, even if it stings. He supposes Chan knows what he’s talking about anyway; he’s gotten around a fair amount in the years he’s attended the same school and is currently in a happy relationship. But Jisung and Chan are very different—where Chan is charismatic and personable, Jisung is nervous and withdrawn.

"And you can’t expect me to meet people as easily as you do," Jisung voices his concerns with a grumble. "It’s not easy for me like it is for you." He pouts and sips the americano he’d been nursing during their length of their stay at the on-campus cafe. He had come with Chan and Changbin to grab a snack with the intent of the trio working on homework, but to no one’s surprise, the visit had devolved into their notebooks sitting out untouched while they converse.

"I know." Chan places a sympathetic hand over Jisung’s. "You’ve just gotta start small! Introduce yourself to someone cute and see where it goes."

"Or follow in my footsteps and get wasted at a trashy party," Changbin pipes up from beside Chan. He’s referring, of course, to the night he put enough alcohol in his system to miraculously charm his now-boyfriend, Hyunjin. Jisung takes a moment to lament the twenty dollars he consequently lost that night in a bet with Chan.

Jisung groans, his head in his hands. As much as he’d like to be on Chan and Changbin’s level socially, he’s never been the type of person who can just put himself out there without the buffer of alcohol or his friends glued to his hip where he can leech off of their extroverted energy. They know this about him, but Jisung thinks they’ve never fully understood just how hard it is. There isn’t some magical switch he can flip to make his brain stop thinking that inconsequential social situations are the end of the world. 

Besides, the last time he tried the "get wasted at a party and hook up with a stranger" method, he ended up puking on the poor drunken soul who took an interest in him. He’s all set on that front, thanks.

"Why don’t you try that dating app again?" Changbin suggests, poking at his cheesecake. Jisung eyes it longingly, wishing he hadn’t wolfed his own down so quickly. "That’s probably the most surefire way to meet someone when you’re this… y’know, introverted." 

"I’ve tried them," Jisung whines. "It never goes anywhere. People are either super boring or they lose interest really fast. It just makes me feel worse in the end."

"What about a blind date?" Chan wonders aloud. "Maybe Changbin and I could find someone."

"Oh, absolutely not." Jisung shudders. "That’s terrifying. I can’t put my fate in your hands like that."

"Well, what’s your solution?" Changbin asks, crossing his arms over the table in irritation. "‘Cause you always shoot down every suggestion we give you and just keep complaining that you can’t get any. We’re your friends and we want to help you out if we can, but… I mean, you kinda make it hard."

"Sorry," Jisung mumbles guiltily. Changbin has a point. In retrospect, Jisung would be frustrated too if he had a friend who constantly complained about the same thing while dodging any and all attempts he made to help them solve it. Still, none of the solutions his friends always try to present him with give him any hope. "God, you’re right. Maybe I should just give up and leave it alone. Shut up and accept my fate."

"Aw, c’mon, Jisung." Chan pats him in a comforting gesture. "We all know that’s not happening." The three burst into light laughter at the sad truth in his statement.

"Anyway, I’m not telling you to give up," Changbin says. "I’m just saying you’ve at least got to put in effort if you’re going to keep bitching about it."

"Maybe all he needs is a little… push." Chan has a mischievous glint in his eyes which Jisung decidedly does not like at all. His gaze flits somewhere past their table behind Jisung suspiciously before he unlocks his phone, taps a few times, picks up his pen, and scribbles something in his notebook, then rips out the corner of the page he’d written it on.

"Chan, what—" Before Jisung can ask, Chan is pushing his chair back and standing up, paper in hand. Jisung can only turn and watch in confusion and vague distress as Chan makes his way to a table where another student is sitting alone. 

His confusion quickly turns to horror as he both recognizes the other student and realizes what Chan is doing all at once. "Oh my fucking God, he didn’t. Tell me he isn’t."

Changbin stifles a laugh. "I think he did, man."

After Chan hands the paper with (presumably) Jisung’s number scrawled on it to the poor guy just trying to drink his coffee in peace, he points back to the table as he explains. The other boy, who Jisung knows to be both outrageously attractive and way out of his league, glances over at their table through round glasses, an eyebrow raised. Jisung whirls back around and barely resists the urge to pull his hood up and slam his head down on the table. Changbin has a peculiar expression on his face when Jisung turns to look at him, but he’s too mortified and busy plotting Chan’s demise to question it at the moment.

After Jisung has run about a hundred different worst case scenarios through his head, Chan returns and takes his seat across from Jisung with a self-satisfied grin.

"Chan, what the fuck did you do?" Jisung hisses, leaning over the table.

"I gave him your number and told him you think he’s cute." 

Chan says it like it’s nothing. Jisung wants to be buried alive.

"He’s in my fucking chemistry class!" Jisung pulls his beanie over his eyes in a dramatic show of embarrassment. "And now I’m gonna have to face him while he thinks I’m some pathetic middle school loser who gets my friends to ask people out for me. Chan, why…"

"Hey, you guys have something in common already!" Chan, ever the opportunist, beams. "Some chemistry, even."

Jisung groans, both from the joke and the situation he’s in. "I hate this. I hate you."

"Don’t worry about it, man," Chan supplies unhelpfully. "He seems nice."

"You talked to him for ten seconds," Jisung shoots back. "He could trace my number and send a hitman to take me out for all you know."

"For thinking he’s cute?"

"I didn’t even say that!"

"But you were thinking it." Chan winks at him all too knowingly. 

So maybe Jisung had stolen a few glances at his classmate since his arrival at the cafe—apparently too many at that, if it was enough for Chan to notice. 

So maybe him staring at the insanely cute boy with pretty lips and eyes that he always wished would look his way has become a regular occurrence since the start of the semester, and he’s been dying for a chance to get his attention. He’s maybe even fantasized once or a dozen times about getting him in bed, sliding his hands up one of those cute oversized sweaters he always wears, his hands barely peeking out of his sleeves enough to grab at the sheets, glasses askew as he begs for Jisung to—well.

Anyway. 

What’s important is that it doesn’t automatically extend an invitation for Chan to meddle in his nonexistent love life. Not like this.

If he somehow had the slightest bit of the chance to get to know his classmate, it’s gone now. He’s humiliated enough that he’s already mentally planning out what days he can skip the class and where he should sit to ensure he doesn’t have a chance to make eye contact when he absolutely has to attend.

Jisung sighs heavily. "Thank you, Chan, for making a fool out of me, as always."

Chan simply shrugs. It isn’t his social life on the line, after all. "It’s worth a shot. You never know."

"Right." Jisung rolls his eyes then fixes his gaze on Changbin, who has been uncharacteristically silent since Chan’s return. Jisung kicks him lightly under the table. "Why are you so quiet? Tell him that was dumb!"

"Oh, um…" He twirls the straw around in his cup. "I dunno. I actually kind of know him; he could be interested."

Jisung perks up despite himself. "What makes you say that?"

"He’s weird, but like a good weird… I guess? You’re weird, in a less good way. But like, same brand of weird, kinda." Changbin shrugs. "It could be a good match." Jisung feels like he’s purposely leaving something out. 

"Yeah? How do you know him?" Chan asks.

"We, uh, hooked up before," Changbin says shyly, "a few times. His name’s Minho."

"He hooked up with you?" Jisung gapes, incredulous. He feels an irrational pang of jealousy and hides it with a laugh. "Damn, maybe I have a chance after all." Changbin kicks his shin in retaliation. Chan giggles in amusement.

"At least I could talk to him," Changbin bites back. "You won’t get anywhere being a coward."

"Watch me." Jisung puffs up his chest indignantly, full of bravado and the resolve to prove his friend wrong. He can talk to pretty boys. Of course he can. Jisung is a pretty boy. How hard can it be, from one pretty boy to another?

"Watch you what? Stare at him from afar?" Changbin continues to provoke, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. 

"Give me until the end of the semester," Jisung decides. It gives him about three months, which he can only hope to be enough to charm his classmate into bed. For all he knows, he may never see Minho again after they no longer have a class in common anyway, so really, it was all the time he had in the first place.

"To what, exactly?" Changbin asks. "Get a kiss on the cheek?"

"To get fucked." Jisung rolls his eyes. Then, "I-I mean, to fuck him. To fuck. Some way or another." 

He’ll get some action and a kiss on the cheek. Changbin will see.

"Probably the former, if anything," Changbin mumbles. Jisung chooses to ignore this. "How much do you wanna bet?"

"Twenty."

"He doesn’t seem very sure of himself," Chan notes with a shit-eating grin. Jisung shoots him a glare.

"Fifty!"

"Keep it down," Changbin hisses. "Whatever. Deal. I look forward to taking your money, as usual."

"You’ll eat those words, Seo Changbin." 

It is an unfortunate fact of life that Han Jisung is prone to losing money to his friends in bets and should have long since abandoned the habit, but his pride makes it near impossible to back down. When he really thinks about it, though, what does he have to lose (besides his dignity and fifty dollars, which Changbin will probably let him weasel out of paying if he utilizes his puppy dog eyes well enough)? 

He knows he was never going to have the guts to approach Minho without any incentive, so maybe Chan is right after all. Maybe this is just the push he needed. Despite his fear, his stomach turns with excitement at the thought that he’ll finally be able to force himself to make a move, after weeks of pathetically praying by some miracle Minho would approach him first. 

It’s not that Jisung is hopelessly in love or even has a crush on him, per se, since he has never spoken to the guy and only heard him talk in class a few times—but he can’t deny the pull he feels that just barely threatens to go beyond physical attraction. 

He’s really going to do this. He can do this.

The man of the hour interrupts his thoughts when he passes their table on his way out of the cafe. To Jisung’s surprise, he glances his way, maybe sizing up the loser who allegedly said he was cute.

Jisung throws a wink at him on impulse, unusually bold with his new goal fresh in his mind and his friends who he really wants to prove wrong—Changbin especially—at his side. He swears that the corner of Minho’s mouth quirks up before he faces away to push the door and exit.

"You see that? I’ve got this in the bag," Jisung insists.

Changbin hums in response, unconvinced, finally deciding to lean over his notebook and start on his homework before Jisung can go off on another tangent. Chan mirrors him, leaving Jisung alone with his thoughts for the rest of their stay, homework untouched.

○ ○ ○

Jisung
it’s been 2 days
he hasn’t texted

Chan
maybe he’s waiting to talk to you in person?

Jisung
FUCJK
i sure HOPE not

Changbin
have you ever actually had a conversation with him

Jisung
no
it’s for the best
idk what i’d talk about
chemical equations??? tf

Chan
ask him about his hobbies?

Jisung
stop making sense

Changbin
come up with something
u can’t make any progress without talking to him
talk to him at ur next class

Jisung
okokok
i will
i WILL have his number by the end of the week!!

Chan
YEET

Changbin
...or will you

Jisung
(ง'̀-'́)ง

Despite his big talk, Jisung debates with himself every moment he’s awake over the weekend on whether or not he should skip the class he shares with Minho on Monday. If he doesn’t go, he might look like even more of a coward and pass up a chance to make progress. If he does attend, maybe he can muster up the courage to…do what, exactly? Wink at him again? That’s not going to get him anywhere. He needs a game plan first.

His body ultimately makes the decision for him. He really does not want to get out of bed. Jisung decides instead of humiliating himself today, he’ll spend the next two days planning what to say and then approach Minho after Wednesday’s class, where he hopefully somehow won’t screw it up.

He tries to go back to sleep instead to have a reprieve from the constant string of worries related to both the Minho situation and missing something important in class running through his mind. He eventually gives up on sleep, huffing as he grabs his phone to find some odd video or another on YouTube. Part of him hopes to see a text from Minho when he checks his notifications, but just like the two days before, it’s dry save for chatter in the group chat from Chan and Changbin.

"Great plan, Chan," he mutters dryly to himself, scrolling through the recommended videos on his homepage and settling on a new upload from an animal rescue channel he’s subscribed to. He spirals down the abyss of YouTube autoplay as per usual and ends up watching several of their videos in a row.

He’s about 4 minutes into the newest video and near tears for the fourth or fifth time, this time as a result of footage depicting an injured lion cub being cared for, when a notification slides in at the top of his screen with a ding. He nearly swipes it away to focus on the video, assuming it to be his friends, but his heart and finger both stop when he sees the string of numbers indicating the message is from someone not in his contacts. 

Attachment: 3 images, the message description reads. His stomach flops around nervously as he wastes no time in opening it. Eyebrows furrow in confusion at the three pictures of pages in someone’s notebook—notes from the class he skipped, he quickly realizes when he taps on one and zooms in. The handwriting is a little messy and the margins are spotted with little doodles. He runs his hand down his face. 

Did Minho send these? How did he even know Jisung is in the same class? 

Jisung usually spends a fair share of his time in that class sneaking peeks at Minho, but he was almost sure he was invisible to the other until the stunt Chan pulled the other day. Is this somehow Minho’s way of rejecting him? By refusing to acknowledge Chan’s words? Then again, it’s awfully nice of him to make sure Jisung has the notes; he certainly doesn’t know anyone in that class that he could ask.

Jisung’s thumbs hover over his phone’s keyboard uselessly as he contemplates how to respond. Should he thank him and leave it at that? Ask who it is for good measure? Apologize for Chan’s dumbassery and try to explain himself?

Should he just… go for it, make a move? Chan’s already dug the grave (admittedly with his assistance); Jisung might as well lie in it. 

Even though it was just for notes, Minho did actually text him and even help him out rather than avoid all contact, so there’s a good chance that he’s not completely disgusted with the idea that Jisung finds him attractive… right?

Jisung worries his lip relentlessly and before he knows it, ten minutes have passed since he received Minho’s text. He finally exits the conversation, deciding to consult the council before he does anything stupid. He nearly stops himself, embarrassed to seek advice after seeming so confident a few days before, but he really needs the reassurance. Just this once, then he’ll deal with Minho alone.

Jisung
guys
help!!!

Changbin
oh boy

Jisung
he texted me
but it’s just the notes from class since i skipped today
no caption or anything

Chan
hey, it’s something!

Changbin
you skipped? lmao coward
at least he didn’t throw ur # away tho right

Jisung
shut up!!
i guess??!
what do i say!! (>д<)

Changbin
oh, thank you so much~ please, please let me repay you with sexual favors~~

Jisung
i don’t like you
chan?

Chan
hmm
I dunno I like changbin’s idea

Changbin
see you never know
he might take you up on it

Jisung
if i sent notes to someone just trying to be a good classmate
and they propositioned me for sex
well i’d accept
but i’m desperate, while he’s hot and probably has standards
...well...

Changbin
DON’T

Chan
lololol XD

Changbin
look
he knows you’re interested and he texted you
did you a favor even

Chan
plus he hooked up with binnie
he’s obviously into whiny bottoms
so you should be good ji! :)

Jisung
HEY????
WHAT IF I’M NOT

Changbin
WHO SAID I WAS A BOTTOM?
was it hyunjin?
he’s lying

Chan
but you don’t deny being whiny

Changbin
just because you heard us that ONE time

Jisung
ewww ew omg stop
i hate it here
back to minho plz

Chan
ok anyway
what have you got to lose? go for it!!
fake it til you make it mate

Changbin
if nothing else you can get in some practice flirting
plus i can vouch for him being a horny bastard
he’ll be chill just do it

Jisung
we get it, you had sex with the man of my dreams
rub it in some more

Changbin
i’m just trying to help
nvm i just remembered i bet money on this
give up

Jisung
yeah right!!
ugh thanks guys
here goes nothing

Chan
rooting for you bud!

Changbin
whose side are you on

Chan
the side of love

Changbin
he hasn’t even spoken to the guy

Chan
:P

Jisung takes a deep breath and taps back to his conversation with Minho. Maybe they’re right and he’s overthinking this for no reason. He sets his jaw in determination and begins to type. He’ll find out soon enough.

Fake it ‘til you make it, Chan’s text rings in his mind. Jisung is no stranger to bravado in its various forms. If he has to summon some parallel universe version of himself who is overflowing with confidence and experience, so be it. 

Unknown Number has been renamed to Minho.

Jisung
hey
minho right?

Minho
yep

Jisung
i’m jisung
thanks for the notes!!
any way i can repay you? ;)

Minho
they’re just notes
don’t worry about it

Jisung
haha yeah
kidding lol

Minho
oh?
i was just about to ask what you had in mind

Jisung
oh haha um
whatever you want babe~

Minho
anything?
send nudes :3

Jisung
wait fr?

Minho
no haha don’t actually i’ll block you
anyway i guess it’s a good time to mention we’re partners for that group project
she just emailed the details

Jisung
oh okay

Minho
so when are you free to meet up

Jisung
you move fast ;)

Minho
to start on the project

Jisung
right haha
whenever

Minho
now? i’ve got a few hours to kill
unless you had an actual reason for skipping

Jisung
yeah no i didn’t
i’m free

Minho
cool
i’m back at the cafe. no rush tho

Why did he say he’s free? Why did he say he’s free. He’s not ready.

His first instinct is to tap back to the group chat and freak out to Chan and Changbin before he remembers the pledge he made to himself to handle this on his own. He can do this. There aren’t that many days left in the semester, and time flies. It’s good to get this out of the way as soon as possible, but that doesn’t make him any less nervous about the notion of officially meeting Minho.

Jisung spends a little more time finishing up the videos he wanted to watch so he doesn’t seem too desperate to meet up, eventually getting out of bed with a stretch and a sigh to freshen up and get dressed. He skips his usual late breakfast, opting to pick something up at the cafe when his stomach is hopefully settled and less knotted from anxiety. 

"You’ve got this," he mumbles to his reflection, smoothing his hair back and slipping a cap on. He isn’t satisfied, so he tries swiveling it to rest on his head backwards. His face is more visible and his blonde hair peeks out above the hat’s strap (cutely, if you ask him) this way. He winks at his reflection a couple of times and throws in some finger guns, mustering up some confidence, grabs his backpack, and heads for the cafe.

Despite his attempt to arrive inconspicuously, the gentle tingling of the bell on the door catches Minho’s attention. He glances up from his book, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as if to see Jisung clearer, then waves him over with a hand drowning in a peach-colored sleeve. Butterflies erupt in Jisung’s stomach at the sight—how is he so goddamn cute?

"‘Sup," Jisung greets when he reaches the table, feigning calm. 

Be cool. Minho seems like the type who would be into tough, cool guys—or bad boys, to contrast his own gentle demeanor. Maybe that’s why he was apparently into Changbin at one point; maybe they stopped hooking up because he realized Changbin is a big, soft baby underneath his supposedly dark exterior.

Shit. Should Jisung have gone the bad boy route? Maybe he should’ve worn his leather jacket instead of his usual hoodie and skinny jeans combo, or maybe dyed his hair dark again. Man, he probably just looks like a douchebag. Maybe Minho is into douchebags. 

Jisung glances at the baby blue and white cat-patterned pencil pouch on the table. Nah, probably not.

"Hi," Minho smiles while Jisung plops his bag on the table. "How’s playing hooky treating you?"

Minho is gorgeous enough from afar, but up close? He puts every pretty boy Jisung has ever seen to shame, including himself. His eyelashes are long and dark, and the doe eyes behind the round frames practically sparkle as he looks up at Jisung. He has a cute mole on his nose that Jisung had never been close enough to see before, and God, his lips… 

Oh. He asked him a question.

"Better now," he manages without stuttering, even throwing in a wink. Minho chooses not to acknowledge it, which is fine. It’s cool. Before he can get embarrassed and blush at his own expense, he continues, jabbing a thumb towards the counter. "I’m gonna grab something before we start. You want anything?"

"You’re buying?" Minho flutters his eyelashes. Jisung nods quickly, a lump in his throat. "Iced americano, if you don’t mind."

"Ah, a man of taste."

He returns shortly with two iced americanos for the pair and a slice of chocolate cheesecake for himself. "Now we’re even," he declares, passing Minho his drink.

"Does this mean the nudes are off the table?" Minho asks nonchalantly, stabbing the straw into his drink and taking a sip.

"I… Y-You said you were joking," Jisung splutters, earning a giggle.

"I was. Thanks for the coffee."

Jisung studies him while he digs into his cheesecake and Minho busies himself with something on his laptop. Is Minho flirting with him? It’s that, or he’s mocking him, or is indulging him out of pity. Regardless, he has yet to express disgust or discomfort at Jisung’s advances (if they could even be called that), and so far Minho seems like the kind of person who would tell him if he’s being too much, so he supposes it’s fair game for now.

"Let me know if you change your mind," Jisung responds with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"I’ll keep it in mind." His tone is more something like amused than it is flirty, but it wasn’t a no or a fuck off, weirdo. If there’s one thing Jisung knows, it's how to take a hint that he’s unwanted, even when he’s drunk out of his mind and hitting on every unsuspecting passerby, but Minho isn’t sending any clear signals quite yet.

"Your boyfriend okay with other guys buying you drinks?" Jisung gives a sly smile to hide his anticipation. He doesn’t think he’s seen the other around with anyone, and Changbin had mentioned their hookups weren’t that long ago, but he wants to be sure.

"My boyfriend?" Minho raises his eyebrows. "He better be. It’s just a coffee." Oh. Jisungs heart sinks. "That’s what I’d say if I had one, anyway."

Jisung lets out a breath.

"As it turns out, I’m straight."

Jisung nearly chokes on his cheesecake. "Y-You’re what?" he stammers, completely forgetting that Changbin has slept with the guy. "Oh, fuck, man. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to assume―"

Minho tries to suppress a laugh, lips pursed together cutely, and then Jisung realizes.

"It says gullible on the ceiling," Minho laughs. Jisung almost looks.

"Don’t play with my heart like that!" Jisung complains, catching a hint of an eye roll.

"To answer your question, though," Minho says, "I don’t have one."

"Good to know," Jisung mumbles, sipping his americano and trying to recover from his embarrassment.

He wonders what exactly he’s getting himself into.

"Okay, so for the project…" Minho begins once Jisung is finished with his late breakfast. He pulls up the information on his laptop and gestures for Jisung to come sit next to him, which he timidly complies with. Minho smells nice, like a subtly floral shampoo with a splash of vanilla. 

They start to divide the work up only to realize neither have much of a preference, so they end up going down the list and doing rock paper scissors for each one until Jisung loses enough times to warrant Minho showing mercy on him and claiming the rest for himself. Jisung remains seated close to Minho despite being perfectly capable of bringing up the assignment on his own laptop—but Minho doesn’t have to know that he brought it.

Minho turns out to be a very pleasant partner to work with who warmly explains the one thing Jisung doesn’t quite understand and the other few that he pretends not to just to have an excuse to talk to him.

"Does this look right to you?" Jisung asks again, angling his paper towards Minho. He leans in unexpectedly close, the fresh scent of his shampoo invading Jisung’s senses.

"I don’t think you need my help, Jisung," Minho smiles knowingly as he pulls away. Jisung feels his face flush when he’s caught, but he doesn’t let it dissuade him.

"C’mon, you’re my hyung, right? You’re smarter and more experienced!" he argues. "It’s only natural that I seek your guidance and approval."

Minho rolls his eyes. "You’re doing fine." Then, after a beat, "What makes you think that? Do I look that old?"

"No!" Jisung exclaims. "I―" 

He then nearly spills the embarrassing fact that Minho’s is the only introduction he remembers from the first day of class when the professor made everyone introduce themselves, but thinks better of it. He had mentioned being a dance major, senior, and a lover of cats, pushing his glasses up before bowing his head awkwardly, only for them to slide down his nose again. 

Jisung was disgustingly endeared from the start. 

"I mean, no, I just kinda assumed… You seem, uh, mature."

"Oh?" Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. "Huh. How old are you?"

"Old enough," Jisung says. Minho seems unimpressed, so he quickly adds, "Twenty. Almost."

Minho hums. "Yes, I’m your hyung, and as such, I say you don’t need my help." He punctuates the statement by reaching over and patting Jisung on the thigh. Jisung jumps like he’s never been touched before, ducking his head to hide the blush forming while he pretends to focus on his work again.

That was the first and tamest of many seemingly innocent touches. 

○ ○ ○

Jisung
hey so what’s your sign?
jw

Minho
it’s midnight

Jisung
and???
the stars are out!
perfect time to contemplate star signs

Minho
solid logic
i’m a scorpio

Jisung
wait really?
huh. makes sense

Minho
explain how

Jisung
also means we’re compatible ;)
i’m a virgin!!!

Minho
..?

Jisung
VIRGO** !!!!!!
autocorrect omfg >_<;;

Minho
lmaoooo
whatever you say~

Jisung
>_____>

○ ○ ○

In class, Minho takes it upon himself to relocate to the empty seat to Jisung’s left. 

"I figured it’d be easier to exchange notes and stuff this way," Minho explains, settling down next to Jisung and unpacking his things, cat pencil pouch and all. Jisung certainly isn’t going to complain; it’s a perfect opportunity to become more comfortable with Minho, get to know him a little more, smell his shampoo again (is that weird?).

"You don’t have to make excuses. I know you can’t resist me," Jisung grins, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. Minho gives him a blank, indifferent stare over the top of his glasses.

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Jisung scrambles to recover. "S-So um, when do you wanna meet up again? To work on the project, I mean."

"Whenever. I have time most days." Minho shrugs, turning his attention to his laptop as he unlocks it to take notes. Jisung feels a smile creep onto his face at the sight of Minho’s desktop background: three cats―one a brown, black, and white tabby and two orange and white―sprawled out on the floor surrounded by a few cat toys and accessories.

"Are those your cats?" Jisung asks excitedly, sitting up for a better look.

"Nosy much?" Minho mutters, but his lips are turned up in a pretty little smile all the same. "Yeah, these are my siblings. Soonie, Doongie, Dori." Siblings. Odd. He points at each cat as he names them, and Jisung does his best to commit them to memory even though it’s probably a fruitless endeavor.

"Soonie, Doongie, Dori," he repeats, cracking another smile at how the names roll off his tongue, how cute they sound. "Did you name them?"

"Yes." Minho looks at him suspiciously through narrowed eyes, like he’s waiting to be mocked. "Why?"

"No, they’re cute, is all!" Jisung says quickly. "The cats and the names." He glances down at Minho’s blue patterned pencil pouch, at his cream-colored sweater that reaches his knuckles, back up to his pleased expression, and the next words slip past Jisung’s lips without thought. "And you."

The sweet smile on Minho’s face turns sour as he scoffs, shaking his head. "And here I thought you were interested in my cats."

"I am!" Jisung retorts, offended at the notion that he’s not interested in his cats. "I just, I-I didn’t even mean to say that, I just thought the names were so cute and it was cute of you to come up with them, you know? I mean, I figure you’re a package deal anyway, of course I’m interested in learning about your cats. I mean even if you weren’t, I still love cats―" Jisung rambles, retrieving his own laptop to give himself something to do.

"Here’s Dori in a bikini my mom knitted," Minho interjects suddenly, maximizing an image and turning the screen towards Jisung. Jisung claps his hand over his mouth after he lets out an embarrassingly loud, abrupt laugh at the poor, disgruntled tabby cat in the picture, held under her front legs to show off her perfectly tailored pink bikini.

"Oh my God, that’s hilarious," Jisung laughs. "Poor Dori. I don’t think she’s comfortable showing that much fur."

Minho giggles, and Jisung’s heart does something funny. "Nah, it’s fine. She’s a nudist. It just wasn’t her color."

Jisung nods in understanding as Minho continues scrolling through his folder of cat photos, some featuring more silly accessories which the two snicker over, but for the most part they’re normal. Jisung thinks he has a good grasp on their names by the time the professor enters the classroom, thanks to Minho dutifully reminding him each time he asked.

"Wait, lemme see your wallpaper again," Jisung whispers as the professor greets them, and Minho obliges. "Soonie, Doongie, Dori," Jisung recites as he points at each one, smiling proudly when he’s done.

"Wrong," Minho says.

Jisung gapes. "You’re shitting me. I thought I had it right for sure!" He points in a different order this time, focusing on the two orange cats since he knows for sure Dori is the brown tabby. "Soonie, Doongie?"

"Wrong."

