Chapter Text
Jisung doesn’t really like subways. They smell bad, they’re hot, they’re crowded; sometimes there’s even rats. The trains are loud and they come every five minutes, which means as soon as Jisung finds peace it’s disrupted once again. But of all the places he’s tried out busking, between the park, the street, the courtyard between the dorm buildings on campus, the subway is undoubtedly his star venue. It has the best acoustics, the most foot traffic, and people who are actually willing to donate to a street performer's cause. So here he stands, a guitar strapped to his chest and a microphone pressed to his mouth, performing for the world to see. His donation jar only has $7 in it so far, but he hasn’t been here all that long. The coin donations are a nice thought, they still cheer him up every time he gets them, and dollar bill donations are even better. But what he really wants, the ultimate prize, is to sell a few of his albums. It’s not like he’s asking for anything crazy, five bucks for an album burned in his university's studio decorated with cover art his roommate had made with the help of a free photo editing app. It’s a pretty good value, if he says so himself.
“Nobody has a way to play physical CD’s anymore. Just keep promoting online!” Seungmin always nags. Despite that, he prints out cover art whenever Jisung needs it anyway.
And Jisung does promote online. He promotes online a lot. But he also knows that his strong suit is performing, and that’s not all that easy to show off through the internet. And so he has homemade business cards that tell people exactly where they can find him online sitting right there next to his tip jar, and he goes through them often, because people in the subway occasionally take interest! But he still holds onto the hope that someone, anyone with an extra $5 burning a hole in their pocket, will get inspired by his performances and actually buy an album. So he may not really like subways, but he does find a strange sense of hope in them every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday between the hours of six and eight p.m.
Now it’s six-thirty, and Jisung switches to a new song, one of his favorites off his album. Playing covers is usually what brings in the big bucks, a little ‘Hey There Delilah’ to entertain millennial couples on their way to date night, maybe some Elvis when he sees an older crowd. But he only has two hours here, one and a half now, and his goal is to show off his own songwriting talent, not that of others. It seems to work, because he gets two more donations throughout the length of an original song.
“Thank you all so much, I appreciate it!” Jisung says, giving a cheesy smile to the three people who have stayed behind. “Thank you for watching, and thank you for those who donated. If you’re interested at all, that song can be found on my album. Only five dollars for you folks!”
Two of them smile and nod, and toss him a few coins but excuse themselves. That leaves one, a man around his age, maybe a little older based on the scrubs he adorns. A real working adult. “Can I hear another before I make a choice?” he asks.
“Absolutely!” Jisung says, putting forth his most people-pleasing grin. He really needs a second performance? It’s $5. If you have it, you have it, and he obviously does or he wouldn’t ask. Jisung ignores the mild annoyance and starts playing again, trying to make himself focus on the song to take his mind off it. He still spares a few glances up at the man who, if the soft smile on his face and the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot, seems to be enjoying the music. He’s actually kind of hard not to look at, with his big eyes and perfect lips and stupidly gorgeous bone structure. When Jisung finishes, he leans towards the donation bucket to drop ten dollars in, and would you look at that, his nose is perfect too.
“Oh, thank you!” Jisung says, snapping himself out of the trance he’d gotten stuck in between ending the song and admiring his listener. “So you want an album? Or two albums?”
“Two please. One for me, one for a friend.”
“Thanks man, I appreciate it. Take some business cards too if you like it, maybe you can get some people to stream if you really enjoyed it that much?” Jisung questions hopefully as he grabs two CD’s from his bag and hands them over.
“I’ll spread it around. Thanks for the show,” he says with a wink, grabbing his new goodies and walking away. Jisung stares after him for a moment, taken aback by the sudden flirtation.
But then a new group is forming, a family struggling to keep everyone in line, and when he gets a request from a little girl to play for her he can’t say no. So the handsome stranger walks away, and Jisung carries out his duties until his scheduled eight p.m. departure.
Jisung practically has to force himself to go to the station on Wednesday. He’d worked in the morning, spent his time swiping students in and out of the library for six hours before heading to his afternoon classes. It’s a dull job, but that’s kind of the point, because it’s where he accomplishes most of schoolwork so he can have time to work on music when he’s actually free. His classes felt extra long today, two heavily weighted projects were announced, and he’s stressed. He wants to go to his apartment with Seungmin and whine until his roommate agrees to order pizza and help him study. But busking is his own little showcase every week, it’s his chance to play his music to the world and get his name out there, it’s what makes his extracurricular music worth creating. So he drags his guitar and mic setup from the school music room into the subway, finds his usual place, sets up his marketing, and plays.
And that helps. It relieves his stress, especially today, because he gets a decent crowd within the first ten minutes that inspires a wave of donations and the sale of an album. He loses track of time as people filter in and out of the station, smiles when people give him tips from their pockets, laughs when people dance along to what he plays. And when he sees a familiar man approach in a familiar pair of scrubs, he finishes his song and pauses his playing.
”Hey,” he says, holding up a ten dollar bill. Jisung squints at him, confused.
”Here for more? You get robbed of the first two or something?”
”Is that how you speak to your repeat customers? Should I take my business elsewhere?”
”No, please, buy my album,” Jisung says, putting his hands together and fake pleading. The man smiles and hands him the bill, which Jisung shoves in his pocket for later. “Thank you. Two again?”
”Yes please.”
”Seriously though, why are you buying so many? I mean, not that you shouldn’t. You definitely should. Just curious where my songs are going,” Jisung asks. This isn’t a normal occurrence, and he doesn’t want to push the boundary between artist and consumer, but he really is interested.
”Just to my friends. I played it for a few of them and they all liked it, so I want to get more for the other few,” he explains.
”I don’t want to ruin the secret, but since I’ve already made twenty bucks off you… you know you could just download the songs and burn your own discs for them, right?” Jisung teases.
”That wouldn’t be very fair to you, though, would it? Redistributing your stuff? Plus, they like the album art,” the man says.
”I’ll tell Seungmin.”
”Who?”
”Ah,” Jisung says, realizing his mistake. “My roommate, who also did the art. He’s a design student.”
”What’s your name?”
”Huh?”
"Your roommate’s name is Seungmin. Your artist name is J.One. But I doubt that’s what your parents call you, so what’s your actual name?” he asks.
"Jisung?”
The man laughs at his intonation, eyes scrunching up into pretty little crescents. “Is that a question?”
"No, it’s Jisung. I’m just not sure why you want to know my name,” Jisung explains.
”Because I’ve seen you around for a while now and I’ve always wondered. ‘What’s that cute guys real name?’” he ponders, placing a finger to his lips to mimic his thought process.
"Oh”
”Mine is Minho. I’m not sure if you were going to ask, but it’s Minho,” he says. Minho
"Well, Minho, thanks for the twenty bucks. Tell your friends to come visit me,” Jisung says, wagging his eyebrows and rubbing his fingers together to attract a little more cash flow.
"No can do, you’ll have to work with me. I’m their music dealer now,” Minho says, cackling evilly. Jisung can’t help but snicker along with him. They’re interrupted by a civilian running behind Minho to get to their train, causing him to stumble forward a step and catch himself.
"Do you have a train to catch?” Jisung asks, gazing after them.
”I guess I do. When are you here next?” Minho asks.
"Tomorrow. Monday, wednesday, thursday.”
"I’ll be back for more tomorrow,” he responds, shooting Jisung a wink. What is it with this guy and his winks?
"I have more albums now, though,” Jisung offers, pointing at his guitar case.
"Ah, but I’m out of cash. So I’ll see you tomorrow,” Minho says, turning on his heel and strolling towards the subway gates with a little wave. Jisung looks at his phone, surprised to see he only has an hour left. Had Minho come later than before? Or were they really talking for that long? He’s already made a good chunk of money, he could just call it quits and still try to bribe Seungmin into sharing a pizza. But somehow his mood is better now, and the fatigue seems to be gone.
When he gets back to the apartment, something must be showing, because it takes no more than two minutes for Seungmin to start teasing him.
"Why do you look like that?” his roommate asks, sitting at their kitchen island with a textbook open in front of him.
"Like what? Do you want pizza? I want to order pizza,” Jisung says, trying to deflect.
"Yeah, I’ll eat pizza. Did something good happen?” Seungmin has taken his eyes off his homework, which means he’s not stopping the line of questioning until he gets an answer he’s satisfied with.
"I’ve just sold five albums in the past three days, I’m happy, sue me,” Jisung says, putting his hands in the air as a signal of innocence.
Seungmin looks at him for a second, then turns back to his book. “Five people bought your album in three days? That’s pretty damn good considering how hard it is to come across a cd player these days,” he comments.
"Well, not exactly.
"Hmm?” Seungmin glances up again.
"One person bought four of them. Two albums yesterday, two albums Monday. His name’s Minho." Jisung isn't sure why he added that extra piece of information in, but Seungmin just rolls with it.
"Is Minho a millionaire? Is he trying to bribe you into a date? Why did he buy four albums?”
"He’s a doctor or something. Maybe a nurse. He wears scrubs,” Jisung replies. Those are decent paying careers, right? That’s all the information he really has to offer.
"Sexy.”
"He kind of is, actually. What do you want on the pizza?” Jisung asks.
"Don’t care. Are you sure this guy isn’t a nutcase?” Seungmin has returned back to his work, highlighting his book and scratching his chin.
"I can’t confirm or deny that, but we’ve only seen each other in the station, so I think it should be fine. Public areas. Plus he works in a hospital.”
"In the psych ward?”
"Oh, shut up. Or I’ll hide the pizza."
Seungmin laughs at that, putting a finger to his lips in a hushing motion. Jisung waits around for a second, expecting another sarcastic comment, but his roommate is already swept back up into his coursework so he excuses himself into his bedroom.
It’s refreshing to shed his street clothes and slip into something more comfortable, and he almost misses it when a ten dollar bill spills out from his sweatshirt pocket and onto the floor, worn and crumpled from improper storage. Jisung picks it up and looks at his backpack, where his jar of tips lays tucked away inside. Normally they all get placed into his top drawer for safekeeping until he has a large enough quantity to take them to the bank, deposit them into a savings account that he’s sworn not to touch until after school. The world is unpredictable, and while his parents have been kind enough to pay his tuition, there’s no way to know what’s to come. His brother had been cut off after graduation, there’s no reason he won’t be as well; that’s why he spends his time producing his own music, promoting it in dirty subways, trying to make a name for himself so that when he’s inevitably on his own he can land a good job, start a career, and be stable. That’s why he works so damn hard.
But for some reason, he doesn’t really want to store this ten dollar bill into his future. After all, Minho hadn’t put it into the tip jar, he’d given it to Jisung directly. Ten dollars won’t make or break him. So he makes an exception, shoves the bill into his wallet and thinks about all the delicious things he can get with it tomorrow between classes and his performance. Or maybe put it towards a new set of guitar strings, or one of those beanies he’d been eyeing for a while now but never felt quite entitled to purchase. Maybe he could even buy a cheap bottle of wine and take a night off to unwind, let his body recover from the constant go, go, go his life has become.
In the end, it goes to the pizza man, who looks like he needs it more than Jisung ever could.
Unlike the previous day, Jisung is antsy to get performing on Thursday. He didn’t have work in the morning, which had led to staying up far too late while gorging on pizza and watching National Geographic once he got some studying done. He wakes up refreshed and ready to go, works diligently on his projects during lab time, chokes down dining hall food after his classes, and practically runs to the station (or as much as he can given the load of equipment he’s carrying). Not that it will matter, Minho always comes around the same time anyway.
Wait.
Since when is he doing this for Minho?
