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Jisung had always been… weird, when it came to sex.
When Jisung was a kid, and the school and his parents taught him sex ed, he was still young enough where he and his classmates only snickered, finding the topic weird and gross. The boys in his class still thought girls had cooties, and like them, Jisung couldn’t even fathom the idea of being attracted to a girl, let alone doing that with one.
But as they got older, everyone else got curious and experimental. The same classmates who had snickered at the mere idea of sex in grade school were now circulating girlfriends like it was a buffet, and Jisung was no stranger to hearing about their sexual escapades. Jisung still didn’t get it, but everyone told him he would when he found the right girl, and then he’d want nothing but sex, all the time.
Well, they were wrong, on multiple fronts.
Jisung found a girl towards the end of high school, who was really sweet and smart, and they got along great. Everyone around them said they should date, that they’d be a perfect fit, so they did. And it was fine, until it wasn’t. Jisung thought Areum was a sweetheart, and he adored spending time with her, but any time she tried to initiate anything physical between them, he panicked. He’d always been told that when he’d found the right girl, he’d always want to be touching her, kissing her, holding her, and having sex with her. But he felt none of that towards Areum. Holding hands was nice, he supposed, and her sweet kisses left on his cheek after school every day reminded him of his mother’s, comforting and kind. But he never desired anything more. He was content the way things were.
Areum wanted more, though, and she made it clear in her actions and her words. Jisung tried to brush it off, to skirt around the topic the best he could, but she was insistent, teasing him about being a shy virgin, promising to make his first time good.
She was straddled on top of his lap, grinding down on him, kissing his skin, peeling his shirt off, her hands roaming down, and Jisung knew he should be feeling good, feeling excited, feeling some level of want, but there was nothing. No arousal, no desire…. Nothing but a vague sense of panic as she reached for his pants zipper. His hand caught her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. He tried to explain what he was feeling, but he couldn’t. She got mad, yelled at him about leading her on and being a shitty boyfriend, before leaving him alone in his room, feeling worse than ever before.
Areum wasn’t the first time Jisung had a near-sexual experience like that, and it wouldn’t be the last. Jisung learned pretty soon that he didn’t actually like girls at all, and for a while, he convinced himself that surely that explained his lack of desire for sex. After all, he got horny a couple times a month and would rub one out to the images of his favorite boy band members, so surely that meant he was normal, right? His experiences with Areum and his other ex girlfriends were all just unfortunate bad circumstances stemming from him being gay, and if he dated men, he was certain it would be different.
All it took was for one passing hand to slide down into his boxers one night on the couch with his boyfriend of 6 months to realize it wasn’t at all because they were girls. Jisung was uncomfortable, to say the least, and felt something awful crawling beneath his skin. He’d been putting physical intimacy - aside from hand holding, cuddling, and occasional kissing - off limits under the excuse that the time was never right or that he simply “wasn’t ready” for that next step in their relationship. But Yungyeom had been so patient and clearly really wanted to have sex, so Jisung let things get more heated, more handsy, hoping that finally, maybe it would all click into place, and his discomfort and fears would go away.
But as soon as he felt Yungyeom’s fingers brush the coarse hair of his pubic region, he felt the panic settle in his core, and he pushed his boyfriend off of him. Yungyeom tried to convince him, promising he’d make him feel good, that he’d enjoy himself, that there was nothing to be worried about, but Jisung wouldn’t cave. He made an excuse, at the time, claimed he wasn’t feeling well. Yungyeom finally laid off the pressure, but not without a scowl settled in his eyebrows.
Two weeks later, his boyfriend broke up with him over text, calling him a prude, saying that he deserved a better partner who cared about his needs. Someone who wasn’t Jisung.
And for the next several relationships, they all repeated that same script. Jisung would resist sexual advances for the first good portion of the relationship, and his boyfriends would be receptive of his boundaries, usually, giving him time to be comfortable. But eventually, after varying lengths of time, be it a couple months or a whole year, they would get inpatient, and try to get things to progress further. Jisung would try, no one could say he wasn’t trying, but he physically couldn’t stop the panic and the discomfort, and before things got too far, he’d always chicken out. Sometimes his boyfriends yelled at him, sometimes they sighed in disappointment, and sometimes they would just walk out, and never speak to him again. They all ended the same, though. Jisung always ended up single with a sneering comment or two from his newest ex on the list, echoing in his head, reminding him just how broken he was.
Prude. Freak. Unfit for a relationship. Immature. Selfish. Weird. Asshole.
One of his exes even told him that Jisung shouldn’t even be trying to date other gay men since he was clearly only “wasting their time.”
