Chapter Text

September 2019

There are ten rooms, ten pairs of roommates, twenty shiny-faced, wide-eyed, definitely younger-than-Chan-remembers freshmen on the floor, this semester. It’s his second year as an RA, last at university—about time to move into a place of his own, off-campus, maybe. He’d had plans for that, over the summer. Plans that fell through. 

Chan likes being an RA, though—genuinely, enthusiastically likes it in a way that most of his coworkers, jaded and weary upperclassmen, can’t seem to get. There's some part of him that likes to be a shoulder to lean on, a guide of sorts. In his friend group and at home he’s always been the oldest hyung. In his last relationship (his only real relationship,) he’d constantly been the one to give advice and provide comfort. And he hadn’t minded, at least, until he had. He’s got a motherly instinct streak. That’s Bang Chan: mature, steadfast, good. 

Which is why he should probably tell the kid who is pitifully trying to suck his dick in the middle of Chan’s single dorm room to stop.

But he doesn’t. Chan gives him a pillow off of his twin XL bed for his knees, and lets him keep going.

Han Jisung—Chan only knows his name because he makes it a point to remember all of his freshmen’s names. Because it’s only the second week. Chan doesn’t really know anything else. That Jisung shares a double with another freshman boy, Lee Felix. That Jisung went to high school somewhere outside of Korea (Singapore, maybe? Malaysia?) That Jisung has never, ever has a dick in his mouth before.

Not that it’s bad, exactly. What Jisung lacks in expertise he most certainly makes up for with eagerness. It’s just a little sloppy—also not necessarily a bad thing. But there’s too much teeth. Far too much teeth.

“Jisung-ah,” Chan groans. “Shit, Jisung.” 

Jisung removes his mouth from his dick with an obscene pop noise that immediately makes Chan want to be in his mouth again. The younger boy’s mouth is a little swollen, a little drool on the corner of his pink lips. His eyes are a little glazed over, just a tad cross-eyed. He looks ruined. He’s mid sucking Chan off, and he looks ruined.

It should be hot, and it is, if Chan’s stupid, twitching dick has anything to say about it. But mostly it’s cute, and that’s so, so much worse. Because Jisung also has flushed, chubby cheeks, dark eyebrows that scrunch up with an unfair amount of innocence. 

“Jisung,” Chan repeats. Like a broken record. Jisung stop, Jisung you can’t do this. He can’t bring himself to actually get the rest of the sentiment out. Getting your dick sucked always feels good, of course, but the fact of the matter is that Chan’s been lonely recently. Horny, sure, but mostly really fucking lonely. 

“Chan hyung?” Jisung asks, peering up from beneath long wispy lashes, and his voice is a little hoarse. Fuck.

He reminds himself how wrong this is. He reminds himself that he could lose his RA job, which would suck because money, but also what would his kids do without him? He reminds himself that Jisung can’t be much over 20. 20—shit, that’s 18 or 19 back in Australia. 

Chan opens his mouth again, but what comes out is, “Less teeth.”

“Huh?” 

“Try to use less teeth. And hollow your mouth more, kinda like you’re sucking a lollipop.”

Jisung returns to his dick with his instructions and renewed enthusiasm. It slips between his lips easily, and Chan bites his own lip, the muscles in his lower abdomen clenching. It's not lost on his sex-drunk brain that Jisung responds well to instruction. He’s close, after barely 5 minutes of this. It’s embarrassing, because Jisung is not winning any best blowjob awards anytime soon. It’s also fitting, because Chan likes to be wanted, and Jisung seems to want this so bad.

“Chan hyung,” Jisung had said just a little bit earlier, slipping into Chan’s room and shutting the door. The slipping in part was not so unusual—Chan leaves his door open on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons for anyone on the floor to drop by and chat. It was the shutting the door behind him that was weird, and the fact that when Jisung did visit, it was usually with Felix at his side, or to pop in and grab something from the bowl of sugary snacks Chan never ate but always had on his desk. “Hyung, can you help me with something?”

Of course, Chan had said. That’s what he always says. And then Jisung was on his knees. And Chan was protesting—swear— but it was feeble, even to his own ears. Jisung was undoing Chan’s sweatpants strings, reaching into his boxers and pulling him out. No precursor. No explanation. Just a boy, probably not even out of the closet to his friends, yet, who wanted a dick in his mouth. Chan knows this story. Chan had been that boy, once. 

And fuck, if it didn’t feel really, really good for Chan to have his dick in a hand that wasn’t his own. Even when it became clear, in seconds, that Jisung had never had a dick that wasn’t his own in his hands, it still felt good. To be the object of someone’s attention again.

And maybe that’s why Jisung was here, too.

“That’s better,” Chan says, and fuck it, he reaches down to thread one of his hands into the short, silky strands of hair against Jisung’s neck. He’s not imagining it when Jisung moans around him, just a little. So he repeats it. “So much better, baby.”

Christ. That was definitely a moan. He pulls Jisung’s hair a bit harder. “Come on, baby, I know you can take a little more.”

And Jisung can. Not quite the whole thing, but more than enough to get the job done. Tears are queuing up at the corners of Jisung’s eyes, and Chan’s not even fucking his throat, really. He imagines what it’d be like—to really ruin Jisung, to thrust into his mouth until he’s gagging around it.

It’s the thought of that, more than anything else Jisung is doing with his mouth, that has Chan spilling onto Jisung’s pink tongue.

“Shit,” Chan moans, low and breathy. 

Jisung doesn’t swallow—and Chan doesn’t expect him to, using his foot to kick the little plastic trash can over so Jisung could spit in it before the mild look of panic crossing his features could become anything substantial. 

Jisung spits in it, and again, that shouldn’t be hot. Chan tucks his spent dick back into his sweatpants before it can stir with fresh interest. There’s a little bit of spit-cum mix on Jisung’s chin, so Chan leans down and wipes it off with the back of his hand, a little more roughly than he intends to. 

And no, Jisung had been carefully fine shoving his boxers to the ground and sticking Chan’s length in his mouth. But this— a little manhandling—was what has him all flustered. Chan’s dick twitches again. Traitor, he thinks, motherfucking traitor. 

But he also thinks about how much fun it would be to play with Jisung, just a little longer. Jisung’s only a little bit shorter than Chan, but he’s definitely much, much smaller. Small enough to be thrown around, a bit. 

Chan reaches out a hand to help Jisung to his feet. For what, he isn’t sure. 

He’s not sure what to say, either. So like an idiot he goes, “That was really nice, Jisung-ah.”

And it comes out so soft and doting and fuck Chan’s stupid motherly instinct. Fuck Chan’s ex-boyfriend for ensuring that Chan would have a perpetual thing for praising people in bed. Fuck it all.

But Jisung—Jisung preens. Visibly fucking preens. And Chan wants to say more, do more, maybe start with the obvious and painful-looking bulge in Jisung’s pants, but Jisung beats him to it.

“Thanks, Hyung. Th- that was my first time. Doing something like that.”

“Ahh,” Chan says, like it wasn’t completely obvious. “You did well, anyway.”

Jisung does it again—tips of his ears flushing, and a little half embarrassed, half satisfied smile spreading across his face.

“Do you want me to…” Chan starts, gesturing at Jisung’s pants.

Jisung places a hand over his crotch lighting fast, almost like he’s just noticing itself. “No! I mean, no, oh my god. It’s okay. I have to go to class. Sorry. Thank you. Sorry.”

And then Jisung is leaving, hair a little wild, hand tightly covering his boner, slipping out of Chan’s room as quickly as he’d come in, before Chan is even able to get in another word.

Okay, Chan thinks. So, one-time thing. That’s probably for the best.

January 2020

When Changbin had broken up with Chan over the summer, it had felt like the end of the world. Or at least, the end of the very tiny bubble of what they’d considered their world to be.

They’d been dating since Changbin started at university three years ago. 

They were in love.

He was even going to convince Chan to quit his dumb RA job and move in with him.

They were as serious as it gets. And then one morning, Changbin had woken up in a cold sweat. He was tired of Chan’s coddling. He was tired of being tied down. He was tired of feeling tired in his relationship.

Minho, Seungmin, and Jeongin had practically begged for Changbin to change his mind, for Chan to be more assertive, for anything at all to give as long as they’d stay together. Hyunjin had cried. Almost as much as Changbin himself had, in those first few weeks.

End of the world, indeed. Except not actually, because Chan was just too fucking nice to hold a grudge against Changbin for feeling how he felt, and Changbin was too fucking weak to actually stay away. And their long time group of friends were way too close, way too obsessed with each other, to get by if Chan and Changbin stopped talking completely. And it was unfair, besides, to do that to them all, make them have to pick sides, or take turns inviting them to hang outs. 

So here they were, in this weird purgatory that was being friends and being exes at the same time. No touching, or kissing, but talking, and hanging out. Read: excruciating. 

“Hey,” Changbin says.

“Hey.” Wordlessly, Chan hands him a cup of something warm from Starbucks. Changbin doesn’t need to taste it to know that it’s his usual winter order, doesn’t need to ask to know that Chan has it memorized still. Chan’s kind of perfect like that. Kind of infuriating like that.

“Thanks.”

“Yup,” Chan replies, clutching at his own coffee cup with gloved fingers.

It’s just after winter break. This time of year is always a little weird for Changbin, full and warm from weeks of his parent’s home cooking but also back on campus, class not quite started yet. He’d expected the relief that would come with being away from Chan, finally, for a long enough time to at least begin to heal, but he hadn’t planned for this—how much he would’ve missed him. 

Even in the harsh winter wind, Chan is sun kissed, hair freshly cut, looking sinewy and healthy, probably from time on the beach, maybe his own parent’s cooking. Changbin wouldn’t know the specifics. They don’t talk like that any more. 

Apart from the awkward greetings, the two of them are mostly quiet as they weave through the campus buildings towards Minho’s apartment. Chan’s quiet is a thoughtful, pensive silence that Changbin hasn’t quite mastered yet. 

“How was your break?” Changbin mutters, when he can’t stand it anymore.

Chan toes at some of the snow with new sneakers that Changbin doesn’t recognize—Christmas gift? It’s killing him, a little, not knowing every little thing about Chan anymore. Even having to ask—usually, he would already know.

“Okay,” Chan says.

Changbin raises a brow.

“Boring,” Chan allows. “I always miss home so much, and then I get home and realize, well, that this is home now too.” Then he flushes, lightly, like he’s saying too much. 

“Nah, I get it,” Changbin replies, then shudders.  “Parents hovering. Pretending you’re going out to fuck girls.”

Chan laughs, then. “That’s not really a problem.”

And then he’s blushing in earnest, like he really didn’t mean to say anything this time. And Changbin, because he’s Changbin, can’t let that go.

“Ahh." Changbin laughs. “I forgot you can’t do hookups.”

Chan huffs. “I can do hookups.”

“No, you can’t. There’s no way you’ve been fucking,” Changbin says confidently. He doesn’t know everything about Chan’s life right now , but he prides himself on knowing everything about Chan’s life in general. Then he hesitates. “Right?”

“Who says I haven’t been fucking?” Chan retorts.

“Minho,” Changbin says immediately. “And Hyunjin. Seungmin. Jeong—”

“Okay, okay,” Chan says. “I think I get it.”

“And me,” Changbin continues. “I say. You can barely get it up without some sort of emotional attachment. You have like, a love kink, or something.”

“I don’t—” Chan huffs. But then he stops, and just rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

But it’s too late, now; Changbin is too interested. He studies Chan like he’s grown a second head. “No way. Did you?”

“Just a blowjob,” Chan says. He feels his cheeks tinge.

“Just a blowjob,” Changbin repeats. His face is half delighted, half murderous, in a way that only his face can achieve. “Who?”

“One of my freshmen,” Chan admits, shuddering slightly. He holds the door open as they enter Minho’s apartment building, then shucks off his gloves, scarf, and hat immediately. Chan hates being bundled up in clothes, he remembers.

Changbin whistles. “Shit. Freshman. You. Christopher Bang? That’s fucked. So fucked. Is that even legal?”