"What? But―"

"You had it right the first time," Minho says simply. "I just didn’t want to give you the satisfaction."

"Wow, rude," Jisung complains. "Can’t help that I know good pussy when I see it."

He winces inwardly, immediately regretting his words. This is the kind of stupid shit he’d say around his friends, not the hot project partner he’s miserably trying to woo.

Minho gives him a peculiar look and he hurries to explain his poor joke―one that would have even Changbin and Chan shaking their heads. "Y-You know, ‘cause cats, uh, pussycats―"

"No, I got it," he says curtly, a sweater paw reaching over to pat the younger on the arm sympathetically. Jisung’s ears burn. "Just hush before we get kicked out."

Jisung doesn’t make a sound, not even daring to breathe as he turns back to his section of the table, clicking over to his notes and readying himself for a lecture full of torturously wallowing in his embarrassment.

○ ○ ○

Jisung
hey so a little birdie told me you work at honey bubble?
any chance you give free drinks to cute boys?? ♡ 

Minho
on occasion
why? do you know any?

Jisung
ouch
hmm yeah but he works there so he can probably get them for himself ;p

Minho
oh?
do i know him?

Jisung
yeah his name is min-something..?

Minho
oh, of course!
minnie minnie seungminnie~
don’t worry i’ll make sure he gets a free drink~~

Jisung
...
TT^TT

○ ○ ○

Minho looks entirely out of his element and strangely in it all at once when Jisung visits his place of work a week or so later, clad not in one of his usual oversized sweaters but a button-down, topped off with a forest green apron. He fits the aesthetic of the combination coffee shop and boba joint too nicely, with his mocha hair and caramel shirt―Jisung finds it hard to imagine anything he couldn’t pull off. His friend Hyunjin voices those exact thoughts.

"Wish he’d pull off his clothes," Jisung remarks.

"You’re an animal."

They’re pretending to stand back and look at the menu while they sneak glances at Minho and whisper between each other about how unfairly hot he is. Minho attends to the customers with polite smiles, startling a laugh out of Jisung when he suddenly pulls a goofy face in his direction.

Jisung’s about to return the gesture when Minho’s attention is stolen by the bastard that walks in next, and if Jisung didn’t already hate them for ruining his chance to make Minho laugh, he sure does when he sees the sour look that crosses Minho’s features.

"Whoa," Hyunjin whispers beside him. "I smell drama."

"That’s just your breath," Jisung comments while he sizes up the newcomer. 

Frankly, he looks like a douchebag. He’s wearing sunglasses indoors (he could just be stoned, but Jisung won’t give him the benefit of the doubt), stonewashed jeans, and an ugly red and white Hawaiian-patterned shirt. He carries himself with an air of yeah, I’m an asshole as he saunters up to the counter, eyes trained on Minho all the while.

At least, Jisung assumes they are. Sunglasses and all.

"You think they’re exes?" Hyunjin asks, huddled up next to Jisung, neither even pretending to look at the menu anymore. The douchebag places his order and pays; Minho doesn’t bother putting on his customer service smile.

"Fuck no," Jisung spits as the guy walks around to the pickup area and leans back with one elbow on the counter to wait. Like a douchebag. "He could do so much better."

Hyunjin scoffs. "What, like you?"

"Better me than him!" Jisung whisper-shouts, shooting him a glare.

"Sorry, I didn’t know you knew everything about him from one glance." The douchebag proceeds to grab a napkin, spit his gum out in it, and toss it at the trash can. He makes it, but he still looks like a douche. "Never mind, you’re right."

"I’m always right," Jisung snaps.

Before long, Minho nears the counter with a freshly-made drink in hand. He cups his free hand over his mouth and calls out the drink’s owner confidently, "Dick!"

Judging by the look on the dick’s face, that is decidedly not his name.

Minho sets the drink down on the counter looking quite proud of himself, having earned the attention of a few curious customers. Dick’s face contorts into an angry snarl as he snatches his drink up.

"Fuck you, whore," Jisung hears him say, voice low and venomous. Hyunjin gasps softly beside him, and Jisung is dangerously close to intervening when Dick finally storms off.

Minho scrunches up his nose and sticks his tongue out at his retreating back but appears otherwise unaffected, beckoning Jisung and Hyunjin over.

"Uh, hey…" Jisung scratches his neck as they approach. "What was all that?"

"Just some dick," Minho dismisses. "He deserved it, don’t worry. He deserves a lot worse, actually."

"Want me to beat him up?" Jisung suggests with a grin, hearing an exasperated sigh leave Hyunjin’s lips behind him.

Minho huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, knock yourself out. What can I get you?"

"Oh. Uh…" Jisung squints up at the menu above them, only having been to the place two or three times. He turns to Hyunjin. "Do you know what you want…?"

"Um… lemme look."

Minho’s lips are pursed in an attempt to stifle laughter. "You guys should at least figure out what you want before you stand there and pretend to look at the menu for five minutes."

"What can I say?" Jisung sighs. "I was too busy checking out the dessert."

"Oh my God," Hyunjin groans as Minho rolls his eyes. "Hi, sorry, I’m Hyunjin. I’ll have a large taro milk tea with boba. Jisung’s paying. Thanks!"

Before Jisung can get a word out, Hyunjin is walking towards the tables shaking his head, the secondhand embarrassment apparently too much for him to handle.

Minho watches him go with a raised eyebrow and a scoff. "What about you?"

Jisung turns back to the menu, still unable to decide when all the flavors sound so good. He hums as he pulls out his wallet. "Large boba, um, I don’t care what flavor. Surprise me?"

Minho nods, skipping the whole cash register process to go grab two cups and start making their drinks.

"Hey, I didn’t―"

"Free drinks for cute boys," Minho reminds him. Jisung feels heat crawl up his neck as Minho flashes him a smug smile. "Your friend’s cute, so."

Jisung throws his head back in a dramatic eye roll. "Yeah, well, he’s taken! So, I guess you’re stuck with me."

"Yuck," Minho says, scooping boba into a cup. "I’d rather be stuck with Seungminnie."

Jisung tilts his head, recognizing the name from their earlier texts. He’s about to ask who it is, but― 

"Please don’t speak my name," is yelled from the back room.

"He’s in love with me," Minho explains nonchalantly. 

"I want to watch you bleed out."

Jisung gives him a concerned look; Minho shrugs. "It’s complicated."

"I see that," Jisung says slowly, rounding the corner to collect his and Hyunjin’s drinks. "I’ve got competition, huh?"

"You really don’t!" the disembodied voice of the elusive Seungminnie calls out again. This guy must have supersonic hearing.

"Shut up and do your little crossword puzzles!" Minho snaps back. He turns back to Jisung, ignoring the indignant shout of you do them more than me! and gives him a tight-lipped smile. "Anyway, enjoy."

"Thanks," he smiles, reluctantly parting from the counter with nothing more to keep him there. "I’ll, uh… see you in class tomorrow?"

"Yes," Minho says like it should be obvious. To be fair, it is; he’s only missed one class all year.

"Right." Jisung nods awkwardly, noting the faint smile Minho tries to hide as he takes the drinks to the table Hyunjin chose.

"I can’t believe he gives you the time of day," Hyunjin greets him. "‘I was checking out the dessert!’ God, you’re cheesy as fuck."

"Some people like cheesy!" Jisung defends, frowning as he watches Hyunjin stab a straw in his drink. "Be nice to me, asshole. I bought your drink."

"Oh, really? Because I could’ve sworn I heard him say they were free because I’m cute." He turns to the counter and catches Minho’s eye, wiggling his fingers in a wave and a smile that could be read as flirtatious. Minho’s eyes dart over to Jisung’s horrified expression and back before he returns it, laughing afterwards.

"Yo, what the fuck?" Jisung swats his arm. "Leave some for the single people, sheesh."

"Whatever," Hyunjin dismisses, taking a swig of his lavender-tinted drink. "You’re just jealous that I’m cute enough to get free drinks and you’re not."

Jisung rolls his eyes, poking a straw in his own drink. It occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know what flavor Minho gave him as he squints at its pinkish hue. His eyes widen when he tries it, the sweet, almost floral flavor on his tongue quickly winning him over. He’ll have to ask Minho about it before he leaves.

"So did you find out anything about that little spat?" Hyunjin wonders, toying with his straw.

"No," Jisung sighs. "I didn’t wanna be too pushy."

"That’s rich."

"Shut up. What do you think it was?"

"Well, it was probably… y’know." 

"What?"

"An ex? Past hookup?" Hyunjin shrugs. "I mean he… gets around a lot, right? Everyone knows that."

"Everyone knows?" Jisung’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. "I didn’t know."

"Well, you don’t count," Hyunjin dimisses. "Anyway, I’m just saying he has a bit of a reputation. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, obviously, just that… it’s not always nice what people say about him. Or how they treat him, apparently."

Jisung nods thoughtfully, studying Minho from afar. He took the insult in stride and seems pretty unaffected; Jisung has to give him props for that. If it were him, he’d probably jump over the counter and beat the guy’s ass. Or cry. Maybe both at once.

"That’s stupid," he mumbles. He can’t imagine hating someone like Minho at all, let alone based on something so petty as the fact that he gets a lot of action. He’s been nothing but kind to Jisung, helpful with homework even when Jisung is only pretending to need help, and even tolerant of his annoying flirting. He’s just a really cute boy who loves his cats and big sweaters.

Hyunjin changes the subject to his hot political science professor, lamenting his status as a married man with three kids and detailing his pipe dream plan to seduce him and pass the class.

"Uh-huh," Jisung laughs, chewing on a tapioca pearl, "and does Changbin know about all this?"

"He’ll know as soon as I secure that bag and use my new sugar daddy’s money to buy him, like, a new car or something."

"Who needs a sugar daddy when you already have Changbin?" Jisung scoffs, suddenly reminded of his resolve to not add fifty more bucks to the very much lined pockets of his best friend.

"To pay him back for all the money he’s spent on me as my old sugar daddy, duh." Hyunjin laughs while Jisung shakes his head, both belatedly realizing Minho’s approach.

"These were about to be thrown out," he says, placing a plastic-covered platter with two slices of chocolate marble cake left in the center of their table. He drops two forks down next to it and sends Jisung a smile. "I figured you might want them."

"Ooh!" Jisung springs to life in his seat, clapping his hands together. "Absolutely! Holy shit, thank you." With a nod, Minho turns to leave, stopped by Jisung. "Wait! Sorry. Um, what flavor did you give me?" He shakes his cup of boba.

"Oh, do you like it?" He turns back to face Jisung, leaning down to pinch his cheek. "It’s rose. Like your cheeks." Jisung freezes in panic, eyes widening and said cheeks heating up considerably. "See?" Minho directs the question towards Hyunjin, who is enjoying this way too much.

"No, yeah, I see it," he agrees, trying and failing to hide his laughter behind his hand. "He’s red as a rose for sure."

Jisung shoots him a scathing look while Minho only laughs and saunters off, leaving Jisung to rub at his abused cheek. "Enjoy your cake!"

When Jisung returns his attention to the table, accidentally having watched Minho walk away with eyes glued to the backs of his stupid fucking gorgeous thighs as he walked away for maybe a second too long, Hyunjin is wearing a delighted, shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," Jisung says, preemptively.

"Man, you really are wrapped around his finger, huh?" Hyunjin tsks anyway, sliding the plate of cake slices towards his side of the table and unwrapping the plastic covering. "You didn’t even go straight for the cake. That’s so unlike you, man. Whipped as fuck."

Jisung opens his mouth to rebut but finds that he can’t really dispute it, especially not when Minho throwing his head back and running a hand through his hair in a dramatic gesture catches his attention. He looks like the fucking greek sculptures Jisung studies in art history with the cut of his jaw and his perfect nose and full lips, a beautiful amalgamation of features chiseled by the gods themselves. Jisung is so in awe.

Minho cuts his eye and smirks when he catches him looking; Jisung’s mouth goes dry and something stirs in the pit of his stomach, his cheeks surely becoming even more rosy at the sight as he hurriedly looks away, heart hammering. He feels light, giddy.

Maybe being wrapped around Minho’s finger isn’t so bad.

○ ○ ○

Jisung
hyung
i’ve cracked the code
you said hyunjin got us free drinks bc he was cute
but the cake was free too!!!

Minho
and?

Jisung
AND!!
you think i’m cute!

Minho
or maybe hyunjin was just cute enough for free drinks and cake

Jisung
i don’t hear you denying it~

Minho
fine

Jisung
:D !!

Minho
i deny it

Jisung
D: !!

○ ○ ○

"I’m telling you, country EDM is a perfectly valid music genre and it should be celebrated!"

"Do you even hear yourself, Jisung? Like, do you realize how fucking stupid you sound right now?"

"Do you hear this?" Jisung asks, shaking the phone in his hand for emphasis while an EDM remix of some generic country song blasts from his speakers. It’s decent, he supposes, but he’s more so arguing for the sake of riling Changbin up than anything else. "Tell him, Chan. It’s good, right?"

"I don’t want to be involved in whatever is going on right now," Chan says with finality, eyes glued to his computer screen and headphones half on―his natural state.

"Neither do I!" Changbin cries.

"Too bad," Jisung says. "You’re gonna listen to my country dubstep playlist, and you’re gonna like―"

The bass drops in the song accompanied by frantic, aggressive banjo playing and Jisung and Changbin simultaneously share a look before losing their minds. Jisung plays the air banjo while Changbin doubles over in his chair and even Chan swivels around to watch them with a wide grin.

By the end of the song, they’ve all resorted to playing their respective imaginary banjos, and Jisung can’t help the fond feeling that bubbles in his chest that comes with reveling in the view of his friends being complete dumbasses with him.

"That actually kind of slapped," Changbin mutters reluctantly, making the other two burst out into laughter.

"See? I told you!" Jisung yells over the intro of the next song. "It’s the new wave!"

"Maybe we should look into producing country dubstep," Chan laughs.

Changbin raises his hands to show he wants absolutely nothing to do with that while Jisung nods enthusiastically.

Before he can respond, though, his attention is grabbed by a ding from his phone that cuts through the music (if it can be called that; this song is significantly worse than the last). His stomach flops nervously when he sees who the message is from.

"Sweater boy?" Chan asks, smile knowing as ever.

"He has a name," Jisung snaps, quickly opening the text.

Minho
you free?

Jisung
for you? anytime ♡ 

"Oh, he’s laying it on thick," Changbin observes from the smile that dawns unbidden on Jisung’s face when he types his response. Jisung flips him off. "Yeah, thought so."

"How’s that working out for you, by the way?" Chan asks.

"It’s… um." Jisung scratches his head. "Well… we’re working on it."

By we’re working on it, he really means that the only progress he’s made with Minho is the random conversations they have and Minho sometimes sending Jisung pictures of his cats now.

Their only other communication is random chatter before and after class, hushed whispers during, and the several times they’ve met at the cafe to work on their project. Other than that, flirting obnoxiously with Minho is slowly but surely becoming second nature to Jisung, just as much as rolling his eyes or tuning Jisung out has for Minho. 

Flirting aside, Jisung thinks they actually get along pretty well as almost-friends, or acquaintances, or classmates, or whatever they are, which is a pleasant surprise considering how much trouble Jisung normally has getting comfortable around new people. With Minho, it’s easy, even when his pick-up lines bomb and Minho looks ready to strangle him.

Even when Minho gets weirdly touchy, hands lingering just a moment too long and leaving tingling trails of fire and desperation on Jisung’s skin.

"Sounds promising," Changbin teases.

"Hey, it’s only been a few weeks! Cut me some slack," Jisung grumbles, turning his attention back to his phone.

Minho
wanna meet up and do some work?

Jisung
sure ^^
wait actually i’m in your building
do you wanna walk to the cafe together?

Minho
why are you in my building
han jisung
have you resorted to stalking me?

Jisung
noooo >_>
i’m with my friends
chan’s dorm is in this building

Minho
i thought you were free

Jisung
like i said, anytime ;)

Minho
well if you’re sure
we can just work here

Jisung
oh! ok
what’s your room #?

Minho
419

Jisung
damn so close to 420
i’ll be there soon!

Minho
have you eaten

Jisung
no, why?

Minho doesn’t respond fast enough for Jisung, buzzing with eagerness, so he pockets his phone and starts packing his things up.

"Guess who just invited me to their dorm," he announces smugly.

"Gee, I dunno…" Chan taps his chin. "Changbin?"

Jisung gives his best fake laugh before grimacing abruptly. "No, Minho did, and I didn’t even ask," he says proudly. Then realization and panic settle in his chest. "Wait, I’ve never been before. Wait. I’ve never been alone with him before. Holy shit."

"Hey, it’s okay," Chan assures him, quickly scooting over in his rolling chair to gently grab Jisung by his arms. "You’ll be fine."

"Oh god, what if I do something weird and he never invites me back?"

"Pretty sure he knows you’re weird by now," Changbin says, and it’s oddly comforting because he has a point. If he hasn’t scared Minho off by now, there’s still some hope. Changbin pats his back. "It’s just the same as being in class or at the cafe with him, minus the background noise."

Jisung nods slowly. "Yeah… yeah, I guess that’s true." Whether in the classroom, walking down the hall, or sitting in a cafe with Minho, he’s always felt as if they were inhabitants of their own little bubble anyway, so this shouldn’t be much different as long as Jisung can keep himself from making it awkward.

"Anyway, why am I comforting you again?" Changbin wonders aloud. "I want my money."

Jisung scoffs, feeling the nervousness ooze out of him, if only a bit. "Keep dreaming, pal." He salutes them both before heading out, but not before stopping in the doorway to mumble a quick "thanks," feeling a little guilty for ditching them and dumping his anxiety on them, as usual.

But they never seem to mind, and they both wish him luck on his way out―even Changbin. 

Too soon, he’s knocking on room 419, abruptly stepping back to fiddle with his backpack straps. Minho appears in the doorway wearing… surprise, a cute plum-colored sweater and a smile.

"I’m making pizza rolls," Minho says before Jisung can utter a "hi." Then the smell wafts through the open door and Jisung’s eyes are practically rolling back in his head as he realizes how goddamn hungry he is.

"You’re an angel," Jisung whispers dramatically as he’s let inside. He could kiss Minho, he really could. He would be delighted to kiss him anytime, but especially now, with the promise of pizza rolls in the air.

"I’d cook something better if I had more time," Minho explains as he pads into his kitchenette to check the oven. "I’m starving, though."

"Hey, you can’t go wrong with pizza rolls," Jisung chirps, taking the seat offered to him at the mini bar that separates the kitchen and the den. "But you can cook? Like, cook cook?" He looks around, impressed at the spice rack, the cutlery, and the extra pans sitting out that Jisung himself wouldn’t have the slightest clue what to do with had they been in his possession.

"A bit." Minho shrugs. "My roommate and I both dabble."

"Wow, you’re full of surprises," Jisung smiles, resting his chin on his hands. "What else can you do?"

"This." Minho reaches up to smooth his hair back from his forehead, and for a moment Jisung is taken with how attractive he looks with his forehead fully exposed, but then he’s alternating wiggling his eyebrows at a rapid pace in some silly eyebrow dance and any other thought is gone from Jisung’s mind as he bursts into laughter.

Minho has a small, satisfied smile on his face as he smooths his hair back down and runs a hand through it, tousling it a bit and only making Jisung short-circuit for a second or two.

"That was impressive, I have to admit," Jisung says once he’s recovered. "But, like, for real," he prods, "what else do you like to do?"

"I dance."

"Well, I know that―" Jisung says, immediately wanting to crawl into the oven with the pizza rolls after the words leave his mouth.

Minho raises an eyebrow. "You know? I don’t remember mentioning it."

"Ah, you…" Jisung scratches his head sheepishly. "You mentioned it during class introductions."

"You remembered?" Minho tilts his head. Before Jisung can try to stammer out a response, the oven demands Minho’s attention with a shrill beep which Jisung is immensely thankful for. 

It’s funny, he thinks, how easy it is to throw pick-up line after pick-up line Minho’s way, but he’s too embarrassed to evidence the fact that he’d hung onto his every word that first day of class and thought about him way too often since.

Minho slides enough pizza rolls to feed a small army (which, again, Jisung is thankful for) onto a large platter and leads Jisung into the den, setting them on the coffee table next to his laptop. Jisung opts to unpack his things and ignores the urge to stuff a pizza roll into his mouth right now immediately and scorch his tongue.

"What about you?" Minho asks suddenly from his place on the couch.

Jisung’s head jerks up from the depths of his backpack where he had been in search of his favorite pen―the one with the daisy clicker. "Huh?"

"What do you like to do?" he clarifies.

"Oh, um…" Jisung emerges fully with his pen in hand and sets it down with his other things. "I make music with my friends. I really like writing lyrics."

Minho hums. "Is it any good?"

Jisung blinks, taken slightly aback, before he turns to see Minho smiling. "I mean, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think we’re pretty decent."

"Just say yes," Minho says, half-heartedly tossing a pillow at him. "I didn’t take you for someone who would be into writing lyrics, but I do take you as someone who is annoyingly good at everything, so I guess it makes sense."

"Yeah?" Jisung sports a grin and a giddy feeling too strong for something that’s barely a compliment, but he’ll take what he can get. "Thanks, I guess."

"You gonna show me your music?"

Jisung flushes at the thought of sharing with Minho everything from his deepest thoughts and worries to his and his friends’ cringiest creations from the past. They’ve given out their SoundCloud to random strangers in the past, but somehow with Minho it feels… intimate. He’s a little reluctant to share just yet. Especially in its current state.

He makes a mental note to beg Chan to delete "Wow" from their profile later.

"You gonna dance for me?" he counters, smirking when Minho scoffs. "Didn’t think so."

"We’ll see," Minho says cryptically, and before Jisung can ask "hey, what the fuck does that mean," Minho is shoving a pizza roll in his face. After glancing at Minho and receiving an expectant eyebrow raise, he opens his mouth and gingerly takes the food from between Minho’s fingers, hoping he isn’t blushing too hard from something so silly.

"Good boy." Minho squeezes Jisung’s thigh and he promptly chokes on his food. "Oh, is it hot? I’ll get you some water." Minho hurries back to the kitchen.

"Thanks," he croaks, wondering what the hell just went down.

The pizza rolls are gone in a flash, followed by the next page of their project, and Jisung is pleased that his first visit to Minho’s place went off without a hitch. He’s reluctant to leave, even, but that shouldn’t come as a surprise. He doesn’t want to overstay his welcome though.

"Guess I’ll head out," he says at the same time that Minho suddenly asks, "Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Oh," they both say, followed by awkward laughter.

"It’s okay." Minho is quick to wave his hand dismissively. "I already took you from your friends; I won’t keep you any longer."

"No, it’s okay!" Jisung says. "I just figured you’d want me out of your hair by now." He smiles, ecstatic that for whatever reason, Minho wants to spend time with him outside of their group project for the first time.

"Honestly," Minho sighs, "I’m just bored as hell. My roommate’s been out of town and I haven’t had anyone to watch things with."

Ah. That explains it. Minho doesn’t want to spend time with Jisung; he wants a replacement for his roommate. Whatever. Jisung can be that. He’ll be the best substitute roommate Minho has ever seen.

"Well, I hope I live up to your movie-watching companion expectations," Jisung says, dropping the backpack he had begun putting on. "What are we watching?"

"What’s your stance on horror movies?"

"My stance would have to be a hard hell no. I have to walk back to my place after this."

"Aw, you’re scared?" Minho coos, flipping through titles on the TV. "Cute." Before Jisung has time to do anything other than blush, he asks, "What about a so-bad-it’s-good movie?"

"Those are my favorite."

Minho nods solemnly. "A kindred spirit. Popcorn?"

Jisung mirrors his nod with an enthusiastic one of his own, and Minho sets off once more for the kitchen.

Jisung gets swept up in his thoughts while he watches him, to the point where he launches himself into a mild panic. Minho has never asked him to just hang out before. What does this mean? Is he starting to see Jisung as a friend, or is he just that desperate for company that he resorted to the annoying fuck who flirts with him incessantly?

He also invited Jisung to his dorm, and asked him to stay and watch a movie, at night, when his roommate is out of town. Jisung’s stomach lurches as he considers the possibility that this could turn into something more if Minho wants it to.

On the other hand, Minho hasn’t shown enough―if any―interest in him to make that a believable conclusion. He can dream though, right? Still, he’s definitely not going to try to put any moves on Minho or anything. He’d hate to mess things up when they both seem to be getting comfortable.

"Staring at me won’t make it pop any faster," Minho interrupts his thoughts. Jisung’s eyes widen as he quickly averts his gaze.

"Sorry, zoned out," he mutters. 

It isn’t a lie. Minho just happens to also be very nice to look at.

Jisung shifts nervously when Minho returns to the couch and sits close enough to share the popcorn, close enough that their knees bump together when he reaches for the remote and starts the movie. Jisung swallows and thinks that this is going to be a long night.

Despite his worry, the two of them are quickly immersed in the movie’s stupid premise, godawful plot, and poorly-written characters, laughing together at every scene over just how ridiculous it is. When something especially ridiculous happens, Minho will cackle and clap his hand on Jisung’s knee or thigh, making Jisung hyper-aware of the touch as he drags his hand away just a little too slowly for Jisung’s sanity.

"God, these actors are fucking terrible," Jisung comments through a mouthful of popcorn.

"I would be, too, if I had to act for this shit," Minho replies. "Besides, I’d like to see you do better."

"Oh, gladly." Jisung rises to the challenge easily, pouring his soul into reenacting the next scene as it plays. He exaggerates obnoxiously, but unarguably (in his opinion) does a better job than the soulless male lead.

"You can’t go! They’re gonna eat you alive!" Jisung repeats dramatically, taking Minho’s hands into his own for the full effect. Minho makes a disgusted face that’s quickly interrupted by his laughter, and Jisung is elated that Minho lets him hold his hands for a moment, even if only for a prop.

"I’m sorry, it has to be this way," Minho recites just a second or two behind the actress on the TV, unable to keep a straight face.

"Jessica! Jessica!" Jisung caterwauls, sliding off the couch and onto the floor to fake sob.

"Get up," Minho laughs, slapping his shoulder.

Jisung climbs back onto the couch next to Minho, beaming at his features scrunched up in laughter. "So how was it? Out of ten."

"Mm, eight. A little over the top, but better than them, for sure."

"Over the top? Me?" Jisung places a hand over his chest and gasps. "Well, I give you a two."

Minho purses his lips. "That’s fair―oh my God, she’s about to get run over."

Jisung tears his gaze away from Minho just in time to see the female lead get hit by a car and a dummy go flying much farther than physics would have allowed. They both burst into laughter at the sight, and then at the male lead’s poor acting when he screams her name.

The rest of the movie is similarly disastrous and laughter-inducing, and Jisung has a comfortable ache in his stomach and cheeks from laughing too hard.

"Wow," Minho deadpans, staring blankly as the credits roll. "That was…"

"Spectacular," Jisung finishes. "Amazing, groundbreaking. Five stars. I’ll never forget this experience."

"Yeah, something like that," Minho says, stretching his arms high above his head, and Jisung is too weak to adhere to the voice that tells him not to look at the sliver of skin revealed by Minho’s sweater riding up. Then suddenly, a hand is on Jisung’s thigh and he barely registers the next words. "It’s getting late."

Jisung looks from the hand gripping him lightly to Minho’s face with wide eyes, Minho’s expression neutral and unreadable. What is going on.

His previous thoughts come flooding back to him, wishful thinking of Minho wanting him here when his roommate is out of town, keeping him late for a reason, and the hand on his thigh might convince him that the thought has some merit if Minho hadn’t just hinted that it was time for him to leave.

That’s what he’s doing, right?

But why is his hand on my thigh?!

"O-Oh, um, right," Jisung stammers, hoping for perhaps some elaboration, but Minho doesn’t offer it, hand unmoving.

"You think you can make it back in one piece?" he asks, tilting his head with an enigmatic grin. "The movie wasn’t too scary for you, was it?"

Why why why why why.

