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Sprawled across the couch with his elbow digging into Minho’s side, Jisung takes the advantage of their already existing position to nudge the other’s arm along with making a show of the groan escaping his lips for a better distractive outcome, the sound definitely coming out louder and exaggerated than its original form. It’s a pity that his attempt fails, just like the previous ones he had managed to sneak in the past hour, and it kills him inside to admit that he’s simply running out of tricks that can have a chance to work against Minho’s undeterrable concentration.
Yet, he knows he needs to do something —he can’t lose another round of MarioKart and have Minho hang it over his head as a leverage to make him pay for their food. Well, not maybe the entire dinner but just the desserts after since he always lets Jisung run from the penalty a little to easily, but Jisung still likes the sweeter alternative of getting away with all of the charges.
It’s a weak defense but being the last resolve in his book, Jisung defeatedly settles for the simple art of communication. He had walked into Minho’s apartment for the day with many things threatening to spill past the tip of his tongue, and even if he has to spend the next hour endlessly chattering about every single excruciating detail about them just to score a win, then let that be the case.
Han Jisung never backs down from a challenge.
“Hey, you know something weird happened today,” Jisung begins, his voice trailing off at places just to make it seem like his words are carelessly picked, instead of having been assembled in the most intriguing manner possible.
“Yeah?” Minho mumbles absent-mindedly, and no, don’t think Jisung is a sore loser for being annoyed by what seems to be like another awaiting failure—it’s definitely not that. It’s just the fact that Minho nods at the screen, instead of him, as a sign to continue and that just really pisses him off.
He’s used to being at the center of Minho’s attention when they’re just the two of them, or really any number of people, in the room.
“The barista at my usual coffee shop—,” Jisung trails off, waiting till the mention strikes up seeds of familiarity in Minho’s brain, only continuing when the other sits up straighter with the confirmation of the subject being Changbin. “He asked me out! It was out of nowhere, I almost spilled my coffee. Can you believe that?”
And there goes Yoshi on the screen, derailing just a little bit from the track .
“Well, he has always been extra polite with you so I guess we should’ve seen it coming,” Minho clears his throat, tightening his grip on the controller in his hands. “I mean, no one gives away a slice of cheesecake, on the house mind you, for no reason.”
“Oh right, I forgot about that,” he giggles at the memory, almost tasting the sweetness of a free-of-cost cheesecake which urges him to get some right now but he stays seated for the bitterness radiating off of Minho’s knee digging into his thigh. It’s an interesting flavor on the other, the boy who’s always so nonchalant and composed.
Jisung revels in the seconds which follow after, clearly sensing as the silence tips Minho further off his balance, only to break eventually and dive back for more details. “What did you say to him, then?” he questions, the nervous gulping down of another thousand questions at the back of the throat not missing Jisung’s hawk-eyed gaze.
Although, he has to admit that once he registers the question, he wants to call Minho out on his act right then and there. It’s not his fault that the other’s making no attempt to hide his real feelings about the situation, by dishing out such an inherently stupid question.
“What did I s—Of course, you already know what I said.”
“I do?” Minho mumbles, his eyebrows furrowed in so deep that there’s a clear frown forming on his forehead—one that Jisung can’t help but mirror because he just can’t figure out what between the game or him has the other all unwinded. He hopes it’s him. “How the fuck would I know? It’s not like we’ve ever talked about him, so I don’t know if you secretly have an all-harboring crush on him and said yes.”
“You’re kidding,” Jisung gasps, suddenly the game becoming the least of his concerns as he drops the controller to turn into Minho’s direction—the action earning himself a disgruntled sound from other about he can’t just give up right in the middle of the round. It’s a pity that Jisung simply does not give a single fuck about two-dimensional victories or losses then. “You’re actually kidding, right?”
The moment that Minho drops his own controller with an exaggerated huff, to meet Jisung’s gaze, doesn’t feel as rewarding as Jisung had imagined it to be. Instead, it just somehow does the job of pissing him off more because what the hell?