“Shut up,” Chan says. He presses Minho’s apartment number on the intercom so that it beeps. “It’s us, Minho,” he says into the little microphone.

Minho’s voice is staticky through the machine. “Coming.”

“Did you… you know, return the favor?”

“Nah,” Chan says lamely, focusing on his coffee. “Not really.”

Changbin shakes his head again. “I don’t believe it.” And then he adds, for good measure. “Well, I’ve fucked a bunch of people. Just saying.”

Chan frowns at him. “Yeah. I figured.”

And then Changbin almost wishes he hadn’t said anything. Almost. Is talking about your sex life a healthy practice with your ex-boyfriend? Probably not. Not that him and Chan had ever been the picture of a healthy relationship, anyway.

“When was this?” Changbin asks, just as the door creaks open.

“Hyungs!” It’s Jeongin, not Minho, who buzzes them in, no doubt bullied by the others to come down into the cold.

They exchange hugs with him. Jeongin’s not that young, anymore. Not that small. And it’s kind of sad, Changbin thinks as he reaches up to knuckle at Jeongin’s hair even though Jeongin could probably wrestle out of his grip now. Because that means things are changing. Chan’s graduating, this semester, he realizes with a start. 

“Last semester. Right at the beginning,” is what Chan finally answers as they begin the trek up to Minho’s 6th floor walk up. And then never again, is the unspoken end of that admittance.

Changbin wants to twiddle his fingers with glee like the grinch, or something just as stupid. The beginning of last semester was ages ago, and nothing since? Chan was practically celibate. And Changbin feels bad, but not bad enough to not be smug about it. 

When they get into Minho’s it’s the typical shit, the way they’ve existed for years, even when Jeongin was still in high school and Seungmin was too uptight to accept hanging out much and Hyunjin was going through his hook-up-with-every-person-who-would-have-him phase (the venn diagram of people who Hyunjin wanted to sleep with and who would sleep with him back was a circle.) The way they existed back when Changbin and Chan were still together, and they’d sneak away to the penthouse apartment Changbin’s family rents uptown and fuck and come back in time for the movie to start. 

They’d drink together, the six of them, and laugh and maybe, if they were lucky, Seungmin would get fucked up enough to start belting the national anthem in his voice that was usually pretty decent, a little bit nasally after a few beers. And Chan, perpetual designated driver, would pull Changbin—designated most-likely-to-black-out-drinking—into his lap, arms around Changbin’s waist, face nuzzled into the back of Changbin’s neck, warm and familiar. 

It wasn’t like that, anymore. Even though Hyunjin was still going on about some person or the other, and Jeongin was complaining about being denied beers, the change in the air was palpable. Even when Minho’s cats turn their noses up, disinterested, when Changbin toes his boots off (as normal as things possibly get,) things feel different. 

Like something’s missing, and maybe a while ago Changbin would’ve said, easily, that it’s just the tension from they’re breakup that’s got everything skewed. They were the parents, after all, as everyone used to joke. Divorces make family dynamics a little weird, that’s a fact of life.

But that’s not it, this time. It’s not that simple.

When Changbin is a little tipsier, Hyunjin tucked cozily into his side as Minho and Seungmin argue passionately about the rankings of every girl group comeback that had happened last year, the feeling doesn’t leave him.

Something’s missing, but Changbin can’t quite put his finger on what.

May 2020

“My ex just graduated!” the shorter boy yells into Jisung’s ear.

Jisung has done it, made it through his first year of college. If you ignore that first, horrid, month—well, it had actually gone pretty decently. 

Jisung thanks his roommate Felix’s choppy, stunted Korean and his own years schooling abroad for the success, because they communicated just fine, in a weird mix of Korean and English that became unique only to them. Even after Felix had gotten more confident, making fast friends with two other boys in their year from a different dorm, Seungmin and Hyunjin, those first few months hanging out with only each other had cemented their friendship. Jisung did well on his finals, at least he thinks so, and Eunji and him had finally graduated from on-and-off, to officially boyfriend and girlfriend. Overall, things were good. 

Different from the first month of college, when the sudden freedom had gotten to his head, and Felix’s relaxed, open minded nature from growing up in Australia had made Jisung feel kind of panicky, kind of confused. When it wasn’t just Felix’s broken Korean, but his artful splatter of freckles, his unfairly deep voice first thing in the morning, that had made Jisung feel, on the whole, very confused.

But his head’s on straight now. Metaphorically. Literally. The four of them, Jisung and Felix, Hyunjin, and Seungmin are celebrating in style tonight, at what’s probably the last party of the school year. 

Eunji is somewhere off with her girlfriends, his friends are nowhere to be found, and Jisung is here, in the middle of the kitchen floor, dancing. 

“Graduated?” Jisung yells back, hips jutting awkwardly in time with the bass. “Is that good? Bad?”

The other guy is shorter than Jisung, but more muscly, clearly older. His hair is parted stylishly and the belt around his slim waist could probably cover Jisung’s meal plan for the semester. 

“Both!” The guy yells back. “I’m relieved because I won’t have to see him anymore and also sad because I won’t have an excuse to see him anymore!” And then he twirls, an assured, sexy thing that sends Jisung’s head spinning, a little. 

“Shit!” Jisung says, because his successful year of higher education is clearly working. 

“Shit!” the other guy mimics, laughing to himself in a way that’s not cruel, per say. But Jisung gets the feeling that he’s the butt of the joke. And he doesn’t mind. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Han Jisung.”

“Han Jisung,” he repeats—and Jisung has never, ever heard his name sound like that before. Sultry. Sensual. He wants to hear it again and again. “I’m Seo Changbin.”

Changbin. Seo Changbin. Jisung doesn’t repeat it, but the name sends a shiver down his spine anyway. They keep dancing, and when Seo Changbin tugs him closer by the loops of his jeans, Jisung’s mind is kind of going, Eunji. His girlfriend, Eunji. And he’s hyper aware of the fact that they’re very much in the middle of the dance floor, and that his friends are all milling around somewhere.

“I’m going to kiss you, now,” Changbin says at a normal volume. Not loud enough to be heard over the music, but Jisung is only looking at his lips, anyway. He understands.

So this was kissing. So different from the quick pecks with girls during kiss the bottle games in high school, or even the awkward fumbling thing he does sometimes with Eunji on his lap that Felix (chaotic good) calls making out and Hyunjin (lawful evil) has named “absolutely pitiful.”

Seo Changbin is none of those things, he is everything, he is nothing at all. He tugs Jisung down with a strong hand to his neck, and Jisung learns that kisses can make you moan. Changbin presses into him in a way that makes Jisung feel so, so, tiny, and Jisung learns that kisses aren’t restricted to the lips, but also the collarbones, the jaw, the little mole on his cheek. Changbin bites on Jisung’s bottom lip with his teeth, and Jisung learns that oh—some kisses you can feel directly in your dick.

Jisung swallows when Changbin gives him a chance to breathe. “Wow.”

Changbin looks smug, barely a hair out of place. “Jisung-ah!” he shouts. “Follow me!”

So Jisung does, accepting the hand Changbin offers him and clutching it tightly as they weave through throngs of other kids dancing and talking and making out. Jisung follows him all the way outside of the building, until the rap music inside sounds like someone has pressed a big towel over the speaker. The cool of the night should feel good on his clammy skin, but Jisung’s whole body is in that hand that is linked with Changbin’s right now. And Changbin’s skin feels so, so warm.

“Sit,” Changbin commands, so Jisung does, stumbling his way onto the front steps outside the party house. Changbin sits next to him. It feels familiar, when Jisung leans his head back against the stair railing so that Changbin can crowd back into his personal space.

It’s familiar, when Changbin’s breath, warm and sweet-smelling fans out over the lower half of Jisung’s face. Not quite a kiss, this time. Just a meeting of their lips. And that feels familiar now, too.

“You taste like… grapefruit?” Jisung breathes, his eyes still shut.

Changbin laughs lightly, and Jisung feels that on his face, too. “Oranges,” he corrects. “I had a sangria. Many sangrias.”

Changbin pulls his phone out. “I can get us a taxi,” he says. “I live alone off-campus, so my place is empty, if you want.”

“What?” Jisung’s eyes fly open. 

Changbin’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Unless you want to go to yours? That’s cool. I just—I don’t know, you seem young. I figured you still live in a dorm.”

Jisung suddenly feels very, very sober. “I do live in a dorm.”

“So, my place—”

“But I can’t go home with you.”

Changbin frowns. “You can’t?”

Jisung flails his arms around. “I can’t!”

“Okay, okay,” Changbin says. “Don’t freak out on me. We don’t have to do anything. We can go back inside… ”

But it’s too late. Jisung already feels mildly panicky, his mouth moving before his brain can catch up. “I really can’t.”

“It’s fine,” Changbin says, reaching out to put a comforting hand on Jisung’s knee. No one is really around, but he still lowers his voice when he asks, kindly, “Still a virgin?”

“What?” Jisung says, horrified. “No! No.”

Well, not technically. He’s slept with Eunji. Nothing mind blowing, but he’s done it. Why is he sweating? Jisung gets to his feet abruptly, and—oh no, is his body going to start pacing? Please, Jisung, he begs his legs, do not start pacing.

He starts pacing. “I have a girlfriend,” Jisung explains. “Yeah. And I’m not—. I don't—. I like girls.”

Changbin stands up, too, and Jisung’s waiting for him to look offended, or disgusted, maybe with the blatant act of cheating Jisung had committed during the past half hour. But he kind of seems… amused? “Really? Just girls?”

Jisung swallows noisily. “Um, yeah.”

Changbin laughs. “Dude.”

“Sorry I, um, led you on,” Jisung continues. “I think… I think I drank too much?”

Now that he says it, Jisung does feel a little woozy. The beers he’d had back at the dorm with Felix, the shots he’d taken here with Hyunjin—they slosh in his stomach uncomfortably. The pleasant buzz that he’d felt when Changbin was kissing him is turning slowly, but steadily, into nausea.

“Okay,” Changbin agrees. He looks pensive. “Want me to help you find your friends?”

Jisung’s stomach lurches. “Please.”

Back inside the music that had once seemed electric feels too loud, grating on Jisung's ears. He looks around, hoping to find Felix or Seungmin, even Hyunjin, even with the inevitable teasing. Anything to get him away from Changbin and the sinking suspicion that he's going to melt into a puddle of humiliation on the older boy's shoulders. But just looking up into the crowd, with the harsh strobe lights that had felt sexy and fun when they danced over Changbin's body earlier in the night, makes Jisung's head spin.

It’s Eunji, of course, that they stumble into first, Jisung’s legs barely working, Changbin hanging tight onto his waist.

“This yours?” Changbin confirms.

Eunji considers the both of them. “Um. Yeah?”

Jisung lets himself be passed from Changbin’s strong arms to Eunji’s slighter ones, reminded distantly of being carried by his parents as a kid.

He hears the rest of the conversation from far away, like there’s water clogging his ears. 

“Thanks for taking care of him, um…”

“Seo Changbin.”

“Changbin-ssi,” Eunji says, sounding annoyed. She probably is. God, she hates when Jisung makes a fool of himself in front of her friends. Jisung’s a little too drunk to care enough to pull himself together, but not drunk enough to not be aware of the scolding he’s going to be receiving sometime tomorrow morning.

There’s lips at Jisung’s ear, just for a second. The scent of citrus, then a whisper. “You don’t like just girls, babe.”

Then Changbin is pulling away. Louder, he says, “See you around, Jisung-ah! I hope you feel better.”

He bows towards Eunji, and then he’s gone.

“Ji-yah,” Jisung tries.

Eunji just stares at him, lips pursed. She leans a little closer, and Jisung’s drunk brain almost thinks he’s being forgiven, but she's just reaching into his back pocket to grab his phone. She maneuvers his body, which feels heavy and sluggish, so he can himself lean against the wall. 

His phone feels foreign when Eunji presses it into his hand. “Call Felix to help you,” she hisses.