He doesn’t even know Minho, not at all, not in the slightest. He’s just a fleeting moment of happiness a few days a week, a handsome stranger who puts money in his pockets. Somehow that sounds kind of dirty, and Jisung can feel himself frown at the thought as he drags his setup into his normal spot. That really has been the extent of their relationship, but somehow it feels like just a bit more. Minho has a way of making it feel that way. So maybe today Jisung can get a little more out of him, learn something new. What does he do? Does he commute far? What’s his favorite song on the album? (So maybe the last question is particularly selfish). Today seems like a good day to find at least a little more out.
But Minho doesn’t show.
I’ll be back for more tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow. Isn’t that what he had said? Jisung had spent the first chunk of his show playing happily, in higher spirits than ever before, waiting for six thirty to roll around. And then it did, and Minho wasn’t there. Which was fine, because people run late. He hadn’t specified a time, just said See you tomorrow. So Jisung waited, annoyed with himself for looking up so excitedly every time he saw legs donned in light blue scrubs and letting himself get crestfallen when it wasn’t him. He still played his songs, smiled graciously when people left tips, tried his best when people made requests. But now it’s eight, and Minho isn’t here. And as much as Jisung is trying to push that fact into the back of his head and make it small, because again, he barely knows the guy... it kind of hurts.
But at least it’s Thursday, because that means he gets a distraction. A distraction in the form of one of his best friends and a long standing, extraordinarily platonic dick appointment. Every Thursday night, for the past five months, he packs up his equipment, drops it off at campus, and takes the train to Changbin’s place for what they’d mutually decided one very drunken night would be a great way to relieve stress while they’re both single. And it has been! No commitment, no feelings, usually a few rounds of their favorite flavor of the month game afterward. Sometimes, for a job well done, Changbin will even share a celebratory frozen pizza and a couple cans of beer. It’s not a bad arrangement at all.
“Hello darling. I’ve come for kisses,” Jisung announces through the intercom when he arrives at Changbin’s building.
“Kiss my ass.” The buzzer sounds and Jisung pulls open the door, climbing up the familiar three flights of stairs to his friend's walk-up. When he arrives Changbin’s already got his head sticking out the door and ushers him inside. “Sup?”
“Glad it’s Thursday. May I please have a beer oh dear friend of mine?” Jisung asks, already grabbing one from the fridge. Changbin scowls but holds his hand out, requesting one of his own.
“Why? Bad day? Or did you really want to kiss my ass?”
Jisung opens his beer and takes a few sips, sighing as the cold slips down his throat and refreshes his system. “ Well I’m not going to kiss your nasty mouth.” That’s one rule they’ve always had, ever since the first time they’d tried this out. Jisung had leaned in, planted his lips on Changbin’s, and shuddered at the feeling and pulled away. He remembers Changbin looking equally skeezed out, and they’d agreed to just leave that aspect out of the arrangement. They’re friends, not lovers. And as nice as Changbins lips are, Jisung wants nothing to do with them on his own. His arms? Muscular, strong, feel great wrapped around his waist. His ass? To die for. His lips? Well, they’re nice, but he’d rather feel them on other parts of his body.
“You didn’t think my mouth was nasty last week,” Changbin laughs, smacking Jisung on the butt playfully. Jisung almost spits his drink out in shock (sometimes he swears Changbin still doesn’t understand his own strength, even though he’d begun working out at least a year and a half ago) and yelps, which just makes Changbin laugh louder.
“And I still wasn’t kissing it.”
“Yeah yeah yeah. Are you good though?” he asks, genuine concern in his eyes. They’ve known each other long enough to know when something’s off, even if Jisung tries to hide it. He’s fine. He has no reason to be anything other than fine.
But even he's not sure he can find words to explain the weird feeling in his bones.
“I’m good. Promise. We doing this?” Jisung asks, placing his beer on the counter and walking up to Changbin to wrap his arms around his friend, placing an exaggerated smooch on his forehead. He shudders violently, holding Jisung back by the shoulders just enough to make a face at him before picking him up and slinging him over his shoulder. Jisung shrieks again, laughing and pounding lightly on Changbins back as he carries him to the bedroom to deposit him on the mattress.
“We’re doing this.”
“You have fun last night?”
Jisung emerges from his room the next day at an impressive two in the afternoon, taking full advantage of the fact that he’s on his day off of work and his schedule is void of any classes on Fridays. Seungmin is sitting in the kitchen again, nose buried in his laptop with the TV humming quietly in the background.
“I did, I’m sore, thanks for asking,” Jisung replies. He’d needed a bit more distraction than expected to take his mind off things last night, several rounds of distraction, and now he’s paying the price. He hears Seungmin scoff from behind his screen and stretches for good measure, smiling to himself when he catches his roommate flush a bit after spotting a big bite mark on Jisung’s side. It doesn’t actually have that sexy of a story behind it, it was more of a punishment when they sat down to play Mario Kart and Jisung wouldn’t stop kicking his feet in Changbin’s face, but Seungmin is always so put together that it’s kind of fun to see him lose his cool every once in a while.
“So how long are you two going to keep doing that, exactly?”
Jisung starts up the coffee-maker and walks to the fridge, digging around for something he won’t have to cook. He settles on a yogurt and takes it with him to the counter, leaning across from Seungmin and taking a bite before answering.
“I don’t know. It’s convenient. Maybe until graduation?”
“Grad?” Seungmin looks up, shocked. “The semester just started a month ago, you’re going to do this all school year?”
“Maybe. I mean, like I said, it’s convenient. We’re both single. I have no intention of finding a boyfriend, I’m way too busy. This is the first day I’ve had off of everything in like a month. It’s just easier,” Jisung explains. Seungmin looks decidedly unhappy with that response.
“Isn’t that unfair to him? Aren’t you leading him on?” he asks, brows furrowed.
“No? He’s not into me like that.” What’s with the questioning? “We’ve been at this for a while, I swear, it’s just out of practicality.”
Why does Seungmin suddenly care so much?
His roommate still has a suspicious look on his face, but Jisung is saved from the awkward conversation by the coffee-maker dinging to signal its completion. “So is he on the same page?” Or not.
Jisung sighs, not turning to face Seungmin while he loads his coffee with sugar and creamer. “About what exactly?”
“About not wanting a boyfriend, I guess?”
Jisung takes a sip of his coffee, thinking for a moment, and turns to face his friend. “Actually, that I’m not sure about. He’s never said anything. I guess if he did he’d cut it off, right? So he must not.” Jisung takes a few big bites of his yogurt and Seungmin hums, turning back to his computer and continuing his work. “What’s with all the questions anyway?”
“No reason. So you’re off all day?” Seungmin asks, eyes still directed at his screen.
“Yeah, but I’m going into one of the studios in a bit. Need to get some project work done and I like the quiet there. Don’t worry, you’ve got the place to yourself,” Jisung says, walking around to Seungmin and peeking at his work. “Pretty.”
“Thank you,” Seungmin says, reaching up to pat Jisung on the head. “If you come back before it’s too late, I think Felix and Hyunjin and I are going to the bar. If you find it in yourself to come.”
“But dollar beer night is-”
“Wednesday, I know. But I thought since you sold all those albums maybe you wouldn’t be so cheap this week,” Seungmin explains.
Jisung considers that. He’s become somewhat of a workaholic lately, maybe a night out would be fun. “I’ll think about it. But Minho’s money is safely in savings already, I’m afraid.”
“Is he done buying your stock?” Seungmin questions.
“Not sure.”
“Didn’t see him yesterday?”
“No!” Jisung says, irritated again at the memory. “And he said he’d be there! Isn’t that annoying? He told me he was going to buy more albums, and he never showed!” His voice sounds gruff coming out, more than he’d intended, but it still kind of grinds his gears.
Seungmin looks up at him questioningly. “Woah, woah, ok. Were you relying on him to buy albums for rent or something? I didn’t mean to get you so heated.”
“But isn’t that rude?”
“Kind of, but you don’t really know the dude. He doesn’t technically owe you anything. Anything could have happened, maybe lay off the judgement?” Seungmin suggests. His eyes are sympathetic, but Seungmin is nothing if not a voice of reason. “He’s a doctor right? What if someone had an emergency? What if they were bleeding out right there on the table and Minho was there to save his life and you’re pouting about him not being there to buy an album? Hmm?” Shit.
“You know, Seungmin, you’re not very fun to vent to,” Jisung says, flopping down on their sofa. “Now I feel like a dick.”
“Well, you said it, not me,” Seungmin says with a laugh. “Maybe he’ll be back. Don’t let it ruin your day off.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh come on, stop pouting.”
“I’m not pouting, I’m reflecting on my actions,” Jisung says, staring up at the ceiling. Seungmin seems to be done with the conversation and has returned to his work, so when he’s good and ready Jisung rolls off the couch to get dressed and ready for the day. Maybe he can channel his feelings into productivity. Write an angsty song or two, or find some kind of moody instrumental. That’s the thought that pushes him to toss on his most comfortable pair of jeans and an oversized flannel, slide his laptop into his school bag, and head out the door with a brief farewell to Seungmin.
It’s getting cooler outside, and Jisung finds himself eternally grateful that he has his flannel to clutch onto as he journeys to the performing arts building. The building is nearly empty on Fridays, and he may be the only one here to study, but at least that means it’s quiet. It should be a productive day.
It only takes about twenty minutes to fall into the groove of things, and with that mindset Jisung works to create. It turns out he’s in the perfect headspace to tune out the world, numb his thoughts, and channel them into school and personal projects. It’s a good feeling, sitting down and not getting up until he’s completed what he’d set out to do. The only problem is at that point, it’s already nine in the evening, and Jisung is mentally wiped. Hopefully Seungmin doesn’t kill him, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to the bar. He has work in the morning, and is supposed to meet up with Changbin in the afternoon (for songwriting help, no funny business), and Jisung needs his sleep. It’s shaping up to be yet another weekend of all work and no play at all.
Jisung’s prediction turns out to be pretty accurate. He’d spent the weekend working, writing with Changbin, found time for a few movies with Seungmin and their friend Felix on Sunday night, and that was that. Certainly not one for the books. Jisung had all but wiped the bad taste in his mouth left by Minho’s not showing up away until now, as he assembles his gear in the subway station for his Monday set. He’s not really upset anymore, not since Seungmin whipped him into gear, but now he can’t help but wonder what happened. And hope he gets to find out tonight.
Luck is on his side, because like clockwork at six thirty in the evening a gorgeous man in a blue pair of scrubs starts applauding his song and requesting a set of albums.
“You’re a couple days late,” Jisung says, smirking when a regretful look comes across Minho’s face.
“Ah, so you did notice. Sorry about that,” Minho responds.
“Of course I noticed, you were shaping up to be my most loyal customer.”
“I got asked to work late last minute, but I’m here now. My coworker's kid got sick and I offered to cover.”
There it is. The perfectly good reason Seungmin promised would be there. Jisung swallows down the guilt he feels for letting himself be annoyed. “So you worked for like...?”
“Sixteen hours. It happens. Will you still accept me as your loyal customer even if I flaked out?” Minho asks, pulling ten bucks out of his pocket and trying to hand it to Jisung.
“Keep your money,” Jisung says, waving it away. Minho’s face falls a bit, but Jisung quickly picks up two albums and holds them Minho’s way. “On the house. For your hard work. Keep your money, take the albums, give them to your friends or whatever.”
“But I have to pay you, it’s your business,” Minho protests.
Jisung grabs a few business cards and stacks them on top of the albums, giving Minho his biggest business smile. “Just spread the words about my excellent work and take the albums, Minho.”
Minho grabs them, pulling his backpack around the front and placing the albums inside before digging around for something. He pulls out a pen and writes something on one of Jisung’s business cards, then slips it into the tip jar.
“What was that?”
“A tip,” Minho says with a wink. “But I will spread the word. And thank you for the albums, they’ll be used well.”
“Thank you for your service to sick people. Hey, I keep meaning to ask, what kind of doctor are you?” Jisung asks. He’s finally got Minho here, why not ask?