Jisung spent a long time avoiding romance all together after that, too afraid of being confronted yet again with his inability to have sex. It didn’t make any sense to Jisung why he always got so… weird about it. He knew how sex worked, he knew there was nothing to be afraid of if you’re using protection, he knew it didn’t have to involve penetration and he knew that someday there was a lot of kinks he wanted to try out and explore. In his head, he could imagine himself enjoying sex with a faceless man, worshiping each other’s bodies, eliciting heavenly sounds from each other, making love to each other like you do in regular relationships. But as soon as he was faced with the real task of any physical intimacy in a relationship, all it brought for him from dread and anxiety. In fact it had actively ruined the last few of his relationships, because he knew they were getting to a place in their relationship that sex would be on the table, and the idea made him so anxious and panicky that he began getting distant and even unconsciously avoiding his boyfriends, all because he didn’t want to be confronted with sex.
Jisung’s therapist said it was just his anxiety, that all he had to do was take that leap to get past his first time, and he’d get over all his hangups and he’d be fine again. Normal. A regular, sex-having gay man. But Jisung wasn’t convinced. He’s known about his anxiety for over half his life now, and he’s pretty familiar with how it feels and how to handle it. Sure, his anxiety was triggered by the idea of having sex, but he wasn’t sure it was the root of the problem. Because it wasn’t just that he was anxious, but he was uncomfortable too. The idea of being naked in front of someone, of them touching him intimately, of them seeing him so vulnerable, it made his skin crawl, not with disgust, but with discomfort. Everything surrounding the idea of him having sex with anyone felt wrong, and no one understood it but him.
After a long time of thought and research, Jisung discovered that there was a thing called asexuality, and that it was a spectrum of people who essentially experienced varying degrees of lack of desire for sex or sex repulsion. Some people had some sex drive, but it was lower and limited to their long term partner. Some experienced none at all and were actually completely repulsed by the act of sex. Some only experience sexual attraction and desire for sex after a long time of getting close to someone. And across all these different experiences, each individual had their own set of rules for how they dealt with sex. It was interesting, and Jisung was sad he’d never heard about it sooner, but it wasn’t surprising since it seemed the most common popular belief among people was that asexuality wasn’t real, and that people on the spectrum were either in need of therapy, or medical intervention. Jisung had tried therapy, and that hadn’t worked, and his doctor said he had a clean bill of health, so there was nothing wrong with him in that department either.
Jisung decided after a lot of thought that he was probably on the spectrum, deciding demi-sexuality seemed to suit him best. He was certain that if he could get to a point of complete comfort and not feel pressured about sex, he would eventually be willing to partake, and probably even enjoy it. It was just hard for him to do so when every relationship he’d been in wagered the prospect of sex as an end-all-be-all to the relationship even being serious at all, and no one had had the patience or grace to let him get to that point of comfort without it feeling like a looming shadow of doom over his shoulder. He always knew it was coming, and it made it impossible to feel comfortable because it felt like a ticking time bomb in his lap. If he didn’t get comfortable fast enough for his partner, they’d try to coerce or force him, and would get upset when he put it off again. And then his boyfriend would leave him, and he’d start the process all over again. Wash, rinse, repeat. A never ending cycle of assholes who thought that entering a relationship meant automatic access to his body.
After a while, Jisung stopped even trying to look for a relationship. He couldn’t cope with the constant anxiety while in one anymore, and he’d become completely disillusioned about the prospect of finding anyone who would love him regardless of having sex or not. Sex seemed to be the one thing everyone wanted, and no matter how much they claimed to love him, the moment they realized he wasn’t just going to get over it one day and roll over to let himself be fucked, they got tired of him, and left.
Jisung learned the hard way that the world didn’t respect him or people like him. He was just broken, and a nuisance. Nobody wanted a boyfriend who didn’t want to have sex, so why would anyone bother giving him the time of day? It was useless to try, when every relationship ended with another reminder that if he wasn’t offering sex, then a relationship with him wasn’t worth anyone's time, energy, or effort. Jisung wasn’t worth loving if his love didn’t come attached to sex, and it broke something inside him. He’d always had so much love to give, so much hope, so many dreams and aspirations for the future. He imagined buying a house and getting married to some faceless man, adopting cats or maybe kids, greeting each other with warm smiles and gentle kisses after long days at work, and curling up in bed to a warm embrace that exuded comfort and safety. Jisung wanted that, he wanted to offer that to someone else too, but no one wanted it. Not from him. Not from the 25 year old virgin who’s too scared of sex to even hold a relationship. So Jisung stayed single, for a long, long time.
And then he met Lee Minho.
Lee Minho was probably the single prettiest man Jisung had ever met. They met through Hyunjin, ironically enough, and was one of Hyunjin’s coworkers, getting invited to his birthday bash at the bar. Minho smiled prettily at him when Hyunjin introduced them, and sat across from him at the table as everyone began chatting about the events in their week, work, school, and their social lives. But by the end of the night, the two of them were in their own little world. Minho took over the spot Chan had vacated beside Jisung, and they chatted for hours about everything, anything, and nothing at all. Anime, movies, books, music, work, the city, their favorite alcohol, even listing off the weirdest foods they’d ever eaten. Jisung was smitten from the moment he heard the older’s giggle, but…
He resisted any temptation to mark himself as interested. He knew it would only lead to disappointment and heartbreak.