And as she walks away, and Jisung begins to wrack his brain in an effort to remember his phone password, he realizes the sinking sensation in his chest is not just alcohol, but also an uncomfortable feeling of awareness. He’s come full circle. Ending his first year of college just like he’d started it: absolutely embarrassed, and absolutely confused. 

Chapter Text

May 2020

Chan does his best to leave his door open around this time of the year, as many of the kids need help moving out and are likely to bother him anyway. It’s always a little weird, parents and siblings with boxes and suitcases milling around their usually peaceful hallway, but Chan never minds.

He feels good about almost getting his twenty freshmen through their first year of college. 

Emphasis on almost, Chan’s thinking, when Felix’s familiar head pops into his room at nearly nine in the morning on the last official day of the school year—Chan’s last official day as an RA, as a college undergrad.

“Uhh, Hyung?” Felix says uncertainly.

“Hey, Felix,” Chan replies from his desk. He eyes the younger boy, who looks a little worse for wear. “Need some help packing?”

“Um, no, actually…”

Chan looks at him closer, taking note of the dressier-than-normal clothes Felix has on, the weird stain that’s going across his jeans. “Oh. Just getting in?”

Felix cringes, then opens Chan’s door a little wider to reveal Jisung, green and slumped in the hallway. “We sort of forgot to bring our keys? We’re locked out.”

Chan groans. “Really? It’s my last day.”

Felix mumbles an unapologetic sorry under his breath. Jisung, from the floor, barely manages to look sheepish.  

Chan ushers Felix inside and grabs Jisung’s arm before closing the door behind them. “Come on, you. You idiots are gonna scare the parents.”

“He’s probably going to throw up,” Felix says matter-of-factly. Then he collapses onto Chan’s twin bed—without asking.

“Fuck’s sake,” Chan mutters. He turns Jisung in the direction of his little bathroom, and Jisung heads for it comically fast, for someone who had barely been awake a minute ago. 

Felix begins to snore lightly as Chan ruffles through the stack of student resource center papers he’s required to keep on hand. When he finally finds the number for the housing department, he’s placed on hold. Chan sighs again and puts the phone volume up, high enough to pay attention to the elevator music coming through the speaker, but not so much that it’ll wake Felix. 

Chan should be more shocked, maybe, by how comfortable Felix was in here, but it makes sense. The two of them had hit it off as soon as they realized they had Australia in common, especially early last year when Felix’s Korean still left a lot to be desired. Back then, Felix and Jisung had often stopped by Chan’s room together. 

It’s not at all lost on Chan that he’s currently standing in the same spot he had last September when Jisung had tugged his sweatpants to his ankles and blew him in the middle of a school day—the last time, in fact, they had really talked. Since Jisung had been pointedly (understandably) avoiding Chan since. Outside of the mandatory biweekly floor meetings, Chan hardly saw Jisung at all. And when he did, Chan barely managed to get out a “hi” before Jisung was quickly slamming his door shut or lugging his laundry down the stairs without so much as a wave. 

Chan extracts a plastic water bottle—his last water bottle—from the minifridge when he hears the toilet flush and sink turn on. 

“Hi,” Jisung says when he stumbles out of the bathroom. He’s decidedly less green, but still clammy and pale, with deep bags beneath his eyes. 

“Hi,” Chan replies. What is the proper protocol for interacting with the kid that had given you the best orgasm you’d had since your breakup and not said a word to you since? Chan’s not sure. But he does know how to handle drunk underage kids. He presses the bottle into Jisung’s hands. “Here. You can sit on my bed.”

Jisung does, at first gingerly, then all at once, perching on Felix’s legs like he hasn’t sat down in hours. Chan waits for him to say something.

When he doesn’t Chan comments, casually— “I’m on hold with the student resource center. It’s probably going to be a couple hours before we can get you a spare key; they're probably busy with all the students signing out of their buildings for the year.”

Jisung hums in acknowledgment, noncommittal.

“Shitty timing,” Chan continues. “How do you both forget your keys?”

Jisung, though, is looking weakly around the room. Most of Chan’s stuff is packed up in boxes, ready to be picked up by a moving truck tomorrow morning. 

“You’re leaving,” Jisung says finally. 

Chan laughs, confused. “Uh, yeah? So are you. So is everybody?”

“Yeah, but…” Jisung lets the sentence hang in the air. Chan can’t quite read what’s on his face. Regret? Hesitation? More nausea? “Nevermind.”

“Drink the water,” Chan instructs. Jisung opens the bottle immediately, and it’s not until he’s tilting his head back so that Chan can watch the little movement of his Adam’s apple that Chan remembers the last time he had ordered Jisung about—the way Jisung follows instructions so well. For fuck’s sake. 

He shakes his head to clear it when Jisung presents him with the now-empty bottle. 

“Sorry. That’s my last one.”

“It’s okay,” Jisung says, still soft. But the water has clearly done him wonders. A little of the color has returned to his cheeks and now he blinks up at Chan sleepily—an improvement, by far, from queasily. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Chan says. “Um—”

“For this. And um, before. Fall semester,” Jisung says in one breath, as if now that the words are coming he can’t stop them. “For not like, I don’t know, reporting me to student services for like, harassment.”

“What?” Chan says. “You should’ve reported me. I was scared I was gonna lose my RA job for like, weeks after.”

“Really?” Jisung says.

Chan laughs, disbelieving. “Really. I should not have let you do that.”

And the tips of Jisung’s ears are impossibly pink, but he lets out a little laugh, too. “ I should not have, um, attacked you.”

Chan waves him away, just relieved that they’re talking about it, finally. “Don’t worry about it. I’m older. And that was unprofessional,” Chan says firmly, in his best hyung voice. 

And Jisung looks relieved, too. He slumps a little more onto Felix’s lower half, and the two of them sit in silence except for Felix’s heavy breathing and the background noise from the phone’s holding music.

Chan decides to push his luck. “Can I just ask why?”

“Why?” Jisung repeats. “Oh.”

“Only if you want to say,” Chan assures.

Jisung shrugs. “I don’t know. I thought—I thought I was straight, in high school. No. I was sure I was straight. And then I got here, and my new friends were so much more open-minded, and chill. And suddenly, I don’t know, I couldn’t stop looking, you know. At Felix, the guys in English class, everyone.”

Chan wants to laugh, at the idea of Jisung getting to college and having a panic-gay phase over his cute, freckled roommate. Then he remembers his own younger self, and thinks better of it. 

“And you were just… there,” Jisung continues. “And hot. And I knew you wouldn’t say no. I just wanted to try it? Figure out if I liked guys or not, I guess.”

Chan wants to say a million things—like, knew you wouldn’t say no? Does Chan look that easy? Or maybe something comforting and cheesy, like, don’t be afraid to love who you love. But he appraises the shy, earnest look on Jisung’s face, and realizes that Jisung is kind of sort of coming out to him right now. And that what Chan says next will matter, and Jisung would probably not want him to make a scene.

So instead he makes his voice teasing. “And? Did I help?”

Jisung’s relief is palpable. He laugh-shrugs. “Not really? I mean I liked it. But I also started dating my girlfriend, like, the next week.”

Chan laughs too. “Coming out is hard, man.”

“But there was this guy, though. Last night. I mean, I probably ruined it by making a fool of myself, but at least—I think I’m sure now. I don’t really like girls.”

“That’s good, Jisung-ah,” Chan says, and then, because he can’t help himself: “I’m proud of you.”

Jisung flushes prettily. “My girlfriend’s gonna be pissed.”

Chan laughs, again, genuine and pleased, and he’s surprised, again, by how easily Jisung draws a weird sort of joy out of him. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Jisung repeats, sounding a little dazed himself. “Sorry about it, anyway. And for puking in your bathroom. And um, the word vomit, too.”

“Just RA things,” Chan says. “And you don’t have to apologize for the blowjob. I enjoyed it. Obviously.”

Jisung blushes again. “I’m still sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Chan groans. And then he smiles, smug, because Jisung’s lips shut immediately. 

They’re quiet, again, for long, comfortable minutes this time. The next time Chan looks up from his phone, Jisung is sprawled out shamelessly over Felix’s slumbering back, eyes in tiny slits. 

“Jisung-ah?”

“Mmm?”

“You still have my number from the RA packet, right? If you ever need help… figuring it out… you can text me, or whatever. I’m only moving a little further into the city for work, not even 15 minutes away.”

Jisung nods sleepily. “Thanks, Hyung.”

And then he’s asleep. Between the hangover and exhaustion, Chan is not even sure how much of this he’ll remember. This has been the absolute worst school year of Chan’s life. Trying to get over his impossible-to-get-over relationship with Changbin, stressing for months over job applications and what he’s going to do with his life with a useless humanities degree. He hadn’t realized how heavily the unresolved tension with Jisung had been weighing on his shoulders until now that it had gone away. So yeah, everything still kind of sucks, but the innocent, peaceful expression on Jisung’s sleeping face makes something unnameable bloom in Chan’s chest. His last year of college was weird, sure—but he hadn’t ruined everything.

September 2020

Changbin’s only a few weeks into his last year of college and everything is already ruined. 

All summer, Minho—even Chan, when they had been forced to ask civil—had assured him that senior year would be smooth-sailing: low effort, minimal work, lots of sleeping in. Changbin should’ve known better than to trust Chan, who was comforting even when it meant lying in omission. He really should’ve known better than to trust Minho, who took pleasure in seeing them suffer. 

He’s a music production major, for fuck’s sake, and here he is sitting in the library on a Saturday evening with three papers, an exam on Monday, and a whole presentation on the history of the stressed beat versus the unstressed beat in 80’s Japanese pop. 

Changbin’s managed to secure an empty table to himself, hoodie up, AirPods in with Mariya Takeuchi playing. He’s absolutely sure nothing in his body language or homework set-up is giving inviting. 

So when a random kid with fluffy hair and an oversized crewneck walks over he knits his eyebrows in annoyance, then confusion. 

“What?” Changbin demands. Oh— “Wait, my AirPods. Okay. What?”

 “I said,” the kid repeats, almost impatient. “I broke up with my girlfriend.”

“Okay?” Changbin replies. “Do I… know you?”

The boy pouts, in a way that immediately makes Changbin regret that he wasn’t feeling a little bit kinder. He has a nice face, toeing that intriguing line of being teenager cute and young-adult sexy. A lithe body, too, Changbin guesses, even though he’s dressed head to toe in clothes decidedly not his size. Not particularly tall, but definitely taller than Changbin. Not exactly Changbin’s type, but attractive enough that maybe on a day with less homework Changbin might’ve invited him home, pushed him up against the kitchen island, left that oversized crewneck in the entranceway…  And then, oh, Changbin puts it together as soon as the boy opens his mouth again.

“We met at the party last semester, remember?” He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “We kissed.”

“Ahh,” Changbin says, finally. The cute kid with the chubby cheeks who was still in the closet. He racks his brain in an attempt to come up with any other information. Enthusiastic kisser, lots of tongue but a quick learner. Seriously? Changbin demands of his brain. I can’t get a name? “I remember you now,” he adds lamely.

But thankfully, that’s all the kid needs to slide into the seat next to him eagerly. Uninvited. 

And because fuck Changbin’s one thousand assignments, go figure, he immediately launches into a long and complex story about his freshman dorm RA, and somebody named Felix, and then somebody named Eunji. And before Changbin can reply, make him go away, even open his mouth, he’s continuing. Blabbering some shit about a sexual awakening, and Changbin’s role in it, and how he’s like, 95% gay, but also, how can he be sure about the last 5%— 

“Okay, okay,” Changbin interrupts. “I’ll help you.” 

“You will?” The kid's mouth opens in a perfect circle; it can only be described as adorable, and Changbin’s not particularly in the business of describing things as adorable. 

He smiles, he can’t help it—because this kid was cute, that weird mixture of both intentional funny and accidentally funny. What the fuck was his name?

“Yes. First, give me your phone.”

The kid hesitates. “My phone?”

“Do you want my help, or what?”

He unlocks his phone and slides it across the table to Changbin promptly. Changbin immediately opens up his Instagram app and sighs in relief at the name printed at the top of his profile. Oh yeah. Han Jisung. That taken care of, he opens an internet tab and types something into the search bar, humming when he finds the correct link. 