What is he supposed to do in this situation? Is Minho expecting him to do something? Would it be rude to brush his hand off and go home? Not that that’s what Jisung wants to do, not at all, but―is he trying to tell Jisung something? Or is he delusional? He has no clue how to read this.

Jisung wishes he could pause time and step aside to call his friends, get some input on what on earth they would do if they were in his shoes. 

Chan and Changbin are both responsible for initiating their relationships, both much more direct when it comes to this kind of thing. Surely if someone they were interested in gripped their thighs, for crying out loud, they would have the courage to do something about it.

But Jisung is Jisung, not Changbin or Chan. And Minho is… a force to be reckoned with. Jisung would certainly be able to find the courage to do something if he knew Minho wanted him to. But as it stands, Minho just barely tolerates him, and beyond that―Minho is an enigma.

A cute, funny, sweet, cat-loving enigma who Jisung finds himself thinking about and wanting to get to know more and more with every day that goes by.

So, ultimately, he decides it would be a terrible idea to try his luck now.

"Yeah, I think so!" he squeaks, slipping out from under Minho’s burning touch and grabbing his things, heading for the door. He stops, having nearly forgotten to thank Minho in his desperation to escape embarrassment. "Thanks for the pizza rolls! And the movie."

Against his better judgment, Jisung searches Minho’s features for any indication that he’d done the wrong thing, disappointment, anything, but the older boy just nods, a small smile on his lips. "I had fun."

"Me too," Jisung grins genuinely. "See you tomorrow!"

"Text me when you get back."

"Oh, sure," Jisung says quietly as he slips out of the door, wearing a dumb smile.

Jisung
i’m home!

Minho
👍

Jisung
you in bed?

Minho
yep

Jisung
haha without me?

Minho
yep~

Jisung
lol
tonight was fun! let’s watch more bad movies sometime

Minho
agreed
need to see more of your acting skills

Jisung
anytime hehe
good night!

Minho
night
^^

○ ○ ○

Jisung
hey~~ are you tired?

Minho
from running through your mind all day? not really

Jisung
from running through my mind all day
HEY!!

Minho
i’ve had lots of practice
my stamina is incredible ;)

Jisung
…
??!!?!?!?
how dare you steal my thunder!

Minho
your pickup line sucks
come up with something original
am i not worth an actual good pickup line??? mr. i write music but google shitty pickup lines like it’s my job?????

Jisung
..damn
challenge accepted
i’ll sweep you off your feet for sure just you wait

Minho
yeah sure~

○ ○ ○

After the first visit to Minho’s and subsequent movie night, there’s a shift in their relationship―in a couple of different ways.

They’ve long since finished (and gotten top marks on) the group project that initially brought them together, so they continue collaborating on the copious amount of homework their professor assigns them. They’re both smart and work efficiently together, and it’s an excuse to spend more time with Minho, so Jisung has no complaints there.

They also gradually start spending more time together without homework as a catalyst, occasionally meeting up at the cafe, watching more movies at Minho’s (even after his roommate’s return, much to Jisung’s delight), or just sticking around each other after class is out when neither has anything to do.

(Jisung runs into Chan and Changbin while walking through campus with Minho one day, and watches with amusement while Minho exchanges pleasantries with the guy who gave him Jisung’s number and the guy he used to hook up with, snickering while Changbin squirms under his gaze.)

By now, flirting with Minho has become such an integral part of their relationship that Jisung has stopped hoping for anything to come out of it. He just does it to be annoying or to have a playful mask to express how cute he genuinely thinks Minho is and how much he likes him without making it weird.

Minho hardly reciprocates the flirting, often meeting Jisung’s comments with an exasperated expression or flat-out ignoring him. And honestly? Jisung can’t blame him. He hits him with some of the slimiest pick-up lines he can muster. Sometimes they’re so bad that Minho just laughs in his face, but his laugh is painfully cute, so Jisung supposes it’s fine. 

Every once in a while, though, Minho will grace him with a sliver of the specific brand of attention he so badly craves—just enough to spur Jisung on, give him hope that maybe he’s making progress.

More so than reciprocating Jisung’s flirting, Minho allows his roaming hands to speak for him. Jisung just can’t quite decipher what it is they’re saying.

"Jisungie," Minho says sweetly, innocently, his hand taking its place on his upper thigh to get his attention. He certainly has it. Jisung resists the urge to gulp as he turns to the older, whose eyes stay trained on his own paper. "What’s number three again?"

"Uh." He clears his throat, peering down at his worksheet. "Acetate?"

Minho hums appreciatively before writing it down, giving a light squeeze and a pat to Jisung’s leg before pulling away. Jisung realizes how tense he’d been and lets his muscles relax, sparing Minho a curious glance, but he remains focused on his work. Jisung shakes his head as if the thoughts would shake away with it and tries to do the same.

It happens like this every time. Minho’s hands find Jisung’s arm or leg at some point and linger there just a little too long to be considered friendly. Maybe he’s just a touchy person, Jisung originally thought—that is, until his hands got in the habit of slithering towards Jisung’s inner thigh in a decidedly non-platonic way. 

Minho manages to look completely disinterested all the while, almost like he doesn’t realize what he’s doing, but Jisung likes to think he knows better. It mystifies him, how Minho can make him have to struggle to will away a boner with a simple positioning of his right hand while he writes notes with the left, completely unaffected and never acknowledging his own actions. Jisung always holds his breath, hoping for something more, hoping that Minho will give that final push and make a move on him. 

He doesn’t. 

He does, however, seem to make it his mission to confuse the living hell out of Jisung.

"Um, hi." A sudden voice catches both of their attention, making them look up from their papers in unison. A girl around their age stands at the end of their table awkwardly. She isn’t wearing the apron required of the cafe employees, so Jisung has no idea what she could possibly be doing at their table. 

Then his eyes fall to her fidgeting hands, the way she nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and he might have an idea. He glances at Minho.

Sorry, he thinks to himself. I think you’re out of luck with this one.

"Hi," Minho says with a polite smile. The girl’s eyes widen a bit. Jisung understands.

"I… Actually, um, I wanted to ask your friend something." She smiles apologetically at Minho before shifting her attention to Jisung.

"Me?" he asks dumbly.

"Can I have your number?"

Oh. That’s… odd.

"Um…" Jisung flushes from the attention, reaching up to scratch under his beanie for something to do.

Now that he looks at her, she’s pretty, but that’s all he can gather. He supposes it wouldn’t hurt to give his number and just see what happens; knowing his track record, she would get bored and it would fizzle out in a few hours, anyway. Plus, he’s always lamented the fact that no one ever approached him―wouldn’t it be a waste to turn her down?

The idea makes him more anxious than anything, though; he isn’t excited like he thought he would be. Maybe he’s just a bit too… preoccupied with someone else to entertain the idea for now. Mentally and, apparently, physically.

Minho’s hand snakes over to his thigh and grabs him hard. Jisung’s breath hitches as he turns to meet Minho’s eye, his gaze intense and almost dangerous. While he doesn’t know what the fuck that means, he does know that it’s going to haunt him so much he won’t have time to think about anything else, let alone talk to this girl.

"I-I’m gay," he sputters, staring directly at Minho. He blinks rapidly as if it would rid him of the thoughts, turning to the girl and giving her a contrite smile. "Sorry."

"Oh… oh." Her eyes widen in realization as they dart between the two of them. "I’m so sorry, oh my God."

"It’s cool!" Jisung smiles. "No harm done."

"Sorry," she whispers one last time before scurrying to a nearby table with her friends.

Jisung looks at Minho, extremely aware of the way his hand still grips his thigh… possessively? He swallows. Minho glances back at the girl, loosening his grip.

"I didn’t take you for the jealous type, babe," Jisung scoffs, pretending like his heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest.

"I heard her friends bet her she couldn’t get my number," Minho explains, almost bitterly. "I guess she got cold feet."

The irony is lost on Jisung.

"Wow," Jisung laughs, "so I was a second option when she realized you were too intimidatingly hot up close? Ouch."

Minho quirks an eyebrow, sour expression replaced with amusement. "Intimidatingly hot?"

"I mean, yeah," Jisung responds easily. Minho snorts.

"I didn’t crush your dreams or anything, did I?"

"No, just my thigh," Jisung says, rubbing the spot. It didn’t hurt, though; he misses the touch. "I wanted an out anyway, to be honest."

Minho hums. "Do you not like girls?"

"Uh, sure. I do, I just… wasn’t really interested anyway. Even if she was fucking with me. So ha! Take that." He sticks his tongue out at the girl’s back as she exits the cafe, then eyes Minho curiously. "Do you?"

Minho chuckles like the notion is ridiculous. "No."

Jisung nods. He hadn’t put too much thought into it, but he had assumed somehow.

That’s that, and they become absorbed in their schoolwork again―or Minho does, and Jisung pretends to while he actually tries to process the way it felt to have Minho grab his thigh in warning and give him that look.

It’s sweet, really, that Minho didn’t want him to fall victim to her little scheme, but Jisung can’t help but wish, hope, that Minho was maybe a little jealous, too.

After all, he can’t think of a reason Minho would have a vendetta against the cute waitress that offers to refill their drinks when she smiles a little too warmly at Jisung, but Minho’s hand finds his thigh all the same.

○ ○ ○

Jisung
hey i’m starving do you mind if i have something delivered to your place

Minho
not at all
get me something too i’ll venmo you half

Jisung
no need
what are you in the mood for?

Minho
idk
anything

Jisung
chinese?

Minho
no not that

Jisung
…
you always do this
what do you want!!!

Minho
kind of in the mood for pizza?

Jisung
i could go for a pizza you ;)

Minho
.

Jisung
ok pizza got it hehe
see you soon baby~

○ ○ ○

More days pass by with wandering hands and intense stares, but still, Minho doesn’t make a move.

Jisung starts to think maybe he should take it upon himself to make the first move, but he finds it hard when he still can’t quite gauge Minho’s interest beyond the fact that he apparently likes making Jisung flustered, however having no clear intent to actually become involved with him. He figures he has to get answers somehow, though.

So with this in mind, inevitably, Jisung has a terrible, awful idea.

"Should I just send him a picture of my dick?"

"Oh my god, do it," Chan practically yells in response.

To be fair, they are very drunk.

"I mean, it’s gotta be some kinda conversation starter, right?" Jisung slurs. "He, like, he deflects all my attempts at flirting. I dunno how he can avoid something like that, you know?" To his inebriated mind, the plan is foolproof. "Right, Changbin? You’re the Minho expert."

That comment earns him a hardly intimidating glare from a not-as-wasted Hyunjin who had tagged along for the night and is currently petting a drunk Changbin’s hair as he clings to him.

"Huh?" Changbin barely opens his eyes, blissfully cuddling into his boyfriend’s side. "Yeah, sounds great."

"Right? Right. I’m gonna do it." Jisung whips out his phone.

"Or you could just sit him down and talk to him instead of bombarding him with shitty pickup lines all the time," Hyunjin suggests with a roll of his eyes.

Jisung shoots him a glare, but whatever angry retort that was about to come tumbling out of his mouth is interrupted by Chan pointing at Jisung’s phone, mouth agape.

"You’re not gonna take it right now, are you?" Chan asks, genuine fear in his eyes.

"What the fuck, no!" Jisung shouts.

"Oh, thank god." Chan relaxes, relieved. "You scared me."

"What do you take me for?" Jisung asks. "I already took them!"

"You did?" Hyunjin stifles a laugh. "You made it sound like a spur of the moment decision, but they’re premeditated dick pics? Oh, I can’t wait to see this shitstorm play out."

"If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all, Hyunjin," Jisung says like an indignant five year old, sticking his tongue out. 

"Premeditated dick pics," Chan repeats, giggling to himself.

"Listen, listen, listen," Jisung says, the slurring of his words evident to even his own ears. "I didn’t plan this. I just―he told me to send nudes once, but he was kidding, but I took them just in case, ‘cause you never know, you know?" Jisung scrolls through his phone, eyes defocusing. "Fuck. Can someone tell me if any of these look good?"

Hyunjin and Chan’s eyes widen comically, and even Changbin pries his open to stare at Jisung.

"What―" Chan’s eyebrows furrow even as he laughs. "No, Jisung. What?"

"Are you seriously asking us to judge pictures of your dick right now?" Changbin asks. "Right in front of my boyfriend’s salad?"

"Are you saying you would if I weren’t here?" Hyunjin accuses with no real heat behind his words, trying and failing to pry himself from Changbin’s iron grip to look him in the eye.

"Only because I’m drunk and won’t remember them!" Changbin whines in defense. "It’s what bros do!"

"Is it?" Hyunjin cackles. "Why can’t Channie do it then?" Jisung waves his phone in Chan’s direction as if it would somehow tempt him.

"I’m not doing that," he states firmly. "I’ll remember it. Sorry."

"Useless, all of you!" Jisung exclaims dramatically. "I’ll do it myself."

He does his best to steady his hand as he squints at his screen once more with the intention of selecting a photo worthy of Minho. He isn’t sure if any of them are as he scrolls through mirror pictures where he is undoubtedly trying way too hard, shirt caught between his teeth to show off his abs and his hand wrapped around himself… not all that tastefully. 

He eventually settles on one taken on his bed, showing only his lower stomach and crotch illuminated by blue LED lights just enough to hint at the outline of his abs and the dick poking out of his boxers. It’s rather tasteful compared to the others, if one were to ask drunk Jisung. Would he suck it? Maybe.

Jisung
heyy so rememebr when you said ssend nudes
btu then you said jk
and i said lmk  if you chNge urmind and u said u would
have you change d it yet

Minho
hi jisungie
who gave you alcohol

Jisung
[Image attached]

The rest of the night is a blur of Changbin clinging to Hyunjin and dozing off, Chan ordering takeout at an unreasonable hour, everyone gorging themselves with said takeout (even Changbin who wakes up long enough to eat before passing back out), and Jisung checking his phone for a response so frequently that Hyunjin gets annoyed enough to confiscate it. At some point, they fall asleep in various places and positions in Chan’s dorm and wake up after noon with foggy memories and an ache in their heads.

Jisung rolls over on Chan’s couch with a groan, blindly grabbing around for his phone while his other hand presses against his temple to dull the pain.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Chan coos, crossing the living room to hand him a glass of water, something Jisung did not have nearly enough of in his system, his mouth as dry as cardboard.

"Thanks," he croaks before gulping down half of the glass.

"You hear back from Minho?" Chan asks innocently.

"Hear back?" Jisung furrows his eyebrows in confusion, continuing his search from his phone. When he turns it on, there’s a new message from Minho, sent just a few hours ago. His stomach drops as he looks up to Chan in horror, too terrified to open the message. "What did I say to him?"

"Ah, you don’t remember." Chan purses his lips, pats Jisung on the shoulder, and walks away. Jisung’s dread increases tenfold as the elder calls out, "Good luck!" from the kitchen.

Jisung swallows, mouth still dry, downs the rest of his water, then finally gathers the courage to tap on his conversation with Minho.

"Oh fuck," he whispers, eyes widening in remembrance when he sees the unsolicited dick pic. "Fuck!" he repeats, loud enough to make his own head throb. "Why did you guys let me do this?"

"Keep it down," Changbin murmurs as he trudges in wearing the same clothes from the night before. "You’re a grown man, Jisungie. You let you do this."

"No, no, no, shit." Jisung panics, running a hand through his hair. 

"What did he say?" Changbin yawns, taking a seat at the other end of the couch. Jisung realizes he hadn’t actually looked at the screen long enough to process what Minho had said, too caught up in the horror of his own actions.

Jisung
[Image attached]

Minho
cool
have you done page 2 yet

Jisung tosses his phone onto the couch cushions and puts his head in his hands.

"‘Cool,’" he groans. "He said ‘cool.’ And then asked me about the homework."

Changbin bursts out into shrill laughter that quickly has him mirroring Jisung, holding his head in his hands in pain, which, Jisung thinks, is what he deserves.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry," Changbin apologizes. "But cool? God, I feel bad for ever encouraging this. Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel, Sung."

"What?" Jisung asks, sitting up defensively. "I mean, he said cool. He could’ve said, like, ‘gross,’ or ‘don’t ever text me again’ or something."

"He said your dick was cool?" Chan asks, rejoining them with a glass of water for Changbin which the latter gratefully accepts. "And you think that’s a good thing?"

"Not good, no, just…could be worse?" Jisung tries while Chan and Changbin share a doubtful glance. He sighs. "We’re supposed to meet up later, I-I mean, if he still wants to after that. I guess then I can assess the damage."

Jisung’s phone is heavy in his hand when he grabs it again and mulls over what to say to Minho. He was drunk out of his mind, so he has that excuse going for him at the very least. A fleeting thought wonders if he should say it was an accident, but his prior texts definitely disprove that, and no matter what he says won’t change the fact that he sent Minho a picture of his dick. 

Minho saw his dick. And said "cool." 

Jisung might as well abandon this life and begin anew in the wilderness without technology, where he won’t have to face this embarrassment or any similar dick pic related incidents ever again.

Jisung
ah not yet
i was gonna do it last night but i kind of got wasted
im really sorry about that

Minho
it’s ok we can just do it today

Jisung
no i mean uh
sorry about what i sent

Minho
it’s cool
see you soon?

Jisung
yeah

Jisung frowns. What did drunk Jisung think was going to happen? That Minho would open his shitty mood lighting dick pic and swoon? Drop to his knees the next time he saw him? God, he’s a fucking idiot. An idiot who is most definitely locking his phone up in a safe the next time he drinks.

However, Minho acts perfectly normal when they meet up a few hours later―or as normal as Minho can be. While Jisung is rather subdued and cautious, Minho (as usual) acts as if nothing happened, carrying out their assignment and his own personal mission of flustering Jisung with his hand dangerously close to the very source of Jisung’s concerns.

Part of Jisung is disappointed and almost wants Minho to address it, to show some interest in him beyond offhanded touches or even tell him how it made him feel. Offended? Disgusted? Should he give up hope, throw in the towel like Changbin said?

Still, if Minho is content to drop it, so is Jisung, he supposes. It saves him the embarrassment.

He is grateful that Minho allows things to go back to normal so easily, and before he knows it, Jisung has all but forgotten about the incident as well (except, of course, when his friends bring it up and he’s subjected to intense cringing on his own part). He’s back to his excessive flirting and comfortable companionship with Minho, happy to put the incident behind them and still be in his good graces.

However, it does nothing to soothe the ache caused by the constant confusion that being around Minho brings.

○ ○ ○

Jisung
are you catnip?
because i’m intoxicated by you

Minho
implying you’re a cat?

Jisung
meow :3

Minho
haha
cute~

Jisung
how was it??
did i sweep you off your feet? do i need to come catch you??

Minho
better
but no. still standing

Jisung
:<

○ ○ ○

"Humor me," Minho says one day after they’ve finished their homework. He’s sucking on a lollipop as he lounges lazily on his couch, and Jisung is trying his best not to let his gaze linger on lips reddened by the strawberry flavor, trying his best not to imagine how sweet he tastes.

Minho continues, "What kind of things are you into?"

Strangely, Minho wiggles his eyebrows a bit. Jisung isn’t sure what’s so suggestive about asking about someone’s hobbies, especially when Jisung has mentioned most of them at least in passing by now.

"Um…" Jisung picks at his nails. "I think I’ve mentioned them all before, but music, anime, dramas obviously, I draw sometimes I guess…" He trails off when Minho purses his lips in an attempt to stifle laughter. "What?"

"That’s not really what I meant." Minho plucks the lollipop from his mouth and licks his lips. Jisung subconsciously mirrors him, wetting his own. "But now that you mention it, you still haven’t linked me your SoundCloud."

"Ah, well…" Jisung scratches the back of his neck. He’d begged Chan a few times already to delete the infamous "Wow" track so he could share their page with Minho without feeling completely mortified, but Chan had refused, laughing. He uses a tactic that he knows will make Minho back down. "You’ve gotta earn it, baby."

Surely enough, Minho pops the candy back in his mouth with a sigh and roll of his eyes combo that Jisung has grown all too familiar with. "You’re insufferable. I’ll never take an interest in your hobbies again."

"You said that wasn’t even what you meant!" Jisung retorts. "What were you asking?"

Minho raises his eyebrows as if to say are you really this dense? and Jisung puts two and two together. 

"You know," Minho says, even though the way Jisung’s mouth forms an 'o' definitely conveys that he understands now. "Any, like, weird fetishes I should know about?"

"God, I don’t know," he says without really considering it, his face heating up. He’s positive that he has some unconventional interests, but he isn’t too keen on listing them off to Minho or thinking too hard about them in his presence. It’s a recipe for embarrassment. "I mean―I don’t know."

Minho clicks his tongue. "Boring."

"Well, what about you then?" Jisung prompts, folding his arms.

"Oh, no," Minho laughs, shaking his head. "You don’t get to dodge the question and expect an answer from me."

"Feet?" Jisung asks, presenting his sock-clad foot to Minho for consideration.

"No." Minho swats his leg away.

"Watersports?"

"No. Stop guessing."

"Furry? I know how much you love cats."

Minho’s jaw drops. "Not like that!"

"Wanna call me daddy?" Jisung wiggles his eyebrows obnoxiously.

"No! Gross." Minho pretends to gag. "I bet you’re into that, though."

"No, I’m… not." Jisung falters at the thought. Is he into that, or is he only considering it because it’s Minho?

"Oh my God, you are!" Minho guffaws and claps a hand on Jisung’s knee, delighted.

"You can call me whatever you want and I’d be into it." Jisung smirks and tries to distract from his surely reddening cheeks.

"Hmm…" Minho taps his chin. "How about ‘annoying little shit?’"

Jisung bites his lip in an exaggerated fashion. "Fuck, I think you just awakened something within me."

"Oh?" Minho laughs. "I’ll remember that."

A silence falls briefly, one that would be considered comfortable if Jisung weren’t hyper aware of Minho’s eyes trained on him while he fiddles with the lollipop in his mouth. Suddenly Minho is tilting his head innocently and asking, "Are you a virgin?"

"W-What?" Jisung laughs nervously. "Where did that come from?"

He shrugs. "Just curious. I assume you are, at least."

"Hey!" Jisung grabs a throw pillow and hits Minho with it lightly, a gesture that he returns with five times the force. "Ow! What do you mean you assume I am?"

"Exactly what I said." He blinks. "Am I wrong?"

"I mean, technically…" Jisung mumbles, scratching the back of his head. "No."

"No, you’re not? Or no, I’m not wrong?"

"Yes."

"I think I have my answer," Minho scoffs. "Like I said, just curious. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"Easy for you to say," Jisung retorts, making Minho’s brow furrow.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" he asks slowly, on edge.

Jisung blinks, confused. "Nothing? Just, um…" He falters, wondering how to answer his question. Oh, nothing, just that I know you’ve had sex because you fucked my friend and he told me about it, that’s all. Also Hyunjin told me about the rumors― 

Oh shit. Maybe the rumors are upsetting to Minho, after all.

Jisung hasn’t thought much of it since then, but while Minho hadn’t seemed bothered during the confrontation with that douchebag on the first day Jisung came to visit him at work, he’s come to learn by now that Minho is pretty good at hiding his emotions―just as he’s learned how to pick up on them. It would only make sense for someone to be upset at their private life being aired out and insulted like that, and Minho is only human despite the pedestal Jisung has placed him on.

"I mean, I assume it is," he settles on throwing Minho’s words back at him in an attempt to deflect, wanting to get as far from the subject as possible and not have to explain his sources, lest he hurt Minho’s feelings.

Minho hums, unamused. "Anyway," he says, an odd strain to his voice, "you wanna finish that drama or what?"

"Yeah, sure," Jisung agrees, grateful for the subject being dropped.

After traipsing into the kitchen and sticking a bag of popcorn in the microwave, Minho pipes up again, "Are you saving yourself for marriage or something?"

"Oh my God, shut up," Jisung groans, burying his face in his hands. If Minho refuses to drop it, he’ll have to resort to desperate measures again to get him off his case. "Sheesh, why are you so invested? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were interested, hyung."

Rather than rolling his eyes and backing down, Minho leans over the counter and makes a show of looking Jisung up and down where he sits. Heat creeps back up to Jisung’s face at an alarming rate under the weight of Minho’s appraising gaze, settling in alongside the regret for opening his mouth.

He doesn’t let it show though, draping his arms over the back of the couch and slinging his right leg up to rest his ankle on his knee, puffing his chest out and tilting his head with a cocky grin. The action earns a huff of a laugh from Minho.

"You’re cute," Minho says, "I’ll give you that."

Jisung deflates a bit at that. "Cute?"

"Handsome," Minho amends. "Attractive. Pretty. Any of those suit your tastes better?"

Jisung soaks up the rare compliments and basks in the attention. "I don’t know, can you run them by me again?"

"Annoying," Minho declares, throwing a wadded-up paper towel at him.

"That’s the one," Jisung says, laughing as he fails to dodge.

"Annoyingly handsome," Minho muses, retrieving the popcorn before the microwave can beep obnoxiously.

"I’ll take it."

"Yeah, you will. Catch." On his way back to the couch, Minho launches a piece of popcorn at Jisung, who opens his mouth wide and jumps in his seat to catch it like a goddamn dolphin. "Good boy," Minho praises him, ruffling Jisung’s hair as he plops down next to him, Jisung nearly choking on his singular piece of popcorn even though he should be way past the point of being affected by the phrase or anything similar by now. Minho presses play on the next episode of the drama they had been watching, unbothered.

Once the popcorn is gone, Minho’s head falls to rest on Jisung’s shoulder, and after a brief inner debate, Jisung slips his arm around Minho’s shoulders. He feels the older tense and starts to pull away and usher out a sorry before Minho is snuggling into him.

Minho feels warm, feels right pressed up against him, and Jisung finds it very hard to focus on the characters on screen when all he can think about is wrapping his other arm around Minho, burying his face in his hair, inhaling his scent, planting a kiss, maybe tilting his head up with a finger hooked under his chin and kissing him right on his lips. Jisung wonders if they’re as soft as they look.

God, he wants to find out.

He swallows and starts, in a small voice, "Hey, hyung?" No response. "This might be a bad time, but uh… I kinda like you. A lot. I mean, um, if it isn’t obvious. But just so we’re clear."

Minho doesn’t budge. Jisung’s mouth goes dry; he doesn’t know what he expected from the impromptu confession, he didn’t have time to build up expectations before he blurted it out on impulse, but he certainly wished for more than silence.

"Y-You totally don’t have to say anything. I understand if you don’t feel the same, I just had to get it off my chest, I’m sorry if―"

Minho turns his head and mumbles something into Jisung’s chest.

"Huh?"

Minho sits up with effort, heavy eyelids blinking sleepily. "Did you say something?"

Disappointment and relief swirl in Jisung all at once. His heart swells with the knowledge that Minho had fallen asleep on him; he feels the way he feels when a cat deems him worthy and chooses to curl up and sleep in his lap, a Chosen One of sorts.

Plus, sleepy Minho is unbearably adorable.

"Oh, no," Jisung says. "Just, uh, this guy’s a dumbass." He jabs his thumb towards the TV with the drama still playing, forgotten. "You can go back to sleep. You aren’t missing much."

"Sorry," Minho mutters even as his head falls back onto Jisung’s shoulder and his eyes flutter shut. "Long day. Didn’t mean to."

"It’s okay," Jisung assures him, jostling Minho as little as possible as he moves to lie against the armrest and open his arms invitingly. "Want an oversized pillow?"

Minho hums contemplatively but ultimately accepts his offer, slotting himself between Jisung and the back of the couch, half on top of him with his head on Jisung’s chest. "You’re pretty comfy," he says, punctuated with a yawn.

"You’re pretty cute when you’re sleepy," Jisung returns. He tentatively runs a hand through Minho’s hair, heart skipping a beat when Minho makes a pleased noise and leans into the touch like a sleepy kitten. "Oh?"

Minho brings a sweater-enclosed fist down on Jisung’s chest half-heartedly. "Don’t start."

"Okay, okay," Jisung laughs softly, running his hand through Minho’s hair again, grinning triumphantly when he feels Minho melt against him. "Go to sleep, kitty."