He and Minho became close friends quickly, however, and after a few months, Minho was drunkenly confessing how pretty and adorable he thought Jisung was in the back of Felix’s car as they drove home from a concert. It was endearing, and made Jisung’s heart flutter, but he couldn’t escape the whisper in the back of his mind.
He just finds you attractive. He just wants sex. He’ll leave you the moment you don’t give him what he wants. He won’t get it. No one will ever understand you.
Jisung tried to put some distance between them after that, hoping that whatever feelings Minho may or may not have could be curbed to just a close friendship, but after three days of no contact, Minho showed up on his doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and an apology on his lips, eyes sad, but hopeful.
“I’m sorry,” Minho said. “Felix told me what I said when I was drunk the other night, about how I kept coming on really strong and that I made you really uncomfortable. I’m so sorry, I never meant to or want to make you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have let myself get so comfortable and loose lipped while drunk about someone who I’ve only known for a little while. I just… I really like you Jisung, and I did mean what I said. I think you’re beautiful and smart and funny and adorable and… if you’d let me, I want to take you on a date.”
Jisung was too stunned to speak for several seconds, staring at the man at his front door with wide eyes because he simply couldn’t believe that Lee Minho wanted to take him on a date. It seemed absurd.
“If you’re not interested, that’s okay too,” Minho continued anxiously, biting his lower lip between his teeth. “We can just go back to being friends, if you want, or we can just stop talking altogether if I’ve made things too awkward now-”
“No!” Jisung cut him off, not wanting Minho to spiral any further with that line of thought. “I… I want to go on a date with you. I’d really like that actually.” He couldn’t allow himself to overthink it, to let that doom creep over him to remind him about what would ultimately become of their relationship. Jisung liked Minho, a lot, and though he wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready for a relationship, if he’d ever be able to handle one, he knew he’d be a fool to let this opportunity slide. Minho was special to him, and he wanted to give it a chance.
Minho’s lips broke into a wide, gleaming smile, his beautiful eyes crinkling into little cressents. “Really? Are you free now? There’s a ramen place a few blocks away that I’ve been really wanting to try with you.”
Jisung agreed, and thus began the easiest relationship he’d ever been in.
Dating Minho was wonderful. He was kind and thoughtful, loved just spending quality time together, and never pushed for anything more than simple hand holding or the occasional goodbye kiss. He was the definition of a gentleman, holding doors for him and always offering to pay, even though Jisung often fought for them to split the check. Most of the time, Jisung felt at ease, and he started to imagine a life that he could have with Minho by his side, enjoying his calming presence and quick-witted humor. He imagined what it would be like to move out together, to share their space with Minho’s three cats, to host dinners for their friends at their own dining table, to wake up in the mornings to find Minho shirtless in the kitchen, making them coffee and breakfast. They were boyfriends now, which meant it was a possibility that it could go that direction.
But it also meant that eventually, things would swing towards the activities Jisung didn’t even want to think about. In previous relationships, Jisung had tried to do the mature thing and communicate his boundaries in advance. He would usually tell his partner that he wasn’t comfortable with sex early on, and that he’d let them know when he felt ready. They never, of course, actually waited for him to give the green light, but he thought he was doing the right thing by warning them. Instead, it felt like he’d put a flashing sign on his forehead, marking him for ridicule and scrutiny.
Jisung didn’t want to take that risk with Minho. Though he knew that the older man was patient and kind, he didn’t know how long that patience would last, and the last thing Jisung wanted was to screw up the best relationship he’d ever had by revealing that he actually wasn’t suited for a proper romantic relationship at all. Jisung didn’t want this relationship to fail, so he made a promise to himself.
He was going to get over it. For Minho. He was going to give Minho what he deserved in a proper romantic relationship, and though he wouldn’t exactly offer it on a silver platter, if Minho tried to progress anything he’d let him. He’d let Minho take whatever he needed if it kept him happy, if it kept up the facade that Jisung was normal and worthy of his love. He liked Minho too much to jeopardize their relationship over his stupid hangups about sex.
So for the first few months, Jisung did his best to fight off the cloud of doom, to breathe through the anxiety, and ignore the creeping dread beneath his skin. He was sure that once the first time was out of the way, the anticipation would disappear, and everything would be fine. He just had to power through one round of sex and then he would never have to feel scared or gross or uncomfortable again.
But when the time finally did come, some four months after they began dating, it didn’t go the way Jisung planned.