“I’m a nurse, actually.”
“Hello, nurse,” Jisung says without thinking. That was dumb. Why do pretty boys make him dumb? And yet Minho chuckles.
“Surprisingly you’re the first one to give me that. Today, at least. Though I expected a bit better from such a talented lyricist than a Loony Toons reference,” he says with a laugh.
“I’ll need more time to come up with clever nurse lines, sorry.”
Minho zips his bag and pulls it back into proper position. “I look forward to it. I have to go, but text me when you figure some out, ok?”
“Huh?”
“See you Wednesday!” Minho says with a wave. And just like that, he’s gone.
It isn’t until later that night, when Jisung is organizing his tips, that he finally understands. Jisung smiles and pulls out his phone, giggling like a schoolgirl being courted as he enters the info. Because right there, scrawled across his business card, is what he can only assume to be the phone number of one nurse Minho.
Jisung: Excuse me, nurse, can you prescribe me an inhaler? Because you took my breath away.
Minho: Nurses can’t write prescriptions.
Jisung: Was it at least a little better?
Minho: It was a little better.
Jisung snickers to himself, not even bothering to keep his phone hidden from library patrons. It’s the next day and halfway through his shift he’s decided it’s late enough in the day and he’s just the right level of bored to try messaging Minho, not expecting such a quick response.
Jisung: I’m no organ donor, but I’d be happy to give you my heart.
Minho: Wait, what?
Jisung: Bad? Blame google not me.
Minho: Are you really not an organ donor??
Jisung: ?????
Minho: You’re a healthy young man you should really register. It could save a lot of lives.
Jisung: I am one
Minho: good
Jisung: How was the pickup line?
Minho: I wasn’t a fan
Jisung: What does this one mean?
Jisung: “You get my heart racing like an epinephrine drip”
Minho: god these really are corny
Minho: It relaxes your airways and increases heart rate. It’s the same thing as adrenaline.
Jisung: Wait then that’s a pretty good pickup line right?
Minho: Definitely the best so far. I think for the sake of safety I should make sure this is Jisung?
Jisung: This is Jisung.
Minho: Good. If I had your number before I could have told you I wasn’t coming to the station.
Jisung: Well you got it.
Jisung is startled by the sound of someone clearing their throat, shoving his phone under the desk (not that he’s fooling anyone) and returning to the task at hand. A girl around his age is standing in front of him with a large stack of books sat on the counter, arms crossed and expression annoyed. Whatever happened to “excuse me”?
Jisung helps her check out, doing his best not to let her attitude affect him and get him down.
Spending the rest of shift texting Minho corny lines helps a little bit too.
“Hey.”
Jisung looks away from his guitar, startled. The first thing he sees is a pair of black chelsea boots, the tops covered by tight ripped black jeans. Man, Jisung really hopes ripped jeans never go out of style. Or at least not for this person, because those are some beautiful thighs, and if anything he wishes he could see more. And tucked into those jeans, as Jisung scans his eyes up, is a simple black button up that hugs this man’s body perfectly. And that man is… “Minho?”
“Yes, hey. Minho here,” the man responds, and Jisung has to blink a few times to make sure he’s not imagining things. No, it’s definitely Minho, no mistaking that face.
“Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. Here for more albums?” Jisung asks, gesturing to his guitar case. He’d finally gotten his new shipment of CD’s and cases after Minho bought him out last week.
”Not tonight. Actually, I have a request,” Minho says. His voice is a mix between cautious and confident, and Jisung is a little confused.
“Oh?”
“Come out with me.”
“Huh? Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious. Come on, I’m all dolled up, come out with me,” Minho whines, stepping a little closer to Jisung. He clutches his mic stand like a shield to keep him safe as Minho closes in. It’s not that Minho seems dangerous, he just looks really good. Intimidatingly good.
“Wouldn’t you normally wait until you have a yes before committing to a date or something? Was it all the pickup lines? I was joking, you know.”
Minho laughs at that, then scratches his head a little nervously. “Actually, I have to admit this is a little spontaneous. I was supposed to go out with coworkers anyway, but they bailed. And I still wanted to go out. So I thought of you.”
“Oh,” Jisung says. He’s not sure why, but that kind of stings. “So you didn’t bring a change of clothes to work just to sweep me off my feet?”
“Unfortunately not. But I’d still like to, if you’re up for it. Drinks on me. If you have other plans, I understand.” Minho looks a little guilty now, but Jisung can’t help but tease a little.
“I suppose I could do that. If it’s for the drinks. I need to drop my stuff off first though,” Jisung sighs, trying to make it as exaggerated as possible. Minho perks up at that, a small smile coming across his face.
”Great. I’ll help. Where?” he asks. Jisung starts compacting his equipment and putting things into cases, putting his speakers in the bucket he sometimes uses as a seat and piling the collapsed mic stand on top before he moves on to his guitar.
“Just a block away. I rent stuff from the music room on campus and we’re close,” Jisung says. Once his guitar is strapped to his back he reaches for the bucket, surprised when Minho pulls it away first. “You don’t have to do that.”
”Why should you carry it alone when we’re both walking the same way?” Minho asks, starting to walk ahead of Jisung. He scrambles to catch up, getting on the escalator a few steps down from Minho and stepping to his side when they get off. “So which way are we walking?”
”That way.” Jisung points to his right and Minho follows, shifting the bucket to his other hand so it doesn’t knock against Jisung as they walk.
”It’s probably nice having campus in the middle of the city, huh?” Minho asks.
”It is sometimes. Like now. But sometimes it’d be nice to have a place that’s only students. Safer, you know. Sometimes weirdos hang out here.”
”I know what you mean. The area around the hospital gets like that too,” Minho agrees. Jisung keys them into the building and leads Minho down the hall, walking a little slower than usual to make sure he can keep up with his hands full. They fall into a silence, only the sounds of footsteps echoing through empty halls disrupting the peace.
Jisung isn’t really sure what to say in this situation. They barely know each other, and Minho has made a point to talk to him recently, and their texting had been fun, but he’s still not quite sure why he seems so interested. So he tries not to let the quiet bother him, chooses to just instruct Minho where to put things instead of starting some awkward form of conversation. He wishes he knew something to say, but he doesn’t. When they leave the school hall, Jisung follows as Minho starts heading to the left.
”How far are we walking?” Jisung asks, finally finding words.
”Not far,” Minho says. “Just a bar a few blocks away. Five minutes tops,” he says. Jisung nods, then realizes Minho can’t see him when he’s two steps behind.
”Ok,” he responds. He cringes at the way his voice sounds, awkward and quiet and uncomfortable.
”Are you ok? Cold?”
”No, not cold. It’s still nice out, I’m excited for hoodie weather,” Jisung says. Talking about the weather? Brilliant solution.
”Oh yeah? You seem like a hoodie person, now that you mention it,” Minho chuckles.
”Isnt everyone a hoodie person?”
”Yeah, but you seem like you’d be especially cute in a hoodie. Something a little oversized? I can picture it already.” Jisung can see the way Minho’s lips curl up into a smirk, either very pleased by the picture in his head or very proud of his flirting tactics.
”I do look very cute in a hoodie, actually. Thank you for noticing.”
”My pleasure.” Minho messes with his shirt cuffs a little, rolling them halfway up and letting his forearms show.
”Weird,” Jisung says, half to himself and half to the space surrounding him, but not necessarily to Minho.
”What is?” Minho stops to let him catch up so they can finally walk side by side.
Jisung looks at him again, at his side profile (and what a glorious one it is), and his outfit, and the way he carries himself when they’re outside the confines of the station. “You, I guess. Or your outfit. It’s just weird seeing you out of scrubs.”
Minho doesn’t say anything, just points at the bar they’re heading to and pulls his wallet from his pocket for the ID check. Jisung follows suit, though he has to dig through his bag for a few seconds before finding any luck. Minho waits silently, which makes Jisung extremely conscious of how much he’s stumbling even though he hasn’t said a thing. When he finally gets his ID checked, the bouncer waves him through, and Minho guides him inside.
”Do you want to sit at the bar? Or a hightop?” he asks. Jisung looks around at the bar, a dingy looking irish pub covered in neon advertisements and sports logos. It’s not what he expected, especially not based on Minho’s outfit.
”You choose, I have no preference,” Jisung says, still looking around. There aren’t a ton of people here, just a small group of people (students?) around his age and a couple older men seated around the bar staring at the screen. There’s a big sign that shows their hours (OPEN TIL 2 AM), which reminds him he has to work in the morning. “Interesting place. Seems like it has history,” he says, climbing into a high chair when Minho chooses a table for them. “I have to be out of here by eleven, by the way.”
“I see,” Minho says, flipping through the beer menu. He looks a little… sour? Jisung doesn’t get anything else out of him, so he just watches in silence for a few minutes and twiddles his thumbs. What did he do?
”So, you friends with any of the regulars over there?” Jisung asks, trying to lighten the mood with a joke. It doesn’t seem to work, because Minho looks up with an even worse look on his face than before.
”Hey, do you not want to be here? I know I dragged you out, but you could have said no.”
”What?” Jisung feels his heart sink. Oh god, he really fucked up. Shit. “No, of course I do. Why would you ask that?”
“Well you don’t like the bar, and you called my outfit weird. And you’ve already given us a time limit. So I just thought I’d make sure.”
“Your outfit isn’t weird, that’s not what I meant at all,” Jisung says. Where is their server? He needs a fucking drink. “You look hot. Even in the scrubs you look hot. And the bar seems comfortable,” Jisung says, letting his words run wild. Well, it’s not a lie. “Do you come here a lot?”
Minho looks pleased at that, though he seems like he’s trying not to show it. Their server finally seems to have noticed Jisung’s arrival and comes to the table, and he orders the only thing he can think of; whiskey and coke. A double, to quell the nerves. Minho orders a beer, something that sounds fancy and like it probably comes from a craft brewery. The server smiles and leaves, addressing Minho by name, which somewhat answers Jisung’s question.
“Yes, I come here a lot. A lot of the hospital staff does when we aren’t trapped inside the building,” he says.
“Huh. I never really thought about that. Doctors drinking. It’s kind of frightening,” Jisung admits. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! I’m not trying to complain!” he clarifies, now paranoid of the chip on his shoulder showing off a little too much.
“Most of them will deny it. Us nurses, though, we need it. There’s a little too much bullshit in the day-to-day to function without some kind of distraction,” Minho says secretively. The server comes by just then, perfect timing, and drops their drinks off. Minho grabs his own, holding up his glass in a show of proof. “A toast,” Minho says, waiting for Jisung to raise his own drink and clinking them together before they both take swigs.
“College students drink a lot,” Jisung says as he puts his drink down, spinning it around with the little cocktail straw and watching the bubbles pop and fizz. “Especially seniors.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Minho laughs. He has a nice laugh, and an even nicer smile. Jisung still isn’t fully sure why he’d been so insistent on taking out some senior in college he found busking in the subway station. “I wasn’t a senior that long ago. Only two years. How old do you think I am? I’m not ancient.”
“I don’t know, I’ll trust your word for now. But I’m cautious, since you seem to have a lot of disposable income for someone two years older than me. Buying all those albums and all.”
Minho laughs again at that. Oh man, Jisung really doesn’t want to get used to that laugh. That is so not part of the plan for the next year. “It was twenty dollars. Over several days. I’m not a millionaire, but I can afford to spend twenty bucks for some albums if they’re going to make my kids happy,” he says. Jisung nearly spits his drink out.
“Kids?” Jisung asks once he finally gulps his sip down. “You have kids? And you’re playing them my music? Who’s watching them now? Oh my god, should you be here?” Oh my god, he really knows nothing about this guy.
”Are you done asking questions?”
Jisung nods, sipping his drink through his tiny cocktail straw to pace himself.