He isn’t sure if Minho’s breath hitches from the name, the petting, or both, but regardless Jisung is absolutely filing them both away for future use. For now, he gets comfortable, relishing the feeling of Minho’s soft hair between his fingers and his warmth around him, closer than ever, and there’s no place Jisung would rather be, no one else he’d rather abandon dramas with for catnaps. 

Fuck, he likes Minho so much. 

He’s glad Minho didn’t hear his confession. It was impulsive and stupid, especially when he has no idea where he really stands with him. He can’t mess things up, can’t ruin the beautiful, dysfunctional, strange friendship they’ve built up. Especially not if it means giving up moments like this.

He has plenty of time to worry about it later, when Minho’s steady breathing and comfortable weight aren’t lulling him to sleep, no matter how much he tries to stay awake and savor the moment.

And if he happens to press a gentle kiss to the crown of Minho’s head before drifting off to sleep himself, that’s between him and the scandalized gaze of Minho’s roommate who walked in right as he did so.

○ ○ ○

Minho
you left your stupid hat here

Jisung
oops ^^;
you wanna hang onto it for a while?
you can smell it whenever you miss me ;)

Minho
first of all ew
second i can’t miss you if you never leave me alone

Jisung
hmm good point
absence makes the heart grow fonder
maybe ghosting you is the push you need to realize you’re madly in love with me

Minho
pfft
let me know how that works out for you

Jisung
i can’t hear you over the sound of me ghosting you

Minho
(¬_¬ )
if you’re too busy ghosting me i guess we can’t watch movies on saturday~

Jisung
well…
perhaps movie nights make the heart grow fonder too ♡ 

Minho
we’ll see

○ ○ ○

Jisung chances a glance at the librarian―the same grumpy old white lady as usual―as he slowly slides his americano from its place hidden on the floor and into his lap, behind his laptop, to take a sip. He can only hope the ice doesn’t clink too loudly in the confines of the cup; Changbin is meeting him soon and he’d hate for him to walk all this way only to find Jisung kicked out of the library. Again.

The bright red headphones blaring in his ears don’t allow him to hear any indication that he’s being too loud, and the librarian’s gaze stays fixed sternly on the monitor before her, so he counts it as a victory and slooowly moves to return the drink to the floor.

Of course, all of his efforts to be quiet and inconspicuous are foiled when he jolts, nearly dropping his coffee with a squeak as his left headphone is pulled away and a soft, almost sensual voice is speaking directly into his ear, "I don’t think that’s allowed in here."

Jisung freezes with his hand halfway to the ground, not daring to make a move and tip off his crimes to the librarian who is undoubtedly staring after that little outburst. He turns to the offender and fixes him with his meanest glare (pout, really), yanking his headphones off to rest on his shoulders. 

"What the fuck, hyung?" 

Minho only laughs as he takes the seat next to him. "I like the hair."

"Oh!" Jisung runs a hand through his hair, freshly dyed its natural black to give it a break after being blonde for so long. "You do, huh?" He grins, cocky, aggressions forgotten. "I just kinda got tired of taking care of the blonde, so―I…" He trails off, breath hitching when Minho leans in and replaces the hand in his hair with one of his own, humming as his fingertips run along Jisung’s scalp and eyes run over his features.

"You look hot."

"Oh," Jisung chokes out, the cockiness stunned right out of him. Hot? That’s a first. "Uh, thanks."

He finally sets his drink back on the floor when a glance at the librarian confirms that she no longer cares, and maybe also uses it as an excuse to try and hide the flush surely creeping up to his cheeks. Is it hot in here suddenly?

"Guess I won’t be going back to blonde anytime soon," he laughs weakly.

"The blonde was cute," Minho muses, sending a chill down Jisung’s spine when fingers ghost against his temple, "but this really suits you."

"Yeah?" Jisung breathes, gaze drifting unbidden to Minho’s lips before quickly snapping back up to his eyes. He isn’t sure if he’s grateful or not for their being in a public place preventing him from doing something potentially extremely embarrassing and stupid on impulse.

"Mhm." Minho pulls away and Jisung immediately mourns the loss of the hand in his hair, but then Minho just stops and looks at him, gaze almost fond, a soft smile on his lips. Jisung’s brain goes fuzzy like static.

"So what brings you to the library?" Minho wonders, breaking Jisung’s trance as he rests his head in his palm. "I didn’t think you could read."

"Shut up." Jisung manages to laugh, shoving his arm half-heartedly. "I’m waiting for Changbin. We’re gonna pretend like we’re gonna be productive then give up and go eat or something. He owes me lunch."

He refuses to let go of the two-hundred word discussion post he wrote for Changbin’s literature class last week. Mediocre or not, it got him a 94 and saved his friend a precious fifteen or twenty minutes.

"Ah, does he?" Strangely, Minho’s smile drops a bit at that, and then―speak of the devil―Changbin waltzes in, keys jingling obnoxiously in the silence of the library. He gives a sheepish smile to the disgruntled librarian and shoves them in his bag to muffle the sound.

Jisung watches Minho glance at him, then down at his own hands, a far-off look in his eyes.

"You can join us, if you want," Jisung suggests hesitantly. He’s never had Minho around his other friends for anything more than pleasantries exchanged during a visit to Minho’s work or passing by in the cafe or hallways, but the last time he and Changbin crossed paths, everything seemed fine. Why is Minho acting weird all of a sudden?

"Hm? Oh, no, it’s okay," he gently declines, pushing his chair back and preparing to depart. "I don’t want to intrude."

"You wouldn’t be," Jisung assures him. He reaches for Minho’s wrist, wanting to at least squeeze some sort of clue out of him regarding his sudden change in behavior before he leaves. "C’mon, baby, you know you’re always welcome―"

Minho is quick to shrug him off, face void of the usual playful annoyance Jisung is so used to, expression undecipherable. "I’ll see you tomorrow." He gives Jisung a smile that comes nowhere near his eyes before he walks away, nodding at Changbin on the way. Jisung stares at the back of his head, dumbfounded.

"You alright?" Changbin asks when he approaches, slinging his bag onto the table across from Jisung.

"I have no idea what just happened," he says.

"You get groped again?" Changbin snickers.

"No, he…" Jisung’s face scrunches up in confusion, too caught up replaying the past several minutes in his head to care about Changbin’s teasing. His eyes wander over to where Minho stands at the counter making conversation with the grumpy old library lady whose face is lit up in a rare smile. 

That was weird, right? One second Minho is touching Jisung, calling him hot, looking at him fondly, then Changbin is brought up and he’s almost… despondent. Had he wanted to hang out with Jisung? He did offer for Minho to join them though, and Minho isn’t really the type to get upset over little things like that, is he? 

Jisung talks to Minho about his friends quite a lot, and he’s never acted like that. Jisung has also seen Minho jealous (or he likes to think he has) and that isn’t what that looks like, either. What if Minho has feelings for Changbin? he wonders briefly, quickly shaking the thought. He’s never acted like that around Changbin before. 

It almost seemed more like he remembered something, like Changbin was some unknowing harbinger of bad vibes. Maybe it wasn’t even related to him. Who fucking knows?

"I don’t know," he sighs finally. He runs a hand through his hair, missing Minho’s touch. "I don’t get him at all, man. I think I do, then I don’t. Everything goes great, then it doesn’t. It’s like I’m totally missing something, you know what I mean?"

Changbin blinks at him unhelpfully. "I think what you’re missing―" he leans over the table to knock his fist against Jisung’s skull, "are a few screws up here." Jisung frowns, trying to duck out of his reach only for Changbin to poke at his stomach next. "And some food in here."

He rises to his feet, returning the bag to his shoulder, giving up on their little homework session before even attempting to unzip his bag.

"You’ve been here for one minute," Jisung says. "You’re not even gonna pretend to―"

"Like you’re gonna be able to focus on anything with loverboy standing there." Changbin is certainly right and leaves little room for argument. "Let’s just go; I’m hungry anyway."

"You’re always hungry," Jisung grumbles, "but fine. Don’t forget you’re paying." Changbin rolls his eyes and Jisung casts a final forlorn glance towards Minho’s back before gathering his things and following his friend out. 

He’ll have plenty of time to overthink all of that later. For now, the grounding hand on his shoulder and welcomed subject change from Changbin is enough.

○ ○ ○

Minho
[Image attached]
my mom just sent me this
thought i’d share

Jisung
OMG so cuuuuute!!! sleepy little babies
i bet their paws are so soft!!

Minho
they are~

Jisung
i want to kiss their cute little heads and fuzzy paws

Minho
pfft good luck
they barely let me do it

Jisung
i’ll get through to them!!!
cats love me

Minho
hmmm sure

Jisung
ok okok hey how’s this
is your cat’s name dori? cause i a-dori you!!!

Minho
…
that’s…
that’s the best one yet
i’m impressed~

Jisung
really? :D
a way to a man’s heart is through his cats it seems
soon-ienough i will make you mine

Minho
bye

○ ○ ○

"Okay, guys," Jisung sighs, "be honest." Chan and Changbin look up from their computer and phone respectively, eyebrows raised attentively. "Do you think I have a chance with Minho? Like, at all?"

Changbin puffs up his cheeks and exhales, looking to Chan for answers, so Jisung does, too.

"Well…" Chan begins, reclining as best as he can in his chair. "I think it’s safe to say you’re well beyond the point of just a quick hook-up. So if you want to sleep with him, let alone by the end of the semester… you’re gonna have to just do something about it, Ji."

"What?" Jisung furrows his eyebrows before his eyes widen in remembrance. "Oh! I don’t care about the bet," he laughs. "It’s just… I like him. I really like him, like, I wanna be with him, but I don’t even know if he likes me."

"I mean, you two have been spending a lot of time together lately," Chan points out.

"I know!" Jisung wails. "That just makes it more confusing! His mixed signals are on another level."

"So ask him if he likes you," Changbin says and Jisung pales at the mere thought.

"But what if he doesn’t?" Jisung groans. "He’s really like, I don’t know… Most of the time when I flirt with him, he brushes it off or laughs, but sometimes he genuinely gets kind of… annoyed?" Jisung frowns. "I mean, I back off at that point, of course―I just can’t help but think he’d get mad and never want to talk to me again, or that he thinks I just want to fuck, or… I dunno."

"To be fair, you did at first," Changbin adds, like a shithead.

Jisung rolls his eyes. "Yeah, but it’s different now! Now I wanna…" A thousand different things run through his mind, reminding Jisung that he’s as much of a hopeless romantic as ever. "I really like him, okay?" he settles on saying. "I can’t risk messing it up."

"If you’re that insistent on not telling him and you don’t care about the bet, don’t rush it." Chan shrugs. "Just keep getting close as friends, and work your way up from there."

"From what I know, he’s pretty straightforward," Changbin says, and Jisung has to scoff at that because he’s been anything but. "Maybe he’ll be the one to bring it up."

Jisung throws his head back in anguish. "You guys don’t understand. It’s fucking torture. The touching… God. Why does he do that?"

"Maybe he likes playing with his food?" Chan suggests with an eyebrow wiggle, and Jisung feels his cheeks flush.

"Do it to him," Changbin says. "See if he can take what he dishes out."

"Oh my God." Jisung covers his face at the thought of his hands going anywhere near Minho’s thighs. There’s no way he can do it without bursting into flames. "Have you seen his thighs? Don’t answer that."

"I have," Changbin answers anyway, smirking proudly, "and they were sooo worth it."

"That’s it." Jisung lunges at him, Changbin cackling at Jisung’s feeble attempts to overpower him and wrestle him out of his chair.

"Settle down before you break something, children!" Chan calls half-heartedly, returning to his work.

"Yes, mom," Changbin calls back, shoving Jisung off of him and sending him sprawling on the floor with little effort.

"This isn’t over, Seo," Jisung says with narrowed eyes as he slinks back to his spot on the couch.

"What’s this about Minho’s thighs?" Hyunjin asks, strolling in from the kitchen with a glass of water.

"I’m just fucking with Jisung, baby," Changbin says, making grabby hands for Hyunjin who ignores him to sit next to Jisung. "Minho’s thighs have nothing on yours."

"That’s a lie and we all know it," Hyunjin says. Jisung nods sagely. "Anyway," Hyunjin continues, turning to Jisung, "don’t you think Minho would stop hanging out with you like, all the time, if he didn’t like you?"

"I mean, yeah, I assume he likes being around me at least…" Jisung chews his lip thoughtfully. Minho is often the one to invite him out or over, after all. "We get along really well, but he hasn’t really done anything to suggest he likes me, y’know?"

Hyunjin’s brow furrows and his lips part incredulously. "You tell us at least once a week about a different instance of him feeling you up though?"

"And I’m supposed to know what the fuck that means?" Jisung demands. "Normal people like, hug or kiss when they like someone, right?"

"Or do nothing, if your name is Jisung," Changbin mumbles, batting his eyes innocently when Jisung glares at him.

"It is a little weird…" Hyunjin admits. "I wish we could catch him in the act and get a handle on the situation, give you a second opinion, y’know?"

Jisung nods slowly, thinking of the times he wished he’d had his friends with him to guide him. He feels childish, but seriously, what is one meant to do in that situation?

"Okay," he starts, "so I set up a hidden camera, and―"

"Let me stop you right there," Chan interrupts, swiveling around in his chair. "We’re all still going to that party later, right? Invite Minho."

"Ooh, good idea!" Hyunjin says. "We can keep an eye on him."

Jisung scratches his head. "When you put it like that it sounds a little…"

"We get to see loverboy in action!" Changbin all but squeals.

Jisung has a bad feeling about this, about the embarrassment in store, but he relents and goes along with Chan’s idea nonetheless. There’s something terrifying about introducing Minho into his little friend group, but something comforting, too, about the thought of having all his favorite people together and (hopefully) getting along.

Jisung
hey!!
would you happen to be in the mood to go to a party with me and some friends tonight? ^^

Minho
hmm
what friends

Jisung
the only friends i have
chan changbin & hyunjin

Minho
and what am i?
Dirt?

Jisung
you’re on another level baby

Minho
pfff

Jisung
so? party?

Minho
ok yeah why not
it’s been awhile

Jisung
it’s a date then ;)
you wanna pregame?
chan’s driving

Minho
sure :3
when and where?

After giving Minho Chan’s room number and a time window, Jisung scurries off to his own dorm with Hyunjin to make himself presentable, putting in a relatively significant amount of effort now that he knows Minho is coming.

"So what’s the look we’re going for here?" Hyunjin asks as he shuffles through Jisung’s closet while the latter struggles with his makeup. He isn’t trying to do anything fancy, just the slightest bit of a smokey eye, but Jisung is totally helpless.

"Hyunjinnie," he whines. "Can you do my makeup too?"

"Wardrobe and makeup?" Hyunjin heaves a dramatic sigh as if he isn’t delighted by the idea. "It’s gonna cost you. Hey, isn’t this my shirt?"

Jisung turns to wrinkle his nose at him. "Does it matter? You have like five of mine. Hey, stop laughing!"

"I’m sorry!" He snorts at Jisung’s poor attempt at eye makeup. "You tried. A for effort. C’mere."

Jisung pouts throughout the entirety of Hyunjin repairing his makeup, although he’s grateful for his friend’s assistance. He wonders if Minho would’ve laughed at him, too. Probably.

"You know, it’s not that hard to learn," Hyunjin comments as he puts on the so-called finishing touches, dabbing something around Jisung’s eyes with a look of concentration.

Jisung makes a noncommittal noise. "I don’t wear it enough for it to be worth the effort. Besides, you’d be out of a job."

"Not like you pay me or anything," Hyunjin scoffs before leaning back to admire his work, pointing Jisung to the mirror. "Maybe you should though."

"Ooh," Jisung whispers, marveling at the clouds of black around his eyes and the bit of glitter that shimmers when he tilts his head. "Maybe I should! But I won’t."

"As expected," Hyunjin sighs, standing and returning to Jisung’s closet. "Hard work is its own reward, I suppose."

"It took you like ten minutes," Jisung points out.

"Ten minutes I’ll never get back!" Hyunjin snaps. "Anyway, you never answered my question. What kind of look are you going for?"

"I dunno," Jisung says as he admires the way the glitter reflects the light and sparkles when he tilts his head. "Just… work your magic?"

"You’re impossible to work with, you know that?" he says. "Alright, you’re gonna wear what I pick out, and you’re gonna like it."

"Oh boy."

Minutes later Jisung is dressed and shoved in front of his mirror, scanning himself from head to toe. Hyunjin’s got him in a black tank top underneath a large, billowy black mesh button-up he had practically sprinted to his dorm to retrieve after his face lit up with the idea. It’s patterned with stars and it’s admittedly beautiful, even matches Jisung’s eyeshadow, but he can’t help but feel like it’s a bit much for a house party.

Jisung can’t deny that he looks damn good though, with his newly-dyed black hair, Hyunjin’s fancy starry shirt, his own leather pants, and his platform Docs.

"You don’t think this is too much for a shitty college party?" he voices his concerns.

"Who cares? You look good!" Hyunjin exclaims. "Plus it’s in the rich part of town. You won’t be the only one, trust me."

"If you say so…"

"You don’t like it?" Hyunjin pouts.

"No, I do! I really do. It’s just… I’m gonna feel so fucking stupid if Minho shows up in, like, a hoodie."

"I’ll overdress too to make up for it if he does," Hyunjin reassures him with a pat on the back.

"Oh, I know you will." Jisung checks his phone. "You should go get started on that so we don’t keep them waiting too long."

"They’ll get over it." Hyunjin waves him off but heads out anyway.

"Thank you!" Jisung calls after him belatedly, grateful for his help even if he does feel just a teensy bit like a clown. (But like, a sexy, emo clown.) He sighs and plops down on his bed, stopping himself from burrowing into his pillows like he desires so he doesn’t mess up his carefully-styled hair, and pulls out his phone.

Jisung
hyunjin dressed me
i feel a bit ridiculous

Minho
oh yeah?
send a pic

Jisung
it’s a surprise~~

Minho
that bad huh?

Jisung
no!!
don’t get me wrong i look hella good
i just feel overdressed

Minho
uh huh
hella?

Jisung
you heard me
or.. read me
anyway
dress pretty so i’m not alone :<

Minho
hmmm~
don’t count on it

Jisung
i’m making puppy dog eyes at the screen rn

Minho
that means nothing to me

Jisung
i’m meowing at the screen

Minho
...tell me more
share your wisdom

Jisung
nya~

Minho
incredible
ok leave me alone so i can get ready
pest

Jisung
fineee
see you soon ♡♡

Once Hyunjin is finally ready, he and Jisung take the walk of shame (in Jisung’s mind, at least) back to Chan’s dorm all dolled up and turning more than a few heads on their way. Jisung knows he looks good himself, but most of the attention can be attributed to Hyunjin’s eye-catching pink silk shirt, pretty makeup, and stylish beret.

Jisung isn’t sure if he’s thankful or not that they arrive before Minho; the anticipation is too much. His stomach twists itself in knots as he readily accepts the shot glass Chan passes to him.

"Not so fast," Chan stops him. "Aren’t we waiting for your boyfriend?"

"I need it more than him," Jisung insists, not bothering to correct him, before downing his shot. He winces as it goes down but pushes his glass back towards the bottle of vodka. "Gimme another."

"Calm down, man," Changbin laughs, rubbing his back soothingly. "What’s got you so worked up all of a sudden?"

"Nothing!" he says defensively. "You guys know I’m in a constant state of worry. It’s fine."

"It’s alright," Hyunjin soothes him. "Don’t drink yourself into a coma before he even gets here. I want you to remember the look on his face when he sees you."

Jisung scoffs as he pours his own shot, picturing Minho’s patented indifferent stare in his mind. He’d really rather at least reach the fuzzy edge of tipsiness where he can stop worrying and maybe act like a normal person around Minho by the time he arrives, but a knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts long before he reaches that point.

Chan is in the kitchen rummaging around for a fifth shot glass for Minho, so Changbin and Hyunjin both look at Jisung expectantly.

"Okay," he laughs nervously, rising to his feet. "I’ll get it, don’t everyone volunteer at once."

Jisung stops a moment too long in front of the door to collect himself, long enough for Hyunjin to pointedly clear his throat and for his phone to buzz in his pocket with a text from Minho.

Minho
please let me in i feel ridiculous

Jisung subconsciously holds his breath as he pulls the door open, but it proves to be a pointless action when the sight before him knocks the air right back out of him.

Minho looks up from his phone, and the first thing Jisung notices is the lack of round frames perched on his perfect nose. Thin wings of eyeliner are drawn around his wide eyes, surrounded by a subtle smidge of red and a dash of glitter. His hair is styled wavy and Jisung feels the immediate urge to stick his hands in it, though he’s sure the gesture would be unwelcome.

His eyes travel down and Jisung is sure his own body shuts down at the sight: Minho is wearing a white crop-top sweater over a sheer undershirt tucked into black leather pants. Jisung tries his best to not gawk at the expanse of skin showing through the thin fabric, he really does. A for effort, Hyunjin would say.

When he pries his eyes away and looks back up to Minho’s (unfairly gorgeous) face, he’s at least allowed the satisfaction of seeing Minho check him out just as shamelessly. His lips are parted slightly as his gaze wanders, snapping shut when he meets Jisung’s eye and quirking into a smile.

"Wow," Minho breaks the silence, finally. "You weren’t kidding. You do look good."

"Thanks," Jisung says, a little breathless. "Wow yourself. You look, um… wow. Yeah." His gaze travels unbidden back to Minho’s midriff and he swivels around to avoid the temptation a second too late, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Changbin and Hyunjin are watching the display like it’s their favorite show, or like he and Minho are exotic animals at a zoo doing some sad mating ritual.

"Um, this is Changbin and this is Hyunjin," Jisung introduces them.

"I know who Changbin is," Minho laughs. Duh. Of course he knows who Changbin is; that’s the whole reason we are where we are today, idiot. "And Hyunjin’s the taro milk tea guy."

Hyunjin’s brow furrows in confusion before realization passes over his face. "Oh. Yeah, uh… I guess?"

Jisung’s eyebrows fly into his hairline when Minho walks past him, patting Jisung’s ass on the way to greet Hyunjin, offering his hand and a nice to officially meet you. Jisung might find it cute and endearing in different circumstances how formal he is, but now he’s too preoccupied with disbelief that neither Changbin nor Hyunjin has any idea Minho just smacked his ass in front of God and everyone.

Hyunjin did say these pants made his ass look good, though.

"It’s nice to finally meet you outside of work," Hyunjin says. "We’ve heard so much about you. Good things, of course!"

"Oh, likewise." Minho smiles, nodding at Changbin before taking a seat next to Hyunjin. The sight fills Jisung with just a tiny bit of fear as he leans against the couch and anxiously awaits Chan’s return so they can get to drinking. "What kind of things has our dear Jisungie been saying about me?"

Hyunjin meets Jisung’s eye and gives him a devilish smile. Jisung raises his eyebrows in warning. "Well…"

"I found it!" Chan returns with a triumphant shout, holding the glass up high. "Oh, hey there Minho! I didn’t hear you come in."

Minho greets him in return with a warm smile that puts Jisung at ease a bit. It’s nice, having them all together in one place. Jisung thinks he could definitely get used to it, as long as they don’t gang up and embarrass him too much.

"I was just digging this out from the depths of my cabinets for you," Chan explains, passing Minho the shot glass. It’s the one with the obnoxiously large marijuana leaf painted on the side; Jisung hasn’t seen it in ages.

Minho snorts, turning it over in his hand. "Classy. I appreciate it."

"Most of us waited for you," Changbin says, pouring vodka in everyone’s glass. "Jisung doesn’t know the meaning of restraint."

Now that Changbin mentions it, Jisung does feel a little lightheaded already. He hadn’t eaten a big dinner, and that on top of being a lightweight means that his mere two shots have him ahead of the game already.

"You didn’t wait for me?" Minho asks, feigning hurt. "Guess I’ll have to catch up, then." He throws back his shot, and Jisung’s eyes find his neck as he swallows, but they’re quickly distracted by the way his face twists in disgust afterwards.

Everyone laughs at him even though they all know Hyunjin’s post-shot face is just as bad, if not worse. He offers a demonstration right after. Minho’s laughter blending in with his best friends’ is music to Jisung’s ears, and he sways along happily.

"What number are you on?" Minho asks a few rounds later.

Jisung blinks, startled from his trance where he had been zoned out staring into his empty glass. What number is he on? The fuck’s that mean? Why is Minho so fucking pretty?

"Huh?"

"How many have you had?" he rephrases, nodding at Jisung’s glass.

"Oh. Uh… five…?"

"That’s enough for now, don’t you think?" Minho gingerly removes the glass from his hands and sets it on the table. Jisung whines in protest.

"Wow," Chan says, "that’s new. We usually just let him knock himself out."

"I can see the appeal," Minho says dryly as Jisung fights him weakly to try to reach his shot glass without standing up and revealing how dizzy he’s starting to become. "You can knock yourself out at the party, okay?"

"What are you, my mom?" Jisung says, sticking his tongue out. "I’m grown! If I wanna ruin my liver, that’s my choice!"

"You can and I’m sure you will," Minho laughs. "Just don’t black out before we even leave."

"You’d be surprised at his tolerance," Changbin comments. "He’s a lightweight, but he can hold it and function… kind of. Unlike some people."

Minho hums, ignoring Hyunjin’s indignant wail to turn and fix Jisung with an unreadable stare that makes his stomach turn from more than the alcohol. Dread fills Jisung with the realization that Changbin’s words may have triggered the same memory in Minho as they had in Jisung, of the last time he’d gotten drunk and did something very not-good.

Oh god, he’s thinking about the dick pic isn’t he? Please don’t be thinking about the dick pic. Who am I kidding? He’s not thinking about my dick. He’s got better things to think about. I wonder what he’s thinking about. God, he’s so fucking pretty.

"What?" Jisung demands when Minho continues to do nothing but stare.

"Your makeup is pretty," Minho says quietly, meant for Jisung’s ears only. Jisung swallows and prepares to compliment him in return, but unfortunately, that isn’t how things play out. 

"Thank you, Hyunjin," Hyunjin supplies.

"Yeah," Jisung grumbles at the ruined moment. "Hyunjin did it for me."

"Oh, it’s really nice!" Minho’s turned towards Hyunjin now as they shower each other in compliments for their handiwork. Jisung folds his arms, resenting the chance to tell Minho how insanely beautiful he is after not being able to choke out anything but a wow earlier being snatched from him. He catches Chan and Changbin snickering at him and flips them off.

"Alright," Chan says once Minho and Hyunjin have finished bonding or whatever. "We all good to go?"

"Yes!" Jisung stands too fast and nearly topples over, catching himself on the table. "Let’s fucking gooo!"

The others follow suit, undeniably in better shape than Jisung but still sporting a considerable flush on their cheeks serving as evidence for their buzz (save for Chan). Jisung tries not to black out when Minho’s hand rests on his waist to steady him as he stumbles out of the building.

One hazy car ride later where he may or may not have taken advantage of his state to lean on Minho’s shoulder the entire time, the five of them are standing in the foyer of a huge, expensive-looking house filled with sweaty young adults. The music is way too loud and it’s way too crowded, but Jisung is just a little too far gone to care―for the most part. He subconsciously shrinks into Minho’s side.

Chan leads their little cluster towards the kitchen and away from most of the noise, greeting about half of the people they pass on the way, and even Minho waves to a couple of people. Jisung doesn’t recognize a soul there.

He hopes he can be selfish and keep Minho to himself tonight. Changbin and Hyunjin will probably be off dancing or sticking their tongues down each other’s throats soon enough, and Chan always has someone else he can go to. Jisung is dead weight. His friends often stick with him, but he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to being left with Minho, as long as he doesn’t desert him, too.

Already Chan splinters off from the group to talk to a group of people gathered near the kitchen entrance with a "I’ll catch up with you guys later." Jisung shares a doubtful glance with Changbin and Hyunjin before the two lead them over to the drinks.