They were on the couch cuddling, watching a random anime they’d selected off their streaming service, when Minho’s lips began to press gentle kisses down Jisung’s neck. They were soft, a little ticklish, even, and it seemed at first Minho was doing it casually while distracted watching the show. Eventually, however, his lips traveled up Jisung’s jaw, igniting goosebumps across his skin as the older finally slotted their lips together, gentle and loving. What started as a few chaste pecks quickly turned deeper, tongues tasting each other’s mouths as Minho moved to lay right on top of Jisung, their show long forgotten. Jisung lost track of time, their lips swollen by the time Jisung even realized where Minho’s hand was slowly traveling towards.
Down his arms, across his waist, down his hips, and under him to reach his ass. Jisung would’ve been embarrassed about the whining noise he made when Minho squeezed, if not for the alarm bells blaring in his head, telling him exactly what was going to come next. This was it, it was finally happening. Minho was ready to get up to more intimate activities, and it was time for Jisung to finally get over his issues about sex. Minho probably wasn’t going to want to actually fuck for the first time on Jisung’s couch, but he was probably going to want something. Maybe a blowjob, or maybe he’d want to finger Jisung. Maybe he’d want Jisung to finger him. Jisung didn’t know what would come next, but his brain was spinning a million miles a minute, trying to think of each possible scenario and plan out exactly what he needed to be prepared to do in each one. The sweet taste of Minho’s lips had turned sour and bitter, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering around turned to acid that flipped around inside him, making him nauseous. But it was okay, he could do this, he told himself. He had to do this, He had to power through this, he had to make it good for Minho, he had to make sure Minho had no idea how badly he just wanted to run away and never return. He had to prove to himself and to Minho that he could be a good boyfriend. He could make himself worthy of Minho’s love and devotion. He could. He would.
But the moment Minho began to pull the waistband of Jisung’s sweats down, his brain blanked out. All his self assurances and confidence went out the window like dust from an autumn sweep, and instinctually, his hand caught Minho’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks from taking down Jisung’s pants. Minho, of course, immediately froze, laying stiff above the younger as his eyes immediately searched for Jisung’s. He didn’t seem angry or upset, just… worried, as he gazed down at Jisung, as if the younger hadn’t just blue balled him. Jisung tried to hide his face, skin heating up at the embarrassment of what he’d just done. All his hype talk for nothing, he was still just as useless and afraid as before, and now Minho knew too.
“Too far?” Minho asked softly, his voice kind and understanding. Had any of Jisung’s exes been kind after he stopped them from having sex? Maybe his first girlfriend, after the first time he stopped them, but everything after that was just snide remarks about being a prude or a shy little virgin. “We can stop if you want, we don’t have to do anything else, Jisungie.” Minho tucked a strand of hair back from Jisung’s eyes, and his heart seized with confliction.
He wanted to get this over with, he wanted to make Minho feel good and to make him happy, but he felt petrified beneath the man, unable to proceed, but not willing to give up yet either. His mouth opened and closed, trying to find the words to explain, but no sound came out. Minho smiled squarely at him before kissing his nose sweetly.
“I think if you aren’t able to voice an answer, then we should stop for now, okay?” Minho decided for them, quickly pulling himself off the younger man into a seated position, before hoisting up Jisung beside him.
“I-I’m sorry, I-” Jisung tried to stutter out, but Minho shushed him with a shake of his head.
“Don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong. I should’ve asked before anything got heated. Let's just relax now, okay?” An arm slid around Jisung’s waist, pulling him gently into Minho’s side. It should’ve been comforting, but the whispers in his mind came back louder, and stronger.
You fucked up. You upset him. He’s mad at you. You’re just as incapable and unworthy as you’ve always been. You haven’t changed.
Jisung tried to tune it out, tried to remind himself that Minho had said it was fine, and he was still here, with his arm around him, watching their show. Minho hadn’t yelled at him, or even seemed angry, but the voice kept getting louder, and louder, and louder. Jisung's heart rate was picking up, he could feel it thundering in his ears, and before he could break down into a full meltdown in front of his boyfriend, he hastily excused himself to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
Jisung gripped the edges of the bathroom counter granite, trying his best to breathe deeply as everything around him spun around. He could still hear the show in the other room, loud enough to remind Jisung that he’d left Minho in there. He was locked in the bathroom, crying, muffling his sobs with his own fist, and Minho was probably sitting on the couch on the other side of the door, wondering why his boyfriend didn’t want sex and why he was now running and hiding in the bathroom. His head kept replaying the singular moment of panic when Minho’s hand grabbed his sweats, how it felt like his heart stopped in his chest and his stomach dropped out of his body. Minho wouldn’t hurt him, Minho hadn’t even done anything wrong, and yet Jisung panicked and backed out like he always does, and now he’s fucked everything up. Minho knows something is wrong with him now, he’s going to catch on sooner or later that Jisung doesn’t want sex, and it’ll go one of two ways. Either Minho will believe Jisung doesn’t want him and doesn’t find him attractive, or he’ll think that Jisung is withholding sex as some sort of power trip. Either way, in Jisung’s experience, both scenarios end in Jisung heartbroken and single once more.