He had been all in for tip-toeing at the edge of the water, carelessly flirting with Minho while the other blushed and yet pretended to be unaffected by his words. Yet, a whole year of the cat-and-mouse chase keeping him at the ledge had been exhausting, and he’s spent way too many nights dreaming of kissing Minho’s nonchalance away to render him a mess, to feign innocence in this moment. And if the idea of a jealous Minho had secretly turned him into a giggly mess, well that’s a secret no one will ever know—especially after the subject in question is busy stamping down on his hopes one step at a time.
“Why are you getting so worked up over this?” Minho mutters while trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone, but he should’ve known it slips through the creases forming on his forehead. “If you don’t wanna let me know, then that’s fine. We can drop it.”
“No, I don’t wanna fucking drop it!” Jisung yells, surprising himself with the volume but the other’s raised eyebrow at the outburst tips off him more. He needs to break Minho. “I’m just really fucking annoyed because you keep acting like this—like I would say yes to him when that’s the last thing possible.”
“So you didn’t say yes to him? Is that all?”
Clenching his fists isn’t enough insulation for Jisung to not tackle Minho and shake him until a jealousy-filled confession is slipping out of his lips, so he only does the next best thing—getting up from the couch to put some distance between them. It’s frustrating to say the least, as he’s the only one who paces around in Minho’s living room, while the other sits there pretending that there isn’t anything special enough between them that would keep Jisung from saying yes to other romantic prospects.
He had heard the word from some of his friends, warning him to be careful of Minho’s cold demeanour and not get too involved, but he had been a resilient fool to stand up each time—spending hours and hours to advocate for the older’s under-the-surface endearing quirks. In this moment though, Jisung wonders if he had been wrong. Just another fool tricked by the beauty and bewitching sound of his laughter to think that Minho’s redenned ears and shy smiles, the hand around his waist and lips whispering secrets into his ears, were something meaningful.
“Jisungie, seriously. What’s goin—,” Minho says while raising from his position to grab a hold of Jisung’s wrist and ground him in a place, but he easily fails through when the other’s voice begins to distract him from the action.
“Why the fuck would you think that I would say yes to him when I have us—when I have you ?” Jisung tries to stabilize his voice, losing all the will within to continue this game with Minho. Even if he has to be the one to lose, he prefers doing it with an honest heart in front of the other instead of stewing upon the possibility and regrets of all they could be within the walls of his own mind. “Do you really see me as some kind of insincere prick who would say yes to someone else when they’re so clearly in love with their best friend? Or, are you maybe the insensitive prick who’s been giving their best friend false hope into thinking there could be something between the two?”
It’s a whole outburst—hours and hours of sleepless nights and daydreaming slipping past Jisung’s deeper pockets of the brain in an instant daze—and he almost expects Minho to follow behind with a rant of his own right after; Whether it would be an endearing confession or a defensive argument for his own honor, he isn’t so sure. Yet, when he looks up to meet Minho’s gaze boring into his figure, he definitely does not expect the other to stand there frozen.
He looks broken … and cute, with his eyes widened and lips slightly parted in a way that reveals his front bunny teeth, which does wonders to Jisung’s heart.
“Us?”
Well, that is just one word and still it somehow manages to make the air so much more heavier than Jisung’s entire monologue.
“Well, yeah. Now don’t stand there looking all innocent, as if you had no idea about all the times we have flirted with each other,” Jisung sputters, making a mission to trace about each and everything in the room as long as it keeps his reddening cheeks out of Minho’s field of vision.
“We flir—I flirted with you?!”
Jisung had a lot of things on his checklist today: picking up groceries, winning at Mario Kart, procrastinating on some deadlines and others that he’s probably forgetting. Making Minho have a realization about their flirtatious shenanigans definitely wasn’t on the list, though.