"Welp," Changbin says, pouring some unidentified mixture into his red solo cup. "One down, four to go."

Jisung scoffs. "You say that like you and Hyunjin won’t be sneaking off to some closet the first chance you get."

Hyunjin gasps, affronted. "A closet? We’re much classier than that!"

"Oh, my bad, I meant bathroom―"  The argument is interrupted when a cup is pushed into his hand. He’s surprised to see it’s Minho who handed it to him. "Oh, you’re encouraging this now?"

"Hey, we made it here. Go crazy," Minho laughs, pouring another for himself while Jisung smacks his lips at the pleasantly fruity taste. "I, for one, can’t wait to watch you embarrass yourself."

"Drunk Jisung is a riot," Changbin chimes in. "He always gives us a good show."

"Oh, definitely," Hyunjin adds. "You should get him to show you his beer pong skills."

"Noted," Minho smiles at Jisung over the rim of his cup. His stomach flutters.

"Why did I invite you again?" Jisung grumbles.

Minho hums, tilting his head, and reaches up to toy with Jisung’s dangly earring, fingertips brushing against his skin and making him suppress a shiver. "I don’t know, why did you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jisung sees Changbin and Hyunjin share a conspicuous look.

"Maybe because I like hanging out with you," Jisung answers his own question easily with a pout that then morphs into a grin. "Maybe I wanted to see you dance."

"Good luck with that," he scoffs. "I’m nowhere near drunk enough."

Jisung places his hand over the one Minho is using to grasp his cup, guiding it up to his lips and cocking an eyebrow expectantly. "Then drink."

Minho merely blinks at him before obeying, holding eye contact until his face is obscured when he tips the cup back, chugging the rest of its contents. He’d had a few shots already before they left (Jisung isn’t sure how many; he was a bit preoccupied with his own), so Jisung hopes it won’t take much more for him to loosen up.

"Good boy," Jisung says, patting Minho on the cheek before moving to take his cup and refill it. Changbin clears his throat loudly and Jisung flushes as he remembers their audience. Minho might have done the same, but it’s hard to tell.

The group falls into small talk while nursing their drinks, Jisung’s eyes fixating on the way Minho’s pouty lips move while he talks to Hyunjin about some choreography or another. He can feel Changbin’s amused gaze on him all the while but can’t find it in himself to care when he's so floaty, not even when Minho catches him staring, offering a wink instead of an excuse.

Hyunjin eventually spots someone he knows and drags Changbin off to talk to them, leaving Jisung with Minho who is chugging down the remnants of his drink and tossing the cup in the recycling bin.

"Ready to dance?" he asks, not giving Jisung time to respond before he’s tugging on his hand.

"O-Oh, both of us?" Jisung finishes the last sip of his own drink and lets himself be pulled towards the music.

"Obviously. What, were you planning on just standing there and watching like a creep?" Minho asks, angling his head back to grin at him.

"I mean, yeah, kinda?"

"Too bad."

Minho leads him down a hallway and into the large living area, seemingly the hub of the party. It’s dark save for the colorful lights all around, and most people who are standing are dancing―alone with respectable distances between one another or, in many cases, grinding on one another. The air is thick and hot from all the movement. Jisung swallows as Minho pulls him into the midst of the makeshift dance floor.

He has to raise his voice to be heard over the thrumming bass. "I’m shit at dancing."

"Who cares?" comes Minho’s reply. He finds the rhythm quickly, his body responding to the intense beat like he was made for it. Jisung can’t help but just watch in awe for a moment before willing his own body to move, bouncing to the rhythm nowhere near as skillfully as Minho.

Jisung throws his few remaining inhibitions out the window and just lets go, surely making a fool out of himself but having a blast as he and Minho gradually dance closer and closer together. 

"See? You’re doing fine," Minho encourages even as he laughs at him in a way that suggests he is not doing fine. Minho, on the other hand, is downright mesmerizing. He isn’t doing anything fancy or complicated, just doing what looks like a simple freestyle, but he hits every beat and Jisung thinks he could watch him for hours even if it meant embarrassing himself.

With the beat pulsating mind-numbingly loud in his ears and the alcohol coursing through his veins, Jisung unsurprisingly finds himself desperately wishing to close the distance between him and Minho, and his few remaining rational brain cells are fighting a losing battle as he slowly works to close the gap between them. Minho dances nearer too, dangerously close to Jisung until his arms are around his neck while he moves. Jisung wills his short-circuiting brain to react to the gesture, his hands finding their place on Minho’s hips, feeling them sway back and forth, his skin hot through the thin fabric of the sheer undershirt.

Lee Minho is fucking unreal, Jisung decides when he smiles brightly at him, colorful lights reflected and shimmering in his eyes, subtle smears of glitter sparkling around them like the night sky. And he’s so close, his face only inches away with their difference in height leveled by Jisung’s obnoxiously thick soles. Jisung wonders if he could kiss him and get away with it by blaming the alcohol.

"You look really fucking good," he blurts out instead, slightly slurred.

Minho’s grin grows wider. "You told me to look pretty," he says.

"I did, didn’t I?" Jisung mentally pats himself on the back for that one. "Got all dressed up for me, huh?" He tugs on the hem of the cropped sweater.

"That depends," Minho says, playing with the hair at the nape of Jisung’s neck as he presses closer. "Am I pretty for you, Jisung?"

Jisung feels too hot and weak in the knees, and the way Minho looks at him like he could eat him whole decidedly does not help in the slightest. His hands slide up and fingers dig into the soft flesh of Minho’s waist as he chokes out, "God, yes, so fucking pretty."

Minho seems to like that answer as it’s rewarded with a pleased smile and a leg slotted between Jisung’s. Jisung gasps and clamps down on his bottom lip, looking from their hips to Minho’s eyes, searching. Minho gives an endearingly bad wink in response, unlooping his arms from Jisung’s neck to throw them over his own head as he grinds into him.

Holy shit.

Jisung feels a little awkward, movements unsure, but once again he’s too far gone to care―too drunk, but more than that, too wrapped up in Minho. He does his best to keep up with his movements, completely enthralled and still somehow managing to function with Minho at such a close proximity, grinding back with half as much grace and unsure hands on his waist.

They gravitate closer, so much closer, foreheads nearly touching, and Jisung thinks it’s only a matter of time before either Minho kisses him or he takes matters into his own drunken hands―and then Minho backs off, fanning himself. 

"I need to take a breather, Jisungie."

Jisung notices then how much Minho had been sweating, his skin gleaming, hair dampened, sticking to his forehead as he pulls at the collar of his sweater. He’s panting slightly and Jisung can only blink at him hazily for a moment, certain the sight before him will keep him up at night.

A break is probably warranted for Jisung, too, beads of sweat rolling down his temple and exhaustion eating at his muscles just from a bit of poorly-attempted dancing. While the reprieve from both the hot, clammy crowd and all the movement and a cold drink sound downright heavenly right now, he can’t help but be disappointed. He really thought something more might come from outright grinding on Minho, and he’s sad he won’t get to stick around to find out―not now, anyway.

"You could just take off the sweater," Jisung suggests cheekily, toying with the cropped hem again. Minho bats his hands away to fan air up under it.

"I thought you liked my outfit?"

"Like you better without it," Jisung slurs with a smile, slinging an arm around an unimpressed Minho. 

"That’s fine," Minho says coolly, shrugging Jisung off to drag him out of the crowd by his hand, "I just won’t dress up on your account again."

"Nooo," Jisung whines as he stumbles behind him, ever struggling to keep up. "I didn’t mean it, I love your sweater, it’s really cute. Hot? Pretty? What do you want it to be? Because that’s what it is, I mean it, it looks so good on you. You should wear it every day, seriously―"

Minho interrupts his ramble with something Jisung doesn’t quite catch, and he’s suddenly tugged into the bathroom before he can ask him to repeat it. His heart rate picks back up from where it had begun to slow.

He’s been to enough of such gatherings, watched enough shitty teen movies, to know what happens when two people are alone in a bathroom together at a party. 

Well, most of the time. Sometimes there’s one throwing up or crying while the other holds their hair back or comforts them. But neither of them are crying, and Jisung doesn’t think he or Minho are in danger of vomiting any time soon. So why was he dragged in here? What else could it be but―

"Close your eyes."

Jisung’s breath catches and he obeys without question, squeezing his eyes shut and biting back a cocky comment on the off-chance that he’s reading this entirely wrong.

At least, that was his intention.

"Don’t get shy now," slips past his brain-to-mouth filter with the assistance of the alcohol. Still, he keeps going, ignoring the voice in the back of his head. "After that―"

"What are you talking about?" Minho laughs, and suddenly Jisung’s eyelid is being prodded with something soft and dry. He opens his eyes, confused, and is met with the sight of Minho in front of him, a piece of tissue paper stuck to his sweaty forehead. "I said close your eyes. I’m fixing your makeup."

Jisung lets his eyes fall shut again as he exhales a breath of pure disappointment. Of course.

Of course, of course, of course. He was stupid to expect anything different. Man, he’s gonna feel like shit about this later―if he remembers it.

Minho finishes fixing Jisung’s makeup, blotting away his sweat (and ignoring comments like hey, my chest is pretty sweaty, too), and even touching up his hair. Jisung can’t imagine why; he’s certainly too drunk to care what he looks like, especially at a shitty college party, but if Minho wants to touch him in any capacity he’s not going to stop him.

It feels nice, Minho taking care of him. Warm. Safe.

The moment is gone all too soon when Minho turns his attention to the mirror, repeating the process on himself. Jisung admires him with less shame than usual, utterly entranced by the mystifying god of a man before him.

"You look really good."

Minho looks at Jisung’s reflection and smiles. "You said that already."

"Well I’m saying it again!" Jisung retorts. "Because it’s worth saying. And for the record, the sweat only makes you sexier."

Please stop talking, a voice wails, deep in his conscience. He visualizes himself throwing a rock at it.

Minho giggles, somehow not repulsed by Jisung’s lack of a filter and strange compliment, somehow having agreed to come tonight, somehow still by Jisung’s side completely of his own volition. Jisung’s stomach turns. 

"Thanks. I’d prefer not to be all sweaty and gross, though."

"Minho," Jisung starts quietly. Minho’s hand freezes in his hair and his eyes flit over to meet Jisung’s in the mirror. "Why do you hang out with me?"

"What?" He tosses his tissue in the wastebin and turns towards Jisung, eyebrows drawn together in an expression too fuzzy for Jisung to read.

"Why―"

Loud banging on the door interrupts him and makes the pair nearly jump out of their skin.

"Yo, are you done in there? I’ve gotta piss!"

Minho rolls his eyes and pulls the door open, gesturing for Jisung to exit and following him out.

"Fucking finally," the guy outside mumbles as he rushes in. Jisung flips him off.

He’s about to wonder if he should repeat his question, if Minho will bring it up, or if he should just drop it when they’re interrupted once again by the sight of Changbin and Hyunjin just feet away from the bathroom door. They’re visibly drunker than before as they look from Minho and Jisung to the bathroom with knowing eyes. 

Ah, if only their assumptions were true.

Hyunjin slinks up to them, grabbing an arm of each, ever the touchy drunk. "Heyyy, there you guys are! We need two more for beer pong."

They both agree easily after grabbing a cold drink and let themselves be led to the table in another room. "I suck at this," Minho warns.

Jisung puffs out his chest, any bit of anxiety from the conversation they almost had before as good as gone with a swig of his refreshing drink. "Don’t worry, baby. I’ll win it for us."

And he does. Minho didn’t lie; he was pretty terrible, but he got some lucky shots. Hyunjin, meanwhile, was getting progressively more sloshed and could barely stand up by the end of the game, so it was a fairly easy win. Changbin didn’t stand a chance.

"Binnie," Hyunjin whines while Jisung celebrates their victory by jumping into Minho’s arms and nearly toppling him over, apparently underestimating how drunk and unstable he is. "You said we could take ‘em! You’ve failed me."

"I tried, babe!" Changbin groans, a steadying hand around Hyunjin’s waist while he sways next to him. "Not my fault you’re dead weight."

Hyunjin’s mouth drops open comically. "How dare you! I’ll show you dead weight!"

He then proceeds to become completely boneless, collapsing to the ground while Changbin struggles to keep him upright, laughing all the while.

"Hyunjin, c’mon, there are easier ways to ask me to carry you." Changbin scoops him up and Jisung leans into Minho as he cackles at the sight of Hyunjin hanging limp in Changbin’s arms, playing dead. "Drama queen."

"He’s okay, right?" Minho worries, though there’s amusement on his face. "He didn’t just black out?"

"Oh, yeah," Jisung responds while an otherwise completely-limp Hyunjin gives Minho a thumbs up. "He’s just like that."

"I should go sit him down somewhere," Changbin says, doing his best to angle the lanky mess of limbs in his arms so that he won’t bump into anyone or anything as he heads out. "Don’t have too much fun," he calls in a singsong voice. Jisung sticks his tongue out.

"Drinks?" Jisung suggests.

"More?" Minho gawks at him for a moment and sighs in defeat. "I’m gonna regret this tomorrow. Lead the way."

For once in his life, Jisung is grateful for the crowd of people for giving him an excuse to hold Minho’s hand as they weave between countless drunken partygoers on their way to become more drunk themselves.

"Holy fuck," Minho chokes out into his fresh cup of jungle juice. Jisung turns to follow his gaze but is quickly stopped by a hand on his cheek. "Don’t look. My ex is here." He tries to make himself small, shrinking behind Jisung.

Jisung supposes it’s a good sign that Minho doesn’t want to see him. Good for Jisung, anyway. "Nasty breakup?"

"Um, kind of," Minho says, eyeing the space behind Jisung nervously. "He didn’t want to end it. I had to block his number and―oh fuck, he saw me. Shit. He’s coming. Fuck."

Jisung lights up with an idea, leaning in and caging Minho in against the counter. "Want me to scare him off?"

Minho blinks and seems to understand what he’s getting at, nodding as he sets his drink aside and pulls Jisung flush against him by his belt loops. Jisung stumbles a bit even with his hands braced on the countertop, licks his lips, his heart pounding in his ears, and settles his hands on Minho’s waist instead, his skin burning under Jisung’s touch.

Is this real? He feels like he’s dreaming. Minho’s about to let him kiss him, and all it took was a fucking ploy against his ex and an impulse Jisung acted on. Would Minho still kiss him if he were sober? If he weren’t in danger of being approached by a clingy ex? If he weren’t a means to an end?

Jisung doesn’t have time to dwell on these thoughts when Minho’s lips are ready and waiting, alcohol-laden breath mingling as he leans in, and in, a moment away, and then―

"Oh," Minho says. Jisung freezes, so close he can feel his breath. "He left."

And then he’s leaning away, patting Jisung on the cheek. 

"Good job. It worked."

Jisung stares at him dumbly before blinking himself back to reality. He’s pretty sure his heart shrivels up and dies then and there, leaving an ache deep in his chest, dull and numbed by his current state.

"Oh. It did?" he manages past the lump in his throat, turning his attention to his drink. "That’s… good."

"Yeah. Dodged a bullet there."

Jisung hums, dumping another shot or three into his cup. If Minho notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Nearly everything henceforth becomes a bit of a blur.

He and Minho run into Chan and chat for a bit, mostly consisting of whatever gossip he’d picked up while he made his rounds, going in one of Jisung’s ears and out the other as he becomes increasingly further gone. Someone calls for participants for a game of spin the bottle and Jisung drags Minho towards the voice desperately, thinking maybe there’s still hope for him after all.

"What are we, twelve?" Minho laughs but complies anyway, sitting where Jisung instructs him (in a place where he thinks he has a better chance of the bottle landing on him) and playing along. Despite Jisung’s best efforts, all he gets out of the game is having to watch Minho press his pretty lips against a handful of strangers. His only consolation is the fact that Minho doesn’t really seem into it, unwilling to give much more than a chaste peck. Still, he burns with jealousy.

Jisung has his own fair share of disappointing kisses, too, until the bitter end where the circle starts to disperse and he feels even worse than before. He stays seated, all but pouting, rolling his head around and watching the room spin before him for no particular reason other than he is just drunk.

He jumps when he feels a hand on his upper arm, cold through the sheer fabric of his shirt. He furrows his brows at the man who had sidled up next to him and recognizes him as one of his disappointing kisses by the lips he had previously compared to Minho’s. The verdict: they fell very short.

"Hey, cutie," he says, voice low and sultry but accompanied by a friendly smile. "Didn’t have fun?"

"Not really," he mumbles.

"You here all alone?"

"Actually, I’m―" Jisung can see Minho watching them in his peripheral vision, can feel his gaze threatening to set them both aflame. A smirk creeps onto his lips as he places a hand on the other man’s knee, toying with a rip in his jeans. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Wanna pick up where we left off?" he asks, lips brushing against Jisung’s ear and making him shiver. No, Jisung thinks. 

Really, there’s very little appeal to his offer. Even in his state, Jisung isn’t attracted to him at all. But Jisung cuts his eyes at Minho and catches his dark stare, the same possessive glint from before that still confuses the fuck out of him and makes him feel like he’s on fire all at once and all he can think is that he wants more.

So he plays it up, trailing a hand up the man’s chest with a playful smile. "What do you have in mind?"

"Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you?" he whispers into Jisung’s neck. He can smell the alcohol on his breath and his head is filled with the memory of Minho’s breath on his own lips.

"I don’t think I can walk," he laughs nervously. Which is true, but he also doesn’t really want to go anywhere with the guy. He was hoping he’d do something right there in front of Minho and then… and then what? 

"I’ll help you," the man insists, rising to his feet and offering his hand.

Jisung glances at Minho, more nervous this time than smug, then back at the stranger. "Ah, um, actually, I think I’ll just stay here and wait for my friend…"

He frowns, offering his hand more insistently. "You said you were here alone. C’mon, don’t be a tease."

Jisung watches with wide eyes as Minho approaches, jaw set dangerously and looking pretty fucking menacing for someone normally so soft and beautiful. 

"Take a hint," he says, and the stranger whirls around to size him up. Minho is a little shorter, but has more muscle and probably more spirit. Jisung would put his money on Minho in a heartbeat. "Come on."

Jisung accepts his outstretched hand, wobbling to his feet. The other guy scoffs but ultimately steps back and lets them exit without interfering. "Fucking tease," he calls.

"Go fuck yourself," Minho returns easily, making Jisung giggle as he stumbles after him.

"Hey, what’s the big idea?" he whines even though he’s relieved to exit the other man’s line of sight. He slings an arm around Minho, in part because he wants to be pressed up against him and in part because he actually needs help walking straight. "Why’d you cockblock me like that, hyung?"

Minho frowns, side-eyeing him. "You aren’t as subtle as you think."

Jisung nuzzles his face into Minho’s neck. "Mm, but you still took the bait."

Minho scoffs. "I didn’t take anything. I stopped you before you did something you obviously didn’t want to do."

"I really don’t get you." Jisung laughs, but it isn’t funny. Minho makes him feel insane. 

One moment he’s looking at him with that something burning behind his eyes, the next he’s brushing Jisung off. He pulls him in close, so close, then shoves him away. Jisung is a wave desperately trying to climb to shore, and Minho is the moon’s unforgivable pull dragging him back to be lost at sea. 

He should write something about that, if he remembers his drunken inner ramblings later. He probably won’t.

Minho yanks him into the bathroom without warning. It’s a different one this time; the towels and accents are a light blue instead of green. Jisung rolls his eyes. "Let me guess. Is my makeup fucked up again? Because I am way past the point of caring. I passed the point of caring like two hours―"

"Want me to suck your dick?"

Jisung blinks in surprise before he remembers this is Minho, playing with him, always dangling himself in front of Jisung only to be yanked away. "Haha," he deadpans, "very funny."

Minho closes the door behind him and backs him up against it, turning the lock with a click that echoes in Jisung’s now-empty head. Minho’s eyes are glazed over, flush apparent in the fluorescent lighting as he wets his lips.

"Have you ever had your dick sucked before, Jisung?" he asks instead, hooking his fingers in his belt loops. Jisung almost feels sobered by the situation―almost, because he drank way too much to get a proper grip. His vision swims and Minho is so close to him, so beautiful.

"No," he breathes, wide-eyed. "I mean, what? Yes. Yes, of course I have."

He waits for Minho to release him, to push him away again with a laugh, to make him feel stupid for expecting anything to happen. He doesn’t. Not yet.

"Then I guess this won’t be all that special," he says wryly, fumbling to unbuckle Jisung’s belt. Jisung’s heart beats so hard it could shatter his ribcage. Is this actually happening?

"N-No…"

Minho freezes. "You want me to stop?"

"No, no, fuck no, I meant…" Jisung swallows. "That, um, it will be special. Please don’t stop. Also I lied."

"Obviously," Minho says, hand trailing down to palm Jisung through his pants once he’s gotten the belt undone. Jisung’s knees nearly give out and he gasps at the sensation, using Minho’s arm to steady himself. "Sensitive," he remarks, lips twitching into a smirk.

"Maybe I’m just surprised you actually―" Jisung starts to bite back, cut off by his own whine when Minho pushes down hard, making him buck into his hand.

"Hm?" Minho tilts his head with a sweet smile, unfitting of the way he works Jisung to full hardness below. Jisung wishes he would kiss him. He really wishes Minho would kiss him.

His stomach turns with the realization that he’s about to have those gorgeous lips around him if Minho really isn’t just fucking with him, but he wants more than that. He wants to feel them on his own, wants to taste him, get drunk all over again on the feeling.

It would also be nice to have something to muffle the embarrassing noises that continue to escape his throat.

"Hyung," he whispers, but before he can ask, Minho is pushing his pants down his legs and sinking to his knees, out of reach. He feels a pang of disappointment that suddenly becomes the farthest thing from his mind when Minho mouths at him through his briefs, breath hot on his dick. "Holyfuckingshit."

"I haven’t even actually touched you yet," Minho giggles, slipping his fingers under the waistband. Jisung bites his lip as he watches him pull the fabric down, exposing him under the harsh light of the bathroom. 

Minho’s eyelids flutter and eyebrows twitch in almost-subtle surprise, and fuck does it fuel Jisung’s ego, even more so when Minho takes him into his small hand. He’s certain the sight will haunt his dreams and sleepless nights alike, Minho licking his lips as he spreads the precum down his length and strokes him lazily.

Jisung throws his head back against the door and keens at the contact, willing his legs to hold him up. He isn’t sure how he’ll manage in Minho’s mouth if he’s this worked up already.

"Wait," he says, and Minho looks up at him questioningly. The sight makes his brain fuzzy and he nearly forgets his intentions. "Uh… Sorry. Can we―"

He shuffles awkwardly to the side so that he’s leaning against the counter where he can hopefully hold himself up, bracing himself on it while Minho shifts to accommodate the movement.

"Good?" Minho asks, sliding his hands up Jisung’s thighs. Jisung can only nod, biting down so hard on his lip it hurts. His heart skips a beat when Minho leans in, but he passes right by Jisung’s throbbing hard-on to place a chaste kiss on his hip. Jisung can’t find it in himself to mind waiting a little longer, butterflies swirling in his stomach as Minho’s lips trail down to his thigh where he stops and sucks the skin into his mouth hard enough to leave a mark.

He doesn’t stop there, littering Jisung’s thighs in hickeys, and while it’s incredibly hot and he loves the thought of Minho leaving evidence on his skin, Jisung is still achingly hard. He whimpers, threading an impatient hand through Minho’s hair and mumbling a desperate please.

"Hmm?" Minho hums, lips curling into a grin. Fucking asshole is doing it on purpose.

"What you said…" Jisung mumbles, cheeks burning in embarrassment and annoyance.

Minho tilts his head. "Did I say I was going to do something?"

Here we fucking go, Jisung thinks with a groan. He’s put up with his teasing for so long, sat by a flustered mess, putty in Minho’s cruel hands. He isn’t going to give in this time; he has enough liquid courage in his veins and enough blood gone from his brain to spur him on as he tightens the hand in Minho’s hair and pulls. 

Minho’s jaw goes slack and he lets out a little noise that goes straight to Jisung’s dick.

"You gonna suck my dick or not, babe?"

Deep down, Jisung knows the last thing he should be doing right now, in his most exposed and vulnerable state, is provoking the one who has complete power over him. Minho could make him see stars or give him the blueballs of a lifetime, never touch him again. It’s a terribly dangerous game he’s playing.

Still, by now he knows which of Minho’s buttons to push and does just that, and the dangerous look he sends him in response sends chills up his spine.

Minho scoffs. "I don’t know, can you last longer than two minutes?"

Probably not.

Minho takes him into his hand again without warning, and then he’s trailing his wet tongue from Jisung’s base to his tip, looking up at Jisung through long eyelashes as he repeats the motion. Jisung’s eyes practically roll back into his head as he scrambles to find purchase on the marble countertop, legs growing weaker by the second.

"I’ll take that as a no." Minho laps at Jisung’s tip like it’s a sweet treat, his warm tongue and hot breath eliciting a high-pitched whine. He shrugs. "Less work for me."

His mouth falls open wide, and Jisung is sure nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of those pretty lips wrapped around him. He feels like he’s about to bust the moment Minho starts moving, swallowing him down almost entirely before pulling off to look Jisung in the eye while he swirls his tongue around him. His eyes are crinkled a bit into a glittery smile, likely at Jisung’s expense more than anything else, but Jisung finds himself thinking for the second time that night that fuck, he’s unreal.

Minho’s mouth envelops him again and he bobs his head on his length, making whimpers and praises fall from Jisung’s lips and his legs tremble. "God, you’re fucking amazing," he pants, drunken whimpers and praises falling from his lips. "So, so pretty, fuck―"

Minho hums around him in response and Jisung swears he is damn near tears. It doesn’t take long after that before he’s close, hand tightening in Minho’s hair as he tries to babble out a warning. Minho takes him in deep, deep enough to gag as Jisung’s cock hits the back of his throat, and it proves to be the tipping point for Jisung who throws his head back and cries out. He squeezes his eyes shut and sees stars burst behind his eyelids as he’s hit with such a strong wave of pleasure that his legs quiver and threaten to send him collapsing to the floor. His hips are held firmly in place by Minho while he swallows his release, eventually popping off and wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

He blinks up at him, the picture of innocence now that Jisung’s dick is out of his mouth. His lips are red and raw, glistening with spit. Jisung wants to kiss him so bad.

"Good?" he asks again.

Jisung nods dumbly, mouth hanging open, breaths heavy as he tries to refocus his eyes. "Good. Uh―really fucking good. Thanks."

…Thanks? 

Thanks? 

Oh, he’s gonna regret that one later.

Minho chuckles, standing up and adjusting himself. Jisung can’t look away from his swollen lips. "Put your dick away."

"R-Right." Jisung fumbles around with his useless, heavy limbs until he’s tucked back into his underwear with his pants pulled up. He risks a glance at Minho’s crotch but can’t tell if he’s affected or not. "Do… do you want me to…?"

"Nah," Minho waves him off. Jisung is riding his high, head in the clouds, but is disappointed still to see Minho as unbothered as ever, like it meant nothing to him―and it probably did.

But then, why…?

"Let’s just get out of this stuffy ass bathroom."

Jisung nods, but first swivels around to check himself in the mirror to see what his I just got my dick sucked face looks like. His face is flushed for sure, his own lips a bit swollen from being gnawed on in weak attempts to hold back his moans. His mind drifts off to wonder what it might be like to look in the mirror and see more substantial proof of Minho on his skin, smudged makeup and visible hickeys and bruises and―

Minho’s face appears over his shoulder with a playful smile, sending chills creeping up his spine when he whispers in his ear, "You’re welcome, by the way."

"Shut up," Jisung groans, his face hidden in his hands until Minho is pulling him out of the bathroom and back into the throes of people. 

Nothing much of note happens for the rest of the night between mindless chatter and drunkenly swaying to music, and even if it had, Jisung isn’t sure he’d remember it after what happened in the bathroom drained every other thought from his head.