“Here.”

He gives the phone back. The kid—Jisung—looks down to see a screen reading How To Know If You’re Gay - Buzzfeed Quizzes.

Jisung pouts again. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. I’ve never known the results of this quiz to be wrong.”

Jisung sighs and accepts the phone. He’s quiet for an uncharacteristically long moment as he begins to answer the questions, the focused look on his face just a bit too serious for the occasion. Changbin adds about a line and a half to his essay. 

Then: “Who is my favorite girl group?”

“No questions,” Changbin shushes him. “Keep going.”

After about three more minutes, Jisung finally picks his head up, looking stricken. 

“So?” Changbin demands. 

“It says I’m… gay.”

Changbin laughs, despite himself. “Welp. Quiz never lies.”

“So… now what?” Jisung begs. And Changbin was planning on dismissing him, he was, but Jisung just looks so lost. What’s another fresh-faced underclassmen going through their panic-gay phase have to do with him? Changbin’s never been particularly generous before. But there’s something about Han Jisung. Something.

“Now,” Changbin says, “You’re going to leave me alone to study so I don’t fail out of Advanced Music Theory next week.”

And before Jisung can even begin to pout again, he adds—“But first you’re gonna give me your number.”

November 2020

“Explain it to me again,” Hyunjin asks. “He’s teaching you to how to be gay and do crimes?”

“No,” Felix clarifies. “Our old RA is teaching him to be gay. The guy from the party is teaching him to do crimes.” 

“Crimes,” Hyunjin says, correcting Felix’s Korean pronunciation. 

“Criiiimes?”  

“Less vowelly. Like: crimes.”

Jisung groans, picking at his sandwich. “You guys are just repeating the same thing over and over again. And I shouldn’t have said anything. I knew you would blow it out of proportion. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Felix argues, slapping Hyunjin’s hand away from plucking a fry off his plate. “Sungie’s first boyfriend.”

“Boyfriends,” Hyunjin corrects.

“What?” Felix pouts. “I thought I pronounced it right.”

“No, you did this time,” Hyunjin says. “I just meant that it’s plural—”

 “I’m not dating them!” Jisung exclaims.

"Bro,” Felix says. “They both take you out on dates.”

Hyunjin nods solemnly. “You’re dating them.”

Felix and Hyunjin continue to banter, about the leftover fries, word pronunciation, whether there was a difference between Jisung being a “baby gay” versus their experiences as “baby bisexuals.” Jisung sits in silence, horrified by this new development. Could he actually be dating Chan or Changbin? Or worse—both of them?

Jisung’s relationship with Changbin’s a little easier to describe. Hooking up, is what someone cooler would probably call it. Changbin invites him over, teases him, takes way too much pleasure in it, then makes Jisung come so hard that he thinks he’ll be ruined forever for any other guy. He feels special, that someone as hot and casually refined as Seo Changbin, with his expensive jackets and sprawling penthouse apartment off-campus, would even look at Jisung, let alone touch him. 

How he feels with Chan is a different type of special. It’s like, being listened to and not being afraid to get laughed at. It’s as warm and fuzzy as things with Changbin, except Chan doesn’t even touch him. He’s just sort of there, picking Jisung up after he gets out of his class, responding to Jisung’s stress-induced texts at any time of the night. Chan will show up after his shift at his new fancy office job is over, ramen in hand and a shoulder for Jisung to lean on. He’s steady like that.

But dating? 

“Do you think…” Jisung interrupts his friends before they can cause a scene in the dining hall. “Do you think I should tell them? That I’m dating someone else?”

“Yes,” Felix says, at the same time that Hyunjin says, “No."

“Of course not,” Hyunjin continues, using his bigger frame to wrestle his hand around Felix’s mouth before he can speak. “What if they get jealous and dump you?”

Felix licks Hyunjin’s hand until he yelps. “Don’t listen to him! What if they find out by accident and then dump you for lying? If you come clean now, you can feign ignorance and pretend that you didn’t actually realize it was dating.”

“I didn’t actually realize it was dating,” Jisung insists. 

Felix and Hyunjin speak as one when they say, “Sure.”

Jisung puts his head in his hands. 

Chapter Text

December 2020

“The problem is,” Seungmin says from behind the barista counter, “Is that you don’t actually have a problem.” 

Chan frowns and hands him his card. “It’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not,” Seungmin argues. “You two were happily in love, you never stopped being happily in love, and just ended things because it didn’t… feel right? Hey, no tip?”

Chan pulls a bill out of his pocket and sticks it into the tip jar, snatching back his card.

“It’s actually very, very simple. You’re obviously still in love. Get back together and eat each other's asses, or whatever it is that the two of you used to do all the time,” Seungmin adds wisely. 

“Kim Seungmin!” Chan hisses, looking around the coffee shop in embarrassment. It’s mostly empty at this time on a Sunday morning, but he reaches over the counter to pinch Seungmin’s side through his apron, anyway.

See that’s the thing about Seungmin—he looks wise, even manages to sounds wise. Yet somehow nothing that comes out of his mouth is ever helpful. 

Not that Chan can really judge—it’s not like anything that he’s come up with in the past couple of months has been particularly intelligent. On the whole, things have been decent. He’s settled into his new apartment, doing well at his new office job, finally able to make enough time to see his friends now that he’s done with undergrad. He has plans to begin a master’s degree program next year. He shouldn’t be unhappy.

And he’s not, not exactly. He’s sleeping well, eating well—his time with Jisung, in particular, has been fulfilling. Jisung had texted him one night, jokingly complaining about the new RA in his new dorm. And Chan had responded. And then Jisung texted again, and Chan responded again. He’s not sure how it happened, but Jisung quickly has risen in the ranks to become one of those few people Chan was sure he couldn’t live without. 

Speaking of people Chan couldn’t live without—the bells hanging on the coffee shop door jingle lightly.

“Oh, look,” Seungmin says cheerfully. “There’s Changbin now. Go sit down, I’ll bring your drinks.”

Changbin looks tired, though Chan recalls that he’s never been particularly bubbly this early in the morning. He brightens, though, waving, when he catches sight of Chan sliding into a little booth near the window.

“I already ordered for you,” Chan says.

Changbin grins. “You better have, for making me wake up at the ass crack of dawn.”

This was a new development, too: meeting up with Changbin for coffee a couple times a month. It was weird, at first, when Chan left campus while the rest of his friends were still there. But it wasn’t difficult for him to make plans to hang out with Minho, or Hyunjin. It was Changbin who Chan had no more excuses to see. It was Changbin who was too hard to make casual plans with. Nothing about the two of them had ever been casual. Easy, sure—but from the beginning, they had always been too intense, too passionate, for casual.

In the end, it was Jeongin, their little maknae who was wise beyond his years, who had suggested this: Chan and Changbin should make a conscious habit to see each other once in a while. At a neutral, public location to discourage arguing, or other unsavory public displays of affection. For the sake of their friend group. So, here they were, a couple months in—for the sake of their friend group.

They do the basics while they wait for their breakfast—how’s class, for Changbin, how’s work, for Chan? My mom called yesterday, told me to say hi. Did you hear Jeongin’s at the top of his economics class this month? 

Seungmin brings their beverages, a muffin for Changbin, and a croissant for Chan. 

“Here you go. Hi, Changbin hyung. How are you? Chan hyung wants to get back together. Say yes, please.”

Chan splutters into his tea. “Seungmin, you little—”

“Gotta clean the espresso machine, sorry!” Seungmin chortles, rushing back behind the counter. He shoots them a thumbs up as he goes. 

Changbin raises an eyebrow at him.

“I can explain—”

Changbin cuts him off. “Me too.”

“What?” Chan asks.

“I want to get back together, too.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Changbin whines.

“I mean, I heard you,” Chan says. “It’s just. What?”

“I miss you. You obviously miss me, too, if you’re calling random meetings for tea on Sunday mornings. It’s simple.”

Chan grumbles. “That’s what Seungmin says.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Changbin sighs. “Except it’s not.”

The fact of the matter was this: All the love in the world could not erase the fact that Chan and Changbin had gotten to a point where they just simply did not work. 

Even though they had all gone to the same highschool, Chan didn’t meet Changbin formally until Minho had introduced them when Changbin got to college as a freshman. It was like a whirlwind, after that, Chan remembers. Changbin’s first real relationship, Chan’s first time with another guy. They’d been inseparable—until, one day, they hadn’t been. 

The words for what Chan felt on the day Changbin had broken up with him had not been invented yet. Agony, despair, regret: those were close, but still, it was worse than that.

And maybe it was that: the pressure of a relationship that was too perfect, for too long. Stifled, was the word Changbin had used. He felt stifled. It almost makes sense that the first time they had a problem, they broke up.

Changbin puts his palms up placatingly. “I’ve since apologized.”

“Calling me crying and drunk at 3 a.m. is not an apology,” Chan fires back, quickly. He didn’t realize that he’d said the last part aloud.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Changbin says now, but like he’s not really. He pouts. “Hyung, forgive me.” 

Chan ignores this. “It’s weird. I mean, we can’t just pick up where we left off, right? Too much time has passed.”

In a rare show of affection, Changbin reaches over and runs his thumb over the back of Chan’s hand. “So?” He asks softly. “We don’t have to pick up where we left off. We don’t have to do anything at all. Just be together, however we want.” 

“Okay.”

“Let’s just…” Changbin continues. “Take it slow, this time? Communicate more. I want you, but let’s not rush into anything.”

“Okay,” Chan repeats. “I just don’t want you to feel… overwhelmed, again.”

“Bang Chan!” 

“I’m just saying.”

Changbin frowns. “I should never have said that. I don’t mind being stifled if it’s with your love. I was younger then. I felt—I don’t know—like I couldn’t reciprocate properly. It was a lot, and you always do so much…”

“You don’t have to hide how you feel to make me feel better,” Chan assures.

“That’s the thing, though,” Changbin says. “That’s what you do.”

Chan huffs. “Okay, okay—I’ll stop being the perfect boyfriend, then.” 

Changbin laughs. “Shut up,” he says puckering his lips mockingly. “Channie-hyung just has a lot of love to give. Let Changbinnie take care of you too, okay?” 

It’s Chan’s turn to go, “Shut up.”

“Both of you shut up,” Seungmin says when he comes back to collect their cups. “But just to be sure, you’re dating now, right?” 

Changbin smiles across the table at him. “We’re taking it slow.”

And when Seungmin wrinkles his nose and says, “Ew,” and Changbin starts to threaten that he’ll punch him, place of work or not, things feel normal, for once.

Chan smiles to himself. He just has a lot of love to give.

Oh.

January 2021

“You should be paying me, really,” Changbin says thoughtfully. Changbin’s hand is not that big to begin with, but Jisung seems amazed by how small it looks wrapped around his length, pumping slowly. “For all my trouble.”

Jisung’s dick gives a little twitch. Little, but noticeable. 

“You like that?” Changbin asks. “The thought of you paying me?”

Jisung hides his head in Changbin’s shoulder. “You should be paying me,” Jisung grumbles. “You’re the trust fund baby.” 

Changbin twists his hand around artfully, and Jisung gasps. “That could be arranged.”

Changbin can’t quite say how he and Jisung got here, just that they’re here now. And that he likes it—Jisung, flushed and close, spread out over the faux fur on the ridiculously large bed in the penthouse Changbin’s parents rent in the city. 

It was innocent, at first, Changbin swears it was. He was planning to take Jisung under his wing, so to speak. Jisung would show up uninvited when Changbin was studying in the library, or corner Changbin on his way from lunch before class. He had a number of questions, and Changbin wanted to answer them all. He explains to Jisung how to flip chords on a progression, and tells him which professors in the music department to avoid. He answers Jisung’s more embarrassing asks, like but how do you know if you’re a top or bottom? and do I have to shave? He’s just being a good hyung, Changbin reasons. Nothing he wouldn’t do for Seungmin or Jeongin.

But when Jisung started asking other questions, ones that maybe could be explained better if Changbin showed him rather than told him, Changbin didn’t really object. And then it just so happened that Jisung was a very quick learner. 