”I don’t have kids, I’m a pediatric nurse. They’re my patients. And I only gave your albums to the older ones,” Minho explains. A light goes off in Jisung’s head.
”Oh my god, that’s why you bought so many? Wait, are they ok? And why are you the one buying them things? Isn’t it weird for you to have to spend money on work?,” Jisung asks, unable to stop himself. Somehow, ever since he was accused of being cold, his brain seems to be trying to overcompensate. His verbal filter is failing.
”They’re mostly in recovery right now, so don’t worry. And I told you I was buying them for friends! That’s what they are. I wouldn’t hesitate to buy a friend a five dollar coffee, why would this be different? They’re just so bored sitting there, your album caught everyone’s attention,” Minho explains. “Did that hit all your questions?”
“Yeah,” Jisung says, casting his eyes downward towards the weathered table they’re sat at. There’s a carving that someone seems to have tried to cover up, a heart with two sets of initials in the middle. It’s a little cliche, but sweet. It’s comforting to focus on that instead of looking into Minho’s eyes. “I think I misjudged you.”
“Oh?”
“That’s just really nice. Like, I knew you were a nurse, so you obviously care about people. But that’s really nice. I kind of thought you were a weirdo hoarding all those albums at first.” Jisung doesn’t look up, continuing to stare at the table. There’s more carvings than he’d originally thought when he looks closer, though the bar staff had clearly tried to fill them in with wood pens. “And asking out someone you knew nothing about. But that part I still don’t really get.”
“Do I need some kind of crazy reason to ask you out? What if I just thought you were cute?” Minho asks. Jisung looks up at that, though he nearly regrets it when he does. Minho’s eyes, big and catlike and sparkling with intrigue, are searching into him with far more intensity than he’s prepared to handle.
“You’d just throw away three hours like that? What if I’m a terrible person? What if I wasn’t even interested in you?” Jisung asks.
“It’s just a couple hours, no skin off my back. Are you a terrible person who’s not interested in me?” Minho questions, still gazing at Jisung like he’s trying to bare his soul to the world. Jisung looks back at him, thinks about their interactions in the subway and the conversations they’ve exchanged.
“I just don’t get you,” Jisung says, dropping his head into his hands and sighing. “So yes, I’m interested, but I also just… don’t really know what you want from me. As for the terrible person thing, I really hope not.”
“I just wanted to get to know the cute musician from the train station.”
Jisung looks up at that, taken aback by how forward Minho can be. How can people act like this? He might as well stop overthinking and go with it. “Well then fine, I’ll try to get to know the hot doctor from the train station.”
“Nurse.”
“The hot nurse. Tell me, hot nurse, you really have no expectations from me?” Jisung asks, finally giving into his curiosity. He feels himself getting braver and braver as the whiskey starts to seep into his bloodstream. “I really don’t mean to sound like a jerk or like I don’t want to be here, I just usually run on a really tight schedule. So I don’t want to like… disappoint you, I guess.”
“I don’t really. But why don’t we stop talking about why we’re here and just be here. Have a normal conversation?” Minho suggests.
“I’m not good at this kind of talk,” Jisung admits. What kind of talk is this, even? First date talk? Is this even a date when he’d been a backup plan? If so, it’s true, he hasn’t been on a date in… how long? Since college started, at least. Has it really been almost four years?
“Just stop worrying, oh my god. You seemed fine over text, so why are you so frantic? Just tell me something. Tell me about… your apartment.” Minho looks like he’s trying to keep his cool, and Jisung feels like he’s utterly blowing it.
“You want me to be honest?”
“I’d rather not start out on a lie.”
“Well, then I apologize for how negative this is about to sound, truly, but it’s a piece of crap. My roommate keeps it clean, and I mess it up, and the cycle continues. It’s old,” Jisung says. Minho had asked for the truth, that’s the truth. Not very glamorous.
“You can swing that to sound better. Say it’s historic. Maybe someone great lived there once,” Minho suggests.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’re still haunting it. Sometimes my closet door will be totally still and then… BAM! It flies open!” Jisung says, smacking his hands down onto the table for emphasis. It works, and he laughs when Minho jumps a little bit.
“Holy shit,” Minho says, leaning in with interest. “Wait, do you really think it is? Does the ghost ever mess with you?” Jisung blinks in surprise. He’d not really expected Minho to humor his ghost talk, most people never did, it was really just a quick anecdote. But it wasn’t fake. Just go with it.
“Um, yeah. The closet thing, and sometimes my stuff moves. Seungmin says it’s just because I’m messy, but I know where I put things, and that shit moves. Oh, Seungmin is my roommate. But it’s not common stuff like my keys or anything. Weird stuff, like this ceramic bowl I made in Sophomore year art. I never touch it, but sometimes it will just end up on a new shelf or whatever,” Jisung explains. Minho looks fascinated, nodding his head whenever Jisung provides a new detail. “You believe in ghosts? Really?”
“Of course. Listen to what you’re going through. My house growing up was haunted, I know it was. The lights in the kitchen always flickered, and windows would slam shut in the middle of summer for no reason. There’s no way that shit isn’t real,” Minho responds. Wow. Jisung hadn’t expected to find a commonality in ghosts and the paranormal of all things when Minho asked him out. But here they are, and hell if he’s not going to take advantage. This ghost stuff isn’t that serious to him, but he never gets to talk about it. Seungmin dismisses it, Changbin had tried to yell profanities at it until Jisung shoved a literal pair of socks in his mouth, and Hyunjin was way too scared. So while it’s not a huge part of his life, maybe for tonight, while he’s got someone to share with, it can be.
“Did you ever try to cleanse it? Like with smoke or sage?”
“No, not with sage, you’re not supposed to do that. It’s destructive to native culture. Now, rosemary. That’s something worth trying. Smells good too,” Minho explains, looking extremely focused. Jisung nods, sipping his drink absentmindedly as he lets Minho go on. It turns out he knows a lot about this stuff, and somehow they move from ghosts to aliens to outer space, and before Jisung knows it his drink is gone and he’s ordering another. Minho does the same, and Jisung admires the way his face gets more and more flush as he sips on his beer.
“...so even though there might not be life like us out there, there’s no way we’re the smartest life in the universe. I don’t even think I really want to meet whatever else is out there, I’m sure it’s totally gnarly looking, but it’s definitely out there,” Jisung says, finishing a speech on extraterrestrial life. He’d closed his eyes in concentration, and when he opens them Minho is looking at him fondly. He feels heat rise up into his face and hopes he can pass it off as the flush of booze taking over, but Minho just smiles even wider when Jisung holds the back of his hand to his cheek to transfer some of the coolness over. Now who does he think he is, looking at him like that? ”What?”
”Nothing, you’re just cute,” Minho chuckles.
”Do you really not have any expectations of me?”
“Hmm. I wouldn’t say expectations. I have dreams and aspirations. Short term goals, maybe.”
Jisung still doesn’t understand Minho. “What does that mean? What are they?” Jisung asks cautiously. He doesn’t want to get Minho’s hopes up, he’s actually a really good guy, as Jisung has discovered. Someone who deserves love and attention. And time. Which is not something Jisung is in the situation to give.
“Well, my short term goal for tonight? I’m thinking I want a kiss before we part ways. You look like you’d be fun to kiss. Dreams and aspirations I won’t get into,” Minho says contemplatively. Jisung looks around, trying to find something to distract himself from that extremely honest answer, but his eyes end up trained on Minho’s lips somehow.
A kiss doesn’t sound half bad.
“You’re very ambitious,” Jisung says, admiring the way Minho’s lips curl up in response. Why is he letting himself get wrapped up in this? Who knows, but hadn’t he decided to go with it?
“Shoot for the moon, you land in the stars right?” Minho responds. Jisung downs the remaining couple sips of his drink, and Minho does the same. He climbs off his stool, walking around the table and hooking his hand around Minho’s elbow. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t like PDA,” Jisung says, pulling Minho towards the lavatory sign when he finally stands. It’s a small bar, one that just has two unisex bathrooms, which works out perfectly for this particular situation. “You first,” he encourages, holding the door open for Minho and stepping in behind him, locking the door once they’re both fully inside.
“You need help powdering your nose or something?” Minho asks, a sly smirk on his face. He knows exactly what Jisung is after, no doubt about that. But he’s really going to make him say it?
“No, I don’t. But I’m trying to not be a terrible person, so I thought I’d help you accomplish your goal.”
Minho puts on his most scandalized look, all while creeping up to Jisung and backing him into the bathroom door. It’s a stark contrast, the goofy look on his face and his body language, the way one arm rests just next to Jisung’s head when he finally lands against the antiqued wood with a soft thud. “You want me to kiss you in this shitty bar’s bathroom?”
“I thought it was a sin or something to call this bar shitty,” Jisung retaliates. He’s not even sure why he’s fighting, the answer is clearly a resounding yes.
“Yeah, but I’m a regular. Though I’ve never done this,” Minho says, leaning in a little closer.
“You’re not currently doing anything. Come on, hot nurse, I’m on a time limit,” Jisung jokes. He’s not really certain how the night has taken this turn, but Minho is nice, and he’s hot, and he says he has no expectations. He kind of makes Jisung’s heart race. Plus, he’d let Jisung go on and on about ghosts, and gone on and on himself. Jisung really is on a time limit, he’s not sure when it had gotten so late, too caught up in the conversation. So is it really such a bad thing, to let himself get pressed into a bathroom door and kiss the hot guy who’d bought all his albums at the train station? It feels like a pretty good idea right now.
Minho leans in closer still, and Jisung loses patience, wrapping one arm behind Minho’s head and threading his fingers through silky brown hair, pulling him closer and initiating a kiss.
Oh, this is such a good idea.
Minho’s lips are perfect, literally sculpted by the gods, but unlike marble pieces of art you’d find in a museum they’re soft and warm, and man does Jisung like kissing them. They don’t waste time, and Jisung wouldn’t have it any other way, letting out a little sigh when Minho deepens things and moving to meet his rhythm. He lets his fingers curl into Minho’s hair even more, lets his other arm wrap around his waist, lets one of his legs shift a little to the side so Minho can slot a knee between his thighs. The kiss is getting a little messy, especially as Minho works his tongue into Jisung’s mouth, but Jisung isn’t here to fight him. He’s going with the flow. So what Minho does, he mimics, and when Minho groans into his mouth, he returns it two-fold. Everywhere Minho touches burns, especially when his hand smooths its way down Jisung’s spine and dips lower, cupping around his ass and prompting Jisung to tug on his hair in reaction. It serves to pull them apart for a moment, and Jisung takes the chance to admire Minho, eyes half lidded and lips red and spit-slick. When they’d first met in the subway, when Minho had pushed him to play another song before buying an album off him, dressed in scrubs and looking entirely normal, Jisung hadn’t expected to see him again. So why he’s in this situation, he’s not entirely sure, but while he’s not certain what’s in store after this, he’s got a little more time to enjoy it.
So he pulls the other man back in, presses their lips back together, licks into his mouth once more and gets lost in the feeling. He has no idea how long they spend in there, not too long because his alarm is set for eleven and it still hasn’t gone off, but long enough that when they pull away, shocked by a loud rapping at the door that makes Jisung jump, Minho’s lips are red and swollen. They’ve gotten progressively more and more tangled, and Jisung has to twist a bit to pull one arm from around Minho’s neck and the other from his waist as Minho releases him and starts to straighten out his shirt.
Jisung looks up at him again, laughing when he sees what’s become of Minho’s hair and reaching to fix it.
“What? Why are you laughing?”
“Your hair,” Jisung giggles, holding Minho’s head in place when he tries to look in the mirror. “Stay still, I’m fixing it.”
“Yes sir,” Minho says, bending a little at the knee for easier access. Jisung rotates to the back of his head, making sure everything is patted down.
“Thank you. You’re good,” Jisung says after giving his final touch on Minho’s hair and fixing his collar.