They reunite with the others and Jisung tries to pretend he didn’t just have the best orgasm of his life (for now, anyway; they’ll hear about it later) while they all talk and babysit Hyunjin until it’s well past two in the morning and they decide to call it a night.

Jisung is out like a light before Chan pulls out of the neighborhood, jostled awake once and carried out of the car, nuzzling into someone distinctly Minho-scented, and then he’s out again, dreaming of pretty eyes and reddened lips.

○ ○ ○

Like clockwork, Jisung wakes up on Chan’s couch with a splitting headache. Fuck, why doesn’t he ever drink water when he decides to get wasted?

He groans and cranes his neck to the coffee table in search of his phone, perking up a bit when he sees a full glass of water and two unidentified pills (probably aspirin) he pops into his mouth without question, downing the glass until his mouth doesn’t feel like the goddamn desert.

He’s spent so many mornings―or rather, afternoons―like this, countless hangovers introduced in the comfort of Chan’s couch. So why does this one feel… weird? Ominous, even? Like he has a vague sense of impending doom―

His phone.

He’s wide awake suddenly, hands darting under himself and between cushions in search of that overpriced plastic and metal piece of shit. His eyes widen when he finds it tucked in the back of the couch and unlocks it hastily.

Please no drunk texts please no drunk texts please no drunk texts.

He taps over to his conversation with Minho, exhaling a sigh of relief when he sees the last text is still Minho’s please let me in i feel ridiculous.

'Ridiculous.' Jisung has to laugh because God, did Minho looked incredible last night, makeup accentuating his features perfectly, midriff peeking through his sheer shirt, sweat on his forehead when they danced, face scrunched up in laughter while they played beer pong, eyes half lidded on his knees with slick lips―

Hold on.

Holy fucking shit.

That happened, right? Minho gave him head in the bathroom at the party. Minho gave him head in the bathroom at the party. Jisung can’t for the life of him remember what prompted it, but it sure did fucking happen. Holy shit, he feels faint.

This should be good, right? It’s… progress? Jisung remembers the slight unease he’d felt afterwards, like something upset him but he couldn’t really process it, and then―ah. Minho had been impassive, gotten him off without batting an eye, didn’t let him return the favor. 

He didn’t even kiss him.

So had he really made progress? Or had Minho simply been drunk enough to take pity? Or… wait.

He remembers another guy, a stranger he’d tried to use to make Minho jealous, and that’s when Minho dragged him in the bathroom. Jisung rubs his temples. Minho makes no fucking sense.

"Good morning, sunshine," Chan sings loudly as he waltzes in and draws the curtains back to let a little light in. Jisung winces at the volume. "I’m making Eggos."

"Bless you," Jisung croaks, sitting up and stretching his stiff muscles.

Changbin strolls in with a plate of fresh Eggos himself, looking way better than Jisung feels. "You look like shit," he says.

"Thanks," Jisung murmurs, rubbing at his crusty eyes. He’s surprised when he pulls his hand away and doesn’t see smudged makeup. "Did I wash my face?"

"Minho did," Chan explains. Jisung flushes. He doesn’t remember a thing after the Big Thing that happened. "I told him we usually just make you suffer the consequences, but he insisted."

"How nice of him," Hyunjin drawls as he trudges in, throwing a pointed glare at Changbin and looking like a complete mess with black smudges dotting his face. Jisung tries not to laugh too hard at the sight while Changbin looks around innocently. Hyunjin flops down on the couch and throws his arm around Jisung. "I sure wish my boyfriend were that caring."

Jisung huffs. "Yeah, and I wish Minho even fucking liked me. Count yourself lucky, Hwang."

"What?" Hyunjin laughs, stopping abruptly to frown. "You’re serious? You guys aren’t together after that?"

"I heard Binnie and Hyunjin saw you two stumble out of the bathroom together," Chan pipes up, passing out plates of toaster-heated waffles to Jisung and Hyunjin before sitting down with his own. "So something must have happened, right?"

"Yeah, how do you explain that?" Changbin demands. "Saw you dancing, too. Didn’t look very platonic."

"The way he looked at you when he got here did it for me," Hyunjin says, stuffing a forkful into his mouth. "Get your head out of your ass, Jisung. He’s totally into you."

"Okay, listen," Jisung sighs, putting his plate down to gesticulate with his hands for emphasis. "He was drunk. The first time we came out of the bathroom and you guys saw, he literally just yanked me in there to fix my makeup. Then later we went in again and he…" Jisung feels his face color. "He, uh, suckedmydick, but―"

Hyunjin makes a show of choking on his waffle, slamming his fork on his plate. "You should have started with that!"

"So him sucking your dick isn’t enough to show he’s into you?" Changbin balks. "Christ, you’re dense."

"Let me finish!" Jisung cries. "Again, remember we were pretty drunk, people make mistakes all the time when they’re drunk and―"

"Get to the point," Hyunjin groans.

"He―uh, didn’t kiss me," Jisung says, rubbing his neck in embarrassment.

"Maybe he was just being considerate?" Chan suggests. "Not everyone wants to be kissed by someone who just had a dick in their mouth."

"But I wanted him to," Jisung whines. "And he could’ve done it before!"

"Did you ask him?"

"Well… no―"

"Why do we try?" Changbin laments.

"Okay, okay, but listen," Jisung says, "that’s not all. He didn’t even seem that into it? And he wouldn’t let me get him off. I literally don’t even know why he decided to do it. He just pulled me into the bathroom and I thought he was joking but he just. Bam."

"So it was totally unprompted?" Hyunjin wonders, bewildered.

"Well…" Jisung smiles sheepishly, then goes on to explain how he had grown frustrated and tried to make Minho jealous beforehand.

"Well, one thing is clear," Chan says. "You’re wrapped around his finger, and that’s exactly where he wants you to stay." The others nod in agreement. It makes Jisung’s stomach twist nervously; Minho wouldn’t use him, would he? He isn’t like that.

"But why?"

"So either he likes you and is just really fucking weird, which is my guess," Hyunjin says, "or he has commitment issues, or he likes playing hard to get, or he just likes the attention… It could be anything. What’s your wisdom, O Minho Expert?" he asks, turning to Changbin.

Changbin’s eyes widen. "You guys always expect me to have answers just because we―I barely know him!"

"We could still use your input!" Hyunjin says.

He shifts in his seat. "I think… Hyunjin is probably right. I don’t know which or why he’s like that, but he obviously cares about you, man. I think you just need to suck it up and talk to him. Ask him straight up." 

"I agree," Chan says. "If he’s leading you on, you deserve to know and stop hoping for something to happen. It’s not fair to you."

Jisung sighs. He’s been avoiding it for so long, but his friends are right. He’s in too deep, at the point where he needs answers before he ends up hurt.

"Alright," he says with finality, clapping his hands together. "I’ll talk to him tomorrow."

Hyunjin cheers beside him, Chan gives an approving smile, and Changbin mutters a fucking finally before smiling sweetly when he’s caught. Jisung smiles too, chest fluttering with anxiety but also the promise of some goddamn answers as he finishes his cold waffle.

○ ○ ○

Jisung
hey

Minho
good morning sleeping beauty
how’s your hangover?

Jisung
pretty fuckin awful
thanks for the help though
how’s yours??

Minho
oh they told you huh
i’m fine. drank lots of water because i’m smart and drink responsibly

Jisung
whatever!
don’t know why i bothered checking up on you!!!

Minho
because you like meeee (◕‿◕)

Jisung
>_< no!
you’re annoying

Minho
that’s my line
anyway
i finished the hw myself cause i figured you’d be dead weight
[Image attached]

Jisung
oh my godddd marry me

Minho
no❤

○ ○ ○

10:48. Chemistry ends in seven minutes. Seven minutes for Jisung to decide where he wants to eat lunch and how he’ll ask Minho if he wants to join him so he can finally confront him about his feelings and confusing behavior.

Hey, did you eat lunch? No, fucknut, he’s been in this class since 10 AM. Hey, are you free? Ah, but he feels like he says that every time. Are you hungry? is always a safe bet. Yeah, he’ll go with that.

He’s barely processing the professor’s words as she drones on, and Minho seems to be in the same boat, leaned over his phone beside him.

Jisung could really go for a burger right about now. He just had one with Minho a few days ago, though, so he isn’t sure if Minho would be willing to accompany him. Maybe he’d be up for checking out that new restaurant he mentioned before if they aren’t too crowded. If all else fails, maybe―assuming Minho feels like joining him at all, in which case he isn’t sure what he’ll do, go insane maybe―they could grab some takeout and watch a drama. Maybe Minho would let his head fall onto Jisung’s shoulder like the last few times.

Maybe he wouldn’t, after what Jisung has to say to him.

Jisung’s lunchtime confession fantasies are interrupted by the buzz of his phone against the table. He checks the home screen to see a text from Minho waiting to be opened, then glances at him curiously. Minho has placed his own phone down and apparently decided to listen to the last few minutes of the lecture, staring at the front of the room intently, head resting in his hand.

Knowing Minho, something about it gives Jisung a funny feeling in his gut. He can’t possibly imagine what Minho is up to but opens the message anyway, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets as he slams his phone face down on the table before anyone else can see. The action earns him unwanted attention from a few curious students turning to see what the noise was, and he vaguely worries that he just cracked his phone screen with the force he slammed it down, but he can’t think about that right now because what the fuck did Minho just send him.

The image was in front of his eyes for only a brief second, but it only took that second for it to furiously burn itself into Jisung’s memory like a brand.

Half of the face was cut off but the nose and mouth undoubtedly belonged to Minho, perched on his knees with fingers dragging over his pretty lips, pulling them apart. Naked save for the lacy, blood-red lingerie covering his bulge and the fucking garter and stockings hugging his thick thighs.

Jisung swallows. Hard. His eyes dart around the room for something to focus on besides how Minho just sent him that, in public, sitting right next to him. He’ll have to reflect on it later. He can’t get a boner before he has to walk across campus.

Did Minho plan this? Did he purposely wait until class was almost over? Does he want Jisung to die? Could it not fucking wait six more minutes, or at least until they weren’t inches away from each other? 

Right. Minho. Minho who is sitting beside him. Minho who just sent him a lewd picture in a room full of people. Jisung turns his head just barely to see a small smirk on Minho’s lips out of the corner of his eye. 

Yeah, he definitely wants him to die.

Jisung is debating booking it to the bathroom before it’s too late when he feels a pressure on his thigh that does absolutely nothing to deescalate the situation.

"What’s wrong, Jisungie?" Minho whispers. God, Jisung can’t even look at him. "Hmm?" His hand slips towards Jisung’s inner thigh and squeezes and Jisung is scrambling to his feet in an instant, haphazardly shoving his things into his backpack before he makes a break for the restroom, ignoring the strange looks given to him by the majority of the class.

Once he’s in the bathroom, he stops to genuinely consider pulling up the picture and just taking care of his problem in the stall. It isn’t until he digs through his backpack that he realizes he had left his phone lying on the table by Minho.

Fuck.

There’s the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing a few minutes later, which he ignores in favor of splashing cold water on his face in an attempt to get a goddamn grip.

"Thought you’d be in here."

He hears Minho before he looks up and sees him in the mirror as he approaches from behind, leaning over Jisung’s shoulder and slipping his phone into his front pocket, his breath hot on Jisung’s neck.

"Hyung, what are you doing?" Jisung asks, voice wavering with arousal and uncertainty.

"Returning your phone, silly," Minho smiles at his reflection.

"No, I mean…" Jisung huffs, sounding angrier than he means to. "You know what I fucking mean!"

Minho steps back, looking somewhat startled. "Are you upset with me?"

"No! I-I mean…" Jisung starts to turn around but thinks better of it, deciding against putting himself in that close of a proximity with Minho’s face, instead frowning at Minho’s reflection as he runs a hand through his own hair. "I just… I just wanna know what the hell goes through your head when you do that kind of stuff."

"I thought you would like it." 

Normally, Minho’s innocent eyes and head tilt would be adorable enough to make Jisung want to cry, but he’s so frustrated and confused by Minho’s games and mixed signals that it just makes him more annoyed.

"What the fuck do you think I’m in here for?" Jisung hisses. "You―God, forget it. I’ll see you later." He’s too worked up and humiliated to have this conversation right now, and his frustration has at least partially killed the beginnings of a boner, so he pushes past Minho and exits, walks back to his dorm, flops onto his bed, and doesn’t once reopen Minho’s picture.

Until he does.

He palms himself through his pants because he may be pissed off but his attraction to Minho remains stubbornly unchanged and yes he is absolutely going to get off to the picture Minho used to embarrass the shit out of him and thoughts of Minho’s hands on his legs, Minho’s mouth on him, around him, Minho finally kissing him, Minho’s anything.

Jisung spills over his fist with a strangled cry, thinking of Minho’s lips. He flops a pillow over his face and groans. After he’s cleaned up, feeling pathetic and confused, Minho texts him.

Minho
you good?

Jisung
yeah
sorry

Minho doesn’t respond. Jisung shouldn’t really even be apologizing, should he? Minho brought it upon himself. Right?

Still, he can’t help but feel guilty at the thought of potentially hurting Minho’s feelings with his little outburst. On the other hand, none of this would be happening if Minho simply made his feelings clear in the first place, whatever they may be.

Then again, Jisung hadn’t really asked. Yet.

He wishes he had any idea where he stands with Minho, a boy he’s known for just a few months but would drop everything and do just about anything for. Does Minho care about him at all? Or does he get some sick enjoyment from stringing Jisung along and making him fall harder and harder, only to push him away, kick him when he’s down? 

Minho doesn’t strike Jisung as cruel enough to do something like that intentionally, though. Quite the opposite, in fact. Maybe there is some sensible reason he’s behaving this way, treating him like this. Jisung just wishes he knew what the hell it was.

Jisung makes a new plan. He’ll go to Minho’s, he’ll be civil, they’ll do their work, and then Jisung is going to get answers no matter what. If Minho rejects him officially, it will hurt like hell, but at least it’ll be over and he’ll no longer be stuck floating in this void of uncertainty, batted around by Minho like a cat playing with yarn.

He initially plans on asking tomorrow when he’s less embarrassed, but if he sits here and stews in it any longer he might lose the remaining bit of his sanity.

Jisung
you still down to do hw later?

Minho
if you’re up for it

Jisung
i’ll be there

Jisung shows up a few hours later with two iced americanos and a sheepish smile.

Minho raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment other than to thank him, and they slip into their routine of splitting up the work and sharing answers so easily it should be alarming after all that’s happened in the past two days.

Jisung’s mind wanders more than usual and he finds it difficult to focus, nervousness eating at him from within. How will Minho take it? How should he word it? What happens if Minho likes him? What happens if he doesn’t? If he’s been using him this whole time, keeping him on a leash for his amusement? Such thoughts have been running through his mind incessantly since the night before. He can’t back out now if he ever wants to experience peace of mind again.

The thoughts and endless worries are interrupted by the perpetrator himself. "You seem distracted, Jisungie."

"Huh? Oh, sorry," he mumbles. "I’m almost finished."

"That’s good," Minho says, his hand suddenly a warm weight in Jisung’s lap. Jisung is immediately on edge, but Minho just goes about his business as if nothing had happened.

It’s fine. It’s whatever. Jisung has certainly managed to keep it together and do his work under these circumstances before; this shouldn’t be any different. His pen is pressed hard into the paper as he writes.

Minho’s hand is sliding to his inner thigh and squeezing as Jisung’s breath catches in his throat. He risks looking at Minho until finally he apparently senses Jisung’s gaze and turns to face him with a questioning hum.

"What are you doing?" Jisung asks, dropping his pen. He wets his lips. There’s no turning back now. "What are… we doing?"

Minho’s lips lift into a crooked grin. "Homework?"

"No, not―look, are you fucking with me or not?" Jisung demands suddenly, his pent up frustration from being toyed with for weeks on end bubbling to the surface. 

"What do you mean?" Minho tilts his head, brow furrowed in confusion. He reaches up to feel Jisung’s forehead with the back of his hand. "You feeling okay?"

"S-Stop," Jisung splutters, recoiling. "Whatever you’re doing."

"Checking your temperature?" Minho giggles.

"You know what I mean!"

"I don’t think I do, Jisung," Minho says, his smile deceptively sweet. "Would you mind elaborating?"

"Forget it," Jisung huffs and picks up his pen, ears burning with embarrassment as he tries once more to focus on his work. It can wait a little longer, he supposes. If it doesn’t go well, at least they’ll have the goddamn homework done.

"Am I doing something wrong?" Minho’s hand rests on Jisung’s upper thigh again, and his frustration nearly dissipates along with his resolve, replaced by the feeling of Minho’s thumb slipping inside a rip in his jeans subtly enough to be passed off as an accident. What’s not subtle is the way his thumb rubs circles on Jisung’s bare skin, gently and shamelessly, sending goosebumps traveling up his leg.

Jisung doesn’t dare to speak, any words he might have said dying in his throat when Minho’s hand slides inwards, just barely grazing his clothed dick. Unfortunately for Jisung, it’s enough to send heat pooling to his stomach. He swallows thickly, forcing himself to face Minho, whose gaze drags up to meet his eyes slowly, winking before withdrawing his hand and returning his attention to the notebook on the table. 

That pressure building within Jisung finally reaches its peak and snaps. 

He’s tired. He’s so fucking tired of being strung along for what might as well just be Minho’s amusement, being pulled in only to be pushed away, constantly left wondering if Minho is interested in him at all or if he just likes humiliating him, playing some sick game where Jisung doesn’t even have the luxury of knowing the rules. 

He’s going to end it, one way or another.

So he does the most rational, mature thing he can do in that situation. He yanks Minho’s pen out of his grasp mid-paragraph and flings it across the table. 

Minho blinks at his empty hand a few times before turning to meet Jisung’s eyes. Minho’s eyebrows are raised in a challenge, not unlike the warning look a stern parent would give to their misbehaving child. It unnerves Jisung, but he doesn’t forget his purpose.

His expression screams do something like that again and see what happens. So Jisung does.

He swipes the notebook next, followed by a (much more gentle) closing of his laptop, then folds his arms over his chest defiantly. Minho has nothing to ignore him for now, though Jisung knows he’s perfectly capable of finding a loophole if he so desires―and he probably will. If that’s the case, Jisung will leave. He’s done playing Minho’s game, done being the butt of his ongoing joke.

Jisung decides to address the issue outright, for once, turning to fully face Minho. "Are you leading me on or what?"

"Leading you on? Where did that come from?" And God, Jisung desperately wants to wipe that smirk off of his face. 

With his mouth. 

Angrily, though.

"Gee, I dunno," Jisung nearly yells in exasperation. "Maybe from you feeling me up all the time and―and stringing me along like… like some kind of toy then acting like none of it ever happened. Maybe because you give me false hope and then push me away."

"False hope?" Minho scoffs. "I’m not sure I know what you mean."

"Please stop playing dumb." Jisung’s voice is somewhere between seething and pleading. "Your games aren’t fun anymore, Minho."

"I, for one, am having a blast," he deadpans.

"Yeah, clearly," Jisung spits, "since you apparently get off on being a fucking tease."

Minho barks out a laugh. Then, Jisung is pushed down until the back of his head hits the arm of the couch. Minho is crawling on top of him before he can stutter out a what the fuck. He leans down and Jisung thinks he might kiss him but his lips find Jisung’s neck instead, and he is certainly not complaining, no matter how confused (and concerned) he might be by the sudden development. 

Minho’s hand that isn’t propping him up runs up Jisung’s side while he leaves open-mouthed kisses on Jisung’s neck, hot breath fanning against his skin. Jisung shivers, his previous confusion and anger quickly being consumed by lust.

"Is this what you wanted from me?" Minho asks, voice low. "Why didn’t you just say so, hm?" He lets out a breathy, half-hearted chuckle, his mouth traveling up the younger’s neck. He lightly drags his teeth over the shell of his ear, and then he whispers in Jisung’s ear and makes his heart stop. 

"I’m not fucking you so you can win a bet."

What.

All the color drains from Jisung’s face as pure, cold dread seeps into his veins and spreads throughout his body. Minho sits up and folds his arms, regrettably straddling him and looking quite proud of himself. Jisung, meanwhile, wishes more than anything that he could sink into the couch and be lost and forgotten to the void between the cushions, live the rest of his life with the spare change and food crumbs.

Minho knows? Hell, Jisung has practically forgotten about the bet at this point. He had been so wrapped up in trying to get close to Minho for the sake of getting close to Minho that he nearly forgot there’s money on the line. He’s spent all his time worrying about whether or not Minho actually likes him or is just fucking with him, not the fifty dollars he’ll definitely be losing. 

Now Minho won’t want anything to do with him. And who would, after Jisung accused Minho of using him as a toy when he’s the one who put money on being able to fuck Minho?

Oh man. Way to go, Jisung.

He’s such a fucking idiot.

"How do you know about that?" he asks, his voice small as he resists the urge to hide his face in his hands.

"You and your friends are loud," Minho states simply. "I’ve known since the start."

"Why didn’t you say anyth―" Jisung stops himself. Minho isn’t to blame here. "No, you know what? Yeah, that’s completely fair. I deserve this. But let me explain―"

"No, let me guess," Minho interrupts. "You were desperate, your friends recognized me, told you I’m easy. You thought you’d score no problem, hm?" His voice wavers ever so slightly, and for the first time, Jisung sees sadness, hurt in his dark eyes. "Well, you’re dedicated, I’ll give you that."

Guilt spreads throughout Jisung’s body like a wildfire, his heart dropping into his stomach. Does Minho think this… their whole friendship is just a ploy to get Jisung laid?

"Hyung…" Jisung shifts from under Minho just enough to sit up and look him in the eyes, his hands resting on top of Minho’s. Minho starts to pull away, but Jisung grabs one of his hands in both of his own. "No, wait, listen. Changbin did recognize you, but that had nothing to do with it. Well, technically, he did kind of egg me on, but I was interested in you way before that. Fuck, since the first day of class actually, and, and Changbin didn’t say anything about you until after Chan approached you. He didn’t call you that, either. He’s not like that. He only said you hooked up and that you were weird. But like, in a good way! Like me. His words."

Minho stays silent, an unreadable expression on his face as his gaze remains fixed on their hands, so Jisung continues, "I knew I could never approach you on my own, so I kinda took the bet as motivation and ran with it. I’m a coward, I know. Honestly, I had almost forgotten about the bet because… y’know."

"Because what?" Minho prompts softly, holding his gaze steadily now.

"Because you’re… you," Jisung says intelligently. 

"Because I’m me," Minho repeats blankly.

Jisung groans. He’s going to make him say it, huh?

"Because I was too busy being concerned over whether you actually liked me, not because I wanted Changbin’s stupid fifty dollars or even to get laid, but because the more time I spent with you the more I ended up… really, really liking you. A lot more than I thought I would." 

He says the last part rather quickly and bites his lip, avoiding eye contact to stare down at their hands, Minho’s slightly smaller ones frozen still in his own. Despite having nothing to lose really, he still fears Minho’s response to his admission; he hasn’t known Jisung for long, after all, despite all the time they’ve spent together. He probably hadn’t grown attached like Jisung did. Still, Jisung would rather make things awkward by involving feelings than have Minho outright hate him and think he’s a terrible person who sought to take advantage of him.

Minho’s free hand tilts Jisung’s chin up to look him in the eye, a playful glint in his own. It’s familiar. Better than disgust or the sadness that had crossed his face earlier; Jisung will take it. 

"You thought you’d get away with chasing after me like a lost puppy and not fall for me? Bold." Minho’s sleeve envelops Jisung’s hand suddenly, Minho’s smaller fingers intertwining with his beneath the fabric. "I like you too, dummy. Otherwise I would’ve told you to fuck off a long time ago." Minho smiles down at him tenderly. 

"You―what? Really?" Jisung exhales a sharp laugh and beams in response, feeling like an immeasurable weight has been lifted from his shoulders as his head spins from the whirlwind of emotions he’s experienced in the past several minutes.

"Yes, really." He pushes Jisung’s beanie up enough to smooth his bangs to the side. "I know it might be hard to believe with how much I fucked with you, but I only did all that because… I thought you were using me, and it was like, my fucked up way of getting back at you―well, that and you’re really cute when you’re flustered. It was a win-win, really."

"Not for me," Jisung groans. "God, it was torture. I mean, I realize now that I deserved it, but―"

"No, I’m sorry. It was wrong of me."

"Please don’t apologize, oh my God." Jisung squeezes his hand. "I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t even stop to consider how the bet could affect you. That was fucked up."

"Mm, a little," Minho giggles. "But I understand now. I forgive you." His lips quirk into a crooked smile when he releases Jisung’s hand to drape his arms over his shoulders. "You can still make it up to me, though."

"Anything you want," Jisung smiles, tentatively resting his hands on Minho’s hips. 

Jisung tosses all of his expectations to the wind, partially because Minho could very well be teasing him again, but mostly because he doesn’t care anymore. He’s incredibly lucky as it is to have Minho forgive him, to smile at him more affectionately than perhaps anyone else ever has and more so than he deserves. 

As much as Jisung would love nothing more than to capture Minho’s lovely lips in a kiss, to be pushed back down on the couch and kissed for hours, to take anything Minho is willing to give—whatever it is, Jisung will be grateful.

"How about you fuck me and then take me out to dinner with that fifty bucks?"

Oh.

"W-What?" Jisung asks, his mouth suddenly very dry. "Wait, we don’t have to―I don’t want you to feel like―"

"I know." Minho stops him with a thumb swiping across his lip. "As much fun as tormenting you has been, I’ve wanted this for a while." A rare, uncertain shyness crosses Minho’s features. "...Do you?"

Jisung nods dumbly, waiting for his brain to process everything. It’s a lot. 

What started as a stupid bet to lose his virginity evolved into Jisung developing feelings, warm and fuzzy on top of the hot and steamy, for someone who seemed to only want to play with him for months, and now that someone is confessing to liking him and wanting to fuck?

Holy shit.

"Are you sure, though?" Jisung peers up at him nervously. "This isn’t… We aren’t moving too fast?"

"Getting cold feet?" Minho teases, his smile fond. "We don’t have to, Jisung. I can wait if you don’t want to yet."

Jisung’s head is spinning. Minho likes him. After all of Jisung’s bullshit, Minho likes him. He wants him, and he likes him enough to wait. 

It isn’t that Jisung doesn’t want to be with Minho, because he does, in every way. But now that he knows his feelings are returned, he’s scared of ruining things before they’ve even started.

"I-I mean, obviously I… I want you, but―" Jisung swallows. "This isn’t weird? To start a relationship with… Are we starting a relationship?"

"If that’s what you want. I would like to." Minho smiles at him so sweetly, fondly, a jarring comparison to his usual flirting and teasing now that he’s truly, for once, let his guard down. "It’s a little unconventional, but… has anything about us ever been conventional?"

"Fair enough," Jisung laughs, breathless.

Then Minho playfully adds, "And it’s been a while since I’ve been treated to a good meal."

"You really want this?" Jisung asks, his lips quirking into a smirk.

"Is that surprising?" Minho asks genuinely, tilting his head.

Jisung chuckles nervously. "A little?"

"You thought I hung out with you all the time and felt you up and wasn’t interested at all?"

"I-I don’t know," Jisung admits. "I figured if you wanted to, you would’ve made a move."

"Jisung, I sucked your dick."

"You weren’t into it at all! And you didn’t let me return the favor," he pouts.

"Okay, first of all, I was and I wanted to," Minho laughs, "but I couldn’t give you that much power."

"Okay, fair," Jisung concedes again.

"Secondly," Minho continues, "you didn’t make a move either." Jisung opens his mouth to retort before he’s cut off. "And no, your obnoxious flirting doesn’t count."

"I didn’t wanna mess it up." Jisung realizes how silly he sounds. For all he knows, Minho could have been waiting, hoping even, for him to make a real move himself all this time, prove that he meant more to him than just a stupid bet. "I mean, I worried it might make you… stop, or hate me or something. I don’t know."

"You’re all bark and no bite." Minho clicks his tongue, smiling. "I probably would have caved if you did."