He was going to lose the best boyfriend he’s ever had, someone who he was genuinely beginning to fall in love with, all because he couldn't be normal. Jisung wished he could be normal.
Jisung spent what felt like hours to calm down, but every time the tears finally stopped and he got a chance to breathe, he would take one look in the mirror, seeing his tear stained and swollen, blotchy face, and break down once more. He couldn’t go out there looking like this or Minho would know - if he hadn’t figured it out already - that something was wrong. He’d probably press for answers, or maybe even ask why Jisung blue balled him. Maybe he’d accuse Jisung of rubbing one out in the bathroom real quick after stopping the sexual advancements; one of his exes had been convinced that that’s what Jisung would always do.
But if Jisung didn’t leave the bathroom, Minho would eventually come looking for him, or just give up and leave. He couldn’t stay locked in there forever, but even the thought of facing Minho’s pretty face right now made Jisung’s soul want to escape his body and fly into the atmosphere. He didn’t want Minho to know what was wrong with him, but the cat was already out of the bag, and if Minho hadn’t put all the pieces together yet, he would eventually. It was only a matter of time before Minho sent that dreaded message to break up. The beginning of the end was here, and Jisung had hoped, prayed, and pleaded with any god that would listen that he’d have more time. But his prayers went unanswered. It was already over, Jisung had lost the war with himself, and destroyed everything he’d worked so hard to conceal.
A soft knock on the door startled Jisung out of his doom-crazed spiral, head shooting up to stare at the door, where the shadow of Minho could be seen beneath it. Jisung expected the older to try the handle, but instead he was silent for a moment, before finally speaking.
“Jisungie?” His voice sounded strained, almost thick. Was he mad already? Probably. “You’ve been in there for a while, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Of course. Of course Minho wasn’t going to yell at him. Minho was too kind for that, even if he was angry with him, and the reminder made a fresh wave of tears stream from Jisung’s eyes. “I-I’m okay. Just not feeling well.” Jisung hoped his voice didn’t sound as watery to Minho as it did to his own ears.
“Do you need anything?” Minho offered. “I can run to the store to get cold medicine, or make you some food. It’s getting late and I know you haven’t eaten yet…”
Jisung glanced at his phone that at some point he’d dropped on the floor, and his heart sank looking at the time on the screen. 11PM. He’d been hiding for almost an hour. Fuck. He really had fucked everything up, hadn’t he? “No, i-it’s okay,” Jisung replied softly. “You should probably head home. I don’t want you to have to walk home when it’s too cold outside.”
Minho was quiet for another long moment, before asking, “Are you sure? I don’t mind staying for longer if you need me to.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. It’s okay, Min. Just get home safe,” Jisung responded, his lip wobbling with the urge to sob again.
“Okay,” Minho said, and Jisung hated how defeated his voice sounded. “Just let me know if you need anything, I’m only a call or text away. Goodnight, Jisungie. Try to get some rest.”
“Y-you too. Goodnight.”
Jisung waited until he heard the front door of his apartment close, silence settling over his home, before finally falling to the floor and sobbing his heart out.
The next week was a blur. Jisung fell asleep on the bathroom floor and woke up with back pain and swollen eyes. He had a couple messages from Minho, asking how he was feeling, but Jisung’s responses were dry, unable to spare the emotional capacity to type out more than a “fine” in reply. Minho kept texting him over the next few days, but he eventually gave up, clearly realizing that Jisung wasn’t behaving like himself.
Meanwhile, Jisung practically rotted on the couch, lacking the energy to eat more than a small snack here and there, and staring blankly at the walls. He thought about a lot of things, about his exes and about how useless he was, but mostly he thought about Minho. He thought about how kind and generous he was, how his smile and laugh lit up the room. He thought about how merely days ago, they were sitting on that same couch, cuddling and enjoying each other’s presence, happy and blissful. He thought about all the hopes he’d had for the future with Minho, how much he’d wanted to make Minho happy, to love him properly, to make him feel wanted and desired. He thought about how ridiculous it was that something as stupid as taking off his pants led him to spiral out of control and sabotage the first good thing he’d had in his life in years.
Jisung had already accepted that this was the end. Though usually his exes took a few more chances to try to coerce him into sex before ending things, despite his fears, Minho didn’t seem like the type to try to force Jisung into anything he didn’t want. Hell, despite Jisung’s awful reaction, Minho had been kind and immediately backed off when Jisung gave the first sign that he didn’t want to progress, so that had to count for something, right? None of Jisung’s exes had given up that easily, so he considered it a good sign that Minho had taken the rejection well. Either way, Minho would realize, probably sooner rather than later, that they weren’t compatible. He’d realize that Jisung was a waste of his time, and he’d leave.
Everyone always leaves.