Changbin jerks Jisung, steady and expertly, until he comes. This is Changbin’s favorite part—the breathy moans and pink of Jisung’s ears, Jisung’s face hidden into the crevice of his shoulder. Changbin had assumed, in the beginning, that Jisung was nervous, or self-conscious about being freshly out of the closet—and that wasn’t wrong, not exactly—but it turns out Jisung is also just plain old shy. It was cute.

“Good?” Changbin teases, reaching over to grab a tissue from the nightstand and wipe off his hand. 

Jisung nods, the blush on his cheeks spreading down even further along his neck. “Yeah.”

As soon as he’s caught his breath, Jisung perks up, always eager to reciprocate, but Changbin catches Jisung's hand and wraps his own around his wrist. He presses a kiss there. “That’s okay.”

Jisung pouts. “You don’t want me to. . ?”

Changbin grins at his put-out expression, and his dick stirs a little in his jeans. It’s not that he didn’t want to. “I gotta go to class,” he explains.

Not technically a lie, but not the full story, either. 

So he feels a little guilty, as Jisung heads to the bathroom while Changbin calls for an uber back to campus. He’s distracted, in the car, as Jisung blabbers on about a homework assignment. And when they kiss goodbye before Jisung heads up to his dorm and Changbin towards the art theory department building Changbin almost misses his lips.

Jisung realigns them, though like they’ve been doing this for years. He laughs. “Everything okay?”

Changbin offers him a half-smile. “Just tired.”

Do two half lies make one full lie? Shit. 

True to timing, Chan texts right as Changbin sits down for his lecture. 

2:56 Dinner later?

Changbin sends back a sure with a thumbs-up emoji. Then hesitates before adding the red-heart emoji, for good measure. Then he cringes. 

They’re supposed to be doing things better, this time—so why is Changbin always so intent on fucking things up?

It’s not that he doesn’t feel guilty. He’s not heartless. It’s just—what he feels when he’s in bed with Jisung on a Tuesday afternoon, the warm sensation in his chest when Jisung texts him song lyrics to vet: he's not quite willing to give that up, yet. Changbin comforts himself with some empty truths—him and Chan aren’t technically dating again, right? And technically, Jisung and Changbin haven’t actually had sex yet. They’re just fooling around. It’s educational, if anything.

The problem is not that they’re hooking up. Neither of them are idiots—Changbin knows that Chan knows he’s been sleeping with other people since they’d been broken up. But he also knows that Chan doesn’t really mind. Because it's usually just that: sleeping with other people. They mean nothing. 

The problem is not that Jisung and him are hooking up, though Changbin wishes that was the problem. The problem is that it’s Jisung, specifically. The stupid, breathy way he whispers Changbin’s name when Changbin grips his thigh in the backseat of a taxi. The way Jisung’s stupid doe eyes follow him no matter what he’s doing, so that even getting up to take a piss feels special. Jisung himself makes Changbin feel so fucking stupid and gooey and whipped. And he’d only ever felt this way with one other person before. 

See you then! Chan responds, and of course he adds an emoji heart of his own, probably so that Changbin doesn’t feel dumb. Chan’s just good like that. 

Changbin’s not gonna be responsible for breaking his heart again. He’d promised himself that ages ago. I’m gonna end it, he promises himself. I am.

But then his phone lights up with another message. 

3:01 Today was fun hyung ;)

3:01 Chill tomorrow and I can return the favor? 

Changbin can’t help but respond.

February 2021

“I want to play you something,” Chan says. The lights from the other vehicles on the road cast long, elegant shadows over his handsome side profile. “Can I?”

Jisung lets him. Jisung always lets him. These are some of the best nights—Chan coming by in his new car for work, a plastic cup of boba tea, maybe a fresh bowl of warm tteokbokki in the sleek gray cup holder. A silent offer to just drive around. Always a bashful smile on Chan’s face, as if Jisung is one day going to reject free food. God, Jisung likes him. Jisung likes Chan very, very much. 

Jisung can’t help but compare the illicit thrill he gets from sitting in Chan’s passenger seat to how he feels in Changbin’s bed—desirable, comfortable, mature. He’s high off of it. Off the attention from them both, so much so that he forgets to feel particularly remorseful whenever he’s with one of them. It’s funny—when Jisung’s with Chan or Changbin, he can’t help but think of the other. And not even out of guilt, or obligation. It just feels natural, to be thinking about them this way. Together. 

The track starts off nice, like all of Chan’s stuff does. A low, melodic r&b beat plays for a couple of seconds, before the steady bass begins to pump. Jisung sways his head to the beat because he can’t help himself. Chan’s music is good, genuinely good, in the way that most people who make music on the side just for fun rarely ever are. But Jisung thinks that he’d like Chan’s music anyway, whether he was good or not. His passion just bleeds through in every note.

“What’d you think?” Chan asks when it’s over. Patiently, like he actually cares about what Jisung thinks.

“It’s perfect,” Jisung blurts immediately, even though he’d been planning on being coy about it. “I love it. Do you have lyrics, yet?”

Chan beams. “I’ve been playing around with a hook, but nothing concrete, so far.”

“Pull over,” Jisung says. “And play the song again.”

“Is that an order?” Chan jokes, but he’s already turning the car into an empty parking lot.

And when Jisung unzips his backpack and pulls out the lyrics he’d worked on with Changbin a couple weeks ago, it feels absolutely natural for him to start rapping softly over the beat, pausing every couple of seconds to tweak something to fit better over the verse. When the song ends, Chan plays it again and lets him keep going.

Jisung’s not sure how long they go on like that—Chan lightly tugging the notebook out of his hands to write something in the margins with a pen from his glove box, Jisung laughing self-consciously when his voice cracks in the middle of the line. The warmth of the street lights in the parking lot, the hum of the car beneath them.

“You’re really good,” Chan says finally. “These lyrics, too—really good.”

Jisung ducks his head. “I wrote them with one of my hyungs,” he diverts. “It’s mostly his stuff—he’s way better than me.”

But Chan is shaking his head. “Nah. You rapping just now? That was all you. And it was great.”

This time, Jisung accepts the praise. He allows it to warm him all the way from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his toes. “Thanks.”

Chan shrugs, hands Jisung’s notebook back, and starts to put the car back in drive.

But Jisung is feeling confident, and sure. When he slides his hand over Chan’s before he can change the gears, it’s only shaking a little.

Chan faces him, eyes searching. “Jisung-ah?”

“Hyung,” Jisung whispers. He doesn’t want to have to ask.

In the end, he doesn’t have to ask.

Chan’s lips on his are soft, skilled. But what makes this kiss is not just the kiss.

It’s Chan’s hands when they come up gently against the sides of Jisung’s face. It’s the warm breath that fans out over Jisung’s upper lip right before Chan presses in. It’s the music playing behind them, familiar and intimate now that Jisung’s heard it a dozen times. And, as Chan pulls away, looking at him in a way that makes Jisung feel dizzy, he gets an unshakable, impossible feeling—that maybe this song is about him.

When Chan sighs, Jisung feels it somewhere beneath his ribs. 

And even though he kind of knows what is coming, Jisung’s still glad he has this moment. Because it’d be stupid to say Jisung doesn’t notice the way Chan’s eyes go flighty whenever he gets a text on his phone. Dumb, to say Jisung hasn’t picked up on Chan’s deliberate refusal to touch him until now, even when he was obviously attracted. 

“There’s someone else,” Jisung says simply. He doesn’t have to ask.

“I’m sorry.”

What can Jisung say? Doesn’t he, also, sort of have someone else? On the whole, he thinks he’s handling this entire thing pretty maturely. A younger, freshman Jisung would’ve cried, or thrown a fit. Sophomore Jisung is mature and brave. He just kind of wishes Chan had waited to reject him when they weren’t still a half-hour away from Jisung’s dorm. He balks at the awkward car ride ahead of them.

“It’s not you,” Chan adds. “I promise.”

Jisung cringes. Sophomore Jisung is mature and brave, he reminds himself. “Can we just go back?”

They’re silent as Chan navigates the car back onto the freeway. Then— 

“I wish…” Chan rubs his palm over his face. “Look. I shouldn’t have let this go on this long when I knew I wasn’t over my ex. I’m the idiot, okay? Don’t feel bad.”  

Jisung glues his eyes down to look at the updated lyrics in his lap. The random, stilted lines of Jisung’s original drafting, then Changbin’s thoughts over them, with crossed-out lines and harsh circles. Finally, with his boxy, even handwriting, Chan filled the space that was left on the page—filled every gap that Jisung and Changbin had left. The song feels more complete than any Jisung’s ever written. 

Sophomore Jisung is mature and brave. Sophomore Jisung is mature and brave. 

“Please don’t feel bad,” Chan repeats. His voice is soft and raw, and Jisung’s too much of a pussy to look at his face. “It's me. You’re perfect, really.”

Fuck. The lights outside the car turn blurry. Sophomore Jisung is crying. 

Chapter Text

February 2021

Jisung is lying belly-down, head buried in his pillow with covers cocooning most of his body when he hears the familiar sound of Felix’s keys jingling in the lock. He burrows deeper into his bed sheets.

There’s a bit of shuffling, some not-so-subtle whispering, then—

“Bro,” Felix says softly. “You skipped class again?” 

Jisung doesn’t answer, because it’s kind of a rhetorical question. 

He sort of feels bad as Felix tries again, but not bad enough to get up. “Don’t you think this is a little bit…”

“Ridiculous?” Hyunjin provides cheerfully. “It’s been like, 3 days, man.” 

“Hyunjin,” Felix starts.

“They weren’t even actually together!” Hyunjin cries. “And he still has a backup boyfriend!”

Jisung hears what is the unmistakable sound of one of Felix’s stuffed animals colliding with skin. There’s a grunt, then a definite yelp. 

Then the bed dips and Felix’s voice is at his ear, delicate fingers carding through the only part of Jisung’s body showing, the top of his hair. 

“Hey, Sung-ah? You’ll feel better if you shower and eat something, okay? Pretty please? For me?”

It’s not fair that Felix’s voice should be able to sound that cute.

But it works. Jisung grabs his shower caddy and towel and shuffles his way to the communal bathroom, ignoring the relieved look that Hyunjin and Felix share behind his back. 

He does feel better after a warm shower, though, the cool face wash soothing the scratchy skin on his face. It’s a small miracle, but a miracle all the same to be rid of greasy hair, the faint but decisive stubble over his top lip. And now he smells like artificial fruit, which has to be better than whatever he’d smelt like after an indefinite amount of time wallowing in his bed.

“Seungmin works at a little cafe near campus,” Hyunjin says, when Jisung enters the dorm room again. Then, in an uncharacteristic show of kindness, Hyunjin hands him ₩ 20,000. “Go treat yourself to breakfast.”

“You just want me to leave so you two can do…” Jisung shudders. “Whatever it is you two do.”

It’s clearly a set up to force Jisung into getting some fresh air, but Jisung can’t exactly deny that a short walk will do him some good right now. And he’s never been one to say no to free food.

“And bring back two Americanos,” Felix adds, handing him his coat and shoving him out of the room with a hand at the small of his back.

“This is my room,” Jisung grumbles as the door shuts in his face. 

Because the universe hates him right now, Jisung doesn’t realize that it’s Valentine’s Day until he’s already inside the cafe. There are red and pink streamers hanging from the ceiling, and when he gets to the counter Seungmin has two little heart stickers on each of his cheeks.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” he greets. “What can I get you?”

Jisung groans, quickly ordering a light breakfast for himself, the coffees for Hyunjin and Felix. Once Seungmin has handed him back his change, he shuffles pitifully over to the waiting area.

He’d been planning on sitting down and taking his time with his food, but now he just wants to get back to his room.

Everything seems to remind him of Chan, and his heart squeezes pathetically at the thought. 

In the corner of the cafe, Jisung watches an upperclassmen girl from his English class dote on her boyfriend playfully. The quiet R&B song that’s playing over the shop speakers feels like something on one of Chan’s night driving playlists. All the ridiculous pink and red stuff all over feels like an unnecessary twist of the dagger already in Jisung’s heart. 