"I’m that irresistible?" Jisung teases, milking every bit of embarrassment he can get out of Minho as a small form of payback for his own. "So if it weren’t for the bet…?"

"I’d like to say this could have happened a long time ago," Minho says. "I always thought you were cute, but honestly I also assumed you were straight."

Jisung’s jaw drops, shoving Minho off of him playfully and immediately missing the warmth. "We’re done here."

"Can you blame me?" Minho laughs. "You dress like a frat boy."

"I do not!" Jisung retorts louder than necessary, folding his arms over his chest. "We can’t all look cute in big, cozy sweaters."

"Now you’re just fishing for compliments," Minho chides. "You’d look cute as hell in my big, cozy sweaters and you know it." 

Jisung blushes at the phrasing, at the thought of himself in Minho’s clothes, suddenly finding that it ranks very high on his hierarchy of needs. "Speaking of frat boys…" Interrupting his train of thought, Minho crawls back into his lap and snatches the beanie off of Jisung’s head, tossing it aside.

"Nooo, my hat hair!" Jisung whines, hands darting up to smooth it down only to be swatted away by Minho.

"It’s cute," he giggles, features softening as he cards his hands through the messy locks. Jisung’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation while Minho’s nails drag lightly across his scalp, sending chills down the back of his neck. "Cute," he reiterates, moving a hand to tickle the underside of Jisung’s chin as if he were petting a cat.

"If I’m so cute, then kiss me," Jisung says. He doesn’t dare to breathe as the hand at his chin tilts his face up and Minho leans in, stopping only inches away from his mouth.

"Your move."

Jisung likes this game a lot more than the last one.

He brings his hand to cup Minho’s cheek and marvels at the way he leans into his touch, at the encouraging smile he gives him as Jisung cranes his neck to finally, finally taste Minho, their lips brushing tentatively. Minho is softer and sweeter than Jisung could have ever dreamed, and he feels like he’s floating when those perfect lips start to move against him slowly, deepening the kiss while hands roam over Jisung’s torso.

Only then does his brain seem to catch up with the situation, and holy shit Minho is in his lap and on his lips and his hands are slipping under his shirt and it all feels so fucking good. Jisung thinks he could stay like this for hours, breathing in Minho’s scent and feeling the gentle touch of his soft hands on his skin, but then Minho shifts against him in a certain way that reminds him exactly what his intentions are.

Right. He’s been dreaming about this moment for months and all the things he would do to Minho if only he could, and now he can, and he’s sitting here repaying Minho’s fervor with his hands resting idly on his hips. 

So he tries to multitask and focus on something in addition to the all-consuming feeling of Minho’s lips, his hands moving to squeeze his firm thighs first because they’ve haunted him for as long as he can remember (and they do not disappoint). Jisung reaches behind Minho and squeezes his ass, which leads to Minho giggling into the kiss, and oh God that shouldn’t have made him feel as fond as it did.

Minho licks into his mouth in retaliation, swallowing the soft gasp he draws out and pressing closer to Jisung. His hands continue to wander under Jisung’s shirt, over his sides and stomach before inching near his chest. Before Jisung realizes what’s happening, he’s arching his back and nearly biting down on Minho’s tongue when thumbs brush over Jisung’s nipples. Jisung’s cheeks burn while Minho only hums in amusement, undoubtedly filing that reaction away for future exploitation. 

For now, he focuses on working Jisung up further by rocking his hips, Jisung unable to stop himself from letting out a low moan at the friction. His desire to feel it again fuels him, and he pulls Minho flush against him by his rear and grinds his hips up to meet him. Jisung’s lips attach to Minho’s neck, sucking and nibbling while he revels in the sound of Minho panting lightly and rolling his hips into him. 

Hearing and feeling proof that Minho wants him too has Jisung’s stomach tying in knots, his mind racing, and his pants getting impossibly tighter all at once. He wants to feel all of Minho, under him, on top of him, Minho in every shape and form.

"Your room," Jisung breathes. Minho pulls back to look at him, face flushed. "Can we go to your room?"

Minho seems to take a moment to process before he nods, lifting himself off of Jisung with a final kiss. "Yeah. Good call." 

Minho’s lips rejoin his the moment the door shuts behind them, pressing up against him hungrily while he coaxes him backwards until Jisung’s calves hit Minho’s bed. He thinks Minho will push him down and he’s more than fine with that, but instead Minho twirls them around and takes Jisung’s previous spot, falling backwards onto the bed and pulling Jisung with him.

He seems to be making a point of relinquishing control to Jisung, which both surprises him considering his apparent affinity for wrapping Jisung around his finger and making him squirm, and worries him considering his own lack of experience.

He slides his hands up under Minho’s sweater as they kiss, mapping out his torso with gentle touches. Minho’s skin is so warm and so soft, Jisung wonders how he’s real. Hands tangle in Jisung’s hair, tugging just hard enough to pull little gasps from his lips.

Jisung shifts, bringing his knee up between Minho’s thighs and Minho welcomes the opportunity eagerly, rolling his hips into Jisung’s leg with muffled little noises of pleasure.

He pulls back to admire Minho, lips slick, hair mussed, eyes wanting, hips canting hard and needy, all because of Jisung. It does something to his heart. And his dick.

"You’re so fucking hot," he murmurs, diving back down to kiss him again. "I don’t know what I’m doing."

Minho grins up at him, stars in his eyes. "Why? You’re doing great."

"Sorry, just…" Jisung smiles weakly. "I’m nervous. Tell me if I do something weird. I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you enough."

Minho gasps, unconvincingly feigning shock. "You? Embarrassing? Never."

"Shut up," Jisung grumbles, pushing his knee into Minho’s crotch and catching him off guard with a gasp.

"Oh yeah?" Minho’s eyebrows raise, stirring anticipation in Jisung’s gut, and then his hips are yanked down onto Minho’s raised thigh, a stuttered moan escaping his mouth when Minho’s hands guide him to grind down on him. "You gonna make me?"

"Fuck." Jisung is acutely aware of how tight his pants have become. "No. I like your voice."

"Want me to talk dirty to you?" he asks with an eyebrow wiggle.

"Hell yeah."

"Too bad. I’m shit at pillow talk." They both laugh softly as Jisung is pulled down for another kiss, interrupted too soon by Minho tugging at his hoodie. "Off."

"What do you mean? That was pretty good," Jisung jokes, more to offset his own anxiety than anything. He sits back on his heels to comply, tugging his hoodie and t-shirt off at once, sheepish when the cool air hits his exposed chest.

He resists the urge to curl in on himself, only because he’d hate to disappoint Minho’s hungry gaze as it rakes over his bare stomach, leaving Jisung somewhere between self-conscious and extremely proud of himself for all the nights he worked out even when he’d wanted desperately to do literally anything else.

"Like what you see?" he asks, far too smug for someone in his position.

Minho hums, sitting up to kiss him, and runs his hands over the muscle appreciatively. "You’re full of surprises, hm?" He trails a gentle hand down Jisung’s abs to his waistband, making quick work of unfastening his pants. A hand snakes its way in between his pants and underwear to palm him while Minho swallows his moans.

Fuck, this is really happening.

Minho starts to tug at Jisung’s jeans impatiently and he gets the hint, slipping off of the bed to remove them but hesitating when he catches Minho’s eye.

"What about you?" Jisung stalls, not all that thrilled at the prospect of being naked and vulnerable in front of a fully-dressed Minho.

"If you want my clothes off, take them off," he says simply. 

Oh, okay. Jisung can do that.

He abandons his task to sit back on the edge of the bed, wetting his lips as he toys with the soft fabric of Minho’s peach-colored sweater and wonders if it would be strange or uncomfortable if he asked Minho to keep it on. He has always wanted to fuck him in one of his cute sweaters, but he supposes there’s time for that later if things go right…

He slips his hands under the hem to fumble with Minho’s pants instead, testing the waters. Minho catches on.

"You want me to keep this on?" he asks with a quirk of his lips.

"If… if it’s not uncomfortable," Jisung says unsurely, cheeks burning. "Not that I don’t want to see you, it’s just, uh, I―I really love how you look in―oh my god, forget it. That’s weird, isn’t it? Sorry. You can take it off."

He reaches for the fabric again only to be shooed away by Minho’s sweater paws. "No, it’s okay. You’re cute." He presses a kiss to the tip of Jisung’s nose that makes his heart flutter. "I’m taking it off if I get too hot though."

"That’s―yeah, that’s fair," Jisung chuckles, thankful he hadn’t ruined the mood.

"Now take your pants off," Minho says flatly, all but shoving him off of the bed and following suit. Jisung obeys hurriedly while Minho crosses the short distance to his bedside table, retrieving something from the drawer. Jisung doesn’t have to wonder what it is.

The plastic packet and bottle are tossed haphazardly on the bed so Minho can peel his pants off, too, and then they’re almost even, the only articles of clothing between them being two pairs of underwear and a sweater. 

Minho guides him to fall back onto the bed, Minho hovering above him this time and leaning down to kiss him slowly, almost reverently, while his hips work at a similar pace as they grind into Jisung’s. Jisung shouldn’t be surprised at how well he moves them, being a dancer and all, but it still catches him off guard and fuck it feels good.

Jisung boldly slips his hands under the waistband of Minho’s boxers, dipping in to squeeze his ass and marveling at the way the soft skin gives under his touch, wondering how it would feel bare against his lap. It’s only then that he realizes he has no idea which way this is going.

"How―" Jisung breaks apart to ask, "how are we doing this?"

"You’re going to fuck me, aren’t you?" Minho asks, eyes half lidded and hand absentmindedly groping Jisung’s bicep.

Jisung swallows. "Is that what you want?"

"Is it not what you want?" Minho tilts his head.

"No, no, it is, uh―I guess. I mean…" Jisung clears his throat nervously. "Just… Is that what you―uh, you don’t have a preference?"

"Just tell me what you want, Jisung," Minho says, voice calming. "I can work with you either way. But yes, I do want to sit on your dick." He rolls his hips for emphasis.

"Fuck," Jisung hisses, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Minho’s rear. "You do, huh?"

"Yep," Minho says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, though his ears are considerably red. "Is that okay with you?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. You can, uh, definitely do… that."

Minho smiles before diving in to steal another kiss. "Good." He then slips off of Jisung’s lap to his disappointment, but then he’s tugging his boxers off and wriggling his hand out of his sleeve to get some lube and Jisung’s stomach is churning with nervousness.

Minho is so beautiful and experienced and so incredibly out of his league that Jisung finds it hard to grasp that he’s here right now, in his bed, hard and half-naked. Minho also knows him, and therefore probably isn’t expecting much from Jisung, but he hates to think that he’ll disappoint nonetheless. 

He just doesn’t know if he can keep up. Especially not when Minho is starting to finger his own ass looking at him like that.

Jisung wets his lips, incredibly self-conscious as he sits there twiddling his thumbs while Minho prepares himself. "Can I… touch you?"

Minho is quick to nod, so Jisung inches closer, heart hammering, and settles on his knees at Minho’s waist only to hover uselessly. He’s nearly frozen in fear at the prospect of doing something weird or whatever, just barely overshadowed by the desire to make Minho feel good, to show him he can, to make him want this again.

A trembling hand slides up Minho’s thigh, over his hip bone, and pushes his sweater up off of his dick and towards his ribs, his cock hard and flushed against his soft stomach. Jisung doesn’t have much to compare it to, but like the rest of him, Minho’s dick is pretty. And despite never doing so before and most of his fantasies involving it being the other way around, he really wants it in his mouth. Damn, he has no idea how to give a blowjob. He should have spent more time reading that WikiHow article… 

"You’re thinking too much." Minho’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, gentle as he places a hand over Jisung’s. "Don’t worry. It’s pretty hard to fuck it up."

"Isn’t that the end goal here? To fuck it up?" Jisung jokes, hand ghosting back towards Minho’s groin.

"No, just to fuck," Minho says. "Just… do what you’re comfortable with. What you do to yourself."

Jisung bites back a joke about not being well-versed in the art of autofellatio, instead opting to tentatively take Minho into his hand, giving an experimental stroke and watching his eyes flutter shut with a shaky breath. He uses the pad of his thumb to spread the precum beading at the tip down his shaft, strokes tentative as he gets used to the weight in his hand.

His free hand joins the other in exploring Minho’s body, splaying across his stomach and petting him gently before teasing under the hem of his sweater. "Can I…?"

Minho nods again. "I’m all yours."

It’s barely above a whisper but it sends Jisung’s heart into a frenzy all the same. He takes a deep breath and slides his hand farther up Minho’s torso, thumb brushing over his nipple. Minho gives an encouraging hum, so he takes it between his fingers and pulls lightly while twisting his fist over the head of Minho’s cock. The older’s back arches off the bed with a high-pitched whine that goes straight to Jisung’s dick before shooting him a glare.

"Sorry," Jisung says, quickly retracting his hand. "You said to do what I did to myself, I thought you’d like it, sorry―"

"I like it," Minho mumbles, averting his eyes, apparently embarrassed by his own outburst. "Just surprised me."

"Oh," Jisung breathes, wetting his lips as he returns his hand to the tender bud, rolling it lightly between his fingers and watching Minho’s lips part. He grins, a bit too cheekily. "You’re pretty sensitive yourself, huh?"

"It’s been a while," he retorts defensively, a pretty blush adorning his cheeks.

"I think it’s hot," Jisung admits, removing both of his hands from Minho and lowering himself onto the bed and between Minho’s legs with a new goal in mind, spurred on by the confidence boost of Minho’s soft moans and gasps. Minho had stopped fingering himself somewhere between Jisung sticking his hand up his shirt and now, so he props himself up on an elbow to watch with pupils blown wide while Jisung takes him into his hand again, glancing at Minho sheepishly.

"I’ve never done this before so, if I suck―"

Minho blinks rapidly when he speaks, as if shaking himself out of his thoughts. Jisung wonders if it’s a pretty picture, him between Minho’s legs. 

"That’s kind of the point."

"You know what I mean," he whines.

"Just don’t bite my dick off―ah." His hand flies to Jisung’s hair the moment his tongue touches his tip and Jisung holds back another teasing remark (because really, it would be hypocritical) in favor of kitten licking down his length, flattening his tongue, and licking a stripe back up that makes Minho curse under his breath. 

He leans away to watch what he’s doing while he finds Minho’s hole, glistening with lube, and circles his finger around it, silently asking for permission as he looks up at him. Minho releases his lip from between his teeth and wordlessly passes Jisung the lube. 

Once the substance on his fingers is warmed, Jisung carefully pushes his pointer finger in and Minho swallows him up easily, hot and tight. His eyes practically roll back in his head as he realizes his dick is going in there. Holy shit, he might die.

Minho had already stretched himself so it’s easy to slip a second finger in and pump them slowly, getting a feel for it before returning his mouth to Minho’s cock, suckling on the head before sinking down as far as his mouth allows, barely stifling a gag when it prods at his uvula.

"C-Careful," Minho gasps, hand tightening in his hair and lifting him up some.

"Sorry," Jisung says sheepishly when he pulls off, mortified by the string of saliva that connects his mouth to Minho’s dick still and the fact that he had practically been slobbering on it. He quickly wipes it away, but if Minho is put off, he doesn’t show it, watching him closely.

"No, it’s okay," he says, "just don’t want you throwing up on me or anything."

"Mm, that’s hot. I knew you were lying about being bad at pillow talk."

Minho throws his head back with a laugh that quickly morphs into a moan when Jisung’s fingers brush against the swollen bundle of nerves inside him. Jisung grins and angles his thrusts to hit it directly, feeling like he’s on top of the fucking world with the way Minho writhes and makes so many sweet sounds at his touch.

Jisung gains a little confidence at the encouraging noises and speeds up his movements, fingers crooked at an angle that elicits the prettiest sounds until Minho has had enough, gasping as he brings Jisung to a stop. Rather proud of himself for getting Minho so worked up, he crawls back up to kiss him with a self-satisfied grin and a newfound confidence that only falters a little bit when impatient fingers find their way under his waistband.

It isn’t like Minho hasn’t seen his dick before, he reminds himself. But there’s a big difference between being drunk with just his dick out in the bathroom of a party―or shitty unsolicited (also drunk) dick pics―and the gentle lamplight of Minho’s bedroom, completely bare and sober and insecure.

All it takes is a hand wrapping around his aching cock and a whispered fuck, I want you against his lips to completely wash those thoughts away, to be replaced by pure carnal desire as he slumps over Minho, burying his face in his neck and muffling his moans by sucking the skin there while Minho jerks him off.

His other hand rustles around on the bed, and Jisung lifts his head in time to see Minho trying to rip the condom packet open with his teeth before getting frustrated and removing the hand on Jisung’s dick to help. "Ready, baby boy?" he asks, a smile playing at his lips.

Jisung flushes at the pet name but nods, rolling off of Minho to pull his underwear the rest of the way down and roll the condom onto his dick, worrying his lip relentlessly. Minho sits up, sleeve rolled up and lube in hand, to capture Jisung’s lips in a kiss while he slicks him up, drawing out an embarrassing whimper when he pulls Jisung’s lip between his teeth and twists his fist around his tip at the same time.

"How do you want me?" Minho breaks away to ask.

Jisung’s eyes widen. "I―Um."

Minho smiles at his expense. "Back? Stomach? Knees?"

Jisung’s mind races with the visuals Minho so kindly provided, but it doesn’t take him long to settle on one―he’d much rather be able to see Minho’s face contorted in pleasure than the back of his head.

"Back," Jisung decides easily. On a whim, he adds with a cocky grin, "Wanna watch you fall apart."

Minho’s eyebrows raise with a scoff, though a light blush dusts his cheeks. "All right then," he says. "Make me take back what I said about you being all bark."

With that, Jisung accepts the challenge, capturing Minho’s lips again and leading him down until he lands on his back. Jisung nudges his legs apart and aligns himself with Minho’s entrance, looking up to him for approval. Meeting Minho’s intense gaze, it hits Jisung once more like a ton of bricks that this is really happening. That this is happening with Minho.

Minho, who wants him too. Minho, who actually likes him. Minho, who laces their fingers together and gives an encouraging squeeze and a smile that makes butterflies dance in Jisung’s stomach. It feels like a dream and too undeniably real all at once.

"Ready?" Jisung asks timidly.

With a nod from the older, Jisung bites his lip and pushes in slowly, his jaw going slack with the feeling of Minho consuming his body and mind, skin on fire, heart racing, head empty. He stops about halfway in to gather his bearings and try to cope with how fucking heavenly Minho feels around him, the latter shifting restlessly beneath.

"You can keep going," Minho says after a moment.

"Okay, just… a second," he grunts, cursing his lack of composure when Minho grins in realization.

"Too much for you, baby?" he teases, voice smooth like honey, and rolls his hips.

"S-Stay still," Jisung says through gritted teeth.

"Make me."

He grips the underside of Minho’s thighs, pressing him down into the mattress and hopefully hindering his ability to move his hips long enough for Jisung to ease further into Minho, slowly, letting both of them adjust. He won’t be able to live with himself if he busts this soon.

Minho tries to rock into him, gasping softly when Jisung’s grip tightens, holding him in place. Jisung holds his breath, too, certain he’s in danger of drawing blood with how hard he’s clamped down on his own lip as he finally bottoms out, buried fully in Minho’s overwhelming warmth.

"Fuck," Jisung breathes. "Wow."

"You gonna make it?" Minho asks, an eyebrow quirked in amusement.

"I think so," he answers with a breathless laugh. "Are you okay?"

Minho nods, humming. "Whenever you’re ready."

Jisung leans down to kiss him first, Minho tangling his hands in his hair as he gladly returns the gesture. The younger pulls out partially while their mouths are busy, pushing back in and repeating the motion lazily, tentatively, gentle moans muffled by soft lips.

It feels euphoric, Minho clenching around him while his hands glide down the younger’s torso, squeeze his upper arms, touch whatever they can reach―but it’s becoming harder to maneuver the more he tries to pick up his pace, chasing the feeling, and Minho isn’t letting out more than the softest of mewls.

Reluctantly, he breaks the kiss, taking in the view of Minho with hooded eyes and glistening lips, an image that certainly won’t be leaving him anytime soon, to reposition. He hooks Minho’s leg over his shoulder and fucks into him harder, a feeling of triumph washing over him at the instant reaction from Minho, who paws at the sheets with a pretty little cry.

"Good?" Jisung asks, an apprehensive edge to the question. He wishes Minho would talk to him, tell him he’s doing good, tell him what he’s doing wrong, something.

"Mm, good," Minho agrees quickly. "Feels so good, little higher…"

Jisung lifts Minho’s hips enough to slide a pillow under them before angling his thrusts upwards as asked of him, Minho’s back arching in response while his lip drags between his teeth, stifling a moan.

"Like that?" Jisung prompts, even though the answer is written all over Minho’s face. 

He feels dizzy, knowing he’s the one that made Minho like this. He wants to watch him unravel further still, fall apart at the seams and cry out his name until he can think of nothing else, want nothing else, just Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

"Just like that," Minho whispers, hips rolling to meet his thrusts. "You’re doing so well."

Jisung bites his lip with a whine, his cheeks setting aflame at the praise.

"Oh, you like that?" Minho grins. "Want me to tell you how good your big cock feels?"

Jisung’s hips stutter as he chokes out a whimper and a please.

Minho giggles. "You’re so fucking cute―ah. Harder, Jisungie, fuck."

Jisung, despite muscles protesting, simply cannot say no to a request uttered so breathily, sparkling eyes so wide as they look up at him pleadingly. So he pounds into him harder, faster, skin slapping lewdly against skin until he feels like he’s about to explode, the pressure in the pit of his stomach building until it’s almost unbearable.

To Jisung’s delight, Minho keeps him appeased with little noises and breathy encouragements. More vocal though he may be, he doesn’t seem anywhere near close even when Jisung brings a shaky hand to jack him off. As much as Jisung wants to fucking combust and finish, he won’t allow himself to do so without making Minho feel good first.

Jisung slows to a stop, chest all but heaving as he takes a moment to gather his bearings, sweating and out of steam. "Sorry just… gimme a second."

A tap to his thigh. "Pull out."

Jisung’s eyebrows draw together in confusion but he obeys, hissing as he slips out of Minho and sits there dumbly, dejectedly waiting for further instruction.

"Did I fuck it up after all?" he asks with a nervous chuckle. Part of him worries Minho will slip off the bed and pull his pants on, say this was a mistake and kick his sorry ass out, but his worries are stomped out a bit when Minho smiles at him fondly.

"No, you’re doing good," he says softly as he moves to his knees before Jisung, cupping his face and kissing him sweet and slow. Next, his hands are on Jisung’s chest, pushing him back towards the headboard until he’s reclining on Minho’s pillows. Jisung is pliant, easily allowing Minho to manhandle him into the new position despite his bewilderment. 

"I’m not done with you yet, don’t worry," Minho says, giggling as he crawls over Jisung’s legs and settles on his lap. He brushes the damp hair off of Jisung’s forehead and trails his hand to the back of his head, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling suddenly. It should not make Jisung’s dick jump the way it does. "Want me to ride you now, Jisungie?"

Jisung whines before he can stop himself, looking up at Minho expectantly, and nods fervently. Minho smiles sweetly in return and rolls his hips into Jisung’s briefly neglected cock before taking it in his hand and working it over. Jisung moans, gaze slipping to his lap.

"Fuck," he breathes, his fingers splaying across Minho’s muscular thighs while he drinks in the sight. Minho smirks, tensing the muscles under Jisung’s fingers as the latter inhales sharply, giving them an appreciative squeeze. "You’re gorgeous."

"Me? Or my legs?" Minho wonders cheekily, leaning in for a kiss.

"You," is murmured into his mouth. "Your everything."

"Mm, romantic," Minho quips, drinking in the younger’s gasps while he twists his fist over his cock.

"Minho," he whimpers. "Please…"

"Please what?" Minho asks innocently, withdrawing his hand from Jisung in favor of looping his arms around his neck as he grinds their cocks together and places sloppy kisses along the expanse of Jisung’s neck. He sucks at the tender skin hard enough to leave marks once or twice, and Jisung’s dick is twitching and head spinning with the prospect of seeing evidence of Minho on his skin.

Minho’s pliant demeanor seems to have taken an extreme turn the moment he got in Jisung’s lap, and it’s painfully reminiscent of his usual teasing that Jisung has grown so used to. It triggers a fight or flight response of sorts.

In lieu of a response, Jisung’s hands make their way to Minho’s ass and yank him ever closer, bucking his hips up to meet him. Minho gasps into his neck; Jisung isn’t sure if it’s from the friction or the audacity.

"You gonna sit on my dick like you wanted, baby?" Jisung asks, an impish grin on his face as he nips Minho’s ear. Minho scoffs, amusement twinkling in his eyes when he pulls away. Jisung’s every nerve ending buzzes with excitement as it morphs into a dangerous glint.

"Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?"

Jisung is somewhere between terrified and excited as Minho leans back and reaches for the lube again, wriggling his hand out of his sleeve before squirting a little more into his palm. He promptly grabs Jisung’s dick, spreading the fresh lube down his length, eliciting a strangled moan when he squeezes almost too hard.

Minho’s expression is one of pure evil when he opens his mouth. "If that's what daddy wants."

"Oh God," Jisung groans, hiding his face in his hands. He thinks his dick might have shriveled up and died right there if Minho weren’t ridiculously sexy enough to make up for it. "No. Nope. Don’t like that one bit."

Minho cackles. "I thought you said you’d like anything I called you?"

"Not that, please, I change my mind."

"Fine," Minho assents, laughter still bubbling from his lips. "Ready, baby?"

Jisung’s heart flutters. That one, he thinks he could get used to. 

"Yeah."

Minho smiles and gives him a relatively chaste kiss before reaching behind him to remove one of the pillows at his back, reclining Jisung further and leaving him to stare up at an angelic-looking Minho while he tosses the pillow aside and lines himself up. He holds eye contact and finally starts pushing down onto Jisung slowly, making a show out of his lip dragging between his teeth. 

Jisung wets his own lips at the sight, his hands clutching Minho’s thighs like a lifeline as they work to lower Minho onto him slowly. Finally, he settles flush against Jisung’s hips, but Minho doesn’t move. Jisung figures he’s still stretched from before and just wants to make him squirm. Old habits die hard.

"Fuck," Jisung breathes out, not for the first time, and certainly not the last. Minho tilts his head, remaining still. Jisung fruitlessly tries to roll his hips up into Minho, but his strong thighs keep him planted on the bed. "Fuck, please move, baby."

Minho chuckles softly. "You’re so cute," he says, again. It isn’t exactly at the top of the list of things Jisung wants to be called by the person his dick is buried in.

"Just cute?" Jisung juts his lip out in a manner that he knows definitely won’t help his case.

"You’re so hot," Minho says this time, rolling his hips with a sigh. Jisung hisses, hands sliding up Minho’s thighs and under his sweater, caressing the baby-soft skin of his hips while small fingers dance over his own abs. "Really fucking hot. And you feel amazing."

Jisung groans, at the praise, at Minho trailing featherlight touches to his chest where he teases over his nipples, twisting the sensitive buds between his fingers. The combined sensations have Jisung arching his back and letting out a loud whimper as his fingers dig into Minho’s hips hard, barely suppressing the urge to buck his own as he’s grinded down on lazily.

Minho braces himself with hands on Jisung’s thighs as he rolls his hips, fucking himself on Jisung’s cock with expert movements and drawing low moans and praises from the younger. Jisung pushes his sweater up with one hand, bunched around his midriff while he strokes Minho with the other, making his head roll back with a soft moan.

"Getting hot?" Jisung checks, near breathless, with a tug to the soft fabric.

Minho hums, running a hand through his hair and looking like a complete wet dream with his flushed face and parted, reddened lips, his glasses even starting to fog as they slide down his nose from the sweat, his skin glowing.

"I can manage," he says, slowing down to huff out a frustrated noise and toss his glasses aside, before leaning over Jisung and caging him in with elbows propped on the pillows and a smirk plastered on his face. "Since you like it so much."