Because Jisung was broken. He wasn’t normal. They deserve better than him.
Jisung was interrupted from his self-destructive spiral by a tentative knock on his door, close to a week after the incident with Minho. He was still vegetating on the couch, in a hoodie and sweats he hadn't changed out of for a few days. His heart stuttered in his chest the moment he heard the knock, wondering who the hell it could be. Minho didn’t visit without letting him know ahead of time, nor did any of their friends. He hadn’t ordered anything either. Perhaps someone just had the wrong apartment number. They’d go away soon enough.
The knock came again, this time followed by a soft, muffled voice. “Jisungie, are you home?” Minho’s voice carried into the living room, making Jisung’s blood turn to ice in his veins. Why was Minho here? Was he finally fed up with Jisung’s bullshit? Was he here to end their relationship?
Jisung sat frozen, staring at the shadow under his front door, expecting at any moment for the older to just give up and walk away. But Minho stayed, right where he was in front of the door, knocking again after another minute or so of silence. Jisung internally groaned, knowing how stubborn his boyfriend could be. Minho clearly wasn’t giving up, and Jisung couldn’t avoid this forever. Hiding in his apartment, ignoring texts and calls… it was only delaying the inevitable. He needed to get it over with, so he could properly grieve and sink into self-loathing without keeping Minho strung along.
With a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, Jisung padded his way across the hardwood floor, reaching to unlock the door with shaking hands, before cracking it open, hiding behind the door like a shield. As if it would protect him from the pain he knew was to come.
But when Jisung’s eyes finally landed on his boyfriend in the doorway, he was stunned into silence at the state he appeared to be in. He was in a pair of stained sweats and a hoodie, his hair an unkempt and greasy mess. He looked a bit paler than usual, almost sickly, and his beautiful chocolate eyes that always held the stars were puffy and ringed with red. He looked at Jisung with so much concern, and something else that the younger couldn’t quite place. It made his heart ache to see Minho looking so worn down.
After a long second of silence, Minho finally snapped out of his daze. “Jisungie, I… I’m sorry for showing up unannounced. I know you’ve clearly been distancing yourself from me this last week and I wanted to respect that, I didn’t want to seem clingy or obsessive but-” Minho took a deep, shaky breath, playing with his fingers poking out of the sleeves of his hoodie. “I just needed to know if you were okay. Last week when we were on the couch, I-I can’t help but feel like I did something horribly wrong, and it’s been driving me insane with worry. Did I… did I do something to hurt you? Did I make you feel unsafe or… or pressured somehow? I can’t stop thinking about how scared you looked and how you couldn’t even bring yourself to tell me no and I… It’s all I’ve been able to think about. I promise you can be honest with me. Please.”
For a long moment, Jisung could only stare in disbelief. Of all the ways he expected this conversation to go, he hadn’t at all expected Minho to be the one seemingly asking for some kind of forgiveness. He didn’t expect Minho to be so distraught over Jisung’s behavior, and to somehow think it was his fault that Jisung had pulled away. But all his thoughts died on his tongue, and the only response he could muster was a simple, “You didn’t come to break up with me?”
Minho’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
Jisung chewed his lip nervously, knuckles white on the edge of the door. “Because that’s always how this goes. After… after I say no. People always leave. I thought you’d be done with me.”
Minho’s expression morphed to something sad, the corners of his lips downturned in a frown. “Is that… is that what your exes have done? Did they leave you because you weren’t ready to have sex?”
Jisung took a deep, steadying breath, before opening the door to his apartment fully. This conversation clearly wasn’t going the way he’d thought it would, and he didn’t want to keep Minho in the hall while hiding behind his door. “Do you want to come in? I can make us some coffee and we can… properly talk about this, if you want.”
Minho nodded eagerly, immediately following Jisung inside and taking a seat on the couch, while Jisung padded into the kitchen to heat up the coffee maker. He tried to busy himself while he waited for it to brew, but his mind kept wandering to his boyfriend watching him from the living room, concern and fondness swirling in his gaze. Had Minho really been worrying about him this whole time, worrying that he'd hurt Jisung somehow? No one had ever cared about him like that before, and while he was surprised, he realized that honestly, he really shouldn’t be. Minho has always been nothing but kind, understanding, and gentle with him. He’d let his fears get the best of him, and it made him assume the worst about a man who’d been nothing but the best to him. Maybe, just this once, he wouldn’t be abandoned for his hang-up and oddities. Maybe Minho would stay.
Jisung carried their mugs of coffee to the couch with a newfound hope, handing the bright pink mug with an orange cat smiling on it to his boyfriend as he sat down beside him. Finally sitting close to the older once more made him want to curl up in his arms and breathe in the comfort and safety he always brought, but he knew for right now they had an important conversation to have.