“Why are you asking me that!” Jisung walks right up to Minho, closer than he would dare to be in the middle of an argument, but it’s always been their thing; Personal space becoming the least of their considerations, and he can only hope that applies even today when he’s pushed just a little beyond further than usual. “Did you seriously think asking me out as your prom date wasn’t flirting? Did you think I platonically said yes to going on a date with you on pepero day?”
“I didn’t know that wa—,” Minho sharply inhales, the surprise never leaving his veins as he stands there with Jisung inches away from him but see, that’s the thing; It’s unexpected and yet there’s not a single cell in his body that urges him to move away from something that feels so right.
“Did you think going at the top of Namsan tower and clicking pictures together at those stupid couple spots was platonic?” Jisung rambles, not giving the older even a second-long window to interrupt because there’s so much he has got. All the little things he has gushed over by himself are finally being heard by someone. “Did you think me saying no to every guy who has asked me out for months was me enjoying singlehood? Did you think you could do this as friends?” he wraps his arms around Minho’s neck, inching closer until their bodies are pressing close enough for him to rest his head against the sound of Minho’s leaping heart—a clear imitation of the position Minho had adopted just days ago, when he had asked for Jisung’s company on the dance floor.
He stays there for longer than he expects himself to be allowed to, the push from Minho’s end never coming to leave him stumbling. Instead, what he feels after a whole minute of letting his heartbeat dance to the rhythm of the other’s breathing is a hand wrapping around his waist—nervous, yet firm, just like his had been on the night he was attempting to recreate. And it’s with every finger that Minho lays upon him that the anger seeps away from his being, leaving behind a nervous tingle that has him struggling to breathe.
“I’m sorry,” he hears Minho whisper right next to his ear, as the grip on the small of his back tightens. There’s a cautiousness in every part of it, both the words and the touch, and it scares Jisung to the core because he’s so comfortable here. He’s so comfortable being in Minho’s arms that any hint of being stripped of this moment leaves him feeling bare and so, so cold.
Maybe he had been a fool to try and fight his way into something more.
He knows he should withdraw, not let himself get any more used to the warmth that radiates off of Minho’s presence in his life but he stays, snuggling his head into Minho’s chest as the other continues. “I’m sorry for not realizing what I was doing or what you were feeling, Jisungie. I guess I just never thought much about that stuff with you—did whatever felt right.”
Jisung wants to curse at him, ask him just about how it could’ve been easy for him to go along with all those things without having his heart jump outside his throat, but he doesn’t need to. The answer’s right there for him to walk away with, and still it’s just another day where this isn’t so easy for him.
He knows they’ll stay friends even after this; He’s too attached to falling asleep in Minho’s bed, and even if this revelation comes with losing some of his privileged cuddles, he’ll make do with whatever ounce he gets of it as friends. He knows Minho’s no better either, too used to Jisung’s presence by his side as they walk down the street together, to accept the idea of making their scheduled runs by himself. It’s all the same and yet so different, because this time it comes with the knowledge that there can never be anything more.
“Makes sense, I shouldn’t have read too much into it,” Jisung whispers, his voice cracking at the end but at least he’s able to keep himself the tiniest bit composed—enough to not break down into tears till he’s out of Minho’s apartment. “I’ll leave for now, hyung,” he continues to untangle his arms from around the older’s figure.
“Wait, no,” Minho jumps in, readjusting his hold on Jisung’s waist to pull him back from his attempts at escaping. It isn’t as forceful of a grip to send the younger flying against his chest again, enough distance persisting between them to offer Jisung a chance to walk away but also hear Minho out, this time with their eyes focused on each other’s with no room for avoidance. “I never said this doesn’t feel right.”
Jisung ignores the breath that hitches in his throat, making another attempt at drawing in another long puff of air as he takes his sweet time processing the words that leave Minho’s lips. The passing seconds don’t have the effect he expects though, as they instead leave him feeling more and more convinced of this moment to be a dream.