“I should really be thanking you,” Minho says. He turns to face Jisung again, puts a hand under his chin to tilt it upwards, leans in closer for more… only to be cut off by even louder knocking. Jisung thinks he hears a faint curse under his breath as his date (date?) opens the door, smiling softly behind his back. He ignores the angry look of the man outside the door, ignores the sound of wolf whistling behind them by patrons near the door, just lets himself focus on Minho’s shoulders as he trails behind instead. It feels like he’s gliding through the bar as they go back to their table, and Jisung has to stop himself from running to catch up, from lacing his fingers into Minho’s own and pulling him back for more. He’s never had a kiss that good, and god does he want more.
“What do you want to do?” Minho asks, looking between their table and the bar. That’s a good question. Does he stay for another drink? After that? Or does he do something bold and invite Minho over? What does Jisung want to do?
His phone decides for him, alarm vibrating in his pocket signaling it’s time for the night to be over. “Um, I’m out of time, actually,” Jisung says guiltily, holding his phone up to show it off. As if to say it’s not an excuse, I really do need to go.
“Seriously? You don’t want to stay for another drink?” Minho asks. He doesn’t sound mad, just a little whiny. Disappointed, maybe. Jisung would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel the same way, but work will come sooner than he wants it to and that’s out of his control.
”I really can’t, I have work at eight,” Jisung says, avoiding eye contact once again. Their server comes by shortly and Minho requests the check.
“Well, shit. It wasn’t a bad night for something so spontaneous.”
“Oh yeah? Your goals were met? Dreams and aspirations fulfilled?” Jisung asks playfully.
“No, I’m dreaming bigger. But the short term goal was fun. Would love to do it again,” Minho responds. The feeling is mutual.
”I think we can make that happen at some point.” Jisung says. Minho covers the drinks as promised, and Jisung thanks him quietly.
”How are you getting home? I’m a little worried, you’ve had a few,” Minho says, getting up from the table and holding his arms up for Jisung to use if needed. Jisung isn’t drunk, maybe just a little buzzed, but he holds on regardless. Who is he to pass up being allowed to cling to a gorgeous man?
”I’m fine, but I’m going to take a rideshare home. For the sake of time,” Jisung says, pulling out his phone and requesting a ride. He holds his phone up to Minho proudly when the car is confirmed. “Seven minutes away.”
”Very good.” Minho smiles at him, that gorgeous, charming smile, and Jisung wishes it was a little longer. “I’ll wait with you at the curb.”
”You’ve had a few too, how are you getting home?” Jisung asks, one arm still wrapped around Minho’s as they make their trek outside.
”I’m calling one now,” he says, holding up his own phone. Jisung hadn’t even seen him pull it out. He looks down at the phone in his hand. Five minutes now.
”Thanks for the drinks.”
”Thanks for the company. And the bathroom.” Minho leans against the wall of the bar, pulling Jisung into him gently. They’re the only two in sight, so Jisung follows, shifting all his weight into Minho and tilting his head up.
”Oh, any time,” he says, reaching an arm around Minho’s neck. Five minutes is enough time for a little more fun. He pulls Minho down, and positions himself up, and slips into another kiss. He really could do this forever. It’s not as heated as before, they know that time is ticking away, but Minho doesn’t disappoint. Until he pulls away, leaving Jisung whining for more, then sighing as kisses are peppered down his jaw.
”We should really do this again,” Minho says between kisses, moving to the space where Jisung’s jaw meets his neck. “When you have more time,” he whispers. Jisung nods slightly, unable to trust his voice when Minho is doing that to his neck.
They’re running out of time, he can tell. He sees headlights turn down the street and sighs again, this time out of disappointment more than pleasure. Jisung laces his fingers into Minho’s hair again, a feeling he’s really growing to like, and pulls Minho’s lips back to his for the last couple seconds they have together. “Yeah,” he says when they pull apart, “we’ll definitely do this again.” He turns in Minho’s arms, looking towards the car to match it’s identity with the one on his phone. “This is me.”
”You’ll be back on Monday?” Minho asks, following Jisung to the car and opening his door.
”I’ll be there,” Jisung confirms. He starts climbing into the car, but Minho stops him halfway, pressing one more kiss to his lips before he sends Jisung on his way.
Jisung avoids Seungmin like the plague before work. He knows he’s going to spill the beans to someone about Minho, he’s way too excited and confused not to, but he’d rather it not be the one person who’s already skeptical of his sex life. So he sneaks around the apartment as quietly as possible, grabs a few breakfast bars for his meal instead of the eggs he usually makes, and does everything in his power not to wake his roommate up.
When he gets to work, Jisung opens his phone to respond to a message he hadn’t seen the night before.
Minho: Did you make it home ok?
It had come late, and Jisung was already bundled up in bed fast asleep by the time Minho sent it, so he must live a good bit farther away from the bar than Jisung himself. It’s a nice gesture, a really nice gesture, and that in and of itself kind of throws Jisung off. This man is, without a single doubt in his mind, boyfriend material. It seems like dangerous territory when Jisung has his life so filled up that he can barely pause to breathe, but Minho had assured him he didn’t mind. And all they did was make out, that doesn’t set anything in stone. Right?
Jisung: I got home fine, I just fell asleep right away! Sorry for not answering.
Minho: I hoped that was the case, I’m glad.
Jisung: You?
Minho: I got home fine. Actually still in bed lol, I don’t work today.
Jisung: Ah, so no station today?
Minho: Not today sorry. I guess it’ll be until Monday?
Ah, right. It’s Thursday, so they’ll go the whole weekend and then some before seeing each other again. Also, it’s Thursday. AKA Changbin day. Which feels like a weird thing to carry on with if he and Minho aren’t on the same page, because Jisung refuses to be that dick who’s hooking up with two people without either of them knowing. So he kind of has to pull the trigger and ask a very uncomfortable question now, doesn’t he?
Jisung: Hey so. This is going to sound weird given everything I’ve said, but where is this going?
Minho: This meaning…?
Jisung: Me and you.
Minho: I thought you said you didn’t have time for it to go anywhere?
Jisung: Right, but I definitely want to see you again. And continue what we started.
Minho: Dirty talk at 7:08 in the morning, nice.
Minho: But I agree, we should continue.
Jisung: Right, but say I already had this kind of
Jisung: Friends with benefits thing? With someone else?
Minho: I’d say he’s a lucky man.
Jisung: That’s ok with you?
Minho: We’ve only been talking for about two weeks, I’m not dumb enough to think one kiss makes us exclusive.
Jisung: ok cool
Jisung: Do you have my other lung? Because I’ve been lung-ing for you.
Minho: Oh my god
Jisung: It’s bad right?
Minho: Jisung it’s really bad.
That wasn’t that bad. Minho didn’t seem particularly thrilled or particularly perturbed by the situation, and that makes Jisung feel… conflicted? Like he still doesn’t have a read on things. But he has to trust Minho’s word, so his standing plans seem like they’ll still be taking place tonight, so long as Changbin is also fine with things as they are.
But maybe Jisung isn’t. Because when he steps into Changbins apartment, the first thing that happens is Changbin sweeping him off his feet, making Jisung shriek and wrap his legs around his friend’s waist so as not to fall. And where he’d normally be laughing and maybe trying to mess with him, Jisung just feels kind of weird, especially when he feels a little bite against his collarbone. When Changbin lays him down and starts peeling his shirt off, Jisung can’t hold back anymore.
“Wait. I kissed someone. Last night, I kissed someone.”
Changbin pauses, taking his hands off Jisung’s shirt and sitting back on his knees between Jisung’s legs.
“Oh. Was it good?”
“Is that ok? Are you mad? Are we allowed to do that?” Jisung asks, mouth running a mile a minute as it tends to do whenever he panics.
“I mean, it’s not like you’re cheating on me. I guess it’s fine,” Changbin says a little questioningly.
“Good, I’m glad you’re not mad. That you’re ok with it,” Jisung sighs, relieved. Changbin stays in his place, inspecting him from above.
“Are you ok with it?”
“With kissing someone?” Jisung questions.
Changbin adjusts his shirt back down and grabs Jisung by the elbows, pulling him up so they’re not in such a compromising position anymore. “With kissing someone and continuing this. Maybe you’d rather pursue whoever it was?”
“Well that doesn’t seem very fair to you, now does it?” Jisung asks weakly. “He said he was fine with it, so it should be fine.”
“Who did you kiss anyway? Seungmin?” Changbin looks curious, more than he usually likes to show, and his eyes have a little bit of skepticism in them.
“Seungmin? Who the hell said anything about Seungmin? I’m not kissing Seungmin, he’s my roommate,” Jisung answers, sticking his tongue out in distaste. “I mean, I love Seungmin, but talk about incompatible.”
“I don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, man. What’s wrong with Seungmin?” Changbin asks defensively.
“Nothing, I just don’t want to kiss him. You don’t know the guy, his name’s Minho. We met when I was busking a couple weeks ago,” Jisung explains. “He’s a nurse. A really hot nurse.”
“Well don’t let my horniness get in the way of you tying down a hot nurse,” Changbin says with an amused tone.
“I’m not tying him down. And you're not the only horny one,” Jisung says, leaning forward and grabbing for the hem of Changbin’s shirt. He tries to peel it up but his hands won’t follow direction. He still feels… weird. “Usually.”
“But tonight?”
“Tonight I think I might still have my focus on the hot nurse,” Jisung admits. “Sorry.”
Changbin puts his hands around Jisung’s and pulls them off his shirt, adjusting to lay down and motioning for Jisung to join him. It puts them upside down on the bed, feet on Changbin’s pillows and eyes on the ceiling. “Don’t be sorry. This wasn’t meant to be permanent, Ji. It was fun while it lasted,” Changbin says. “Though I’ll miss it.”
“Me too. What’ll you miss most?” Jisung asks, letting a cocky smile come across his face. God, Changbin really is the best. He really couldn’t have done this with anyone else.
“Nothing,” Changbin sighs. Jisung smacks him in the arm, making him laugh. “Ok, fine, jesus. You’re good with your mouth, is that what you want to hear?”
“Yes.” Jisung looks at his friend and giggles. “And you have a very nice ass. It was a pleasure to look at for five months.”
“I have nice arms too.”
“Yes you do. Hey,” Jisung says, pulling Changbin’s chin to put them face to face. He leans in and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his friends lips, for the first time since the night all this started. It’s warm, but definitely wrong. It lacks everything he’d felt with Minho the night before. “Thanks for the sex, bro.”
“Disgusting. We have rules against that, bro,” Changbin says, pushing Jisung away and laughing. “So are you gonna date him?”
“When the hell would I have time to date? I need to make money. I need to save. I need to make a name for myself before I can date,” Jisung sighs. It would be kind of nice, though. But even that thought is getting ahead of himself, he and Minho had never really discussed that kind of thing.
“I don’t know, maybe Thursday nights? Seems like you’ll be having them free.”
“What, you don’t want to hang out with me if we’re not banging it out?” Jisung tries to put his most hurt face on.
“Well, maybe I should find someone to date for myself. Now that I’ve gotten this little push,” Changbin says.
Changbin dating? He hasn’t entertained that thought since he suffered a gnarly breakup a year or so back. “Yeah? You got someone in mind?”
“I think I might, actually. But I’ll let you know if it pans out.”
“Oh? A secret?” Jisung asks, sitting up and looking down at Changbin with intrigue. “Come on, share the secret. I’m trustworthy.”
“Absolutely not. But I’m sure you’ll be the first to find out,” he says, sitting up to match with Jisung. “You wanna play a game?”
“Sure. You wanna heat up a pizza?”
”Sure.”
So that’s the end of that.