After taking a sip of the bitter coffee, Jisung decided it was best to start the conversation by answering Minho's original question. “You didn’t do anything to hurt me, Min. I want to start by assuring you of that. In fact, you handled my rejection way better than anyone before you had. I panicked, and froze, and you were nothing but kind and understanding about it. You made me feel safe and that’s not something I’m accustomed to.”
Some of the tension drained from Minho’s shoulders at the reassurance, but the frown was still ever persistent on his lips. “Then why did you hide in the bathroom afterward? I thought surely I’d done something to upset you.”
Jisung shook his head. “I got too in my own head afterward. I started freaking out, thinking that despite how nice you were being, that secretly you were mad at me, that maybe you’d lash out at me, or at the very least that I’d screwed everything up and hurt your feelings or made you feel like I didn’t want you. I didn’t want you to see me freaking out so I just… hid.”
“Did I do or say something to make you think that’s how I felt, or… was it something else?”
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just that that’s always how things have gone. I… I wanted things to be different this time, with you. I didn’t want to screw things up like I always do, and I kept telling myself I wouldn’t, but when you grabbed my pants, I freaked out and fucked everything up, and I couldn’t stop myself from spiralling after.”
Minho’s frown deepened somehow. “You didn’t fuck anything up. I was moving too fast and you weren’t ready, and that’s okay. You’re not obligated to do anything intimate just because we’re together.”
“But I…” Jisung took a shaking breath, his fingers curling into fists in his lap as he prepared to finally tell the truth. “I don’t know when I’ll be ready, or if I’ll ever be ready. I was too afraid to tell you before, but I’m not normal, Minho. Something’s wrong with me, and the mere idea of sex or anything along those lines makes me feel like crawling out of my skin. And it always causes me to hurt the people I’m with, because I can’t give them what they want, what they need to feel wanted and desired. And I didn’t want to do that to you, I tried but I-” Jisung’s voice broke, tears welling in his eyes, thinking of all the people he’d failed, how he’d hurt them and made them feel so unloved, and the mere thought of making Minho feel that way made him feel like crying.
Minho carefully reached across the gap between them, taking Jisung’s hands in his and squeezing them gently. He stayed silent, waiting for Jisung to gather himself enough to finish what he was saying before responding. The comfort worked wonders, and after a few deep breaths, with a wobbling lower lip, Jisung was able to continue.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Min, but I’m afraid that that’s all I’m capable of. It’s all I’ve ever done. I’m not meant for relationships, and every time I’ve tried to push through it I’ve just ruined everything. I don’t want to ruin this, and last week when I stopped you I realized that despite all my internal promises that I’d be better, that I’d do better for you, nothing has changed. I’m still just as scared and uncomfortable as I was before and I’m just gonna end up ruining everything for us.”
A pregnant silence followed Jisung’s confession, the younger too afraid to look up for fear of what he might see on Minho’s face. But Minho’s hands stayed firmly in his, thumbs brushing soothingly over his knuckles, and despite the uncertainty of how Minho would respond, his comforting touch was enough assurance that Minho wasn’t disgusted with him. He wasn’t running away. That had to mean something.
“There’s… a lot I want to say to all of that, but I’m going to start with a simple question,” Minho finally said softly, voice feather light and gentle like a spring breeze. “Sungie, are you asexual? Or somewhere on the ace spectrum? Have you considered that at all?”
“You know what that is?” Jisung replied in shock. No one he knew in his life knew anything about the ace spectrum, and when he told his last ex about it, he’d called it a bunch of made up garbage.
Minho snorted a small laugh, a smile quirking at his lips. “Well, yes, two of my best friends are ace, and they’ve talked with me at length about it many times over the years.”
Jisung gazed at the man before him, the honesty in his eyes, the complete lack of judgement or disgust, and felt a shred of the burden on his shoulders dissipate. “I… Yes. I believe I’m somewhere on the asexual spectrum.”
Minho nodded, his grip on Jisung’s hands tightening slightly, as if preparing for the younger to pull away or try to run. “Nothing is wrong with you for being asexual, Jisung. Nothing at all. Everyone on earth experiences sexuality and attraction differently, and some people, like you, just don’t have much of a desire for sex. And that’s okay. Please, don’t believe that you are somehow abnormal or- or broken for how you feel. Fuck, it breaks my heart to even think that anyone has made you feel that way, because it’s not true. You’re you and you’re absolutely perfect the way you are.”
“You’re not the first person I’ve dated who’s reassured me like that, though, and even he eventually gave up on me,” Jisung responded solemnly.
Minho’s frown came back. “What do you mean?”