Even the person sitting in the booth in front of Jisung has a similar haircut to Chan’s.

Wait. Jisung narrows his eyes. The back of that kid’s head looks suspiciously like Chan’s. And doesn’t Chan have that coat, the cool grey one with puffy sleeves?

Shit. 

Shit shit shit. Jisung is turning around as fast as he can, pulling his hood over his still damp-from-the-shower hair when the person sitting opposite Chan looks over directly at him so that they make eye contact.

And that’s— no. It can’t be. Even Jisung’s luck can’t be this bad. 

Of course they know each other. 

“Han Jisung!” Changbin waves. “Hey!”

“You have gotta be fucking kidding me,” Jisung mutters under his breath. 

Chan turns around and Jisung watches as his jaw drops a little, incredulous. 

Changbin is still waving him over. 

“Um, hi. I’m sort of in a hurry—” Jisung starts.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Changbin accuses. And then, all of a sudden, like he’s forgotten Chan was there, a panicky look flashes across his features. “Oh. This is Chan. My, um,” he flails his hands around for a second, then lamely finishes, “Bang Chan.”

Jisung half-bows awkwardly in greeting, avoiding Chan’s eyes, avoiding Changbin’s eyes, avoiding the way Seungmin is not even trying to be subtle about eavesdropping from behind the shop counter. 

“I should really go,” Jisung repeats. 

And this time Changbin looks like he clearly agrees, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, um, let’s talk… later?”

For a second, Jisung thinks the universe has taken pity on him. For a second, Jisung really believes he is going to be able to say goodbye, grab his breakfast, and leave here with what’s left of his pride still intact.

For a second.

Chan eyes the two of them suspiciously. Finally he lands on Changbin. “You know Jisung?”

“Um, yeah?” Changbin answers, voice cautious. “Why do you know Jisung?”

And—terrible, horrible timing—but Jisung is struck for a moment by the familiar, easy way Chan and Changbin lean into one another, even in the confusion. They look good together, he can’t help but think. It’s a weird, inappropriate sort of thrill he gets at seeing them in the same room. It’s so weird, but so right. Jisung feels sort of vindicated. Also, he’s like. So glad he’d been forced to take a shower earlier. 

“Jisung is… was, um, one of my freshmen. When I was an RA,” Chan says finally. 

Jisung tries his best not to pout. Is that all he was to Chan, after everything?

Changbin’s eyebrows knit together as he reads something in Chan’s face that Jisung misses. “Wait. The freshman who sucked—”

There’s a slight jostling underneath the table that indicates Changbin obviously getting a kick to his shin.

“One of my freshmen,” Chan repeats, voice firm. “How do you know Jisung?”

“Um.” Changbin’s eyes widen. “We’re both music production majors?”

Jisung’s heart sinks further. “Wait. How do you two know each other?”

Changbin looks queasy. “Chan’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Chan laughs awkwardly. “Well, not really ex, anymore.”

“You guys are together?”

“Barely?” Chan answers. He gestures to the cupcake they’re clearly splitting together in the middle of the table. “We were sort of just piecing it together right now.”

“Oh,” Jisung says softly. He laughs, fully aware that it’s a maniacal, unhinged sound. “I see.”

It’s not really funny, but Jisung’s not sure what else to do. The dots are clicking, all at once. Chan was Changbin’s mysterious ex? Changbin was the high school sweetheart Chan was still hung up on? It’s straight from the plot of a cheesy rom-com. Jisung laughs again.

Felix had been worried that Jisung was “dating” both of them.

And the whole time, they were dating each other. 

Jisung’s gonna throw up. Jisung is gonna throw all over the two hottest people who had ever given him the time of day, halfway through their reunion Valentine’s Day date. And then, ohmygod, Seungmin is gonna have to clean it up, and everybody would hear about it—

“Jisung-ah?” Chan starts, like he’s just beginning to realize that something is seriously, horribly wrong. 

“I have to go,” Jisung repeats, and then he’s backpedaling. “I have to go. Sorry.”

Changbin stands up. “Wait, Jisung—”

Jisung is already heading for the door, ignoring Seungmin’s cries of, “But your food!”

Jisung doesn’t quite remember the journey back to his dorm building. He feels a little like he’s outside of his body, watching like a ghost as his body swipes his student ID at the door and climbs up the stairs.

When he opens the door, Hyunjin and Felix look very blatantly like they’ve been caught with their hands in the cookie jar, snuggled in Felix’s bed uncomfortably close. 

But technically there was no sock on the door, so Jisung flings his keys onto his desk and toes off his shoes. 

“That was quick,” Felix comments cautiously. 

“Did you at least get our coffee—” Hyunjin asks.

But Jisung is already tugging off his coat and collapsing back beneath the covers. 

“What now? ” He hears Felix whine. 

February 2021

“So, this is weird,” Changbin says.

There’s a bit of pink frosting on Chan’s chin, and Changbin kind of wants to lean in and lick it off, because technically he has permission to do stuff like that, again—as of like twenty minutes ago, anyway. But this is so not the time. 

“How do you know Jisung?” Chan asks gently. “Really.” 

So they walk in the cold, bundled up completely except for their hands, linked together between them. The cool winter wind stings at Changbin’s knuckles, but it’s worth it, he thinks, for Chan. It’s worth it to brave the cold, or say things that scare him a little. So they walk in the cold, and Changbin tells him. Tells Chan that him and Jisung had met at a party and had been hooking up—maybe more than that—for a while now. Tells him that Changbin had been planning on ending it. He was just waiting for them to actually decide to be exclusive again. He was gonna do it later today. 

“I swear,” Changbin finishes hesitantly. “I wouldn’t cheat—”

“No,” is all Chan says. “I believe you.”

The timing is good, at least. Changbin slips his hands out of Chan's when his phone vibrates with a single message. 

Han Jisung 2:39 PM

Hyung, I don’t think we should see each other anymore. Sorry.

In the interest of full transparency, Changbin shoves his phone into Chan’s face to read the message, too.

“Looks like I just got dumped, anyway,” Changbin says. Which is fair. He tries his hardest to not sound disappointed, because that would be unfair, to Chan.

But as soon as Changbin slides his phone back into his pocket, Chan takes his hand and squeezes it. He’s sort of perfect like that.

They walk a little ways further, towards nothing, going nowhere. It’s a strange feeling, being like this with Chan again, walking on the trail a little outside campus, just because they could. It was a strange feeling, but not a surprising one—he’d never really believed that the two of them wouldn’t find their way back to each other at some point. Chan is like home; some things are that simple. 

“It’s funny,” Changbin comments, even though it’s not. “When we were together, I used to think about how he was exactly your type. Which I guess makes sense. Since he, um, blew you, and all.”

Chan frowns, a tiny, wavering thing that Changbin knows means he’s about to admit something vulnerable. “We’ve actually been hanging out lately, too—not like that,” he says immediately when Channgbin raises his eyebrow. “Just. Hanging. AndthenonMondayIkissedhim.”

“What?”

Chan groans. “We kissed. A couple of nights ago? It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Changbin demands, stopping in the middle of the trail. “You kissed him!”

“Yeah, and you were sleeping with him, remember?”

“Not this week!”

“Does it matter?”

“And we haven't actually fucked yet, just fooled around—”

“Does that matter—”

“Does any of it matter?” Changbin interrupts. “We’re back together now. Right?”

Chan purses his lips. “You like him,” he says. And it’s not a question. 

 “I do not,” Changbin says immediately. It’s a lie so obvious it’s insulting to all parties involved, but how do you look your boyfriend in the eye and say yes to that? “I mean, he’s cute, and fun to tease, but it’s not… I don’t—”

“No,” Chan repeats. “I know what you look like when you want someone, and when you want to be with someone. If anyone knows that, it’s me.”

Changbin throws his hands up. “If I wanted to be with Jisung then why would I be here, with you, saying yes and making promises?”

“I’m not trying to—”

“I’m not arguing with you over this,” Changbin says. “And I’m not gonna let you try to ruin things just when they’re good again. I like you. I love you.”

Chan’s next statement comes out agonizingly slowly. “And what if I like him?”

Changbin deflates. “Oh.”

“It’s not, like,” Chan adds quickly. “Not love or anything, not like how I want you. Not like that at all, yet.” 

“Oh,” Changbin says again.

“But I miss him, when he’s not there,” Chan admits. His eyes are sincere, vulnerable. “I just want to be honest. Since we’re trying to do things better this time around.”

Changbin is just staring at him. Then— “For fuck’s sake.” He lets out a strangled hiccuping noise.

“Are you crying?” Chan demands, horrified. “I still want to be with you, really!”

“No,” Changbin says, and then he choke-screams again. He’s laughing. “We’re—Christ—ah— idiots.”

“I’m struggling to see the humor here,” Chan says drily.

Changbin laughs harder. “Come—come on,” hiccup, “What are the odds that we’re both fooling around with the same guy for months?”

“I wasn’t hooking up with him—”

“Yeah, yeah,”  Changbin says. “He blew you.”

“A year and a half ago!”

“What are the odds?” Changbin repeats. “Only us.”

And then, finally, Chan allows a little smile to crack at his face. “I guess it is kind of ridiculous.”

“Fine,” Changbin admits. “I like him, too.”

They look at each other for a long minute—it’s just Chan, Changbin thinks. But it’s also so much more. Years of holding each other close and pushing each other away, in that face. Years of laughter and tears and shouting and whispers in those eyes. A hundred thousand kisses between them, on those lips. And then, because Changbin can’t help himself, he imagines Jisung, kissing Chan’s lips, too. The way he likes—slow and long and a little rough. And, this is the surprise: he finds he doesn’t really mind. 

“What now?” Chan asks cautiously, just to make sure they’re on the same page. But he already kind of knows.

“You remember when we broke up,” Changbin starts. And of course Chan does. This is probably the most serious Changbin has sounded since. “And I said that there was just… something missing?”

“Yeah. I remember.”

“It’s almost like… Like we were waiting for Jisung, y’know,” Changbin says. “To complete us.” Then he ducks his head into his scarf, ears flaming, because how fucking embarrassing is that?

But Chan doesn’t laugh. He’s solemn, voice raw and honest, when he replies, “Yeah. I know.”

February 2021

“So you dumped me,” Jisung says.

Chan nods. “And you dumped Changbin.”

“Hey,” Changbin jokes, not to be bested. “I also dumped someone. Chan, like, last year.”

They meet at a park that’s an equal distance away from campus, as well as both Chan and Changbin’s respective apartments—because it’s a neutral spot, but also because the beginnings of spring are just starting to make everything outside flower and look alive again. 

Because today is a day for new beginnings.

It’s weird, Chan thinks, how comfortable this whole thing is. Jisung’s laugh, shy and quiet, when Chan playfully picks a flower for his hair. Changbin’s fingers, shaky and delicate when he adjusts it behind Jisung’s ear, like the three of them are already part of some old well-oiled machine. 

Watching as Changbin and Jisung walk ahead, fingers brushing, and feeling nothing but an embarrassing pang of adoration.

That’s the best part of it all, for Chan. He likes when he’s with Changbin, likes when he’s with Jisung. But there’s something about getting to see the two of them together that makes him feel lightheaded.

“Look, Jisung-ah,” Chan had said earlier. “We’re getting back together.”

“But we want you to join us, this time,” Changbin had added helpfully, just as Jisung’s face had begun to crumple. 

Jisung had stared at them. “Like a thruple?”

Changbin had rolled his eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”

“It’s weird,” Jisung had replied. “This is so weird. I think I, like, had a wet dream about this once.”

“Bro,” Changbin had groaned. “Don’t—”

“Like boyfriends,” Chan had interrupted. “Like, do you want to be our boyfriend?”

That was hours ago, now, enough time for them to get lunch together and stroll the park until Chan’s face hurt from smiling too much. Jisung had never actually answered, but he was here, smiling, too. That was enough, for now.