Jisung lucks out the next morning, too, finding the apartment empty by the time he wakes up to go to work. Seungmin usually doesn’t head out so early, he prefers to study at home, but Jisung is still a bit skeptical about sharing his escapades. He heads to work, which is dead as usual on a Friday, and spends his time doing what little coursework he’s been assigned for the weekend. He’d gotten so much done on his projects last week and during labs that his upcoming days are actually looking a little more empty than usual. It’s not a feeling he’s used to, and Jisung briefly even wonders if he should pick up a second job, but decides that while his necessities are still being met by his parents he should really focus on his music and getting his name out there.
Which, speaking of.
Jisung tries, tries hard, not to dwell on how his music is doing for too long. He’d gone through a phase last year where he was obsessed with checking his stats and watching how many people had streamed new songs, to the point where he let it dictate his mood constantly. So he’s limited himself to checking every other day, and today is his day. He logs on to the main streaming service he uses and checks to see… the numbers are up! By a pretty significant amount, too; At least twenty percent from what they had been at before. Nothing viral, but some damn good growth. He looks at the secondary service he uses, one that’s a little more obscure and caters more towards other musicians, and sees that those numbers are up too, if not by quite as much.
Jisung: Hey, are you awake?
Minho: I am, I’m on my way to work. Where’s my pickup line?
Jisung: I need a doctor cuz you take my breath away
Jisung: Anyway, have you been spreading my music around? The streams are up and I think you’re the only one who grabbed a card recently.
Minho: I left a few of your cards in the nurses lounge. And I’ve been streaming it too.
Jisung: (ΘεΘ
Minho: ugh
Jisung: Thank you so much.
Minho: You’re welcome :) It’s really good music.
Jisung: You the best.
Minho: Oh?
Jisung: ?
Minho: What are you doing tomorrow?
Jisung: I’m miraculously free.
Minho: Want to meet up? Grab a few drinks?
Jisung: yes (ΘεΘ
Minho: ugh
Jisung: What time do you get off work?
Minho: 6. I’ll just need a little time to change.
Jisung: I can pick you up at the hospital if you want to go from there?
Minho: With a horse and carriage?
Jisung: With my legs.
Minho: I’ll try to eat a light lunch so I don’t weigh you down.
Jisung: Thanks man.
Minho: See you at 6:15? I’ll text you the address?
Jisung: See you then (ΘεΘ
Well if that isn’t a cause to celebrate, he isn’t sure what is.
For the first time in a long time Jisung seems to have a Friday night free. Maybe he’ll actually be able to take Seungmin up on one of those nights out he’s always being invited to. At the very least he kind of wants someone to spill to about Minho.
When he gets back to the dorm, Seungmin is in the shower, and when Jisung walks past his room he sees a conspicuously nice outfit hanging up on display (not that he would ever peep). It seems a little nicer than what they usually wear for a night at the bar, but who is he to judge? Jisung puts his stuff away and settles himself in the living room, waiting for his roommate to come out so he can hopefully find his way into some plans tonight.
Seungmin emerges some fifteen minutes later, fresh in a tee shirt and sweatpants, apparently not ready to head out quite yet. Ah, it’s still only early afternoon.
“Hello, my dear roommate,” Jisung says, giving Seungmin a big smile and opening his arms from his spot on the couch. “Would you like to give your roommate some love?”
“Is it a trap?” Seungmin asks suspiciously. Jisung shakes his head, stands, and walks towards Seungmin with his arms open, standing still when he arrives in front of him. Seungmin still looks wary, but embraces Jisung stiffly, which Jisung responds to with a tight squeeze. “What’s all this about?”
So his friendly demeanor is being seen through. “Well first of all, I’m a little offended you think I’m up to something just for wanting a hug,” Jisung accuses, pulling away to frown at his roommate. “But, I was actually wondering what you were doing tonight? I barely have any work for once. Are you and the guys going out like usual?”
“Oh.” Seungmin looks surprised, and it dawns on Jisung just how long it must have been since he’d actually joined on their Friday night escapades. He’s just gotten used to filling his time with all work and no play. “Actually, I can’t tonight. I’m sorry Sungie. I’m glad you got a night off, though.”
Damn. “Huh. Bad luck, I guess. Do you know if Lix and Hyunjin are still going?” Jisung asks, sitting back on the couch. Seungmin joins him and clicks on the tv, lowering the volume so they can still talk.
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. You should text them,” he says as he leans back into the sofa. His hair is still dripping wet, and Jisung watches as a water droplet rolls down his neck before losing self control and flicking it away.
“Yeah. Damn, look at me begging for plans,” Jisung sighs. Seungmin nods in agreement. “So where are you going?”
Seungmin freezes a little. “Just meeting up with someone. Some drinks with a guy who I share classes with,” he responds.
“Oh? Minnie, you’ve got a date?” Jisung asks, poking his shoulder. Seungmin lets a smile break his facade and laughs a little. “Good for you man. Anyone I know?”
“Just a guy from my classes” Seungmin says with a laugh. “Focus on yourself.”
“I am. Actually, I think you’ll be pleased to know, Changbin and I have ceased boning,” Jisung says proudly.
“And why would I be pleased to know that?” Seungmin asks, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Not that I’m not, I think it was messy.”
“I don’t know, you seemed opposed to it the whole time,” Jisung says. Seungmin purses his lips a bit, seemingly focused on the reality show in front of them. They watch in intrigue as a young couple screams at each other until the woman finally leaves, slamming the door in her husband’s face. It must have been bad. “I think I’m involved with a nurse, though, so that’s fun,” Jisung says.
“Pardon?” Seungmin asks, snapping his head around to look at Jisung. “I was joking about him, I didn’t think you were seriously going to go out? When did this even happen?”
“Wednesday?” Jisung offers meekly. “Are you mad? Why do I feel like you’re mad?”
“I’m not mad, I’m just surprised. So you two are… what? Dating?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that. We did make out in a bar bathroom though,” Jisung says contemplatively. He really does like to get a rise out of Seungmin when possible, and this seems to be doing the job. “A dirty one. A dive bar.”
“That’s just great, Jisung,” Seungmin says, scooting a little bit away.
“Anyway. I’m supposed to see him again tomorrow,” Jisung says.
“To do what?”
“Drinks again. I’m gonna meet him after he gets off work and we’ll go out after.”
“You know, going out on a Saturday night for drinks sounds a lot like a date,” Seungmin says.
“You know, meeting your classmate on a Friday night also sounds a lot like a date,” Jisung shoots back.
“At least I have plans” Seungmin says, cackling when Jisung loses his words. He pulls out his phone and starts typing away to Felix and Hyunjin to establish some plans with them as Seungmin peers over his shoulder.
They spend the night in a cozy booth at the local dive bar, a deck of cards providing evening entertainment as they laugh themselves into a drunken stupor.
“Seungmin, does this look ok? Or does it look like I’m trying too hard? Or not hard enough?” Jisung asks frantically, showing off his outfit. Seungmin looks him up and down and smiles.
“You’re nervous,” he says coyly. Yeah, no shit. “Why?”
“I’m not nervous.” A lie.”
“Yes you are, or you wouldn’t be asking me this.”
“I just want to know if these pants,” Jisung says, pointing at the dark cigarette jeans he’s wearing, “match this shirt.” Seungmin doesn’t need to know the burgundy shirt he’s got on is the third thing he’d tried on that night. He doesn’t need to know he’d unbuttoned and rebuttoned the top three buttons numerous times before deciding on leaving the top two undone. He just needs to tell Jisung if it looks good.
He looks at Jisung contemplatively before giving a nod of approval. “It’s a good outfit. You should french tuck the shirt. Show off your waist,” Seungmin suggests. “If it was a date, I’d say you should maybe put a little eyeshadow on. But you keep saying it’s not one.”
“Like this?” Jisung asks, tucking in just the front of the shirt. Seungmin nods and gives a thumbs up. “So it’s not a date. But if I were to go on a date at some point and wear eyeshadow,” Jisung says, pausing to feign nonchalance, “what kind of eyeshadow should that be? Hypothetically?”
“Hypothetically. Right, hypothetically you look nice with darker colors. Maybe a shimmery dark grey or something.”
“Noted,” Jisung says, looking at his phone. He’s got about ten minutes before he needs to head out. That’s enough time for a quick wash of color. “Hey, um. I think I forgot something in my room. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Jisung darts away from his roommate, hoping he bought the lie, but incredibly doubtful. He digs through the tiny amount of makeup he has, which is really just concealer, a few shadows, and some eyeliner, and finds a small palette with a shade that matches. Thank you, Felix, for last year’s secret santa present. His friend had always had more of a knack for this than Jisung himself, but he tries to channel the advice he’d been given as he swipes the shadow on his lids and blends. It only takes a few minutes, but he’d like to at least keep the act up for Seungmin no matter how obvious it may be, so he hides in his room until he has to go and darts out the door with a quick goodbye, trying to keep his face hidden.
The hospital is only a quick walk from Jisung’s familiar station, and luckily it’s unseasonably warm this evening, because Jisung finds himself early. Minho had instructed him to the employee entrance, so he waits and people watches, playing a game with himself on what kind of medical professional each person is. The older woman with kind brown eyes looks like she works in obstetrics. The severe looking man with his hair slicked back gives off heart surgeon vibes. There’s a younger woman who had him stumped. She’s got nearly flawless skin and looks incredibly well rested, so initially he thinks she might be a dermatologist. But something feels off about that, because there’s kind of a wild look in her eyes. Maybe she’s actually an emergency room nurse who just happens to have incredibly good taste in skincare products.
The game ends there, because the next person to walk out is Minho, and not only does he stand out for being one of the only people out of uniform, but also for just… being Minho. This is the first time Jisung has laid eyes on him since their night of fun and he’d almost forgotten how much he likes looking at him. “Minho!”
Minho looks up, seemingly a little surprised at the shout, but waves when he catches sight of Jisung. He’s got on those same tight jeans as before, but this time with a striped shirt that’s just a bit more casual than the other night. “Hi,” Minho says when he gets to Jisung, giving a charming smile. Jisung finds himself smiling back subconsciously, infected by the enthusiasm. He can sense Minho’s gaze shifting down, resting comfortably on his lips, and he waits for the lean in, excited to get even a fraction of the thrilling feeling he’d had two nights ago back. But it doesn’t come, Minho just places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “Thanks for picking me up.”
Upon closer inspection, Minho seems to be a bit… off. He still looks great, but his eyes look both tired and also bloodshot from too much caffeine. His smile is a little crooked, not in the charming smirk kind of way it normally is, but in a way that makes him look like he’s trying really hard to keep it on. “Hey. How are you feeling?” Jisung asks. He’s trying to be cautious of his phrasing and make sure he doesn’t imply that Minho looks like shit, especially since Minho has called him out for his nervous rambling in the past.
“I’m excited to go out,” Minho says, shifting his hand to Jisung’s elbow and leading them away from the hospital.
“Oh yeah? How long was your shift?” Jisung asks.
Minho hesitates for a moment before answering. “Thirteen… no, fifteen hours? Fifteen hours. I got called in early.”
“Holy shit! Minho, how are you even standing?” Jisung asks. He had expected a few hours extra, but that’s almost an entirely new shift!
“A lot of coffee and a deal with the devil,” Minho responds grimly.
“Do you want to reschedule? Because I’m not going to be offended if you want to reschedule. I don’t think doctors recommend drinking when you’re already half dead.”
“No!” Minho says, almost too quickly. The caffeine must be getting to him more than he realized. He clears his throat and tries again. “No, I don’t want to reschedule. You look really good, that would be such a waste.”
Jisung tries really hard to pretend that didn’t just awaken butterflies in his stomach. “So you want to risk collapsing in public to… look at me?” he asks.
“Well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound that appealing. What if we did something chill?”
“Like?”
“We could just go to my place? Watch a movie?” Minho suggests. He shoves his hand in his pockets and shivers a little when a breeze cuts through the buildings, furthering the feeling in Jisung’s gut that he’s barely holding on.