“I used to tell people when we dated. About my hangups about sex. About how I wasn’t comfortable with it early on. And they always reassured me that it was okay, that they still liked me, that they didn’t think it was weird and that they were okay with waiting. One even did a whole spiel, similar to yours, when I told him about my exes, about how they were wrong and that there was nothing wrong with me and I didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. But in the end it always ended the same. They all got fed up and restless, and they’d try to coerce me or force me, and when I’d stop them, they’d leave. They all left me. They promised they’d wait, but they couldn’t wait forever and everything just fell apart. And honestly, who am I to ask someone to put aside their needs to protect my comfort? You deserve to feel loved and desired and I can’t give that to you, at least not yet and probably not for a long time, and that’s not fair to you or anyone-”
“I’m gonna stop you right now because that’s bullshit, Jisung.” Minho’s voice was stern, but not angry, his gaze serious as he watched Jisung’s trembling lips and wide eyes. “Your comfort is absolutely important and it is far, far more important than sex. And how fucking dare anyone try to force you or coerce you into something you weren’t ready for. I don’t need sex or any of the associated things to know that you care about me. I don’t need it to feel desired, because I feel your care for me in everything you do. In the pictures of street cats you send me, and the song lyrics, and the coffee you make for me when I come over. Relationships are far more than just sex, and I can’t- I can’t believe anyone would reassure you that they respect your boundaries only to ultimately try to violate them. That’s cruel and fucked up and I’m so fucking sorry that you’ve ever been treated that way. You don’t deserve that.”
“But you still have needs, Minho. I can’t just pretend that you aren’t gonna be horny sometimes-”
“I have two hands, don’t I?”
“You shouldn’t have to resort to that when you have a boyfriend-”
“Han Jisung.” Minho’s hands finally removed themselves from Jisung’s grasp, instead settling on Jisung’s plush cheeks and directing his gaze directly at the older man. “You listen to me, and listen well. Relationships are not one-sided. They require sacrifice. If being with you, if loving you means no sex, then that is a sacrifice I am more than willing to make for the sake of you feeling safe, secure, and respected. Whether it takes one year, five years, or we go our entire lives without ever going down that path, then so be it. I will never be mad, or spiteful, or ever try to force you or convince you if you aren’t ready. No means no. I would never dream of violating you or your trust in such a horrific way. And I promise you, I swear on my life, that that will never change. I won’t lie and say I don’t want sex, because let’s be honest, you are attractive as hell and I’ve wanted a taste of that ass since the moment I laid eyes on it.” Jisung couldn’t help but smile through the wetness in his eyes. “But in the grand scheme of things, sex means very little in comparison to the way I feel about you, and how I feel when I’m with you. Holding your hands, kissing your lips, wrapping you in my arms, sharing coffee with you, watching anime and talking about manga, those little things mean just as much. I’m okay with waiting forever, if I have to, if it means I still get to enjoy those things with you. Just promise me that if I ever begin to cross a line, or if something I do or say makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, that you’ll tell me and stop me. I can’t read your mind, and though I think I’ve got a pretty good grasp of where your boundaries lie, I’m bound to make mistakes. Please don’t let me accidentally hurt you, because I would never forgive myself if I did.”
“You mean it?” Jisung breathed out through his tears, his cheeks glittering with wetness as Minho’s thumbs worked to wipe it away. “You promise you’re okay with waiting however long it takes?”
“I am,” Minho nodded with a reassuring smile. “I swear it.”
The dam finally broke, and Jisung fell into a fit of sobs. His body didn’t know how to handle the relief it felt, finally free of the worry and burdensome anxiety of not knowing when something would happen. Minho had promised him control, promised that he’d wait forever if needed for Jisung to be ready, and Jisung’s chest felt lighter than it had in years. All the stress and fear that had built up all these years was finally gone, and Jisung felt free for the first time in his life.
Minho was quick to pull his boyfriend into his chest, rubbing his hands soothingly over his back and shoulders while the younger man cried. It broke his heart that the bare minimum respect and decency from a partner had his boyfriend this distraught, but he was grateful to finally know what was going on, and to have been able to properly talk about it.
“I promise, too,” Jisung hiccuped into Minho’s chest, heaving for breath. “I promise I’ll be honest, that I won’t try to hide when I’m uncomfortable. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I know I should’ve, but I…”
“You were scared,” Minho finished for him. “And given how you’ve been treated, it’s completely understandable. As long as we can be honest with each other now, that’s all that matters.”
“I really thought you were gonna break up with me,” Jisung laughed through his tears. “I spent this whole week terrified that you were just gonna end things, all because I froze up on the couch. I must be some type of stupid.”
“Not stupid,” Minho shook his head with a fond smile. “Just a bit traumatized, it seems.”
Jisung nodded, finally pulling back from the embrace to lean in and press a salty, wet kiss to Minho’s soft lips. “I love you,” he admitted in the millimeter of space between them. “I’ve never felt more comforted and safe with anyone before. You mean the world to me and I’m… I’m really glad that you’re willing to wait for me.”
“I love you too, Jisungie. I’ll wait a million lifetimes if it means I get to see you smile everyday.”
Jisung would thank the universe everyday that Lee Minho came into his life, and for the first time ever, he felt hopeful about the future.