The sun is starting to set by the time they settle into a park bench. Not quite touching, but their thighs are lined up—one, two, three. They let Jisung sit in the middle.

Finally, finally, Jisung sighs. “I’ve never been in a serious relationship before.”

“I’ve only ever been serious with Chan,” Changbin offers. “It’s scary at first, sure. But you get used to it. It’s worth it.”

The smile he gives Chan now is just for him, and that’s perfect, too—that even when they’re Chan and Changbin and Jisung, there’s still room for Chan and Changbin, just like there’d always been.

“I didn’t even know I was into guys until like, last week,” Jisung says. “What if I change my mind?”

Changbin groans. “If I didn’t have a cum stain on my sheets right now assuring me that you are completely and utterly gay, I would totally be taking that the wrong way right now. You know that’s not how it works, right?”

Chan pinches his boyfriend—one of his boyfriend’s?!—thigh. “You’re gonna scare him away, Bin.”

Jisung ignores them. “And I’m still a virgin.”

“Easily remedied,” Changbin says immediately. 

Jisung groans. “I’m being serious!”

And because his voice takes on a different note this time, they shut up and listen to him. It’s kind of weird, when both Changbin and Chan’s hands come up at the same time to rest on Jisung’s knees. It’s kind of cool, too. 

“What if…” Jisung hesitates. “What if you guys change your mind? I mean, you’ve been together already forever? What if you decide you don’t actually want me?”

“Sungie,” Changbin says, all teasing gone from his tone. “We want you. So much.”

“It’s not just that,” Chan adds. “We want this, the three of us, together.”

Jisung takes his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I can’t promise that this is going to be perfect, or that it’s even gonna go  well,” Chan continues. “I don’t know if it’s going to last forever or for a month. All I know is that right now, this is what I want. And we’re nervous, too. We’ve dated each other, sure, but we’ve never dated anyone else. You’re not the only one who’s scared, Jisung-ah.”

There’s a pause, but it’s like everything else between them feels, lately—comfortable, pleasant. Their hands have crept up of their own accord, until Changbin’s small and warm, Chan’s delicate with long fingers, and Jisung’s fidgety and stacked with rings, come to rest in the cozy area of Jisung’s lap. 

“No Friday nights,” Jisung says after a beat.

“What?”

“On Friday’s I have game night with Felix,” Jisung explains. “So we can’t like, go out on dates, or whatever boyfriends do.”

Boyfriends.

Chan feels Changbin’s hand squeeze a little where they are entangled, and Chan has to literally bite his lip to keep himself from doing something ridiculous, like trying to respond then bursting into tears. 

They don’t make a huge deal out of it.

They just sort of, are.

March 2021

Naturally, the finer tune aspects of a polyamorous relationship made up of three young guys take some ironing out.

Ironing out, like, there is no bed big enough for three boys. Certainly not the pitiful twin XL in Jisung’s dorm room, not the humble full-size mattress in Chan’s apartment. In theory, they should be able to fit into the ridiculously ornate king-sized bed in the penthouse suite Changbin’s parents rent for him, but they don’t. Chan goes to sleep in a ball and then wakes up spread out like a starfish. Jisung fidgets so much in the night that Changbin usually ends up kicking him onto the floor around four in the morning. 

Some nights, it’s perfect—Jisung snoring lightly into Chan’s neck, Changbin lying halfway on top of them both. Fingers carding through hair. Legs comfortably tangled. In the morning, peaceful, shy smiles that mean everybody’s slept well.

Those nights are rare.

Mostly their relationship mirrors their sleep patterns. Majority of the time it’s wild and frustrating and they don’t all quite fit. But when it’s perfect—it’s perfect. 

“Let me see that,” Jisung demands, making grabby hands towards the phone in Chan’s hands. It’s one of those brand new models, with the shiny reflective backs. “Uh, please. Hyung.”

Chan hands it over perfunctorily, just as Changbin reaches around them to press at the buzzer. “It’s us, Minho.”

“Is my hair alright?” Jisung questions, turning the camera on Chan’s phone this way and that. Then he puckers his lips at the lens and snaps a quick selfie for Chan to find later before handing it back.

Changbin ignores him. “Imagine if you used your own phone once in a while.”

“Hey!” Jisung protests. “Shower water in my camera lens?”

Chan reaches out to smoothen down the piece of hair that Jisung had failed to even get at. Then he reaches over to Changbin and runs his fingers through his hair, too, even though it’s already perfectly styled. Just because he can.

“If only I had two kind, generous, sexy— ”

“You’re laying it on thick,” Changbin says drily.

“—handsome, older, perfect boyfriends with jobs who wanted to buy me a new phone,” Jisung finishes, and then he bats his eyelashes prettily.

Chan rolls his eyes. “Changbin does not have a job. He has a trust fund.”

It’s Changbin’s turn to screech, “Hey! I do weekends at the record shop, now.”

Jisung grins, nerves momentarily sated. He’s so getting that phone for Christmas, because Changbin really does have more money than any college student should have access to, and Chan just can’t say no. But he huffs and puffs and pretends he can’t see right through them, anyway. 

The building door opens, revealing a cute-faced boy with electric blue hair. He waves at the three of them eagerly, fumbling with the lock.

And then Jisung’s nerves are almost gone completely. Changbin had been going on and on about how scary his hyung was, until Chan had told him to stop freaking Jisung out. Jisung, naturally, was still freaked out, especially now that he had to get the stamp of approval from his boyfriends’ friends.

But the boy in front of them is grinning widely, face warm.

“That’s Minho?” Jisung asks, incredulous.

Changbin, Chan, and the blue-haired boy all stare at him for a beat, and then they burst into laughter. 

“I’m Jeongin,” the boy says. “Minho’s upstairs, sharpening his knives.”

“Han Jisung,” Jisung says weakly. “Nice to meet you.”

It had come out eventually—but slower than Jisung would’ve imagined, all things considered—that they all sort of kind of knew each other. Felix already knew Chan, of course, and Hyunjin was close friends with both Chan and Changbin (Jisung still doesn’t believe that this whole time, Hyunjin didn’t realize that the boys Jisung was agonizing over were his hyungs from high school. He just doesn’t.) Seungmin, he had met through Hyunjin, and apparently, Felix had somehow baked brownies for all of them already? Jisung doesn’t ask questions.

The only people Jisung had yet to meet in person were Jeongin, who’d just started college, and Minho, who had graduated with Chan. And even though he already mostly knows all of them, and more importantly, knows that whoever Chan and Changbin choose to keep around would be good company, he’s still kind of nervous. Even after a full month of being together, Jisung is still so hung up on getting things right—as if the rug could sweep out from underneath him at any minute and his boyfriends’ would wake up and realize they don’t really need him.

“Hey,” Changbin says, as Jeongin guides them up the stairs to Minho’s apartment. “Stop thinking so loud.” 

He sneaks up past Chan so he can link their arms playfully.

And then Chan is there, too, with a firm hand resting on the small of Jisung’s back. Jisung doesn’t have to turn around to know that the expression on Chan’s face reads I got you.

Jisung can only pray that it goes well, but even if it doesn’t he has Chan, has Changbin, and they have his back.

(It goes better than well. Minho is only about half as terrifying as Changbin had insisted. He asks Jisung a hundred questions ranging from casual to a flat out breach of security before Chan pries him off, saying something about a cat chewing on the rug in the bathroom. Felix is there, playing the absolute perfect best-friend role and passing around a box of cookies he’d forced Hyunjin to make with him in the communal kitchen back at their dorm. A couple drinks in, and then Minho is taking a weird liking to Jisung that has everybody gaping. Jeongin is complaining that he never got such kind treatment from his hyung, and then he’s complaining because they won’t let him have a second drink. Seungmin, who for some reason is singing the national anthem, keeps stopping to demand that Jisung thank him for kickstarting his relationship— I was the one who made him go to the cafe! Hyunjin chimes in.

The eight of them just sort of work, in a way that eight people really shouldn’t.

The same way three really shouldn’t.

But they do.) 

April 2021

Jisung is so, so much worse when he gets comfortable with you. Changbin figures he should sort of be taking it as a compliment, but that’s easier said than done when Jisung’s bony elbows are digging into his stomach.

“Binnie,” Jisung pouts, when Changbin attempts to shove him off. Changbin is bigger and stronger, but Jisung always manages to pull some extraordinary strength out from somewhere, when he wants to. “But you’re comfortable. ”

“No I’m not,” Changbin says quickly. “I’m muscular. Solid, rock-hard. Abs of steel, and all that.”

Jisung fucking giggles. “You’re soft.”

Changbin does shove him off, then, unapologetic as Jisung lands uncomfortably in one of the hard plastic chairs. “Fuck you.”

Jisung doesn’t even falter. He takes a quick glance around to make sure nobody’s paying attention to two college kids waiting impatiently in the middle of the airport, and then he leans in close, pressing his lips to the spot where Changbin’s jaw meets his ear.

Changbin can’t help himself. He sighs—and allows Jisung to burrow into his side again as he scrolls through a flight tracking app on his phone. 

“He’s landed,” Jisung says after a couple minutes have passed. “Should be what? Ten, fifteen minutes, now?”

“Probably,” Changbin agrees.

Jisung had asked him last week— how do you get used to this? 

How does Changbin get used to Chan going home? He’s not really sure he has gotten used to it, yet. Maybe this was pathetic, but Changbin and Chan used to spend so much time locked up together that going even a day or two without him made Changbin’s chest feel all weird. 

Australia is so far away, Jisung complained. 

True, but even when Changbin misses him, he understands that Chan misses his family, that he has a home that isn’t against the wall of Changbin’s bed. (Changbin gets the middle because it’s his, and Jisung’s on the edge for obvious, kicking-related reasons.) And he’s been through it, a couple times before.

So he sucks it up and puts on a brave face for Jisung, and they wait out what feels like the longest three weeks of his life. Chan sends pictures of him celebrating Easter with his parents and younger siblings, and if Changbin zooms in a little at night on Chan’s face in them, hey, it’s a coping mechanism. 

It’s a side effect of loving people too much—missing them, too much. Jisung’s tucked beneath Changbin’s arm right now, and Changbin still sort of misses him. That’s just how it goes. 

Jisung’s knee is bouncing with excitement he can’t be bothered to control, and Changbin feels an unexpected moment of warmth, then, at his boyfriend’s cuteness—at least now, when Chan isn’t there, he still has Jisung, and that’s not at all a bad compromise. 

There are some bad things about three: in Ubers, one person is always left out in the passenger seat while the other two get to mess around in the back. Or, the fact that literally all fast-food chicken places sell their meals with an even numbered amount of wings.  

But there are good things about three: when Changbin’s feeling like he wants some time to himself, it’s okay, because he knows that he won’t have to leave Chan lonely, anymore. And when Chan’s across the ocean, Jisung is here, knocking his knees so hard into Changbin’s that he’s probably gonna bruise tomorrow.

They were planning on making an annoyingly big deal about it. Changbin had bought flowers, and Jisung had skipped his Contemporary Korean History class to write G’DAY MATE in blocky English letters on two, brightly colored poster boards and decorate it with hearts.

They’re kind of ridiculous, like that.

In the end, it’s Chan who surprises them, with two arms wrapped around their necks from behind and a whispered, “Hi,” that makes Jisung yelp and sends a shudder down Changbin’s spine. 

“Miss me?” Chan jokes as they latch on, flowers ignored in favor of a firm, bone-crushing hug that is maybe too intimate for Incheon Airport.

They don’t really care.

“Like crazy,” Changbin says, burying his head in Jisung’s shoulder. And he’s not even kidding. 

June 2021

None of this is easy, because yeah, Chan knows what Changbin likes, but it’s been so long. And he didn’t know what Jisung liked in bed at all—wasn’t even sure that Jisung knew that himself, yet.

So they’re fumbling in the dark, a little.

Not literally in the dark, because it’s a warm Saturday afternoon at the beginning of the summer, and the ceiling fan in Chan’s bedroom is connected to the light, so they have to keep it on. They really should be doing this at Changbin’s, but Jisung had fallen asleep here last night, and Changbin had come over with donuts in the morning, and they just. Hadn’t moved. Crawled in bed, stripped down to boxers because of the heat, and stayed there all morning.