“Ok, a movie. Let’s go watch a movie,” Jisung says, gently removing his elbow from Minho’s hold and linking their arms instead. “To the station?”
“To the station.”
They make their way to Minho’s apartment steadily, Jisung asking for a brief summary of the day and instead ending up with a detailed account of a kid who stuck marbles up his nose and all that went along with such a scenario. Jisung can tell he’s laughing too loud for a crowded train but he can’t help it, maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe it’s just Minho but every word that leaves his mouth feels like something Jisung has never heard before, and he holds onto each sentiment with bated breath. Minho seems to be coming steadily back to life too, eyes brightening a little when Jisung provides his input or asks ridiculous questions. Before he knows it Jisung is being keyed into an apartment building and being led upstairs and down the hall. It’s a nice building, modern and clean, and soon Minho is opening the door to his own unit and pulling Jisung inside.
“So it’s not very big,” Minho says, motioning to his unit. It’s a studio, a rather nice one, but a studio nonetheless. Minho seems to keep things clean, and between the kitchen area that leads into his entertaining space there’s barely a thing out of place. His bed is hidden behind a foldable screen, but Jisung can’t imagine that’s too much different.
“It’s nice, though.”
“Thanks.” Minho walks over to his fridge and opens it, inspecting the contents. “So as far as drinks go, I have water, sparkling water, orange juice, and a mysterious can of beer I don’t remember ever not being there. Any of that sound appetizing?”
“I’ll pass on the mystery beer. Sparkling water is good,” Jisung says, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “Very healthy options.”
“Well, I am a medical professional. I have to try,” Minho explains. He pulls out two unmatched glasses from his cupboard and pours a can of lemon seltzer into each. “What do you want to watch?”
“Something brainless,” Jisung says. “Halloween is in like two weeks, let’s find a shitty horror movie and laugh at the idiots.”
“I think brainless suits me just fine right now.”
Brainless is surprisingly easy to find, especially around this time of year. They may not have any candy to snack on to set the mood, but Minho makes some popcorn and lets Jisung load it with as much butter as he wants while they gather up some blankets and get cozy. Minho’s couch is small, it has to be for a space like this, but Jisung doesn’t mind too much at all. Not when it all but forces him to huddle up into Minho’s side and has such massive potential for a cute little head-resting-on-shoulder action later.
Or a little this couch is too small, guess I’d better sit on your lap and shove my tongue down your throat action.
Both sound appealing, but Minho’s being a little more elusive than expected. When they’d agreed to meet again, Jisung had kind of expected them to… dive right back in? Pick up where they’d left off? Not immediately, obviously, and it’s not as if he only wants to see Minho for sex. But now he’s confused, because Minho does press into him. He taps Jisung’s knee excitedly when someone on the screen walks into the room of death, and leaves his hand there smooth as can be. When he makes a funny comment and Jisung bursts out laughing, throws his body onto Minho’s in an attempt to keep himself grounded, he feels an arm wrap around him and keep him close. But when Jisung realizes the position and tries to take advantage, looks up at Minho from his spot on the other man’s chest and smiles, Minho meets his eyes for no more than a second before clearing his throat and looking back at the screen. Ok, so that was a bust.
But it’s not as if Minho’s completely disinterested; Jisung can feel his gaze flicker over his face and linger on his lips. He feels it especially strongly when they slip into conversation, discussing all the potential ways the character on screen could have avoided her current situation.
“Perhaps if she thought there was a serial killer in her house she should have told someone instead of going into her basement alone,” Jisung chimes in, watching as the woman struggles to get out of the rope she’s been tied up in.
“I agree. She should have called the cops and hidden in her bed, under the covers. That way she’d at least have peace of mind.
Jisung looks up at him, only mildly surprised to see how close they are, nearly face to face. “But I’m not really sure that would be safe. Safer than the basement, sure, but isn’t that a bit defenseless?” Jisung asks.
“No, beds are a safety zone. Monsters can’t get in. They’re too squishy and comfortable,” Minho explains. Jisung can’t help but laugh, especially when he looks so serious saying it, eyes narrow and focused. They soften when Jisung meets them, and for a second Jisung thinks he might finally get his kiss, especially when they trail down. But again, Minho looks back to the screen. What the hell?
“I see,” Jisung sighs, resting his head back on Minho’s chest where it was previously. He turns his attention to the tv as well, watching as yet another idiot wanders where they shouldn’t. When the villain jumps out, some nondescript form that seems to encapsulate all things evil, he feels himself jump despite the corny effects. Minho tightens his grip around Jisung’s shoulders, and Jisung looks up to see him chewing his bottom lip. This is getting so annoying.
Something has to give.
Jisung taps on Minho’s shoulder, causing him to look down. He hoists himself up and around to face Minho directly, climbing into his lap when he sees a little smile ghost it’s way onto the other man’s lips. “Hey,” Jisung says, placing a hand on the back of Minho’s neck. “Can I-”
“Yeah.” Minho doesn’t let him finish his sentence, placing his hands on Jisung’s hips and pulling him closer.
“Good,” Jisung breathes, leaning in closer to Minho’s face, pressing his lips to Minho’s, sighing in relief when he finally gets what he’s been waiting for. Minho seems to mimic the sentiment, interlocking their lips almost immediately and deepening the kiss. They stay like that for a bit, Jisung cautious to push things further knowing how exhausted Minho is. It’s Minho who eventually takes it there, nibbling at Jisung’s lower lip until he lets out a soft groan and taking the opportunity to lick into his mouth. God, this is only the second time they’ve done this, and it feels like Minho is slowly but surely learning everything that makes Jisung tick. Eventually they have to come up for air, though Minho keeps his hands firmly on his hips to let Jisung know they aren’t done yet.
“You were waiting for that, huh?” he says with a smirk. Jisung nods. It’s not worth lying.
“You took too long, and I was promised a continuation of the other night:.
“Happy now?” Minho asks.
“Not yet,” Jisung says, leaning back in for more. Minho loosens his purchase on Jisung’s hips, moving one hand up to his upper back and the other down to his ass, squeezing and biting his lip at the same time to trigger a shudder of pleasure. It wasn’t a fluke the other night, not some drunken fit of passion; even cold sober every single touch burns. The movie in the background fades into oblivion, and all Jisung can focus on is Minho. His lips, his hands, the faint chuckles he lets out when Jisung lets out little moans he’s given up trying to control. Everything about Minho sets Jisung aflame. It’s hard to resist wanting to push things just a little further.
So he doesn’t.
Jisung curls his fingers into Minho’s hair, grinds his hips into Minho’s lap, runs his lips down Minho’s neck. “Minho, I want more,” he breathes into his ear, grinning when he feels him nod. He takes hold of Jisung’s waist and flips him onto the couch, so Jisung is laid on his back and Minho gets the bird’s eye view. It’s cramped, and Jisung can’t even lay his legs out all the way without his feet bumping into the arm of the chair. He tries to ignore it, instead focusing on the way Minho’s fingers feel when they slip under the hem of his shirt and crawl up his torso, pushing the fabric up and chasing the trail with his lips. But when Minho thumbs over a nipple and Jisung jerks in reaction, his ankle crashes into hard wood and he has to cut things off.
“Minho, the bed,” Jisung says, voice a little strained with pain.
“Hmm?” Minho humms, preoccupied with sucking a hickey into Jisung’s chest. It’s low, somewhere other people would never see. How considerate.
“Can we move to the bed? Somewhere more comfortable? This feels hazardous.”
“Oh.” Minho lifts his head up and looks at Jisung, a little amused smile on his face. It’s not the smirk he’s worn in the past, he looks genuinely gleeful to be in this situation. “Yeah. To the bed,” he says, climbing off of Jisung and helping him off the couch. They walk the four feet to the bed, and Jisung peers behind the screen to take a look.
It looks comfortable. It’s not big, maybe a full, but the navy sheets are neatly tucked in and Minho’s grey and white comforter looks clean and soft. It’s very… Minho. They haven’t known each other long at all, but Jisung can say that for sure. Minho lays down on the bed and Jisung crawls on top of him, admiring the smell of fresh linen and a slight hint of cologne that lingers in the air. Jisung finds himself wondering if Minho freshly washed the sheets anticipating his arrival. Is that cocky to think about? Perverted? Maybe. A hand on the back of his neck pulls Jisung out of the thought train and back into the real world, where Minho is laid under him and trying to get another kiss.
“Um, actually, just give me one second. Bathroom,” Jisung says, suddenly a little nervous.
“Ok. It’s just to the left. Only other room in the place,” he responds, winking when Jisung nods and climbs back off the bed. He’s still shirtless and the apartment is a little bit chilly, though he tries not to do anything to show his discomfort while Minho is watching him.
When he gets to the bathroom, Jisung starts the faucet on cold and splashes a little water on his neck to hopefully quell his nerves. The kisses, the comfy bed, the cuddling; they’re all things he hasn’t experienced for a while. He hadn’t really thought about it when they’d made plans, had kind of just been giving into the fact that he felt good with Minho, but they’re probably about to sleep together. And it’s not like he’s a prude, Jisung likes sex, but the past five months has been strict sex with nothing fluffy. No kisses, no cuddles, no feelings. Jisung can barely go ten minutes without wanting to kiss Minho, that’s certainly not going to change in the heat of the moment. Are there actual feelings there? It’s probably too early to tell, but there’s intrigue and attraction if nothing else.
What better way to learn than to experience?
Jisung looks down, contemplating if he should just take off his pants if they’re going to be messing around anyway, but opts to keep them on. Having Minho undress him doesn’t sound half bad.
With a plan in place and a bit more peace of mind (although he’s really still at square one; whatever happens, happens), Jisung steps out of the bathroom and pads back towards Minho’s bed. He looks cute, curled up on his side with his cheek resting on his arm.
“Hey, I’m back,” Jisung says, crawling onto the bed and plopping down next to Minho. He jerks, blinking rapidly and smiling.
“Welcome back."
“Were you asleep?” Jisung giggles, laughing at how embarrassed he looks.
“I wasn’t”
He absolutely was.
“Are you tired?” Jisung asks, seizing the opportunity to poke fun at him.
“Nope,” Minho responds, pulling Jisung closer to him and pressing their lips together. Jisung smiles into it, finding it difficult to take things seriously when Minho is acting like a kid who doesn’t want to go to sleep. “It’s hard to make out with you when you’re smiling like that.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Jisung says, pulling away slightly and planting a light kiss to Minho’s jaw. He hears a positive hum in response and takes that as a sign to keep going, kissing down his neck and sucking into it, careful not to leave anything that will give him away. The soft hums turn into deep breaths as Jisung makes his way down to Minho’s collarbone, frustrated when his shirt prevents him from going any lower.
“Minho, sit up for a second,” Jisung mumbles into his skin, waiting for a move. None comes. “Minho?” he tries again, pulling his lips off the other man’s skin to make sure his voice is clearer this time. Still nothing.
Jisung looks up to Minho again, laughing loudly when he sees his eyes shut and his mouth slightly parted, deep even breaths going in and out. Jisung crawls farther up Minho’s body and presses his nose to Minho’s, whispering against his lips, “are you sure you’re not asleep?”
Minho’s eyes snap open before he squeezes them shut, groaning. “Fuck. I’m sorry, god, I really don’t want to be.”
“Fifteen hours is a long shift,” Jisung says, rolling onto his side so they lay parallel to each other. He’s a little disappointed, sure, but he can’t really blame Minho for being exhausted. “Don’t worry about it. I can head out. We’ll just meet up again soon?”
“No!” Minho says quickly, surprising Jisung. He turns to his side to look at Minho questioningly. “I mean, no, don’t leave yet.” He leans in to place a little kiss to Jisung’s nose pulls back. “Have I told you you look really nice tonight? You look really nice tonight. I like the eyeshadow.”