"You can take it off if you want!" Jisung retorts, ears burning. Minho hovering over him only makes him hotter. "Don’t want you passing out on me or anything."

"The dick is good, but it’s not that good," Minho laughs, cutting Jisung off when he starts to say not what I meant with a sloppy kiss as he rolls his hips again and again, pushing Jisung in and out in a euphoric rhythm.

Jisung kisses him back like he's dying of thirst and needs Minho to live, drinking in his pleased noises and returning them with his own as his hands slide up Minho's neck, then his jaw, cupping his face reverently while he licks into his mouth. Minho pulls away only slightly, turning his head and gingerly taking Jisung by the wrist, sucking his thumb into his mouth.

"Oh shit, hyung." Jisung's breath stutters in his chest when Minho's eyes flutter back over to meet his, blinking innocently while he takes his thumb deeper into his mouth, swirling his tongue and humming around it like he can't get enough. Jisung swallows, prying his mouth open and marveling at the view, Minho's jaw slackened for him, hot breath fanning over Jisung's hand. He continues fucking himself all the while, sweat beading on his forehead.

"God, you're fucking incredible," Jisung murmurs, tracing Minho's bottom lip with his slick thumb. Minho turns and takes Jisung’s middle and index fingers into his mouth next, sucking on the digits eagerly and coating them in his spit. Jisung’s gaze is glued to the lips wrapped around his fingers, awestruck, barely noticing when Minho’s movements start to slow and he slumps over Jisung.

Minho grinds down on him weakly, seemingly losing steam himself, Jisung’s fingers slipping out of his mouth. The younger mouths at his neck desperately as he fucks up into him, Minho moaning into the crook of his neck with fingertips digging into his shoulders.

Meanwhile Jisung's fingers are dug into Minho's ass, spreading him apart and pushing him down as best as he can with each thrust. He has a sudden, intense urge to spank him, to see what pretty sounds he'd make.

"A-Are you into…" he starts awkwardly, not sure how to phrase the question and brain certainly not functioning properly. "Can I…"

"What?" he breathes.

"Can I slap your ass, hyung?"

Minho half-whimpers in response. "Yeah."

Jisung pops him lightly, testing the waters but also fully intending to tease him a bit, just to see how he reacts. "Like that?"

"C'mon, harder," he demands, and Jisung is weak and quick to oblige, smacking him just hard enough to sting and make him let out a high-pitched whine and a needy harder, Jisungie.

"Fuck," Jisung whispers, rubbing gentle circles on the spot before pulling back and landing another slap, this time hard enough to make him jolt and cry out, hand flying to his dick. Seeing how much Minho gets off to the feeling spurs him on as he brings his hand down on the other side, earning another strangled moan and the feeling of Minho clenching around him that nearly has him seeing stars.

"Close," Minho chokes out, jerking himself off frantically. Jisung feels it, too, orgasm fast-approaching with all the pretty sounds Minho is making near his ear, every twitch of his body and flutter of his hole, pushing them both closer to the brink.

Minho whines when Jisung's cock slips out, hurriedly reaching behind him, but Jisung takes advantage of the moment to flip them over, laying Minho against the pillows. Minho blinks up at him, dazed, before Jisung is pushing into him all at once, making his face contort in pleasure. He leans down to kiss Minho, the older looping his arms around his neck and panting into his mouth when Jisung starts pumping his cock in time with each thrust, fingers still a little slick with Minho's spit.

"Jisungie," he whines, high-pitched and sweet as his back arches off the mattress, trying to meet Jisung's thrusts with every fervent roll of his hips. "Ah, little higher..."

Jisung sits back on his haunches to readjust and Minho pulls his legs to his chest, throwing his head back against the pillows with a pornographic moan when Jisung seems to hit the right spot. Jisung braces himself on Minho's hips, nails that spot over and over with every bit of his remaining strength, Minho's warmth and cries threatening to send him over the edge.

"I'm―" Jisung grunts, hips stuttering as he tries to hold out, "so close, fuck."

"Me too," Minho breathes, gasping when Jisung takes him into his hand and strokes him hard and fast. "Come for me, Jisungie."

With a few more thrusts and a whine, Jisung can't hold it back any longer, waves of white-hot pleasure washing over him and stars dotting his vision as he releases inside the condom with an embarrassingly high-volume cry, hips and the hand on Minho's cock moving jerkily as Jisung blinks tears from his eyes.

A breathy oh fuck signals Minho's orgasm not long after and then his back is arching off the bed, Jisung leaning down to kiss him through it as he coats his pretty sweater with his release. He claws at Jisung's back through his sleeves while they ride out their orgasms, moving against each other lazily, breaths thick and heavy.

"Holy shit." Jisung blinks, near delirious as he rests his forehead on Minho’s.

Eyes become crescents as the older smiles up at him, panting. A hand raises to caress his face and wipe a tear streak with his thumb. Jisung can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, especially when Minho seems more endeared by it than anything. "Was it that good?"

"Best I’ve ever had," Jisung says, laughing when Minho scoffs and pushes him away with a hand to his chest. "No, really!"

"That isn’t saying much," Minho says dryly. Any response Jisung could have formulated dies on his tongue when Minho takes him by the wrist, bringing his hand to his mouth to lick off the stray droplets of his own release. Jisung can only watch in wonder while the older winks at him, topping it off with a kiss to his knuckles. "You can pull out now."

"Oh. Right." Jisung flushes, wincing from sensitivity as he eases himself out of Minho’s warmth and peels the condom off. He isn’t entirely sure about post-coital protocol, but luckily Minho takes it upon himself to grab the condom and tie it at the end, slipping out from underneath Jisung to throw it away. Jisung flops onto his side, whining. He really wants nothing more right now than to cuddle up to Minho and sleep for twelve hours. 

"I’ll be right back, you big baby," he says, gaze fond.

Minho tucks the lube away in his drawer, pulls his soiled sweater over his head, and steps into his underwear before exiting, presumably to the bathroom. Jisung, suddenly self-conscious, decides to reach for his own discarded clothes, putting his underwear back on and grabbing his phone from his pants pocket.

He settles back against Minho’s pillows and just sighs contentedly for a moment, thoughts of kissing Minho silly when he comes back in and curling into him making him almost jittery. He taps his fingers restlessly on the back of his phone before deciding to open it and mindlessly scroll through Instagram, chewing his lip excitedly as he contemplates how he’ll break the news to his friends about his boyfriend.

They are boyfriends now, right? He’ll have to ask when Minho comes back. Hopefully sometime soon. God, what’s taking him so long?

Only a few minutes pass before Minho is pushing the door open again, a glass of water in hand. Jisung perks up, excitedly patting the space beside him. Minho smiles, sitting next to him and holding out the glass. "Water?"

"Yes, please." Minho makes himself comfortable beside Jisung while the latter chugs half of the glass before reaching over Minho to set it on the nightstand.

"So," Minho starts, on his side facing Jisung.

"So," Jisung repeats, beaming as he reaches up to brush some stray strands of hair out of Minho’s face.

"Pretty sure Felix heard everything," Minho says calmly. Jisung’s eyes bulge, ears burning at the mention of Minho’s roommate. "I swear I thought he was gone, otherwise I would have told you to keep it down."

"Me? You weren’t exactly silent either, you know!"

"Compared to you, I was."

Jisung groans, throwing an arm over his face in embarrassment. "Just tape my mouth shut next time if you hate it so much."

Minho giggles, gathering Jisung in his arms and pulling him close to his chest. Jisung melts in his hold, laying his head against the warm skin. "I didn’t say that. I like your voice."

"Oh yeah?" Jisung grins, absentmindedly tracing patterns on Minho’s arm. "Good luck getting me to shut up now that I know that."

"You already never shut up."

"There’s one way you can make me," Jisung says, pulling back to look Minho in the eyes and flutter his eyelashes innocently.

"Thank God for that." Minho giggles, guiding Jisung’s mouth to his with a tender hand under his jaw. Jisung lets out a happy noise, half climbing on top of Minho chest-to-chest and tangling their legs while their lips move together languidly, parting and reuniting so many times Jisung loses count, along with his breath.

Minho ends it with a kiss to the tip of Jisung’s nose, and Jisung hums happily before nuzzling into his side. Minho runs a hand through his hair, the cherry on top as Jisung closes his eyes and leans into the touch, in complete bliss.

"Cute," Minho whispers, pinching his cheek lightly. "How do you feel?"

"Like I could die happy," Jisung responds. He chews the inside of his cheek, looking up at Minho worriedly. "Was it… okay? For you?"

Minho snorts like the question is ridiculous; Jisung isn’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing until he speaks. "Of course." Then he adds softly, petting his head, "You were great. Don’t worry."

Jisung lets out a relieved breath. If he made Minho feel even half as good as he felt, he supposes that’s an accomplishment―not that he was left wanting with Minho’s encouraging words and moans, but the extra reassurance is more than welcome.

"Plus," Minho continues thoughtfully, "practice makes perfect, you know."

Jisung’s heart flutters at the implication of a next time, or several next times, his previous question burning in the front of his mind again. "So are―are we… boyfriends now, or…?"

"Do you want to be?"

Jisung sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and nods. He’s sure they said something about a relationship before stumbling into Minho’s bedroom, but the details are a little fuzzy, and who can blame him after that?

"Well if you want it, and I want it, that means…?" Minho places a finger on his lips, pretending to think.

Jisung giggles, cupping Minho’s face with his hands. "Hey, you know what my shirt is made out of?" Minho cocks an eyebrow. "Boyfriend material."

Minho just shakes his head, laughing, his cheeks slightly squished between Jisung’s hands. "That one doesn’t really work when you aren’t wearing a shirt."

"Fine, my underwear!" Jisung huffs. God, his not-yet-boyfriend is so difficult.

"Oh? Mind if I check?" The arm under Jisung reaches behind him and grabs his ass, making him squeak and jump in surprise. "Hmm, that’s boyfriend material alright."

"Sooo…?" Jisung pushes, deciding to ignore the gesture for now to focus on the matter at hand.

"Sooo," Minho echoes, lips curling into a grin telling Jisung he isn’t planning on caving.

Jisung does his best Minho-esque sigh and eye roll combination but his face is overtaken by a smile when he asks, "Hyung, will you be my boyfriend?"

"You can bet on it."

Jisung blinks.

Minho bursts into laughter at his stupid little joke, and Jisung wants to be playfully annoyed, embarrassed by the reminder of that fucking bet, but all he feels is endearment at how hard Minho laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world, happiness at the fact that Minho is his boyfriend. Laughter bubbles up in Jisung’s chest, too, and he props himself up to kiss Minho silly, both boys giggling against each other’s lips and drinking in the bliss the moment brings.

When they finally settle down, a happy little ache in Jisung’s cheeks from smiling so much, their positions are switched with Jisung’s arm around Minho while he cuddles into his side. He rests his head on the younger’s chest and traces his abs carefully with a finger, goosebumps rising on Jisung’s skin and something terribly fond swelling in his chest.

Minho suddenly reaches over Jisung and picks up his phone where it lay beside him, opening the front-facing camera and aiming it at them. Jisung snorts at his own appearance, hair sticking up wildly and flush not quite faded completely, marks littering his neck. Minho puckers his own swollen lips and throws up a peace sign, Jisung mimicking him.

"What are you doing?" Jisung laughs.

"Getting your fifty bucks so you can take your boyfriend out to eat."

"Oh."

Click. He passes the phone back to Jisung.

Jisung
hey changbin~~
i’m hungry

Changbin
what

Jisung
[Image attached]
and so is my BOYFRIEND!!
pay up motherfucker!!!!

Changbin
no fucking way

Chan
AYYYYYYYYY
look at our baby go!!! i’m so proud!!!

Changbin
i cannot believe this
well played
happy for you bro :D

Jisung
thanks guys!!!
couldn’t have done it without my enablers ;p

Chan
not to rub it in but…
thank youuu channie
you’re welcomeeee~~

Changbin
give minho my condolences for having to put up with you in full force
enjoy your dinner lovebirds ♡ 

You have received USD $50.00 from Seo Changbin.

Jisung beams at his screen, Minho in a giddy fit of giggles beside him as he watches the conversation transpire. He’s about to toss his phone aside in favor of clinging to Minho when it starts ringing.

Incoming FaceTime call
Hyunjin

Jisung laughs, figuring Hyunjin must be with Changbin right now and losing his mind on his behalf. "Bastard knows I’m still with you," he chides. His thumb hovers over the reject call button, wanting to return his attention to Minho, but the older catches him before he can.

"Answer it," he laughs. "I wanna see the look on his face."

Jisung feels a bit embarrassed to be video calling in this state, but at this point, nothing can bring him down from his high, so he easily complies.

"Oh my God!" Hyunjin yells as soon as he picks up, his face comically close to the camera. "Hi Minho! I just wanted to say I knew it. I told Jisung you liked him! You guys are so gross. I love it."

Jisung groans while Minho laughs, angling the phone towards himself. "Thanks for giving Jisung support while we were busy being idiots."

"It’s what I’m here for!" he declares. "What was all that about, anyway?"

"Can I fill you in later?" Jisung asks, exasperated. He really just wants to get back to cuddling his boyfriend now. "We’re kind of in the middle of something."

"Really? You look like you kind of just finished something." Hyunjin laughs, shameless; Minho’s ears redden and Jisung is sure he isn’t much better off himself. "But okay, I’ll leave you to it! You better text me later though."

"I will," Jisung whines like a child being scolded by their parents. "Bye, Jinnie."

"Bye! And bye, Minho! Hope to see more of you soon!"

"You, too," Minho agrees good-naturedly. "Bye."

Jisung ends the call with a heavy exhale, letting his phone fall onto the sheets beside him. 

"I like your friends," Minho says, nuzzling into Jisung’s side.

"I like you," Jisung returns, gently grabbing ahold of Minho’s hand and entwining their fingers.

"Ew," he says, pecking Jisung on the lips and sending a surge of warmth throughout his body.

"They’ll like you, too," Jisung tells him, "now that we’re past the whole ‘what the fuck is his deal’ stage."

"You were that bent out of shape about me, huh?" Minho asks, reaching up and combing a finger through his hair.

Jisung blinks at him incredulously. "Yes? I’ve never even dated anyone before, what the fuck was I supposed to think―"

Minho gasps softly, eyes wide and shining. "You didn’t tell me that! I’m stealing so many firsts from you! I wasn’t your first kiss, was I?"

"No," he huffs. Though, he almost wishes he were. "And you aren’t stealing anything. I’ll gladly give them to you. Along with―" he brings their entwined hands to his chest, looking up to the ceiling dramatically, "my heart."

He half expects Minho to scoff and roll his eyes, as the Minho he’s grown used to would do. But as the older’s eyes soften he remembers this is a new side of Minho, one only Jisung gets to see. Gentle, fond, bordering on vulnerable.

"I’ll take good care of it," he promises, pressing a kiss to the back of Jisung’s hand.

Jisung isn’t so sure about that, seeing as how, like now, Minho has made his heart flutter and beat erratically way more many times than is probably healthy over the course of their time together―but in a less literal sense it’s a lovely sentiment, his heart safe in Minho’s hands.

"Or maybe I’ll pawn it off in a bet," Minho muses, unable to hide the smile he cracks at his own joke again.

Jisung glowers at him, jutting his lower lip out in a pout. "You aren’t gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope," he says cheekily, wrapping his arms around Jisung and pulling him close while their legs tangle. "Not letting you go, either, so get used to it." 

"I guess I have no choice," Jisung says, heaving a dramatic sigh. Despite his attempt at nonchalance, it’s hard to hide how happy and jittery he feels cozied up next to his new boyfriend in the afterglow. Maybe a little too happy, he thinks, buzzing with energy as he runs a hand through Minho’s hair and elicits a little noise in the back of his throat that, unfortunately, goes straight to Jisung’s dick.

Shit, Jisung thinks; there’s no way he should be getting horny again. He quickly brings that train of thought to a halt. Or, he tries to.

Just minutes ago he’d been ready to pass out, be dead to the world for several hours with the lingering ecstasy from sex and a warm body pressed against him. Now… he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to sleep again when the only thing he sees when he closes his eyes is Minho panting and writhing beneath him, echoes of his beautiful cries and… fuck.

Think of something gross, think of something gross, Jisung chants in his head, squeezing his eyes shut and desperately searching his brain, willing the flow of blood to his nether regions to stop to no avail.

He’s fucked, he realizes as Minho throws a leg over him, his bare thigh rubbing over Jisung’s hardening dick through the fabric of his underwear and making him whimper.

Minho lifts his head slowly and looks at him incredulously, wide eyes mirroring Jisung’s own. With his arm freed from under the older’s neck, Jisung can bring both hands to hide his burning face in humiliation.

"Are you…" Jisung peeks through his fingers and sees Minho’s lips are parted and brow is furrowed like he can’t believe what he’s seeing―or, well, feeling. "Again?"

"I’m sorry!" he squeaks. "I don’t know! I didn’t mean to! Just―just ignore it, we can go to sleep―"

He trails off with a gasp, involuntarily bucking his hips when Minho rolls his thigh over him again, his expression morphing from disbelieving to playful.

"I’ve got my work cut out for me, hm?"

"N-No, you don’t have to, really," Jisung croaks, trying to hold back the moans threatening to spill from his lips.

"I want to." Minho rolls his hips and lets Jisung feel him hardening against him. His hand replaces his thigh, tracing the outline of Jisung through his briefs. "I wanna make you feel good," he says softly.

"You already―fuck," Jisung hisses, feeling dizzy at the want clouding Minho’s eyes, his own guilt and embarrassment dissipating to be replaced by lust and something sappy. He grabs Minho’s wrist and flips him over on his back, pinning his hand lightly to the mattress as he climbs atop him and settles in his lap. He grinds down hard, grinning as Minho squirms and whimpers beneath him, likely from the same heightened sensitivity as Jisung. "Round two?"

Minho laughs breathily. 

"Let’s go, you horny little shit."

○ ○ ○

They’re back in the cafe where one of the biggest emotional rollercoasters of Jisung’s life began, not at the same table but at one big enough to accommodate them all―Jisung, Minho, Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, and their other friends who have yet to arrive. 

Minho is pressed up against Jisung, his hand a familiar weight in his lap, absently tracing patterns on his skin through the rip in his jeans. Jisung’s arm is comfortable around Minho’s shoulders as he presses a kiss to his temple, much to the chagrin of his friends who take it upon themselves to fake gag or retch after every little display of PDA between them over the past several months.

"Oh, like you guys are any better!" Jisung spits, scrunching his nose up at Changbin and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin gasps dramatically. "Oh, but we are," he says, gesturing to the space between him and Changbin, one that is nonexistent between Jisung and Minho.

Changbin nods indignantly and Chan chimes in, "Yeah, for now."

"You’ll be normal one second and all over each other the next," Minho adds, nuzzling further into Jisung’s side and making his heart flutter, "so you have no room to talk."

"At least we have room to breathe!" Changbin retorts. "It's been, what, five months since you first started dating? And you’re still acting like clingy newlyweds."

"Six," Minho and Jisung correct simultaneously.

"Whatever," Changbin says, waving a hand dismissively. "My point is, it’s gross. Next thing we know you’ll be fucking in front of us."

"Don’t give them any ideas," Chan sighs, taking a sip of his drink.

Jisung and Minho share a look, and Jisung can only assume they’re both thinking about the movie night they all had at Chan’s not long ago where they got each other off under the blankets, Minho in his lap, quiet pants and whimpers masked by the loud action movie. He decides not to bring it up.

"Is that a challenge?" Jisung questions instead.

"No!" Hyunjin cries. "Seriously, no. Binnie, tell him no, I think they’ll actually do it."

Chan nods sagely. "From what I hear from Felix, they’re pretty shameless."

"Oh my God," Jisung groans while Minho nearly chokes on his americano. He loves Felix, but he thinks his friends befriending Minho’s roommate may be one of the worst things that’s ever happened to him. "Look, I can’t expose my roommate to that! He’s so young and innocent!"

"But it’s okay to scar Felix?" Hyunjin demands.

"Jeongin’s only a few months younger than you," Minho points out.

"Fine!" Jisung throws his hands up in defeat. "We’ll fuck in front of Jeongin, is that what you guys want?"

Someone stops abruptly by their table and Jisung looks up to see the horrified expression on his face, one he finds himself mimicking. Of course, it’s Jeongin. With impeccable timing, as always, like the time he came back from work early and walked in on Minho and Jisung about five seconds away from defiling their couch.

(When Minho officially met Jeongin, he took an immediate liking to the younger, and likewise though Jeongin would never admit it. Chan, Changbin, and Hyunjin all knew him through Jisung and liked him already, so it was easy for him to become integrated into their group.)

The table bursts into laughter while Jeongin slides into the booth next to Chan and asks a disturbed, "You’re gonna what?"

"No, no, look, okay," Jisung says hurriedly, "I can explain."

"Cover your ears, Innie!" Hyunjin wails, reaching across Chan to cradle the youngest’s head in his hands. "Please spare him!"

Jeongin laughs as he tries to escape Hyunjin’s hold, batting at his hands while Chan whines, stuck in the middle. It’s then that the last two of their group―Seungmin and Felix―walk in and pull up chairs, already giggling from their own conversation.

(Minho had "jokingly" invited Seungmin over for a movie night a few months ago; he’d accepted the invitation and hit it off with Minho's roommate, which was apparently Minho's aim all along. Judging by the hearts in Felix’s eyes as he laughs at something Seungmin said, Jisung thinks his boyfriend has become an successful matchmaker.)

"What’s up, guys?" Felix chirps. "What’d we miss?"

"Oh, not much," Changbin says. "Minho and Jisung are gonna put on a show for Jeongin."

"A show I will not be attending," Jeongin interjects.

"Ooh, are you guys gonna sing and dance or something?" Felix asks innocently. There’s stifled laughter around the table, and Jisung doesn’t miss the fond look Seungmin gives him. "What?"

Minho reaches over Jisung to sympathetically pat Felix’s hand where it rests on the table. "You haven’t walked in on them already?" Seungmin asks Jeongin casually, and Felix’s eyes widen in realization as he breathes a little oh, face promptly twisting in disgust.

Chan’s eyes bulge. "You say that like you have." Seungmin grimaces tellingly and Hyunjin gasps.

"For fuck’s sake, can we talk about something else?" Jisung practically begs, certain his ears are redder than a tomato.

"Sure!" Changbin says. "Let’s talk about the time you sexted the group chat."

Jisung groans and turns to bury his face into Minho’s shoulder, the older shaking with laughter.

"Well don’t leave us hanging," Seungmin says.

"Ooh, should we tell them what it said?" Chan asks, grinning at Changbin.

A chorus of yeses rings out, contradicted only by Jisung and Jeongin’s cries of disapproval. Even Minho is cheering for him to be exposed, the damn traitor. Jisung will remember that.

He removes his arm from Minho’s shoulder to plug his ears and obnoxiously make noise to fill his own ears, refusing to relive the humiliation while the table laughs at his expense. Minho claps a hand on his back as he cackles before resorting to rubbing soothing circles that make Jisung want to collapse into his lap and never get up.

When he deems it safe, he unplugs his ears and sends his best glare around to all his friends, ending on Minho who envelops him in a tight hug. "Ah, my prince charming," he coos, planting a wet kiss on Jisung’s cheek.

"Don’t touch me," Jisung grumbles, not meaning it in the slightest.

"That’s rich," Hyunjin mutters.

"You know what, Hwang―"

"Shh," Minho soothes, patting his hair. "They can complain and act disgusted all they want, but they have to live with the fact that they brought us together. They did this to themselves."

Changbin and Chan laugh, the former scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, while Hyunjin looks around the room feigning innocence.

"You know what? Yeah!" Jisung nods indignantly. "It’s your own damn fault, so leave us alone."

"Well I’m glad," Felix says genuinely, too good for this cruel world. "If you guys didn’t get together, I’d never have met any of you."

"Yeah," Seungmin agrees. "I guess it has its perks."

"I mean, we’re all friends now," Jeongin says. "We can just vote them out of the group or something, right?"

"That’s not how it works!" Jisung argues.

"You all have to live with the consequences of their actions," Minho says.

"Yeah!" Jisung says, slinging his arm around Minho’s shoulder again and pulling him close for a kiss that has the others groaning. He figures if his friends aren’t going to give it a goddamn rest, he’ll give them something to talk about. "Hey babe, wanna gross ‘em out even more?"

"Yes," Minho answers immediately, beaming and making a show out of his hand running down Jisung’s chest.

Jisung leans in to whisper in his ear. "Let’s go to the bathroom and make them think we fucked."

"Or we could actually just fuck."

"Yo, we can hear you!" Changbin cries, slamming his hand on the table. "Please, do not."

"I like the way you think," Jisung tells Minho, ignoring Changbin and the others’ protests as he grins and slides out of the booth. He’s followed by his boyfriend slapping his ass like bongo drums.

"Wait, you’re serious?" Felix gapes.

"You wouldn’t," Chan gasps, horrified.

Jisung gives his best sinister smile. "How much do you wanna bet?"

It is an unfortunate fact of life that Han Jisung is prone to losing money in bets and should have long since abandoned the habit―but ever since he met Minho, he can’t help but feel that his luck has turned around.

Not that his friends would bet against the possibility of him being gross with Minho at this point; that’s just who they are, and Jisung loves it. When everyone isn’t ganging up on him as a result, anyway.

"Didn’t think so," he says when no one volunteers. "Now if you’ll excuse us."

"We won’t." 

"Don’t come back." 

"Boo, you whores."

"You two are sickening."

"I think we did bring this upon ourselves, guys," Chan sighs as they retreat, giggling.

"I’m way too sober to fuck around in a gross public bathroom," Minho tells him when he clicks the lock shut.

"That’s okay," Jisung says, backing him up against the door and running his hands over the soft material of Minho’s sweater as he leans in. "Just wanted to shut them up. They’re driving me fucking insane."

Minho laughs, meeting him halfway in a kiss and looping his arms around the younger’s neck while their lips move together slowly. Minho tastes like americano and strawberry lip balm, a combination Jisung’s come to treasure almost as much as the man himself.

Well, maybe not quite that much.

He’s reeling just a bit thinking of how much farther he’s fallen for the once-enigmatic Minho, with his big heart, cute sweaters, round glasses, and pouty lips. Jisung already finds it hard to imagine a life without him, not that he’d ever want to.

He doesn’t ever want to let Minho go.

"I love you," slips from his lips against Minho’s.

And okay, yeah, in retrospect, Jisung realizes right after he says it that mid-makeout session in a public bathroom isn’t the best time or place to blurt out a love confession. He’d always romanticized the idea, imagined telling Minho over a candlelit dinner or maybe during one of their more steamy moments, with Minho open and vulnerable and his for the taking, certainly not a bathroom with their friends waiting outside.

It’s hard to dwell too much though when Minho’s eyes light up so brilliantly and drown out everything else.

"Han Jisung," he breathes, pursing his lips in a very poor attempt at concealing his smile. "The romantic you are."

"You love it," he declares.

"I do," Minho laughs, cupping Jisung’s face in his hands. "And I love you." Jisung’s chest flutters as Minho kisses him on the nose, both cheeks, pecks him on the lips, and trails down to nose under his neck where he kisses and sucks a mark that the others will surely be up Jisung’s ass about, but that’s fine. "And I want to suck your dick."

Jisung nearly chokes on his spit as fingers tease under the waistband of his pants. "What happened to no fucking around in a gross bathroom?"

"Well, that was before you confessed your love," Minho says simply, as if that makes any sense. He cocks an eyebrow questioningly as he tugs at Jisung’s pants, and Jisung nods because what the hell else is he meant to do? Minho sinks to his knees and grins up at Jisung. "Bet I can get you off before they come knocking."

"Yeah?" Jisung chuckles, running a hand through Minho’s hair. He doesn’t doubt him one bit. "How much?"

Minho winks his endearingly bad wink where both of his eyes fall shut and Jisung loves it so much, loves him so much, that all he can do is smile until his cheeks hurt while his pants are yanked down unceremoniously.

"All in, baby."