It’s Jisung who starts it, waking up from his third nap of the day with his boner pressing insistently into Chan’s upper thigh. Unignorable. Even if Chan wanted to try.

It’s not that they haven’t done anything, because Jisung and Changbin had slipped back into their easy fooling around like it was nothing at all, and of course Changbin and Chan had been fucking again since that day in the cafe. Sometimes—like last night—when Jisung was snuggled in Chan’s sheets, more pliant than usual, Chan would slip below the covers and suck him off until he screamed. 

It wasn’t that they didn’t know what to do with each other; it was that it felt a little too good to be true, the three of them half-hard and already a little sweaty just because of Chan’s shitty fan. Chan thinks this is the only time they’re serious, and even then it isn’t serious, because Changbin is pinching at his side when he takes too long to come back to kissing him, and Jisung is making a bad joke about Chan’s uncircumcised dick and Australian customs. Chan loves every minute of it.

The lights in the bedroom are harsh, and every line and crease and mark on each of their bodies are on show, in the way that you secretly hope no one will ever get to see your naked body. In the way that makes you blush to see someone else’s.

But everything about them has always been this raw and unforgiving—why shy away now? And Chan’s boyfriends are beautiful. He tells them as much, with a weird lump in his throat that has nothing to do with wanting to get his dick wet, at all.

“Both of you,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.”

Jisung is ducking his head, folding into himself, a little, the way he does when he’s feeling overwhelmed.

Changbin, never one to back down from a compliment, is batting his eyes teasingly—but Chan knows his bravado is usually nothing but that: bravado. 

Chan knows them. Maybe he doesn’t know them yet like this, eager and trading kisses that taste like honey on his bed. But he wants to.

Jisung’s gotten so much better at this, Changbin is thinking. He’s also thinking of construction work, his mother’s fancy china, high school calculus equations—anything to not bust in Jisung’s mouth right now the way he wants to so badly.

And they joke, they joke all the time, Changbin and Chan, about that very first time Jisung had got to his knees in Chan’s old dorm room. Changbin has a half dozen stories of his own about Jisung’s figuring-it-out period. But maybe that’s not fair, anymore.

Because he’s definitely figured it out, now. Jisung takes Changbin in deep, impossibly sexy bobs that make Changbin’s thighs quake every time Jisung’s nose hits his pubic bone. 

“Fuck,” Changbin murmurs. He pulls on Jisung’s hair a little, because he knows it’s gonna make Jisung moan. After all, Jisung likes being pushed and pulled around a bit, and he and Chan love to do that for him. Changbin’s not huge, but Jisung sucks his dick like he is, letting Changbin’s tip hit the palate of his mouth every time he sinks down on it, making cute sounds like he’s just about to gag, or choke. Sounds that make Changbin feel a little bit lightheaded. 

It’s vindicating , knowing that he and Chan are the only ones who get to see Jisung with his pretty, swollen lips around a dick. The only ones who have ever seen him like this. 

Changbin’s thankful when Jisung pulls off with a whine, because there’s no way he would’ve lasted even another thirty seconds of that.

He bats Jisung’s hand away before he can reach out to grip him again, and then shifts a little on the bed so he can watch what exactly it is that has Jisung so flustered. 

Of course it’s Chan, one slender, lubed-up finger lined up at Jisung’s hole.

Changbin has to bite back a moan as he watches it sink into Jisung, so he doesn’t blame him when Jisung lets out a sound that’s straight from a hentai video.

“Sung-ah,” Changbin says. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“You both are,” Chan says, and you would think he would be too focused on the task at hand to pay attention to Changbin. But he’s always paying attention to Changbin. With the hand that’s not half-buried inside Jisung, he tosses Changbin the lube. “Fuck yourself with your fingers for me, baby? Wanna watch.”

Baby.

“Jeeze,” Changbin mutters, trying his best to ignore the way his dick twitches, heavy between his legs, at that. “Okay,”

It’s quiet for several long minutes as Changbin works himself open with slick, practiced fingers. He can tell Jisung is ready, too, when he’s comfortable enough to reach his hand back out and pump at Changbin’s length again, rocking back against Chan’s fingers at the same pace. Chan, ever the altruist, still has his fucking boxers on.

“Okay,” Changbin says, panting. “Somebody, please fuck me.”

Jisung wasn’t sure how he wanted it, yet, but Changbin has a motto for these kinds of situations — never hurts to try.

So Jisung is gonna fuck him, and then Chan is going to fuck Jisung, and then they’re probably going to nap again, and then wake up and do it all over in different positions. And then maybe again, because they’re in their early twenties and their libidos are never going to be this good ever again, and fuck it. They want each other so, so much.

Jisung just wants to be good for his hyungs, because he likes this, behaving, listening. He’ll never admit anywhere else, to anyone else, but fuck, he likes this so much.

“No pressure,” Changbin reminds him again and again. “But don’t fuck up.”

He’s joking, but Jisung trembles anyway as he sinks into Changbin slow and steady, just like Chan had told him to. That’s how he likes it, Sungie. Makes him feel so good.

Changbin looks up when he’s buried to the hilt. Strokes Jisung’s bangs back with a gentle hand. “You’re doing so good.”

“Yeah?” Jisung asks, because he wants to hear it so bad.

It’s Chan who answers. He’s watching them with lidded eyes—finally—palming himself through his boxers. And that almost feels as good as the way Changbin is wrapped vice-tight around him.

“Yeah,” Chan says. “You’re perfect.”

“Fuck,” Jisung whimpers. His hips stutter. 

“Please do,” Changbin says, and it’s not even sarcastic.

So Jisung does, in uneven strokes that can’t possibly be that great, but Changbin’s panting beneath him anyway, Jisung’s name leaving his lips in a steady stream that Jisung feels straight in his gut.

“Yeah, Jisung,” he moans. “Ah— ”

Jisung’s worried that he’s going to come before they want him to. He’s amazed that he hadn’t come when he had first sunk into Changbin, that he hadn’t done it when Chan’s fingers were pressing up against him like a fucking expert. He’s surprised, honestly, that he hadn’t blew his load when they were kissing him. Because they’re just that hot.

But it turns out okay, in the end. Changbin’s closer than any of them from the unfinished blowjob, and all it takes is Chan reaching over to wrap an arm around his dick and jerk a couple times for him to come in these pretty little grunts, face scrunched tight, clamping down around Jisung in a way that makes him want to cry. 

And then Chan is pressing into Jisung, and oh my god, Changbin was right, Changbin is so right, Chan’s dick is so, so good. There’s no possible way he’s gonna last long enough for Chan to finish. So Jisung does actually cry, and then he comes so hard and fast around Chan that he sees stars. 

When he comes to, Changbin’s lying beside him, lips wrapped around Chan’s dick in a way that’s making Chan positively whine. When Chan comes, Changbin swallows it all, and it’s Jisung that he’s looking at like that, as he rocks back into Changbin’s mouth. 

Fuck.

Jisung wants to be good for his hyungs, but he’s not perfect, yet. And they love him, anyway. That feels better than the sex. 

And then, because it’s one of those rare moments when they’re all completely and utterly on the same page, the three of them lean in at once so that all their lips can clash at the same time. 

It’s terrible—not hot, or sexy, barely even cute. Jisung feels Chan’s teeth bump his own, and Changbin’s nose collides with Jisung’s so hard his eyes water. It’s nothing like when pornstars do it, and they probably won’t be trying to kiss again, all three of them, anytime soon.

But when they pull back every one of them is smiling. So it’s kind of awesome, too. 

July 2021

“God,” Jisung whines, “I can’t believe he’s leaving me.”

“Remember when you promised you’d be on your best behavior, today?” Chan asks. “It was like, five minutes ago.”

“Did I say that?” Jisung asks innocently.

“Come here,” Chan says, rolling his eyes. “You look like an idiot.”

“It’s sexy,” Jisung argues, but stands still and allows Chan to fix his tie for him—fingers graze briefly at his neck, warm and gentle, before tugging the fabric into place.

They share a brief smile, and then Jisung’s back to teasing. 

“Is this your way of telling me you have an office sex kink? Because I’m so down.”

“It’s my way of telling you we’re gonna be late, dumbass.”

Jisung dances away before Chan’s fingers can snatch at him. “Binnie Hyung can be the secretary, you’ll be the CEO, and I’ll be the cute intern with a tight ass, of course.”

“Jisung-ah. ”

“Okay, okay!” Jisung grins. “I’m on my best behavior starting now.”

They’re late to the ceremony, anyway, but it’s okay, because Changbin’s family saves them seats. There’s the slightly awkward greeting that Jisung figures is familiar territory for dealing with the parents of someone you’re in a relationship with when they’re not exactly in on the fact that you’re in a relationship with their kid. Changbin’s grandma calls Jisung “Changbin’s good friend,” very loudly and so many times that Chan is stifling laughter with his hand. Whatever. 

It’s hard to think of anything else when Changbin steps onto the stage, looking dapper and mouthwateringly handsome in a neatly tailored suit, hair parted deep on one side. 

Jisung and Chan whoop like idiots for their boyfriend and his useless degree in music production, because hey, college is a lot. Changbin looks like he wants to kill them, a little, but Jisung is used to that look, now. He beams.

Later, after Jisung has made a dozen jokes about how much taller Changbin is in that graduation cap, after Changbin’s family has dispersed—not without giving the three of them an array of suspicious looks—Chan cries a little.

They tease him mercilessly. And then they snuggle up on either side of him, kissing at the sides of his face until the tears stop and they’re all laughing.

“Don’t worry Hyung,” Changbin assures, “I’m still your pretty baby.”

Chan pinches his ear.

And then, like somehow Changbin had heard him earlier, “And I’m not leaving you, Jisung-ah.”

“None of us are going anywhere.”

September 2022

“Almost there,” Chan says.

Jisung fidgets, and Chan knows he’s fighting the urge to just take the poorly tied blindfold off himself. Chan feels a weird sense of pride in the fact that Jisung’s only entertaining his antics because he knows it’ll make Chan happy, and he squeezes Jisung’s hand as he guides him into the building.

“Come on, Binnie,” Jisung pleads, “Give me a hint.”

“How many times do I have to tell you he hasn’t let me in on it?” Changbin groans. 

“I know you’re rolling your eyes,” Jisung says.

“I’m not.”

“He is,” Chan says, pausing at the door. “Alright, let me just grab—”

Changbin narrows his eyes at Chan as he pulls out three keys, linked together on a shiny new keyring. “What—”

“Got it!” Chan says. He opens the door and waits until they’re both inside, Changbin peering around suspiciously and Jisung bouncing up and down on his heels. 

He reaches behind Jisung’s head to take off the blindfold, and then watches eagerly as he takes it all in. “Happy birthday, Sungie.”

Jisung has the nerve to frown, looking from the open, empty kitchen to the blank hallway on the side that leads to more rooms. On the empty kitchen counter is a tiny cake, just enough for three, with Jisung’s name printed on it in frosting. “You drove us across town for… cake?”

Chan groans. “It’s not just the cake. It’s the apartment, you idiot. I’m asking you guys to move in with—”

“Yes!” Changbin says, jumping into Chan’s arms before he can even finish the question. “Yes, yes, yes! I love it.”

“Hey,” Jisung pouts. “This is my present.”

But he’s smiling, first cautiously, then so wide Chan is afraid he’s gonna split his face. He joins the hug, and Chanbin and Chan make room for him like it’s second nature, because it kind of is, now. They fit perfectly in each other’s arms. 

It only lasts for a couple of seconds, though, because then they’re rushing deeper into the apartment, already fighting over who gets the biggest closet.

( “I have way more clothes than you—”

“I am your hyung, Han Jisung, so help me god— ”) 

And Chan just fucking loves them. He loves them so, so much. 

So he says as much.

And then they christen every surface in the apartment, with nothing but the two travel size packets of lube that Chan keeps in his glove compartment and a fuck ton of creativity and enthusiasm. 

They’re just, like that.