Damn, that feels intimate. Once again, everything Jisung expects from him, Minho offers two-fold. “Thank you,” he says quietly. Is he blushing? He feels like he’s blushing.
“I don’t have much energy,” Minho says.
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“But if I asked you to stay for a little longer and lay with me?”
“I can do that,” Jisung responds. “But I’m going to put my shirt back on. Because it’s cold.”
“Well that doesn’t seem comfortable at all. Hang on,” Minho says, getting up and out of bed. He digs through a chest of drawers for a moment before tossing a hoodie and a pair of pajama pants Jisung’s way.
“Are we having a pajama party?”
“Yes, because I’m uncomfortable and want to change, but as a host it would be rude to do so alone. So we’re having a pajama party,” Minho responds. “I’m changing in the bathroom.”
What have I gotten myself into? Jisung isn’t quite sure he follows Minho’s line of thought, and he seems to constantly be swept up in his pace. But it’s fun, and the sweatshirt is soft and smells good, so maybe it’s alright.
Minho comes out a few minutes later, looking fresh and clean in an oversized shirt and shorts and smelling faintly of mint toothpaste.
“Better?” Jisung asks, laughing when Minho flops onto his stomach and buries his face in his pillow. Cute.
“Better. You? Are you comfortable?” he asks, turning his head on the pillow. Jisung matches his position, rotating onto his stomach and facing Minho as well.
“Very comfortable. What should we do? Braid each other’s hair?”
“Are you good at braiding hair?”
“No, you’ll probably end up with knots. Are you?” Jisung asks.
“I am, actually. I learned at summer camp,” Minho says. He holds up his wrist and reveals a dainty leather braided bracelet. “I made this when I was bored a few months ago.”
Jisung catches his wrist, inspecting the bracelet more thoroughly. It’s a little frayed at the edge but Minho has done a surprisingly good job with it. “It’s cute. You’re a man of many talents.”
“So you want a braid?”
“Sure, why not?” Jisung scoots closer to Minho and plops his head down for easy access.
“I’m thinking bangs.”
“I’m at your mercy.”
It feels nice, letting Minho run his hands through his hair. Jisung takes the opportunity to quiz him, throwing out questions about what else he did at camp (kiss a boy for the first time) and who else’s hair he’s been braiding (only his little cousin’s). It doesn’t take long to finish, Jisung only has a few inches worth of hair, so Minho makes him hold one braid and gives him a matching one on the other side, cackling when he snaps a few pictures and Jisung holds them up like alien antennae. Jisung doesn’t have any reason to pull out his phone and start snapping pictures of Minho back, just the vague excuse of “revenge”, but he does so anyway.
Jisung continues pestering Minho about summer camp;
“I bet I was a better kisser than the boy.”
“You are.”
“I know, and I’ll prove it.”
A lame excuse to tangle his legs up with Minho’s and connect their lips again, but worth the workaround when he gets to taste minty fresh breath and feel the silky smooth skin of Minho’s back under his fingers when he lets his hand creep under his shirt hem and up his spine. It’s not fiery like before, more like a dull warmth; the kisses stay sweet and chaste, interrupted by little conversations and stream of consciousness thoughts while they slowly lose themselves to sleep. Jisung hadn’t intended to spend the night, he never had with Changbin, it helped to keep things casual.
Somehow, this night has felt anything but.
Jisung wakes up feeling exceptionally warm and cozy, and it doesn’t take long to figure out why. He’s got one leg hitched around Minho’s hips and his nose buried in the back of the other man’s neck, breathing in the smell of skin and ivory soap. He’s pretty sure they hadn’t fallen asleep that way, but he’s always had a tendency to hug anything in his path while he’s asleep, and apparently Minho had been last night’s target. He’s not even entirely sure what time they went to sleep, just that Minho had dozed off first and he had followed in a matter of minutes. What time is it now?
Jisung shifts ever so slightly, trying not to wake Minho as he bends his arm behind himself and feels around for his phone. 7:04 a.m. on a Sunday. He’s got nowhere to be, and the sleep is still in his eyes, so Jisung tosses his phone back behind him, wraps his arm back around Minho to pull him tighter, and lets himself drift back off to sleep. If anyone asks, he never woke up in the first place.
His second awakening is triggered by movement, more specifically Minho shifting in his arms so he’s no longer being spooned and is now facing Jisung. He blinks his eyes open to see a soft smirk and a sleepy gaze meeting his.
“You look like a mess.”
“Good morning to you too,” Jisung says, releasing Minho from his hold. He doesn’t move away from Jisung, but uses his now free hand to swipe at the skin under Jisung’s eye.
“No, I mean, you fell asleep with eye makeup on. You’re giving me very ‘morning after’ vibes,” Minho explains.
Jisung reaches his palm up and rubs at his eye, pulling it away to see a smudge of black has come up, noticing a similar stain on Minho’s pillowcase. “Oh. Shit. I think I messed up your linens.”
“It’s ok, nothing a little bleach can’t fix,” Minho says, rubbing the material between his fingers. He’s a much more coherent morning person than Jisung himself, who’s struggling to form complete sentences. “What are you doing today?”
“Nothing much. Homework later. Might try to write some songs,” Jisung answers. “What time is it?”
“Ten.”
“Do you feel rested?”
“Very much so, thanks for asking,” Minho replies.
“That’s good,” Jisung says, gaze flitting down to Minho’s lips. “So you have energy.”
“I do have energy.” The smile on Minho’s face tells Jisung he knows exactly what he’s getting at. “If you go to the bathroom, in the first drawer, there’s an extra toothbrush. Go use it.”
Jisung nods, damn near leaping out of the bed to follow instructions. Waking up wrapped around a beautiful boy… it’s hard for that not to stir something inside. He’s going to take advantage of whatever’s being offered. He takes a bit of a liberty, stealing a little bit of Minho’s face wash, because he hadn’t been lying about Jisung looking a mess. He practically sprints back to the bed and under the covers, rolling on top of Minho and pulling him into a lazy kiss.
“It really is a good morning,” Minho mumbles against his lips, fingers exploring underneath Jisung’s hoodie and pushing it up and over his head. When it’s off Jisung takes the moment of separation to duck under the covers and down to Minho’s waist, kissing the soft skin around the area and fiddling with the band of his shorts.
“Can I-” Jisung starts to ask, looking up for permission and gently tugging the fabric down. It seems like he’s not the only one who woke up excited if the bulge in Minho’s shorts is anything to go off.
“Obviously,” Minho breathes out anxiously. Jisung pulls down further, slightly surprised to find no more fabric underneath, just flesh and warmth. Minho is clearly desperate for more, but Jisung wants to have a little fun. He follows with his mouth as he pulls the shorts all the way off, kissing his way down Minho’s right leg and back up his left, leaving harder bites and impressions on his thighs until he feels fingers twine through his hair. Minho doesn’t pull hard, just enough to get the message across. “Stop messing around.”
“Just trying to enjoy. You’re so fucking hot,” Jisung replies, leaving one final kiss on Minho’s hipbone before moving where his attention is being demanded. He starts with a couple sweet little kisses before losing his own sense of patience and diving in, the moans Minho lets out music to his ears. It’s warm under the covers, but Jisung barely lets it phase him as he moves his mouth up and down and finds purchase on his hips. It’s not difficult to discern what he likes and doesn’t, his voice tells all, and it isn’t long before he’s pushed to the edge.
“Fuck, Jisung. Jesus, you’re incredible,” he moans out, pulling Jisung’s hand to guide him out from under the blankets and back into a heated kiss.
“No, just selfish,” Jisung whispers between kisses. “Wanted to do that all night.” Minho giggles into the kiss before deepening it, trailing his hand down Jisung’s bare chest and landing at his crotch. He slips a hand into Jisung’s pants, palming over him at first before committing to a loose grip and massaging at a steady rhythm. Jisung has to break the kiss to focus on keeping himself elevated, resting his forehead against Minho’s chest and balancing on his forearms.
“Cute,” Minho whispers, scooting down a bit so he can reach his other arm around Jisung’s back and to his ass. It means Jisung’s head is now resting against Minho’s own, forehead to forehead, eye to eye. Jisung’s gaze is heavy with concentration, but he can still make out the glint in Minho’s eyes, the way he looks amused when Jisung sucks in his breath and the way they crease when he smiles, satisfied with Jisung’s quiet whispers of his name.
It’s just a simple handjob, how can it possibly feel so good?
“Minho, please,” Jisung whispers, desperate for as much as he can take. “A little faster, I’m close, please. Faster, baby.”
He follows Jisung’s request, quickening his pace and thumbing over him in just the perfect motion to make a man absolutely lose his mind. “How close?”
“About to- fuck-” Jisung loses his words as he spills out into Minho’s hand, dirtying his shirt even more than they already had. He rolls onto his side, trying to catch his breath as Minho reaches for some tissues to clean them both off. He peels the shirt off as well, tossing it onto the floor before cuddling up to Jisung and placing a kiss on his shoulder, then his collarbone. “God, I love this morning.”
“Me too,” Minho laughs, burying his nose in Jisung’s neck. Jisung rolls, pulls one of Minho’s legs over his hips, wraps an arm around his back, kisses him softly. He wishes he could stay like this all day long.
But that’s not the type of freedom he has.
Jisung forces himself to pull away reluctantly, looking at Minho and searching for words.
“What?” Minho asks, a knowing look on his face. “You have to go soon, don’t you? Don’t want to lay with me?”
“I do.” He really does. “But I can’t. I have stuff to get done.”
“I understand,” Minho says, pressing a quick kiss to Jisung’s lips before getting out of bed. He raises his arms up in a mighty stretch, and Jisung ogles his naked form. It’s the first time seeing Minho clearly, outside the bundle of blankets and sheets they’ve called their home for the past twelve hours. His body is as gorgeous as he’d expected, maybe even moreso.
“That’s not helping me want to leave,” Jisung says, tongue swiping his bottom lip subconsciously.
“It’s not supposed to,” Minho replies. He grabs Jisung’s clothes off the floor and tosses them onto the bed, pulling a new outfit from his chest of drawers and beginning to clothe himself. Jisung does the same from where he sits. “Do you want breakfast?”
“You’re going to make me breakfast, baby?” Jisung asks in a teasing tone.
“No, but I’m willing to walk with you to a really, really good coffee shop. If you brush your hair.”
“Deal.”
Minho lives in a sweet neighborhood, one full of independently owned restaurants and trinket shops. The cafe Minho brings them to really is good, and they sit at a little outdoor table to enjoy their iced americanos and chocolate croissants. By the time they finish it’s already one in the afternoon, and Jisung isn’t entirely sure how to say goodbye.
“This was incredible,” he says, licking the last little bit of chocolate from his lower lip. His coffee is long gone, just melted down ice at the bottom of his cup, so there’s no more excuse to stay.
“It always is,” Minho says. He dusts his hands off and starts crumpling all their trash up together. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. What for?”
“For staying with me even though the plans changed,” Minho explains. Oh. Everything had settled so nicely Jisung kind of forgot that wasn’t how the night was supposed to go.
“I think it was better this way,” Jisung responds.
“Yeah, but I still want to take you out for drinks. Like we originally planned.”
“Well you know where to find me.”
“I do. So maybe Wednesday?”
“I’ll be there.”
Jisung ventures home with a spring in his step and a smile on his face he can’t quite erase. It persists through chilled weather, through a teasing Seungmin, through a shower that uncovers marks he’s in no rush to watch disappear. And with every reminder of his night before, with did you make it home safe? texts and dollar bills stacked neatly in his sock drawer and hoodies that are comfortable but not quite as comfortable as what Minho had provided, its lifetime extends.
Jisung can’t quite recall ever having so many feelings for somebody so quickly.
But he isn’t quite ready to make them stop.