“I don’t think I ever thought about my feelings, or us, carefully enough to realize that there could be anything more. I just accepted that I was simply this different person with you, always so comfortable and unhesitant,” Minho says, making sure to focus his gaze on the person in his arms as if he’s the only part of the world worth his attention. “But today, you made me think of us as something more and I’m just now realizing that I don’t hate the idea. In fact, I like thinking of the possibility of calling you mine and being us in a non-platonic way.”
“Are you sure?” Jisung whispers, finding it hard to bask in the glory of Minho’s sincere words when he has worries pounding his head, making him wonder if he’s the reason they’re trying to push into an unwanted territory. He knows Minho isn’t the type to give socially desirable responses in situations, but he wonders if him being the additional part in the equation can result in that possibility. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into reconsidering your feelings just because we’re friends, hyung.”
“I’m not.”
“Maybe you are, without even realizing. If you want some time to think it over again, then please don’t hesitate to let me know—.”
“Can I kiss you?” Minho interrupts, breaking off Jisung’s another long monologue about just how he shouldn’t have to rush into things.
And well, it’s an effective way of shutting him up because Jisung doesn’t think any other thing is capable enough of knocking all the sensible thoughts out of his head. He can’t help but stand there, still refusing to process the words that are a straight-up rendition of his countless wildest dreams.
“What?”
Minho seems just as taken aback in the moment, blood rushing to his cheeks as he bites down on his lower lip—a habit that Jisung doesn’t approve of much in the moment when he’s doing everything in his power to keep his eyes away from the said temptation.
“Well, I don’t know,” Minho sucks in a deep breath, surprisingly enjoying the feeling of heat pooling at the back of his neck. Having Jisung around almost always leaves him with new discoveries about himself like his preference for mint chocolate ice cream, iced americanos, rom-coms, anime and so on, yet there hasn’t been a single day where he has hated that. “I just kept thinking about it after I started considering us dating and you know I have no filter with you. It’s all just your fault if you think about it. Not to mention, you were the one who decided to stand so close—.”
“Yes.”
It’s the first time Minho dares to move his arm from its position on Jisung’s back, the soreness from the tight grip begging him to halt his attempts but he continues nonetheless—shaking breaths accompanying his journey to close the distance standing between him and Jisung, as he cups the younger’s cheek hesitantly. With how close they had already been standing, surging forward doesn’t take more than a second but he still awaits, enjoying the opportunity to stare at Jisung’s features in such close proximity.
How has he never noticed the mole on Jisung’s collarbone before?
He almost gets too lose in the surrealness of it all—of all the glimmer residing in Jisung’s eyes—until a disgruntled whine from the other breaks him from his trance. The reminder is what pushes him to lean in completely, the smile never faltering from the corner on his lips, as he feels the silken, plump touch of Jisung’s lips against his own. It’s an ineffective strategy to try and explore every bit of the younger, when the ever-present grin refuses to let him do anything beyond tug at the other’s lower lip, but thankfully he’s got Jisung—always so willing to compliment Minho’s efforts in any and every endeavor, as he sweeps past the older’s lips to unite the rhythm of their tongues.
Minho doesn’t even remember letting his other hand run up into Jisung’s hair, only registering the texture of the strands filtering through his fingers when they part in their search for air. Even though he has never gotten intoxicated off of any substances, he’s sure this is the feeling that all textbooks describe—the absolute euphoric high, accompanied by the desperation of jumping back in for more, all with the absolute smoke that hazes upon any hints of sanity.
“And?” he hears Jisung, his voice almost a whisper among the gasps to stabilize his breathing but it’s hard to miss when they’re still pressed close—Minho’s forehead resting against the younger’s.
“ Right ,” Minho huffs out, gulping down the urge to lean right back for another taste of Jisung. He thinks he’s already forgetting the feeling of it all. “It felt right.”
Yet, just because he’s too good at fighting his impulses and demons does not mean Han Jisung is. Instead, the younger is a mess at holding back from things he wants in life and the next moment where he closes the distance between them to capture Minho’s lips in another sweet, long kiss is just a proof of that.